#damn last time I went looking it was just for my hunter name

[kurishiri]

n.4 . . . “ the dangerous promise between the hunter and the intelligent yakuza ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— thanks again to @ndoandou and @drachonia for helping me look over the jude lines!

— cw: blood and injury, smoking.

Jude: Speed up n’ get stitchin’ ya quack of a doctor.

The man named Jude was stabbed pretty badly, and was nearly killed. That was how reckless he was on a normal basis.

Every time he stumbled in the clinic, I would take him in, treating him in secret.

Roger: It’s not every day I run into people who have made so many enemies in their life. Well, show me your stomach.

R: Ohh, you managed to dodge it pretty well this time too. It won’t be too hard to suture. You have my praises.

Jude: Ah? The hell are ya doin’, stickin’ a needle in me n’ takin’ my blood?

Roger: It’s needed for the treatment. I thought that was obvious?

Jude: Ya damn quack, don’t go takin’ my blood if yer gonna dilly dally like that!

J: Ya braindead or somethin’? My blood’s already spillin’ from my stomach, now yer drainin’ me dry.

(...Tch, he found me out. Well, at least I can have the blood I already drew out.)

Roger: I get that you’re Cursed, but I can’t help but wonder if you’re Cursed by a fairytale if you’re just cursed with a sharp tongue.

R: Ah, as I thought, Ellis is the only good kid around here, being such a kind person and all.

Jude: Yer eyes must’ve gotten worse, ‘cause I think ya mean man’s clearly got a screw loose.

Roger: Okay, I get it, I won’t take Ellis away from you. Though honestly, I could use an assistant.

Jude: Ow—!

J: Oy, ya wanna get drowned? Don’t go stabbin’ people with needles without a warnin’ ya quack!

Roger: Yeah, I make it a rule of mine to not listen to someone who can’t quit smoking a single cigarette.

Jude normally kept a pack of cigarettes in his pockets, and no matter how many times I told him to stop, he didn’t even try.

(I heard that he had problems in his bronchial tube, so that’s why he came to see my dad, but was all that a lie?)

But, my doubts would be flipped over on a certain night.

Jude: ...Gegh—*cough* ...Hah—

Roger: Was that an asthma attack...

Ellis: I went to collect some debts, but there in the basement, there was tobacco smoke everywhere…

Jude: …Ah, bloody hell…

(So my dad wasn’t wrong about Jude in his medical records?)

Roger: Jude, I’m gonna make you feel better as soon as possible tonight.

I had given Jude some medicine a bit on the stronger side, and so by the time he awoke, it was the next morning.

Roger: Awake now? …Ah, looks like your breathing has stabilized too.

Because of some side effect of the medicine, somewhere in his gaze seemed a bit hollow.

Jude: What of Ellis…

Roger: Said he was gonna finish up some stuff for work at your company.

R: He figured you’d be worried about that when you woke up. Ellis really is a good right-hand man.

Jude: …Hah… that stuff’s the bottom line.

Roger: Hey, Jude.  You really should quit smoking.

R: As far as I can see, you don’t seem to be smoking because you like to do it. In which case it’s better to just not smoke at all.

R: And if you’re doing this because of your work…

Jude: It ain’t just my work.

Roger: ………?

Jude: The smell when I smoke reminds me of that stuffy ass room.

J: All the smoke n’ the fumes, n’ the gloom in the air would make me cough up a lung.

From within those hollow eyes I could clearly sense loathing.

Jude: …Every time I remember that, it makes me bloody seethe to the stomach.

J: N’ that’s when I thought…

J: All the ones who looked down on me, n’ the ones who tried to look down on me…

J: …Ain’t no way I’ll kick the bucket ‘til I make every last one o’ those shits fall to the pits of Hell.

Then, one night, I chanced upon Jude by his lonesome on a street corner.

While holding a cigarette in his mouth, he was gazing up at the moon with a vacant look.

Such a look was reminiscent of having given up on something, just like that…

If anger and loathing was the fire that Jude needed to live, and smoking was that fuel—

Roger: …Jude. I will always be against smoking.

R: But in the end, you can do what you want, and how you want. That’s all up to you.

R: Ahh, and also—

R: If you’re about to die again, then I promise I will save you. If you’re willing to pay a steep price in turn, that is.

Jude: Don’t go throwin’ the words “I promise” around so willy nilly.

J: If I end up suddenly droppin’ dead ‘cause yer a quack, I’m gonna have Ellis kill ya.

Roger: You got yourself a deal. If that happens, we can enjoy a drink in Hell, the two of us.

Jude: …Hah, now that one’s for the birds.

J: Somethin’ like yer favorite beer probably ain’t gonna be down in a place like that.

—— Present time ——

(…I just keep thinking about the old times today.)

Scattered about before my eyes were the medical records of the Crown members.

Their ways of living and personalities were all over the place, but there was one thing they all had in common.

And that was the fact they all were Cursed with a “tragic fate” they could never escape from.

I sucked in a breath unconsciously.

(At this rate, they can’t die with a smile on their faces.)

(And maybe, if they weren’t Cursed, they could be living more freely than they do now.)

Roger: Jeez, since when did I feel such things? It’s not like me.

——is what I said, when footsteps sounded outside the door.

They resembled the steps of a puppy, and they seemed to be in a hurry.

(It’s Kate.)

Before I heard the knock, I called out to her.

Roger: You can come in.

Kate: Roger, there’s trouble…

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[threepandas]

Bad End: Happy Hunting! (1)

I should have known better. They told us. TRAINED US. Over and over, drilled into our heads! Don't assume! Don't PROJECT Human body language onto alien species! Think that just because they look similar, are ACTING similar, their brains are in any way WORKING similar!

Not every species pack bonds! Some of them are PREDATORS. Be CAREFUL!

I was an idiot. A fucking IDIOT!

I gasped for air. Ran. Ran and ran and RAN. Desperately trying to put distance between me and the hunters behind me. I could hear screams. Crashing. The sound of weapon fire. The air here wasn't RIGHT. Too high in oxygen? Too low? Some other trace element, slowly poisoning my lungs?

I didn't know. Scared! Oh god, I'm so scared!

I thought he was my friend!

Thought THEY were my friends! Stupid. So God damned stupid! You really will pack bond with ANYTHING, won't you?! They bare their teeth and you fucking thought it was a SMILE! No wonder I barely graduated. They never should have-!

A root catches my foot.

Crashing to the mulch of the forest floor. Scramble to get up. My ankle on fire. Hurts. Oh god it hurts! Ignore it. Go! Keep going! Gotta get OUT! Find a ship. Any ship! Radio for help!

All the trees look the same. Am I even going in a straight line? Deeper or across? Away from civilization? I don't know how to survive here! Can I even drink the water? No. Run! Just RUN! Nothing else!

I can't hear them.

Him.

I thought he was my friend.

My grades were shit. Worst of the Best, but ultimately good enough. Got to see the stars. The galaxy. Meet real life aliens. Was a glorified gofer for the Earthling Diplomat's Entourage. Galactic Council offered staff. Wasn't really an offer. We took um. Some of them were the "better" guards then the super military badasses we had brought.

Military badasses were pretty offended.

But I was a gofer. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Just here for the aliens, right? Yay getting to meet some, right? I couldn't even PRONOUNCE their species name. I was mortified. Tried my damnedest. They thought it was hilarious. My pronunciation was god awful. Was calling them the cutesy babified version of "office chair".

Met Wolfe. He seemed FRIENDLY. Kind. Considerate. He told jokes. Asked about my day. I started sharing. Hobbies and interests. Stories about home. Explained weird human behaviors. We were close. I... I thought we were close! Was it a lie? Was everything A LIE!?

When my rotation in space was coming to an end, I was SAD! Fucking HEARTBROKEN! That I might never see my friends again. Since communication between our two planets wasn't even stabilized yet. Might never be. I wanted to savor our time together. Treasure it!

But then things started to go wrong.

Random malfunctions, that delayed and delayed us. Lost communications that nearly caused interplanetary incidents. Took days and weeks to fix at a time. People went MISSING. We looked. Every time we LOOKED!

They're dead, aren't they? Oh god. Dozens of crew members DEAD.

Then the engine "broke". Conveniently just close enough for us to make an emergency landing on this planet! And oh, would you look at THAT! A sacred cultural festival!? They won't help us unless we join in.

It's a MARRIAGE HUNT.

Heavy emphasis on the HUNT part!

They weren't surprised. Not a single one. Every last one just turned too different people and... and...! Wolfe planned this. THEY planned this! We're gonna die. I trusted him and now I'm gonna DIE! Can't breathe! Branches whipping at my arms and hair and face, as I RUN. Down slopes. Across shallow rivers. Even as my limbs BURN. I... I HAVE TOO-!

A powerful wall of muscle slams into me.

I scream. Thrash, even as I fall. My arms are easily tucked and pinned against my side, as the body covering mine rolls with me down a slight incline. The smell of wet plant matter and upturned soil thick in the strange air. Dizzy. I feel sick. Oh god please no!

Heat and pressure pin me down. Arms like thick steel bands. Still, I struggle, like a cornered animal. I have too. They always tell you to FIGHT. Only chance and survival. The deep rumble of crooned reassurances in an alien dialect fill my ear. I can feel how DEEPLY he breathes me in, before each sentence. Like hes been holding back and finally no longer has too, is giddy with it. How his hands already spread possessively, eager to explore.

And he's strong. Oh god, he's so strong! Please please please! Let go. LET GO!

"Shhhhhh shh shh, is 'okay' now. I have you. You ran so hard! Did so well! My precious little human~ so brave. So strong. You did it! Now, no one can EVER seperate us! You don't have to worry anymore. No more tears~" Hunter, Warrior, oh god it was never a GRIN-! His teeth are so sharp. Pressed so close to my skin!

"I'll take care of EVERYTHING~"

I'm scared.

[litfeathers]

Before Hunter's Palisman Observations... Before Lilith's Letter... Before Luz's Diary Entry...

A witch's quill scratches on paper, her eyebrows furrowing in thought as she fills a well-worn book with her thoughts and desires and fears.

She smiles at the yellow bird who is fast asleep on her extra pillow, and with a snap of her fingers extinguishes the light spells that had been illuminating her cozy bedroom.

She sleeps.

She dreams…

She dreams of a strange world. A world without magic. A harsh world of rules, and penance, and fear.

A man stands in front of a bonfire, the glow of the firelight dancing on his wild blond hair. He is surrounded by a screaming crowd, torches and pitchforks and fists waving in the air.

"No," she begs. "No, no, no, no."

She calls his name over the cacophony of violent chanting, her voice muffled by the roar of the growing conflagration.

He turns.

She screams.

Blood. Smoke. Fire. The flash of a knife. It all happens too fast.

He is gone.

...and she wakes up.

Welcome to Evelyn's Journal.

Credits: -The phenomenal cover art was drawn by the absolute legend @bananadramaaa. Thank you so much for your help! -The script and Evelyn's voice were written and recorded by Birdie (that's me!) -It's probably pretty obvious, but this project was directly inspired by the audio recordings a few of TOH's VAs did for one of Dana's charity livestreams. Look them up if you have never heard them. They are fantastic!

The audio and script will also be available at AO3 on (or some time after) Sunday, March 26th. You may find it at litfeathers if you would like to give this project some love over there too!

The complete script can be found under the read more, so you may follow along if you wish.

Grab a snack and get comfy. We have an almost 15 minute runtime! Enjoy! 🔥🪶

Scaburary 10th

I had to cover for Bileadona at work. She never showed up for her shift, and so Goldie and I were forced to make an unexpected trip to Bonesborough.

Extra disappointing, since I was planning to spend the afternoon in the garden with my sketchbook. I wanted to redo my blue jay drawing, as I am not quite satisfied with it.

Ah, well. I’ll draw in the garden tomorrow.

Scaburary 11th

UUUGHHH DAMN RAIN!

Goldie has been moping and staring out the window at the sizzling forest all morning, desperately wishing she could have her early morning flight through the trees. I have given her a handful of seeds to help her feel better. She seems pouty still, but has cheered up slightly. She is currently ordering the seeds from most to least appealing. Heh. This should take her a while.

Only two days are left!

Scaburary 13th

Work, work, work. I couldn’t stop watching the sunlight and shadows slowly move across the library floor and sighing impatiently. Bileadona happened by my cart as I was shelving books, and asked why the calendar at my desk is so strange. I told her it was an old-fashioned solar calendar from the bloodievil period. She didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t push the subject.

I also made a quick…detour before I went home. Just to say hello to some dear friends. Some very special friends who are going to severely regret their actions from last week.

*evil witch cackle*

As an added bonus, I finally managed to nab one of their…creative drawings of me. It is now proudly displayed on my living room wall, just above the couch. Truly, it is a work of art, and I am humbled by their kindness.

I just hope they find my return offering just as humbling ehehehehe.

I have been getting more and more excited for every visit to the Human Realm. Not that I have been there recently. I most definitely have not. Don’t be absurd.

But anyway. This week has dragged endlessly! I cannot wait for tomorrow.

It’s nice to have a friend.

Scaburary 14th, Human Realm year 1623

Today was nice.

It was a Friday in Human reckoning, so Caleb and I enjoyed the usual supper on a blanket in the snowy woods. I made sure to include dragon bacon sandwiches and deviled griffin stew in the spread, as they are his favorites. And of course, a thermos of hot apple blood to warm us up. It was a marvelous feast!

He looks a bit better lately. His skin is less pale, and the shadows under his eyes are less prominent.

The moment I landed at at our spot, Caleb immediately asked me if I had anything to do with the recent vandalism of the Gravesfield meetinghouse. I plead innocent. He grimly informed me that someone had scribbled all over the siding, and that one of the drawings bore a striking resemblance to Goldie. I expressed my deepest sympathies for the poor soul who would have to clean it up. He further informed me that the words “Evie was here” were scrawled over the front door. I told him that since my given name isn’t Evie, it’s Evelyn, he was clearly looking for another culprit. He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me dead in the eye, and told me, in the most fed-up of tones, that the drawings could move.

“Huh,” I said. “In that case, it sounds like you might have a witch on your hands. I hear they are pretty tricky to deal with, but seeing as you are such an expert witch hunter, you surely won’t have a problem rooting her out!”

At that he made such a ridiculously frustrated face, I could no longer hold in my laughter. It was the look he gets where his cheeks flush and his nose flares. The red even reached his ears this time! Fantastic.

He gave up at that point. He just sighed deeply and shook his head. But I could tell he was desperately trying to hold back a smile.

While we enjoyed our meal, we got on the topic of weather. After my previous deception, he didn’t quite believe me when I told him that rain boils in the Demon Realm. When I cast an illusion to show him a typical Boiling Isles thunderstorm, his eyes lit up brighter than the sun. As fun as it is to tease and banter with him, I think I vastly prefer those quiet moments between us. When the storm clouds lift from his eyes.

*trails off*

I can tell he’s lonely.

Last week, while we were on our owl watch, he mentioned offhandedly that he hasn’t received a proper hug in years.

I was about to feign ignorance and pretend to not know what a hug is, until I realized that…err. Well, we are two galdorpeas in a pod in that regard, aren’t we?

And no, I did not offer myself up. Because some walls are built for a reason.

Caleb is surrounded by pitchforks and torches and prying eyes.

His village is dangerous.

His brother has been asking more and more…questions.

I know I shouldn’t keep doing this. I know I can’t keep doing this. There is a line, and I am terrified that I am gleefully dancing towards it, and one day I am going to be unable to stop myself from crossing into something…

*deep sigh*

…something I cannot come back from.

I am unwilling to admit this anywhere but here. And this is difficult to write, even if my eyes are the only ones that will ever read it. But…

He scares me.

Hah! How silly is that? We’re the closest of friends. I am a powerful adult witch. And I am scared of him?

It makes no sense. Witch hunter my butt! I trust him completely. He is kind. Sweet, even. No matter how much sass and grumpiness he sprinkles into his words, it is abundantly clear that his heart is made of pure gold. His smile could melt snow. His soft words could tame the wildest slitherbeast. His laugh is pure music.

*embarrassed cough*

So, then. Why the fear? Why have I been finding myself so on edge around him lately? It’s incredibly frustrating.

Words are difficult to get out. My pulse quickens when he sits too close. I can no longer look him in the eye without my face heating up. What else could cause this but fear? It is clearly my body warning me that what I am doing is incredibly foolish.

Or perhaps it’s just the apple blood.

*sighs in frustration, then there is a long moment of silence*

No. I’m not that naive. I know it’s not the apple blood. It’s just that…I’m…

I’m not ready.

I don’t have much more I would like to say on this topic, so I suppose I shall end this entry and tuck myself into bed with a good book. Perhaps Goldie would like for me to read her another story.

Here’s hoping for some nice dreams. Titan willing.

Goodnight.

Scaburary 15th

I had the day off from work. I tried to draw in the garden, but my redo of the blue jay sketch came out even worse than the original. I ended up spending most of my day on the couch, half paying attention to a book I could barely focus on enough to read.

I had dreams last night. Dreams I absolutely refuse to relive by writing them down.

Please. Please, please, please let tonight be better.

Scaburary 16th

Oh, Titan. I hate this.

I have made a decision. A decision I am absolutely miserable to be making.

It’s something I can absolutely not back out on. Something I should have done ages ago.

Something I should have done before I got…attached.

No matter what, this will end in pain. But it must end. Before he is harmed. Or worse. I know what I must do. But it hurts. I have to protect him. This week will be rough. Please wish me luck and courage.

Scaburary 17th My chest hurts. My eyes are sore. Everyone has been giving me space at work. I am sure they can tell something is very wrong, but no one has pried. At least I managed to keep it together until I was halfway home. Be proud of my fortitude.

After I was done being sorry for myself, I got an idea. I am unsure if I will be able to follow through with my plan. But if I can find my courage, perhaps I can at least try.

When we say our goodbyes, I can at least ensure Caleb still has a friend.

I haven’t carved a palisman in years. Not since I made Goldie with Mother and Father. And not since they…

*chokes up for a second*

I don’t even know if I remember how. But there is a grove of healthy palistrom trees in the backyard. And I still have my knife.

I even know what he would want.

Fine. Tomorrow I will start carving.

Scaburary 18th I opened my journal to write, but I have nothing substantial to say. This week has been miserable. I wish it were Friday so I could get this over with. Goldie keeps offering me seeds to cheer me up. I’m sorry, Goldie. I appreciate the gesture, but not everything can be fixed with a tasty seed.

Scaburary 19th I sent Goldie to deliver my final rebus message. I got such an excited response back, I nearly lost it again. He has heard a saw-whet owl in the woods by the fields. He wants to take me out there to listen for it. Sounds lovely. I suppose it’s nice to look forward to one last owl watch. What should I do with the remaining Titan’s blood? Dispose of it? Donate it to a researcher? All I know is that I cannot keep the vials. Lest I be…tempted. I’ll miss the birds. Caleb’s gift is drying on the kitchen table. I wonder what wish he will make.

Scaburary 20th I am surprisingly calm. There is something to be said for allowing yourself to…feel. To let your emotions exist, acknowledge them, let them out. That isn’t typically how I operate, but perhaps it can be advantageous to…sometimes…occasionally…not bury everything? As much as I hate to admit it. I was even able to laugh at Goldie’s antics. She brought home a rattle worm and pretended to feed it to our new scarlet friend. She even feigned offense when he refused her gift by remaining silent and wooden. Silly bird! I don’t know what I would ever do without her. I think I will be fine. Once the dust settles. We will all be fine.

Scaburary 22nd I do not know where to start. It is late evening. I am sitting here in bed, journal in lap, as usual. But Goldie is perched on my shoulder instead of her usual spot on my extra pillow. Because my extra pillow is occupied. It is occupied by a blond human and a small red bird. Oh. He just reached out in his sleep to hug my waist. I suppose I’m trapped now. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve never been so happy, and yet so anxious? I can’t stop smiling. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling or swooning or giggling since last night! How embarrassing. How completely and utterly embarrassing! ...Goldie, I know you are reading this. I can hear you laughing! Quit it! I think I’m still in a bit of shock-GOLDIE THIS IS PRIVATE. I haven’t quite processed any of this-I KNOW YOU CAN FEEL MY EMOTIONS AND HEAR MY THOUGHTS! I DON’T CARE! YOU’RE STILL BEING NOSY. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE WERE BOTH SO OBVIOUS? I SAID STOP LAUGHING!!! Fine. You were right. Is that what you wished to hear? Are you happy now, you smug little feather brain? Good. Anyway. Where was I? Everything happened so…fast. The last 24 hours have been absolutely wild. And terrifying. And…intense. But I think I can finally admit something important, even if it’s only here for now. Let’s see if I can manage to actually write it. Goodness, my hand is shaking. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Here goes… *swoons a little* I’m in love. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams. *snaps fingers, and light spells are extinguished* Sung: You are not alone No matter how far you have flown Together we feel we’re at home In darkness light shines in your bones *As she hums the song fades out*

[swordofsun]

@scoobydoodean had been posting about 4x17 It's A Terrible Life and it's reminded me of one of my favorite overlooked bits in the episode and how it shows that Zachariah is just wrong about Dean.

Zachariah's whole theory with this little experiment is that Dean will choose hunting.

ZACHARIAH To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it.

But Dean has expressly denied hunting already at the end of the last act:

SAM Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be. DEAN No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo. SAM When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them? DEAN Okay, you're upset. You're upset, you're confused— SAM Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital. DEAN Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on. SAM All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know—I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you. DEAN Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go. SAM leaves.

Sam tried to get Dean to drop everything and go hunting. They stopped a ghost! It was fun! They could do this, but Dean's not going to give up his life for it. Dean has no intention of turning his life upside down to start hunting and it's not until Zachariah lays out one of the most depressing 10 year plan ever:

ADLER Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way. DEAN Well, thanks. I try. ADLER I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you. DEAN takes off his headset. DEAN Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um...but... DEAN passes the paper back. DEAN I am giving my notice.

He's already the director of marketing and sales and his career plan is 10 years of nothing but work to make VP of a division? Probably a small division? Everyone would quit with that laid out. Maybe not as directly as Dean does, but yeah, they'd be going home and revamping the resume. That's a dead end career path you'd have to bust your ass and give up your life for.

Hearing that and going "hmm, maybe I take some time and check out that hunting thing with that Wesson guy. He was less creepy once we started working on the haunting, for the most part" is actually a pretty normal thing to do.

And really Zachariah doesn't even give him the chance to go find Sam. Because there's actually a good chance Dean gets home and after thinking about it he just updates his resume and LinkedIn. He had to give Dean back his memories in that exact moment in order to try and leverage the situation to his advantage.

Zachariah stacked the deck and still barely managed to get Dean to quit his job. Dean wasn't running to hunting with open arms. He was, at best, looking at it as a more viable option than the shitty 10 year plan Mr. Adler just laid out. And Zachariah couldn't wait for him to actually choose hunting, he had to strike before Dean could second guess himself.

(Even Sam is making the choice between IT support call center or ghost hunting. This isn't hard.)

4x17 Transcript

[waywardxwords]

Healing Wounds

Summary: Sequel to Empty - It had been close to a year since your run-in with Sam Winchester. You had spent the time hunting recklessly, which landed you in a predicament you didn’t think you could escape from. This tells the story of seeing Sam once more after his soul has been restored. 

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of vomit/nausea (no description), blood, Supernatural-y things (vamps), heartbreak (but fixing it with fluff), angsty, very limited talk about mental health and personal struggles

A/N: There may be one final part in this. I felt like there was too much to cover in one part. But this also wraps up all of the angst from Empty. Let me know what you think! And if you'd like to see this storyline continue at all :) Thanks in advance!

The first phone call came about eight months after you had seen Sam.

“Hello?” You answered, unsure of the number that had called you. But in the world of hunting, you always answered. Hunters were known to work their way through cell phones or have burners as back-up.

But this was a voice you had willed yourself to forget over the last eight months. Your name fell in a gentle murmur from his lips, but it sounded bitter to your ear. “It’s, uh, it’s Sam,” he cleared his throat in a way that told you he was uncomfortable making this phone call.

“Sam,” you said curtly. Your friend and hunting partner, Alicia McCaffrey, looked at you with wide eyes.

“Hang up that damn phone,” she muttered through gritted teeth as she followed you into the motel room and closed the door behind her.

You wanted to, really–you did. But somehow you couldn’t bring yourself to do it just yet. “Are you and Dean alright?” You asked firmly. You had learned that just a few months after your run-in with Sam, Dean had gotten back in the game. Bobby had filled you in on a call he had made to ask you about a hunt you had been on. Dean had tried to reach out twice to see you, but he could tell by the sound of your voice and shortness of your responses, you weren’t willing to come back to hunt with the Winchester duo.

“Y-Yeah,” he stumbled over his words–and here again, he sounded different. But you knew better. You had witnessed it for yourself. “We’re fine, we’re okay,” you were able to breathe a little easier. There was a pause on his end, and you didn’t understand why. “God, this is so hard to explain over the phone. There’s…there’s so much I wanna say…” his voice fell off again. 

“Sam, I don’t really have time for this–” your heart raced against your sternum.

“I know, I know I don’t deserve it. Please, just let me explain–” it was your turn to cut him off.

“Sam, all I want is for you to lose my number,” the words felt angry as they left your mouth. As much as it still hurt, you pulled the phone from your ear and hit ‘End’.

It had been months since you had heard from Sam Winchester. Months of reckless hunting, which wasn’t usually your style. But you had a hard time caring anymore. The heartache from your one night rendezvous with the youngest Winchester had wrecked you in ways you didn’t realize were possible. 

Alicia McCaffrey had become one of your closest friends, but even she had to take a step back. “You’re dangerous,” she had breathed one night after a hunt. “I can’t keep putting myself in life or death situations with you, kid.” You knew she was right–she didn’t deserve to be put in precarious circumstances because you had gotten your heart broken. Hell, she had even warned you that she thought it was a bad idea. Had you trusted your gut, even you knew it was the wrong decision. Sam wasn’t the same man you had known, and yet you went through with it anyway. You would be paying the price for the rest of your life, even if that would be a short time.

So you hunted alone now. It was for the best. You avoided the phone calls from Bobby, and anyone else you knew from that past life because you refused to open up the book of pain. You no longer cared if another hunter was calling you for help, the emotions were too overwhelming: hurt, pain, embarrassment…

With a quick shift of your wrist, your blade slashed through a vampire’s neck. You didn’t even flinch as his head rolled–eyes wide open as he had a moment to process his demise. 

“You bitch,” an older vampire spat in your direction as his body moved quicker than you could turn. He caught the spot on your neck in an instant. The shrill pain of his fangs as they gnawed through your warm flesh elicited a scream from your lips. Without hesitation, you reached in your back pocket and very quickly popped the plastic cap off before you smashed the syringe into the side of his neck. He pulled back from you with a shriek as he stumbled. 

“Dead man’s blood, asshole,” you grumbled as your fingertips pressed to the wet spot on your neck. It almost felt like you could feel your pulse through the blood and torn flesh. You shook the white spots from your vision and didn’t falter as you swung your machete across his neck. For a moment, you were disappointed. You could hear others coming down the hall of the abandoned estate–their chatter and growling echoed along the halls and bounced off of the marble floors.

You weren’t sure why you were disappointed. For months now, you had been living life on the edge–like Alicia had said before she left, “You have a death wish, kid. And I’m not stickin’ around for you to see it through.” So wasn’t this it? Wasn’t this what you had wanted? You thought the answer was yes, so why did it feel so wrong now that you were practically staring Death in the face?

With a quick breath, you tried to swallow past the lump of emotion bubbling in your throat. You pulled your fingers from the spot on your neck that leaked with more blood every time your heart reverberated against your chest. With narrowed eyes, you stared down the hallway where the other vamps were swiftly approaching. After a few rotations of your machete, you took one last breath. “Come and get me!” The words fell from your lips in a hasty yell.

But then, something happened. Just beyond the heavy double doors made of a dark wood, you heard screaming; slashing. You gulped once, then twice…and then the doors opened.

In your heart, you had a sinking idea who stood behind those doors. But at the same time, you didn’t think they cared enough. Or maybe that he cared enough. 

Even beyond the spots in your eyes and the darkness of the room around you, you noticed Sam’s jaw tighten as his eyes moved over your frame. From the distant look across your face–the one that told him you weren’t happy to see him–to the blood still dripping from the crook of your neck just above your collarbone. Without thinking, he moved forward towards you. He didn’t miss the way your body flinched as he moved, but he forced it out of his head as his machete clanked to the ground and echoed around your bodies.

“Don’t,” you muttered through gritted teeth. He stopped, only for a moment. “Don’t touch me.” You managed once more as his large hands moved fallen strands of hair away from your neck so he could get a better look at your open wound.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed with furrowed brows and a look in his eyes that took you by surprise. The way his eyes moved between yours, it made you pause–was that…was that the light that you were so desperately searching for the last time you encountered Sam? “I have to look at it, okay?” His voice was just above a whisper.

Anger rumbled in the pit of your stomach, but seemed to quiet down at the specks of glint you saw all of a sudden. You knew he was right; you had been seeing spots ever since that vamp snacked on your jugular, or so it felt. You managed a small nod.

With maybe a second passing, he moved. One hand cradled the side of your face while the other tilted your head a bit, so it relaxed in the feeling of his hand. His eyes moved over the injury as he quickly reached away with both hands to take off his flannel covering a sweat-stained gray undershirt. You wanted to vomit when his hands left your skin, and that made you angry again. “How dare you just waltz in here like a fucking knight in shining armor,” you hadn’t realized your mouth had picked up on your brain’s thoughts and instead of having an internal dialogue, you had spoken them out loud. Oh well…at least he knew how you felt now, if he hadn’t already.

Sam’s eyes moved to yours swiftly. He nodded once, then twice before he ducked his head to look at the ground. “Sorry will never be enough,” he murmured. His head moved back so he could look at you once more. He didn’t say anything before he took his flannel and pressed it to your neck with a pressure that made you hiss in pain and squeeze your eyes closed. “I know,” he continued. “We gotta keep pressure on it…” his voice trailed off as Dean spoke up.

“I know there’s a lotta shit happening right now,” he said as he looked around the abandoned space. “But we gotta keep moving. I don’t think that’s the last of the nest and we’re fightin’ an uphill battle. We’ll come back later, but let’s get you cleaned up.” He nodded to you–Dean’s way of saying ‘hello’. 

Going with the Winchesters was the last thing you would ever decide to do at this moment–well, maybe not the last thing. It was settled on the list just above getting eaten by a vamp. But your options were limited, and you felt yourself feeling more and more lightheaded the longer your neck bled. 

“Fine,” you managed as you followed them back to the Impala. Sam kept his distance, and you were thankful for that. As you climbed into the backseat, Sam hesitated by the door but got the message when you pulled it closed behind you. He settled for the front seat while Dean drove.

As you headed to whatever motel they were staying in, you repeated in your head: Get in, get cleaned up, have Dean take you back to your motel. Get in, get out. Get in…get out… 

Your eyes watched as the yellow light from street poles moved past the car on the drive. Tears and emotion prickled the back of your eyes and throat, but you pushed them away. You’d be damned if you let Sam Winchester get under your skin again. Fool you once, shame on him. But fool you twice…

It was only a few minutes before the Impala shifted into park in the lot of a seedy highway motel. You internally groaned when you realized you recognized this seedy highway motel–it was the same one you had been crashing at for the last two nights. They must’ve gotten in that day, because there was no way you wouldn’t have noticed the Impala.

The ride had been silent, which made you realize that Dean must also know about what happened between you and Sam all those nights ago. That made your stomach flip flop even more than before–embarrassment crept up into your chest and face. Trying to brush it off was useless, but you still attempted. You pulled the car door handle open before Sam could try to help and brushed by him.

“Assuming you guys have a med kit here?” The bleeding had slowed to a stop, which you were thankful for because it meant the damage was mostly cosmetic and everything important was still intact. 

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Dean chuckled as he closed the driver side door. “We got you covered. It’s, uh…it’s good to see you.” He nodded as his eyes lingered over you–you couldn’t be sure what he was looking for, or maybe even seeing. But you felt like his eyes were full of pity and sympathy, which made you nauseous again.

“Yeah,” you nodded, not able to return the sentiment. “If we could get this over with, that’d be great. I have things to do.”

Dean led the way to the door of their motel room. Sam kept his distance, but you could feel his gaze again. His hands shoved into the front pockets of his dark jeans. 

“Where ya staying?” Dean asked nonchalantly as he put the key card in the slot to unlock their door. 

You took a moment before answering. “Here. Just down the hall,” your words were soft. You didn’t really want to share that information with them. 

Dean nodded but didn’t seem surprised. There weren’t too many motels just off the highway, which was what the Winchesters always booked. In that realization, you wanted to kick yourself. Even though you hadn’t meant to, you were still following their rules of hunting. “Stay just off the highway so you can peel out quick if shit hits the fan,” Dean’s words echoed through your brain. 

Dean nodded as the door opened and you followed him inside, Sam just behind you. “I gotta go pick something up,” you knew Dean was just trying to find an excuse to leave. Before you could argue, he tossed the med kit from the small bathroom onto one of the beds and hurried back to the door. “I’ll be back a bit later. Sammy will get you cleaned up.”

Before a word could flow from your brain to your lips, Dean was out the door. You closed your eyes for a minute and bit down hard on the inside of your lip—so hard, you thought you tasted blood. 

He had the audacity to utter your name, and it made you want to scream. 

“Don’t you dare say my name like that,” you gritted through the words. “You don’t get to talk to me anymore. Seriously.” You glanced around the room in his silence, and headed back for the door. “I have my own med kit, I can do it myself.” You muttered. 

“Please, don’t go,” while everything inside of you told you to keep walking, the conviction and pain in his voice made your feet stop moving. “Please. I’m begging you. I just need a few minutes to explain. Let me take care of you and explain everything from the last year and a half, and then if you still want to leave, I won’t stand in your way.” 

Against your better judgment, your feet moved to turn back to face him. You could see the same emotions on his face—the anguish, in typical Sam Winchester fashion. “Let me take care of you,” his words echoed internally and stung almost as much as the cool air that was about to hit the gash on your neck.

“You have five minutes,” you said carefully as you walked to the edge of the bed and pulled Sam’s flannel away from your skin. You winced as the fabric pulled at the already drying wound. 

If you had blinked, you would have missed the way Sam’s jaw tightened and how his eyes traced a path from the wound on your neck to your eyes and back. 

His hands opened the med kit; as he began to work, he spoke softly. “Cas pulled me out of Lucifer’s cage. But when he got me out, my soul got left behind,” your eyes darted to his face as he poured antiseptic onto a cotton pad. 

“Your soul?” You asked, his eyes glued to the cotton pad as he focused on working. 

He nodded once as he brought the pad to your neck. He hesitated for a second. “Yeah, my soul. This is gonna sting, okay?” He asked carefully. He waited for you to nod before he placed the pad, cool from the antiseptic, onto your skin. Your face contorted for a minute and you swallowed the hiss that threatened to escape. “I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what. I didn’t know how I got out of the cage or what was wrong with me. I just felt…numb.” 

So far, nothing Sam had said swayed your judgment or how you felt. Sam understood that by your silence. Nevertheless, he continued working on your wound. 

“Dean got back in, and then Cas…and that’s when we realized my soul was just gone,” he moved on to unwrap some packing gauze and broke his train of thought. “It doesn’t look like it needs stitches, just a surface wound. You okay if I pack it and tape it up?”

You managed a nod and looked down a bit so your hair fell into your face. Sam’s fingers grazed your chin so gently, you weren’t sure you felt it until you saw his hand. 

“Sorry, gotta get the right angle,” he cleared his throat. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and went back to work. “I remember everything now,” he started again and pulled his gaze away from your eyes. He busied his fingers with the packing gauze, but you could tell it was so he wouldn’t have to look directly into your eyes. “I didn’t right away…it’s kind of a long story. But I would get glimpses of memories and things that happened when I didn’t have my soul. And I saw you…and that night…” his voice trailed off. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” you cut him off before your words were swallowed by emotions—emotions you had tried so hard not to feel for all of these months. You were on your feet pushing past his broad frame before he could say another word. “I’m not doing this, Sam. I’m not going to sit here and have some bullshit heart to heart about what happened. I can’t.” 

Sam stood immediately but he didn’t approach—he knew better than that. “I know I don’t deserve it. God, I know…”

“Do you?” You spat back. This time, the emotion broke through. Everything you had fought so hard to swallow came tumbling back. “Do you know how hard it was when I watched you jump into the cage? Or how I mourned you and the loss of the person I considered my best friend? Or how about how the entire time I hunted with you I wanted so desperately for you to want me the way I wanted you?” You wondered if you would regret the words, but you couldn’t stop them. Nor could you stop the angry tears that began to pool in your eyes and spill just over the edge. The look on his face remained the same—pained. “How amazing it was when I saw you standing in the bar that night? And then how hurt I was when I realized you had been back for ten months and didn’t call? But then you wanted me…and you had me,” your voice fell and you could no longer look into his eyes. “And then you left.” Your voice was so low, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. 

Sam couldn’t stand in one spot anymore. He moved to you so quickly, it took you by surprise. You could tell by the way he moved his arms he wanted to touch you, but he refrained. 

“I know that saying sorry means absolutely nothing right now,” he said slowly, carefully. “But I am so incredibly sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sorry about anything before in my life.” His words dripped with an emotion you had never heard from him before. You thought he might cry—and you had never seen Sam Winchester cry. “If I could change it—”

“I know,” you cut him off with your eyes closed, only allowing more tears to slip through the cracks. “You would take it back. I know. It was a mistake, Sam.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “The only mistake I made that night was not showing you how much I care about you.” 

Through blurry blinks you looked back at him, and it was then that you saw what you couldn’t see the last time you and Sam Winchester were in a motel room together–the light. There was still pain, but the emptiness was gone, filled again with what had been missing all along. He moved so slowly, cautiously as he brought his palm up to cup your cheek. The pad of his thumb swept under your eye to wipe at the tears that had settled there.

“You were the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt…I am so sorry I hurt you,” his eyes connected with yours to show you he meant it. “My feelings were real, I was just so screwed up…I had zero emotional connection to what was happening.”

You pulled back from his touch as your eyes found the multicolored carpet below your feet. While you had already spilled so many feelings to him that you hadn’t planned for, you couldn’t hold his gaze while you told him this one. “I wanted to die, Sam. I gave up. Being with you that night…it left a wound I couldn’t figure out how to heal. The pain was so bad, I didn’t care about anyone or anything anymore…”

This time, you knew you could see Sam’s eyes glass over. He was hurting because he knew his actions had left a scar deep within you and caused you so much anguish. 

It was then that you realized—Sam hadn’t asked to be brought back without his soul. Hell, he hadn’t been asked to be brought back at all. When you had run into Sam that night, he didn’t even realize his soul was missing. 

“But it’s not your fault,” suddenly, your heart fluttered. Since that night all those months ago, you hadn’t felt that flutter for anything or anyone. The feeling of emptiness was replaced with a flutter of hope. “You didn’t know, Sam.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered with a shake of his head, his eyes still on yours. “It doesn’t make it okay.” 

“It doesn’t,” you breathed, your tears slowing. “But it isn’t fair for me to hold something against you that you didn’t even know was happening…” as he heard your words, you saw a gleam of hope in his eyes that matched the feeling in your chest. 

His brows furrowed as he closed his eyes and dropped his head a bit. “Thank you,” the words fell in a breath. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to hear you out,” your fingers instinctively reached to touch the palms of his hands. His head jerked back up so his eyes were on you, his brows still knitted together in a frown. He grasped your hands tightly in his, and a feeling of warmth washed over you.

“Do not apologize to me,” he said firmly. “You don’t owe me anything, you hear me? I hurt you. I would do anything in the world to fix it.”

Your throat suddenly felt dry, so you swallowed so you could try to get the words out. “I don’t really know what that looks like, but I’m willing to work on it together…”

For the first time that night, you saw a smile tug at the corners of Sam’s lips. He gave your hands another squeeze. “Thank you…” his words trailed away before he cleared his throat. “Now, can I please finish packing that gash on your neck? We really need to get it covered.” 

You managed a nod and allowed him to hold your hand as he led you back to the bed. 

“I’ll do everything I can to help you heal,” he breathed as his eyes focused on yours again once you were on the edge of the bed. You wanted to tell him it was a superficial wound and would heal just fine, but you knew he was talking about more than just the spot the vampire had bitten. And you were willing to let him try. 

---------

Tag List: @lacilou

[eldritch-spouse]

Journal entries from Shag's Obsession.

(forgive for any grammar errors or ooc. Yes, I'm the same writer for the Sleep Inn short and the demon queens documentary shorts. Enjoy!)

Day 1 ⚫

Today, I was in the forest taking photos for inspiration for my artwork. I thought I was alone until I saw a strange shadowy figure nearby. At first, I thought it was a person, so I wanted to be friendly and say hello until I realized the closer, I got, the taller and gangly-like it becomes. It looked like it was wearing some kind of robe, and a funny hat. It looked like it was covered in tar from head-to-toe. I attempted to get a closer look to see what it was up to, but it looked up in my direction and I quickly stopped moving. I prayed it didn't find me. Who knows what'll happen. I took a peek to see if was still there, but it was gone. I got home soon as possible to draw the creature I saw, but all the adrenaline was making my hands shaking.

*bottom of page is a crude drawing of Shags*

Day 2 ⚫

I decided to hunt and research the creature from the other day. This encounter inspired me to be a cryptid hunter as a side hobby. This time I'll try to remember to take a photo of that thing in the forest. I ⚫ hope I'll encounter it again. ⚫

I returned home with no luck of finding it. I noticed some black splotches of paint around my home. Upon closer look it looks and smells like ink. Probably some dumb teenagers pulling a prank.

Day 3

I saw it today! I made sure to quickly and quietly take some photos of it before it disappears again. It was carrying a bag while walking. I swear I saw it moved a little. Maybe it's some rabbit. I noticed as it walks it leaves drops of black stuff on the ground. I wanted to follow it but for now I'll grab a sample from that icky stuff its dripping.

day 4

I decided to name the cryptid "Ink Man". I couldn't hunt today. Too tired. I had trouble sleeping last night because I heard noises outside of my window. Hard to say, it sounded like breathing and claws tapping. The last thing I saw before I slept was a looming shadow by my window. ⚫

I dreamt of a tall figure shrouded in black as the void. It looked like ⚫the Ink Man. It stood over me while I laid in bed. I couldn't move. Is this my first paralysis demon experience? It was breathing so heavily and reached out it's spindly hands and brushed them over my legs. It felt so creepy it felt like spiders walking all over me. This was the most vivid dream I ever had.

Day 5

This time I went back into the forest for more research of the Ink Man. I saw it sitting on a stump, eating something. Kinda smells good like chicken. I quickly took some more photos before he or (she?) noticed me. I continued to watch the ink man's activities afterward. The Ink man mostly foraged stuff whatever is fascinated with and puts in their bag.

I later learned the Ink man is indeed a man due to his... certain needs.

Day 6

I have no luck finding the Ink Man's home whenever I follow it. It seems to disappear whenever I turn a corner. Every time I try to follow it, he disappears without trace. My theory is that it's a fairy, not a cryptid.

My home is covered in black paint again and I just washed it all off! Damn teenagers again. I noticed there are some paint marks that is starting to look abstract images. Some look like people. And... hearts? I noticed there is alot of paint smudges near my windows.

Day 7 ⚫

It's raining outside. No searching today. I just noticed there's alot of black paint smudges on my journal. Not only that, but I've also been seeing some paint smudges around my home. Did one of my pens broke? And I could have sworn some of my art pieces have been missing, did I move them?

Day 8

I went outside to start my search again. Right outside my front door is a picture on the ground. I picked it up and took a closer look and saw it was a nicely drawn sketch of... Is- is that me sleeping in my bed!? My stomach twists and I feel sick. What sicko drew this!? I turn the page over. On the other side is what looks like to be a signature from the artist. If I read correctly, it said "Shags"? With a heart next to it. Tomorrow I'm reporting this to the police.

It's nighttime. I can't sleep knowing someone is watching me. I made ⚫sure the windows are covered and locked the doors and windows. I've been staring at these photos of the Ink man for more clues. I hear noises outside. It sounds like and animal. Maybe that stalker is back again. I'm grabbing my bat for defense before I go outside.

⚫

(the black dots are supposed to be ink drops from Shags peeking)

Great stuff! Though I think answering this ask might deform the placement of the dots, which is saddening. If it does, I want people reading to know they had different sizes and were more evenly spread, which made it look really creative!

That aside, I love how our crypto zoologist apprentice here has about as many braincells as a horror movie protagonist (which are zero, and a half-eatrn tic tac). This man I saw covered in ink-like black tar from head to toe is so creepy! Man I sure wish the teenagers weren't spreading ink around my house...

I think Shags is reading this diary and seriously worrying for his inkling's cognitive abilities. He's being anything but subtle, and you're writing about him like he's some kind of animal incapable of deciding he wants to visit your own living space. Gods, he flashed you his dick on at least one occasion.

He's ripping that sketch of him on the first page, and will be mildly depressed if he finds you discarded his.

[arminreindl]

The NEW Ultrastenos and its Ironic History

So those that have been keeping up with my posts on mekosuchines might recall the name Ultrastenos, as I've talked about this genus back in August of last year. If you've read that post you might also remember how I highlight at multiple points that a lot of the info was tentative on the basis that Ultrastenos was highly incomplete and that close relatives awaited description.

You may also remember "Baru" huberi, a small mekosuchine that lived roughly around the same time, clearly distinct from Baru yet at that point still unnamed. Oh, how I wished for the former to get more material and for the latter to recieve a proper genus assignment.

My now outdated reconstructions for "Baru" huberi (the small one in the left image) and Ultrastenos (right image)

And then the monkey's paw curled.

As it turns out....they are the same damn animal. Now, back when "Baru" huberi was described, Willis also named a bunch of other mekosuchines from the same locality (the White Hunter Site of the Riversleigh WHA) and described even more material that remained unnamed, including the White Hunter Cranial Form 1. Now, when Ultrastenos was named in 2016, the type material was from the Low Lion Site (also Riversleigh), but importantly, the skull tables identified as WHCF1 were also assigned to the genus (and were the basis for my reconstruction).

Well, re-examination has shown that the WHCF1 and the holotype of "Baru" huberi aren't just a single species.....THEY ARE A SINGLE INDIVIDUAL.

Given the fact that the assignment of the skull table to the Low Lion Ultrastenos material still holds up, this means that Ultrastenos willisi and "Baru" huberi are a single taxon. Which consequently requires some reshuffling of the names.

"Baru" huberi was named first, so the species name takes priority and continues being used. However, since it was never given a genus name, Ultrastenos does stay valid. Except now it's called Ultrastenos huberi, not Ultrastenos willisi. A name that has aged like milk. Back in 2016 it was proposed that Ultrastenos had a very narrow snout (thus the name), so now that we know that the rostrum was flat and mesorostrine, the name really is just wrong.

So next up, lets examine what went wrong.

As I said before, Ultrastenos was fragmentary, so that certainly played a big part in it. But the team in charge of describing the animal still cited several lines of thinking to support their interpretation, most of which are now thoroughly debunked.

As an example, the lower jaw was rather shallow, however while this was initially taken as evidence for longirostry, the 2024 paper states that this only an argument against altirostry (a deep skull), not against a more generalized condition. The teeth were also initially used as evidence, citing their homodont condition (the teeth looked uniform), HOWEVER, the problem in that was that there were only a few teeth present, all of which notably do not bear any resemblance to the needle-like teeth seen in other long-snouted taxa. Another important clue initially taken to mean longirostry was the orientation of the quadrate area and the seemingly sudden constriction of the lower jaw. But the quadrate area was not found in articulation and would support a generalized skull form if simply rotated a little, while the constriction of the mandible appears to at least be partially exaggerated by preservation.

Of course, the fact that we now have proper material of the snout makes the interpretation of a generalized skull shape a lot more solid.

Image 1: The left and right halves of the mandible of Ultrastenos compared to that of Baru iylwenpeny (D), note how the right half is a lot more straight. Image 2: The initial reconstruction of the quadrate area of Ultrastenos compared to one that is slightly rotated Image 3: The revamped skull reconstruction by Yates and Stein

The size of the animal does stay relatively unaffected by these new discoveries. "Baru" huberi has been estimated at only around 1.5 meters in length and my own scaling of Ultrastenos got up to 2 meters, which seems to be in line with what is still assumed for this animal. So among aquatic mekosuchines, its still rather small.

There are however some interesting implications for mekosuchines at large. Now that we no longer have a longirostrine member of this family, one has to wonder, why is that? Well, there might be several reasons.

It could be that the types of environments that were present in Cenozoic Australia simply didn't support such animals. Even in the type description, its been noted that the Riversleigh isn't exactly known for its fish remains, leading to the idea that Ultrastenos might have gone for other small vertebrates like frogs. Hell, the ecology of Baru might suggest that the reason that this genus was so robust might tie to the fact that the local bodies of water just weren't deep enough to allow the typical crocodilian grab-and-drown tactic.

Competition might have been another factor. In environments that may have been more suitable for such morphology, mekosuchines might have been beaten to the punch by other types of crocodilians. Harpacochampsa for example, tho originally thought to be a mekosuchine, is now more often regarded as either an unrelated crocodile or a gharial and its very possible that it filling the nische of a longirostrine simply meant that mekosuchines didn't have the opportunity to expand into that space. Same goes for Gunggamarandu in the Pliocene and Pleistocene and Freshwater Crocodiles from the Pleistocene onwards. (Tho it should be noted that both Harpacochampsa and Gunggamarandu are so fragmentary that their snout shape is technically unknown).

Images: Gunggamarandu (Eleanor Pease), Harpacochampsa (ArtbyJRC) and Freshies (Antoni Camozzato) might have been key factors in why mekosuchines never evolved slender snouts.

Finally, its also possible that something in the growth of mekosuchines simply prevents them from evolving longirostrine skulls, which Yates and Stein liken to alligatoroids (notably the closest alligatoroids got to traditional longirostry as seen in gharials is the Rio Apaporis Caiman, and even that one is closer to some extant crocodiles in its morphology).

Whatever the case, I for one mourn the loss of our long-snouted Ultrastenos. Tho as a note for any paleoartists, there is not a single illustration of this new interpretation since nobody ever drew "Baru" huberi either. Wink wink nudge nudge

Links:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultrasteno

Ultrastenos revised (palaeo-electronica.org)

[wonderthor]

Birthday Bliss

late night quick writes

a/n: y’all i’m tired and gotta get up for work in like 3 hours😩😭

pairing: husband!geto suguru x black!female!reader

summary: sometimes things just don’t go as planned when you plan a special evening for your husband’s birthday, but that’s the best part.

warnings: married couple, SMUT 18+ (light choking, light degradation, pet names, mirror sex, p in v, no protection, creampie, light biting, cervix bruising, dirty talk, light slapping/spanking, light teasing), cursing, lingerie, unedited

—

you were running very VERY late. it was your husband’s birthday and you planned this lowkey but special day for him and you were about to ruin it. you were ahead of schedule, as always, until you hit a bunch of unforeseen traffic on the way home from the mall. you told yourself you should have left earlier, but you were too busy looking at all the beautiful dresses in your favorite store. you went to the mall to buy yourself a sexy lingerie set, which didn’t take you long, but you still got distracted and now you were paying for it. which is why you’re on the phone scrambling around your closet trying to find your fancy dark blue gown.

“i know i know, i’m getting dressed as fast as i can! i’ll be there soon, just see if they can sit our table down when it’s time for our reservation in case i get there late. do you think i should just tell him to meet us there? i know it will ruin the surprise but that way he won’t be late to his own birthday dinner at least.”

you got undressed down to your new lingerie set as you talked on the phone and raked through your dresses. you finally found the dress you were looking for and laid it out. you were just about to unzip the dress to put it on when you heard a voice and felt a familiar pair of hands wrap around your torso.

“hey baby, i missed you,” your husband whispered in your ear before kissing you on the cheek.

your eyes widened. shit, shit, shit! how come i didn’t hear him come in?, you thought to yourself. “umm, ok i’ll see you later bye!”, you rambled into the phone and hung up on your friend.

you turned around and broke away from geto’s grasp to face him, retuning a kiss to his cheek. “hey honey! i missed you too. but we’re going somewhere, it’s a surprise so i’m not gonna tell you, so i gotta get dressed real quick okay?”

you turned towards your dress and started to unzip it before you realized he was still standing behind you. you turned to him and noticed he was staring right at you, well right at your body. he was eyeing you up and down, with a look in his eye that you knew all too well. you looked down and realized you were in nothing but your new lingerie set that was meant to be revealed to him after dinner. damn, i guess nothing is going as planned today.

he walked towards you and you walked backwards, trying to create some distance. “baby wait, we’re going to a restaurant with our friends and we need to hurry cuz it’s almost time for our reservation okay? g-geto?”, you spoke in a calm, slow manner as if you were pleading for your life, geto slowly but surely walking closer to you as a hunter slowly closes in on their prey. your back hit the wall with a thud and your husband stared intensely down at you, and god did you feel like you were about to be eaten alive.

he swiftly grabbed your ass and picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist and your hands instinctively holding onto his shoulders. “i don’t think they would mind if we were only a couple minutes late. besides, it’s my birthday so i’m allowed to get what i want when i want, right princess?”. he whispered the last two words right into your ear, causing a shiver to erupt through your entire body.

you and your husband’s phones were ringing off the hook, most likely because you were now wayyy late to your reservation. but for some reason you couldn’t even begin to care. maybe it was because your husband currently had you bent over the bathroom counter with his massive dick hammering away at your insides and turning them to mush. you gripped onto the counter for dear life to steady yourself, although you gave up on keeping your head up as your cheek pressed against the cool marble, drooling against it. your mind was nowhere to be found and your husband wasn’t helping as he whispered the nastiest filth into your ears. “fuck baby, sucking me in like the needy little slut you are. look at you, taking me so well, such a good girl for me. so tight princess, i could stay right here and fuck you all night and day if i could. you’re my perfect little angel, aren’t you baby? so pretty and perfect just for me.”

you could honestly cum from just his words alone, or from his dick splitting you open and bruising your cervix in every thrust. his hips swiveled and he ran right into your g-spot, making you jolt up and cry out. he snickered and moved one of his hands up, wrapping it tight around your throat. “look at you, baby. you look so pretty like this, so pretty when you’re about to come all over me. come on princess, open your eyes and look,” he swooned in your ear before giving two firm pats to your cheek, effectively making you open your eyes.

you faced your reflection in the bathroom mirror, saw how your eyes were lidded and drool ran all the way down from your lips to his arm that was around your throat. that caused you to focus on his strong arms full of bulging muscles and veins, then up to his sweaty hair that was all over the place. you clenched down around him, as watching him fuck the life out of you brought you that much closer to your high. “fuck baby, are you about to come for me? squeezin around me so fuckin tight. tell me sweetheart -shit!- tell me,” he called out to you, making you wonder how he could speak as if he was simply stating poetry all the while his hips were slamming into you at breakneck speed.

“about t-to cum, baby. please, please let me cum,” you moaned out mostly coherently. you’re eyes hit the back of your head as his powerful thrusts hit your sweet spot over and over and his heavy balls slapped against your puffy and sensitive cunt. he squeezed your throat even tighter and the pace of his hips told you that he was close too.

“oh shit baby, that’s right. cum for me, it’s okay, cum for me babygirl.” your entire body tensed as you came hard against him, shaking and jolting as you let out a stream of cries and whimpers. with a couple more thrusts, geto bit down on your shoulder, cumming inside you and filling you up to the brim. he gradually slowed his thrusts down to a stop, leaning on your back and your head fell onto the counter face first. all that could be heard now was heavy panting, although you really couldn’t hear much since your mind was still floating in the heavens above. once your husband was able to breathe calmly, he leaned up and slowly placed kisses all the way up your back. he kissed up to your ear and whispered, “come back to me baby.”

your soul crashed back into your body and you leaned up, supporting yourself on your shaky arms. “i’m right here baby, happy birthday.” he smiled at you and gave a deep and passionate kiss.

“thank you, and thank you for giving me the best gift ever.” he turned you around so you were facing him, pulling you into an intimate make out session. suddenly, you heard a phone ringing again and you both pulled away. oh shit. your husband walked to his phone first and you carefully hopped of the counter and followed him into the bedroom to get yours. you scrolled through seemingly endless texts and missed call notifications from your friends. they were probably pissed or worried, or both. your husband’s cackle broke you away from your phone and you looked up at him. he walked over to you with his phone.

“look at this, look at what satoru sent me.” he showed you the text on his phone that read: “oh my god, you’re fucking her aren’t you? all of your friends are waiting at this restaurant and you’re fucking screwing your wife while we wait and die of starvation. it’s okay, because i’m ordering the most expensive shit here and i’ll make sure you pay for it.😡😡”

you clasped your hand over your mouth as you felt your face heat up with embarrassment. “oh my god, we’re so horrible! our friends waited so long for us, i feel so bad!”

your husband laughed at your shame, “don’t feel bad, it’s my birthday remember? come on, let’s get dressed and try to make it there before everyone leaves,” your husband said as he threw a shirt over his head.

“ugh, i told you we should have waited until after dinner,” you said as you turned to walk into your closet. but before you walked away, your husband pulled you into him and held your chin so you looked straight into his eyes.

“oh don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll have plenty more fun when we get home later, okay?” he slapped your ass before letting you go to walk into your closet. now your cheeks were heating up for a different reason.

[lynx-of-skies]

Hello! I would like to order Sweet Tea and Cupcakes. But if two's too much, I'll just have the cupcakes. :)

Oh! And please deliver it to Traveler Aether, he has been through a lot :')

I'll pay in Cash (tagged), and I'll give a tip of 30% (Isekai). ;)

Thank you! :D

Order #2 : Sweet Tea with Cupcakes

Isekai Au (Presuming Reader Isekai'd)

I am SO SORRY for taking so long- School has been eating my time, I had a paper due, I’m in crew for a musical - it's just chaos on my half-

Traveler Aether

How you guys met

It was a regular school day, walking back home in the warm weather. The birds were singing, flowers were blooming, on days like these, people like you. Get hit with a damn truck-

When you opened your eyes you noticed you were in the login place of Genshin Impact, the door right in front of you. Deciding to be smart you turned around to see the Heavenly Principle staring down at you.

So without a second thought you just opened the door, a bright white light filled your vision, when your vision cleared you were falling from the sky in a bright golden light. Looking down you see Aether, the twin you picked for your travels, holding an Intertwined Fate- wait a minute....were you just pulled?!

Aether noticed you weren't the character he tried to summon, but he quickly caught you either way, making sure you weren't hurt on the way down. The two of you just stared at each other in complete confusion, well, looks like you're gonna have to explain what just happened in the last few minutes.

Aether just looked down at you as he held you, completely confused on why a random person with fell and not a character like Qiqi or Diluc, or hell, the character he was summoning.

"Uhm...hello?"

"Uh...hi?" You said, slightly embarrassed at the fact that Aether was carrying you. Noticing your embarrassed expression Aether quickly but carefully put you down. Looking around you noticed that you were in Mondstadt, at Vanessa's tree, it looked like Stormterror was still active. There was a brief silence between the the two of you before Aether cleared his throat.

"So..uhm...I'm Aether, and you are?"

I looked around awkwardly, averting your eyes from him, "I'm [Name], uhm....I'm not from here..uh.."

Aether softly chuckled, "I can tell, so, you're not from this world..where..did you come from? If you don't mind me asking!"

You shuffled around a little, sitting on a rock nearby, "Well..it's a long story...basically, I come from a world where uh- there's more? less? technical advantages? I'm not sure if my world's technology would be considered more advanced or less with this world's, stuff..."

"Traveler! Paimon just came back from Good Hunter's! What are you- AHH- WHO ARE YOU?!" The floating pixie screeched, hiding behind Aether.

"Paimon, this is [Name], they came from another world." Aether explained, sweat dropping at his companions reaction.

"Oh...WAIT THEY'RE ALSO FROM ANOTHER WORLD?!"

"Paimon-"

After explaining all that's happened to you in the pass few minutes, the two looked at you with a mixture of shock and a bit of pity.

"So...you're saying you died when you got here?...You were hit by a truck? Paimon's sorry....Paimon didn't know you died when you were brought here.."

"So...what are we going to do now?" You asked with your arms crossed .

"Oh! Paimon knows! You can join us on our travels! We're trying to find the 7 Archons to find where his sister went! We could also see if they have any information on how to get you back home!"

"That sounds like a great idea Paimon! Come on, we're currently trying to find the Anemo archon, and we were just about to head back to Mondstadt. Let's go together." Aether reached a hand out to you, knowing you don't got any other options, you grabbed his hand, heading to Mondstadt with the two of them.

How his crush developed on you

After a handful of weeks passed by, traveling and hanging out with Aether and Paimon, trying to find any information on his sister and how to get you back home, the three of you, Aether, and Paimon have grown pretty close together.

Ever since Stormterror, well- Daviln had chilled out, everything's been a lot more peaceful. Minus the daily commissions with fighting hilichurls and the Abyss. Though, you can't help but mentally die a little inside every time a hilichurl was slaughtered..

You, Aether and Paimon had met up with the Anemo Archon, now known as Venti the Bard. After chatting with him about Aether's sister and if there was a way to get you home. Venti suggested to go ask Morax, the Geo Archon at the Rite of Descension since he knows a lot more than Venti.

And so the three of you head off, but not before taking a walk around Mondstadt one last time.

"Ah...I'm gonna miss Mondstadt..." You say as the three of you walk, passing Vanessa's Tree and through Windrise. Aether and Paimon both let out some mhm's and 'yeahs'.

"Yeah...even though we didn't find much about my sister or how to get you home. We still had a good time right?" Aether replied, Paimon let out a big 'Yeah!' as she floated next to the two of you.

"Now that I think about it...we probably wouldn't have gotten wrapped up the whole Stormterror thing if we didn't spied on Venti huh?" You commented, a subtle breeze passing through the three of you, the familiar bard's voice saying, "Yeah, you wouldn't have."

Aether smiled sheepishly while Paimon shouted out to the bard stomping her foot into the air, "Listen here Tone-Deaf Bard! Quit listening in on our conversations!!"

A small "Hehe~" was heard before the winds disappeared, leaving the three of you alone as you walked up the cliff of The Thousand Winds Temple.

“So, Liyue huh? I wonder how’s that gonna turn out for us” You commented looking up out in the sky.

The three of you (well more like you and Aether) sat down on the edge of the cliff. Golden Hour casting a bright gold onto you three as you watched the sunset.

Aether looked at you, your face smiling as you closed your eyes to listen to the sound of waves. A small dreamy smile appeared on Aether’s face, resting his head on his hand.

“A nice view isn’t it?”

"Agreed"

Just realizing what he said, Aether quickly looked away, his face flushed with pink. Paimon noticing this, opened her mouth to say something but her mouth was covered by Aether. Who continued looking at you with adoring eyes, a small smile as the three of you enjoyed the sunset.

Want to place an order? Click Here!

@kissyhalik your order has been completed!

(Again SO SORRY for the wait)

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

AN: This was an idea that I’ve had for a little while, and finally getting around to writing it. There will be multiple chapters, and we’ll get to meet the reader in chapter 2. I’m pulling on many references, some of it being my own experiences of being in an inpatient facility a couple of times in my teenage years. Write what you know, and get some catharsis through angst relating to it, innit. I will say though, look after yourselves, and seek help if you need it. Inpatient sucked, but it’s what I needed to keep myself healthy and alive. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, I promise. And if you think it needs extra tags, please lemme know. I can see replies but cannot answer due to this being a sideblog, so keep that in mind. Anyway. Hope you enjoy.

Taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added): @edsforehead​

Eleven vertical steel bars, five horizontal. eighty-seven bricks on the wall just past them. Sixty-four pinstripes on the pillowcase. One hundred and twenty one days since the last breath of fresh air. 

There’s only so much counting to be done, before you go as insane as they report you to be. 

Eddie had prided himself in independence, before everything went to shit. He could get up when he wanted, go to bed at a time of his choosing. Choose what clothes to wear, when he wanted to shower, what food he ate. But that had all been stripped away. A uniform of white was given to him on arrival. White undershirt, white button down and pants, white vans, white socks. A colour that he typically hated, now forced upon him with no room for argument. The food was shit, the attitude of the staff even worse. Bed so uncomfortable that what little sleep he could manage with the screams and yelps of the damned ringing in his ears, he would always wake up with a soreness that could never be taken away. 

He thought he’d witnessed hell. Skies of red and thunder, twisted vines and flapping of wings and razor sharp teeth. But this? 

This was worse.

He had woken up bathed in bright light, and for a second he wondered if this was Heaven. Only took a couple of seconds to realise that it was likely that the promised paradise wouldn’t smell of disinfectant and have incessant beepings of heart monitors. A couple of times in his life, he had been in handcuffs. Drug related charges that Hopper had conveniently lost the paperwork for, letting him go with a stern talking to and a slap on the wrist. But this time? This time, the steel that connected him to the bedframe of the hospital bed felt permanent. He was lucky to be alive, according to the doctors, who told him with disgust evident in their features. It should have been you who died, was clear to translate from furrowed brows and the thin press of their lips. Eddie couldn’t help but agree with them sometimes. Nurses would often ‘forget’ to give him the pain medication prescribed, leaving him in a near constant state of agony. 

The demobats had really done a number on him; lacerations and chunks of flesh torn from the left hand side of his body, trailing up his neck and ending on his jawline and cheek. More on the right pectoral muscles, the backs of his hands, forearms and upper bicep. If he wasn’t facing the barrel of the death penalty, he would have cracked a joke about losing his nipple. Each and every wound was a constant ache, his jaw near permanently set to grinding his teeth to bear with it. Only when Wayne was finally allowed to visit, hollering his lungs out about how much pain his boy was in, was he finally given those syringes of relief that he so desperately craved for. Not for long, only until they decided to neglect him again. But those moments were the reprieve that were sorely needed.

It had been Hopper’s idea to turn himself in and feign insanity, when he had visited his bedside. Something about a plan, and that he would just need to hang tight for someone high in the food chain to be contacted to fix the mess. He was promised that the chief of police would make sure he wouldn’t go to jail. Just to have trust, have faith, and repeat the words told to him to plead insanity. He couldn’t remember anything past the point of letting Chrissy into the trailer. He couldn’t remember killing Fred Benson or Patrick McKinney. Couldn’t remember attacking Max Mayfield, putting her in the hospital. Couldn’t remember how he got hurt. Deny, deny, deny. It had been easy to convince the cops that he’d lost his mind; easy enough that it was borderline insulting. The last of Vecna’s victims had wounded him to find out about, and had nearly caused him to lose face. He didn’t know Red well, but he’d seen her around the trailer park, looking as lost and broken as he did at that age. Got to know her better over the time they spent together, and had admired the strength and tenacity that was in her, too much of those qualities for a fifteen year-old to carry. He just prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that she’d pull through. 

Many years ago, he had made a promise to himself not to ever turn out like his father. That waste of space that chose drugs over his own flesh and blood. But getting processed in what remained of Hawkins police station, ink still damp on his fingertips as he clutched the name board while his picture was taken, that’s exactly how it felt. The hospital booted him as soon as he was medically stable, no doubt not wanting to harbour a serial killer in the halls that were meant for healing. At least he could be thankful that the station was only a detour, a short stop to what would be his home for God knows how long. 

Pennhurst Mental Hospital. 

In four months, life had blurred into a monotony that was barely endurable, with no end in sight. He was afforded no luxuries; the cell he was kept in made up of nothing more than necessities. Bed, sink and toilet, desk and a chair. No windows, and the only view past his bars being a dirty grey brick wall.He’d counted the cracks in it the first week in. Counted the ones on the ceilings in the second week. The rest of the time had been spent packing back and forth, like that tiger he’d once seen at some shit zoo. The lack of fresh air had suffocated him long ago. He could swear that he hadn’t taken a deep breath since Chrissy’s body flung itself to the ceiling.

It was the boredom that was the thing that was slowly poisoning him the fastest. The unending, unyielding, mind numbing boredom. Where all he had was his thoughts, and no possible escape from them. Thoughts of the past and the future threatening to pull him under, to drown him in regrets and missed opportunities. He was going to finally graduate from high school. Corroded coffin could have gone somewhere. He was going to start a new campaign for Hellfire. He was planning to finally move out of the trailer, and into a place of his own. Back and forth, the rumination so intense it made his head spin. Made him pace even harder, until he was near the point of over exertion. The only outlet for a man that barely ever stood still in his life.

 A nurse that must have had a shred of humanity left passed a book through his bars the first couple of weeks in, evidently having enough sense to realise there was no possible way for him to do damage to himself or others with it, and most likely sick of the sound of rubber soles against cement. The Count of Monte Christo was a book that he vaguely remembered from school, no doubt an essay that he didn’t hand in considering he’d never read it in his life. But by this point? He could have recited it in his fucking sleep. 

It was during another countless repeat of reading it that his attention was caught by the calling of his last name, a loud bang of a fist hitting metal that snapped him out of whatever dissociation he found himself lost in. Snapping his head towards the sound, he was met with the unkind face of one of the orderlies, one that seemed to have it in for him since getting here. Eddie had heard him be called Bradford before. He must have caught the confusion on Eddie’s face, considering he followed it up with an eye roll. 

“Get your ass over here,” was the gruff response he got, the jingling of keys audible as the one to his cell drove home into the cylinder. “Must be your lucky day.” 

Though there were multiple questions ruminating in Eddie’s mind, he knew better to push his luck. Gift horse in the mouth, and all that. The steps he took towards the door were methodical; slow and steady, as if it was all one sick prank, getting him into trouble and thrown into the solitary confinement cells that he’d been borderline threatened with multiple times. 

A firm hand planted to his chest stopped him in his tracks, the contact to the still healing scars making him wince and take a sharp breath. It was instinct to lower his eye contact upward, though it quickly dropped to the floor as the man loomed over him. “Any trouble, so much as one foot out of step, and I’ll make it my fucking mission to put you back in here. Do I make myself clear?” the man warned under his breath. The smell of stale coffee and cigarettes hitting him square in the face, making his stomach churn. 

Swallow down the disgust and agony, as much as it hurts, the reasonable voice inside him whispered. Don’t do anything stupid. In another life, he would have given this figure of authority hell. A sarcastic quip heavy on his tongue, a middle finger to those who wanted him under their boot. 

But this wasn’t that life. And he needed to play it smart. 

“Crystal, sir,” he mumbled, fight well and truly snuffed out from the system that wanted him locked up and the key thrown away. 

It seemed to have appeased the orderly, for now. The man took sure steps towards the exit, Eddie following his heels at a close yet respectable distance. Head lowered, frizzy curls now wild and unruly falling like a curtain in front of his face. It was near laughable to him that the ability to walk in a straight line further than ten feet was now a luxury. Could finally properly stretch his legs, though the destination was still a mystery. 

The shift from dim lighting to sunshine with the ascension of a set of stairs that he’d only travelled down once made his eyes screw near closed on instinct, turning his head away from the windows that let it in. Once upon a time, he enjoyed sunny days. Like the feeling of sun on his skin, and the wind in his hair. Nowadays he didn’t even know what season it was. 

Being led through winding corridors, for the first time he saw other patients, all eyeing him with paranoid looks. He couldn’t blame them. But he could feel the tendrils of fear beginning to grip at his gut. Would he end up like these people eventually? How long would it take? A couple of months? Years? A subtle shake of his head as he tried to dislodge the thoughts. He couldn’t think like that. Hopper promised he’d be out of here soon. He just had to have hope. 

The orderly came to a stop in front of a door, deep green and paint chipping off with age. The nameplate on the front gave him pause, when he finally spared a glance at it. DR. EDITH MILLER, etched onto the brass. He’d had meetings with Dr. Miller since he got here. Once a week, the nosey bitch would try and get information that didn’t even seem relevant. He’d managed to evade some of the questions, embellished the truth on others. But if he was being summoned to her office? This couldn’t be good. 

The orderly’s knuckles rapped on the door three times, a call of “enter,” being audible seconds later. Eddie was ushered inside, the homely looking woman with already greying hair barely looking up at him from her paperwork as she motioned with the pen in her hand towards the chair nearest to them. At least in his cell, he was somewhere that he knew back to front. This was completely different, completely new, and his nerves were already on edge as he shuffled inside. 

“Need me to stay?” Bradford asked, hand still grasping the door handle as his eyes flickered around the room. No doubt his mind was already thinking of possibilities of what could happen with a suspected murderer left alone in a room with a defenceless woman. The thought of people thinking that he was capable of atrocities weren’t new, but it still made Eddie sick to the core. 

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied, hazel eyes finally shifting upwards to look at the two men. Her monotone voice gave nothing away, face devoid of any emotion either. Bradford faltered for only a second, before Eddie finally heard the door close behind him. Only then was he given the barest hint of a polite smile as she motioned her hand towards the chair again, to which he obliged out of the need to be polite. “How are you feeling this week, Eddie?” she asked, head slightly tilted. 

She was the only one to call him the name he preferred. Everyone else just called him Munson. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it was a ploy to get him to trust her. Make him comfortable with small signs of respect, though it was likely she didn’t in the slightest. His hands settled on his lap as he fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to the worn tiles of the linoleum and absentmindedly counting the cracks. “Fine,” he replied, the word devoid of any emotion or energy. 

The truth would be sharing too much; the fear of being honest bringing the risk of even more restrictions under the guise of safety. There wasn’t a delicate way of saying “I want to close my eyes and never wake up some days.” 

He heard scrawls of the pen, no doubt more notes that would dig him a grave of pills and cell bars. A pregnant pause before she spoke again, and an intake of breath. “And how are you feeling with the medication changes? Is your mood still low?”

He had to bite his tongue, to stop his lips turning up into an incredulous smile. The truth again being evaded in the answer. “Fine,” he repeated, this time with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “The pills make me feel sick every hour of the day, make me into more of a ghost than I already am.” 

Another scratch of ink on paper. “Your case was brought forward to the panel this morning. We’ve decided that we should ease your restrictions, given that there’s been no record of violent tendencies to yourself or others since the time you’ve been with us.” 

That made his ears perk up, the sparks of hope threatening to ignite in his chest. Head snapping up to finally make eye contact with the good doctor, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?” 

Her eyes studied his face for a few heartbeats, a small smile gracing her features, one that seemed to be an attempt at easing anxieties. “It means we’ve decided to move you to a medium security wing. It comes with certain privileges, but also with expectations, Eddie.” 

The words coming out of her mouth seemed to blur together, becoming a background noise to his rapidly beating heart. He was finally getting out of the damnation he had been trapped in, perhaps finally allowed into the light. To be able to breathe lungfuls of outside air from a crack in a window, to not have to sleep just to evade the hollow boredom. It was relief; as if the hand of an angel had reached into the pits of hell, to bring him to salvation. And if that hand was one of the likes of Miller, he’d clasp it with both hands and not let go until the end was in sight.

“-we’ll still need to see improvement to give you certain privileges, but we can play it by ear. How does that sound?” Her voice finally tuned back in, a little hazy at the edges, tears of joy and relief threatening to fall from his eyes. 

“When can I go? When do I move?” he blurted, the only question that mattered. Fuck, if she’d asked him to crawl through broken glass right now, he’d do it with a fucking smile on his face. 

Her eyes flickered downwards as her wrist came up, a brief glance to her wristwatch as she pulled herself to a stand. “You’re just in time for recreation, and there’s no time like the present.” She rounded the desk, taking sure steps to the door and looking back. “Shall we?”

It was instinct to move as fast as his legs could take him, quickly snuffed out with the realisation of where he was. Slow, sure movements, make yourself as least threatening as possible. Keep hands visible at all times, open and by his sides. Three steps away from the doctor, passing many twists and turns of the corridor and being led through multiple sets of steel doors, until one was finally opened for him that he was expected to step through alone. 

It wasn’t until the door slammed behind him that he finally looked up to take in his surroundings. Chipped and scuffed beige linoleum tiles, walls in just as sorry a state. Large windows that bathed the room in natural sunlight, though the bars on the windows were a reminder of where he truly was. A couple of tables and chairs dotted around the room, most occupied with other patients. Who seemed to be in various stages of lucidity. A couple of benches, some more chairs crowded around an ancient TV. 

In any other situation, he would call this place what it was; an abject shithole. Somewhere he wouldn’t be if you paid him. But recent events had changed his mindset, had lowered his expectations until the bar was practically on the floor. This was a damn palace, compared to his last recent address. It had the lack of staleness in the air, albeit now replaced with bleach and something he couldn’t place. It had space, and light. 

It had hope. 

But with the luxury of choice, came the immobilising aspect to it. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Where was he going to sit, or do? Strike up conversation and hope that the person didn’t know about what had put him here in the first place? 

He was still making his choice when he heard a voice. A woman, tone bored yet slight amusement playing on the words. 

“Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy.”

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Interview: The Pirates

Thank you for the asks @willtheweaver , @phoenixradiant , and @kaylinalexanderbooks !

For this one I'm gonna use my Pirate Polycule.

Were you named after anyone?

Istek: "Just a bird." He imitates a seagull, flapping his arms and squawking. "The name my parents gave me might have been...but I don't use that one anymore."

Dati: "Nope. Just a tree."

Sihunu: "My great aunt. Never met her. Heard she was unbearable to everyone but my mother."

When was the last time you cried?

Istek: "Cried...cried...I'm not really sure? Not that I don't cry, I just don't really remember. It might have been the last time I saw a baby seal...damn things are too cute."

Dati: "About a week ago. Sometimes memories sneak up on you I suppose."

Sihunu: " Last time I cried? What counts? I stubbed my toe and a few tears came out this morning, but I dunno about really crying..."

Do you have any kids?

Istek: " I do! My son Lat! Named him for the great hunter Lat, I was hoping if I named him for a big man he wouldn't be a runt like me!" He laughs.

Dati: "Lat might not have come from here." He gestures towards his crotch. "But he is my son just as much as he is Istek's."

Sihunu: "Yeah, Lat. He's fine now but I swear he came out sideways..."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Istek: "I try but I'm not good at it...now Sihunu...she knows a thing or two about sarcasm."

Dati: "I would but I don't think Istek would be able to understand me if I did. I save it for when I'm with Sihunu."

Sihunu: "No, never, not once..."

What is the first thing you notice about people?

Istek: "Well damn, it depends on the person right? Sometimes its the way they talk, their eyes, their clothes. With Narul it was the fact that his bicep is as big around as my waist!"

Dati: "Their eyes, more specifically what they're doing with them. Where they're looking, if they are worried or angry...that sort of thing.

Sihunu: "Their hands."

What is your eye color?

Istek: "Dark brown as they come, almost black."

Dati: "Hazel."

Sihunu: "Brown. Istek says it reminds him of cedar wood."

Scary movies or happy endings?

Istek: "I don't know what a movie is. I do love happy endings though...but I tingle down my spine is good too...eh i can't decide."

Dati: "Not sure what a movie is, but I prefer happy endings. There's enough scariness as it is."

Sihunu: "I love a scary story, don't know if that's the same thing as a movie or not."

Any special talents?

Istek: "Ask my Dati and Sihunu." He winks. "But uh...I guess I'm a good dancer and singer too. Get me a drink and I'll do both for ya."

Dati: "Hmm...I can juggle pretty well, I'm pretty good with knots...I don't get to do it much but I'm a damn good cook."

Sihunu: "Ah, mostly boring things, weaving and cooking. I used to be a bell dancer, but its been so long since I wore the bells my joints are too stiff to get back to it now."

Where were you born?

Istek: "Little farm in eastern Makora."

Dati: "It was a little village on Knosh just out of sight of the beach."

Sihunu: "The island of Ninetu, off the coast of Kishetal. I was born in my father's carpentry shop."

Do you have any pets?

Istek: "Nope."

Dati: "Istek."

Sihunu: "Istek."

What sort of sports do you play?

Istek: "I'm a captain! I don't have time sports! Well...maybe some wrestling."

Dati: "I used to box."

Sihunu: "None anymore. I used to swim and have footraces. Bell Dancing isn't a sport, but it should be considered one."

How tall are you?

Istek: "Shorter than I ought to be, tall enough to make you regret asking that."

Dati: "About 5'6. Taller than Istek."

Sihunu: "I'm the tallest. 5'8."

What was your favorite subject in school?

Istek: "School! Ha! Ask me what my favorite kind of silk was? Did I prefer eating beef or lamb each night? Do I like better wearing gold or silver? How rich do you think I am?"

Dati: "We didn't have anything like a school. A man from my village taught me how to read the currents, so maybe that?"

Sihunu: "Never went to a school, never had a tutor except my mother."

What is your dream job?

Istek: "Captaining the Westwind with Dati and Sihunu! I'm already there!"

Dati: "Being on the Westwind with Istek and Sihunu."

Sihunu: "Being with Dati and Istek doesn't matter what we're doing. I'm stuck on land while Lat is still growing up...I don't get to see them while they're at sea."

Tagging @illarian-rambling , @roach-pizza , @nothing-mancer , @mk-writes-stuff , and whoever!

[excess-thought-dump]

Finished another amazing series Mob Psycho 100

And it was a exceptional experience y’all, ( Spoilers a head for the non telepaths and psychics)

So the last season I heard it was just meh till the end from my friends who whatched it and DAMN they were dead wrong on that mark I LOVE BEGINNING TO END THIS SEASON

Want to talk about each arc that blown me away

Which I don’t have a single clue what the fandom name these arcs so I gonna make some simple names for it

Back to mob arc (1-3 episode)

Was really amazing as a starter for what to come for those school elements that was every episode that was ther. I related to mob so good dam hard that first episode from just his fear of the future and that advice gave at the really helps me get my head looking forward at the future without fear but with excitement for the possibility. Just speech from the teacher was soooo reassuring and I could just understand on that feeling so hard then that yokai hunter episode was just hilarious and cute having mob solves his own problems in such a way that incorporates his passion and reliability was just a real fun time to watch. Having that yokai king( the one that mob made) was cute to seee all of that effort that been put together. And now what I I would say the last place episode and by no means I think it was bad I just felt incomplete but with that next arc it has been a amazing to hint at and show what to come .

The divine tree arc (4-6)

This arc was just sooo good and for it was too reason the eeriness of the first part like how everyone started to ignore mob and starts to be more of a out cast while the religion starts to slowly take over. Like this what was One of favorite YouTuber videos Supereyepatch wolf video about social anxiety horror was about ( and yall should watch that video if you want to explore that same feeling with mob) but yea having that feeling of slowly becoming a outcast is just a fear that now looms over me. And then having those little scary moments of just the spread will linger in my mind for a while. The other part of why I love this arc is dimple from how he was in the beginning and end. I don’t know what the opinion on the beginning of the arc about dimple but I loved how unnerving it was about. The concept of someone takes your place is equally as scary as the becoming a outcast to your friends and I think it went hand by hand perfectly but the ending with dimple was sooooooooooo good like I thought oh easy back stab here but the genuine kindness that mob showed actually made him change and I love that soo much and how he made mob go home made me cry actually tears with that wave because aaaaahhhh I can’t really explain it in words but if anyone can explain please do but it was so gooood.

Space arc( 7-8)

This was just a cute nice simple arc. I just love how it expanded so much with occult club members and it just so cute and wholesome having them together, and the message of make memories is resonating to me sooo hard. Wanting to make a friend dream a reality is real heartwarming and how it explored more on a different psychic is really interesting and love that new character so much with his excitement for the adventure. And the aliens was just a treat to because having them there made sense in that strange world of mob psycho and having them either real or not really didn’t matter but just making them real felt so complete.

Final (9-12)

Okay ao I. I don’t want dismiss the other parts of this great season but wow this is the best way to end a series like this one from the amazing action to the most heart felt speeches and the overall tone of this felt soo right. Having experienced this was great bringing back last season big bad was a treat and the fights were great but that running scene from Reigan was just immaculate just him running towards Mob as the world turns to ruins it just amazing. And I love how each character ending was felt so complete like with Teruki Hanazawa him with that scene calling himself mobs rival was soo good he save everyone because he knew that fighting mob wasn’t the main thing but protecting mob from killing people was. And there were so many more great moments like this to round out most characters in this great story. But we have to talk about tumblr sexy man Reigan and his speech and I don’t know how many people are said this but I just love how he was honest to mob and helped him accept himself to become more of a complete person and it just makes me have goosebumps from just listening to him admitting to his faults it just soooo god damn good.

I don’t have any good ending statements but I am just glad to experience this amazing show and I hope yall have similar experiences with this great series

[moondust-imagines]

Princess (2) - MJF x Reader

Part one here

Maxwell Jacob Friedman could (and should) die in a hole for all you care. The last text you had from him was from 3 weeks ago, which was also the only text from him. You should have expected this, he probably just wanted to brag to the entire AEW roster about how easily he got you into bed. You had been silently cursing him for a week now, not that you could share your frustrations with anyone, if your family found out they would be furious.

You hadn't been paying attention as you wandered into the house, suitcase trailing behind you, it served as a reminder of the mountain of laundry you had to do before you left in 48 hours. You left it at the bottom of the stairs as a problem for later you to deal with. You headed to the kitchen as you scrolled quickly through twitter, just to see if anything interesting was happening, you barely noticed your father standing there.

"Who's Max?" He asked gruffly making your head whip up from your phone.

"What?" You replied with an incredulous laugh. He gestured to the bouquet of red roses on the counter.

"They're for you. From Max, he wants to take you to dinner apparently"

What the hell is he sending you flowers for? To make up for ghosting you? A quick look at the card lying on the counter next to them confirmed it was him.

Princess,

Dinner?

Max

That was enough to ignite a new kind of rage in you. 3 whole weeks of nothing then some stupid flowers with 3 words on them?! How dare he? Hunter seemed to notice the change in your mood quickly.

"Do I need to kill someone?" He asked

"Nope, I'll do it myself thank you" You muttered before snatching the flowers and card then storming up to your room.

His number was already dialled by the time you dumped the flowers on your dressing table. With every ring you could feel the rage building up inside you. When he picked up on the fourth ring, you were ready to kill him.

"Hey-" He spoke calmly, as if he had done nothing wrong.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You interrupted

"Woah woah, I just sent you flowers and that's the thanks I get?"

"Yeah, flowers my dad just gave to me. With a note that barely has a sentence on it. Are they supposed to make up for three weeks of radio silence?" You ranted, desperately trying to keep your voice down so no one in the house would overhear.

"So that's a 'no' to dinner then?"

"Fuck you Friedman"

-

Max pulled the phone away from his ear as he heard the line disconnect. A slight frown settled on his features, maybe it wasn't his brightest idea to send those flowers. He could feel someone looking at him from the other couch in the dressing room.

"What?" He asked abruptly

"Did she like the flowers?" Dax asked

"Her Dad found them" Max muttered

"So it completely backfired like we said it would?" Cash said

"Shut up"

Max stormed out of the locker room. The last thing he needed was another lecture about what a bad idea it was to keep in contact with you. Between his friends telling him that you would only cause trouble and the glares he got from people backstage that had known you for years, he knew this was different. What he felt for you had to be different. You wouldn't get out of his head, no matter how much he ignored you.

But now you were doing the ignoring and he had no idea how to apologise to you.

2 more weeks past and he still couldn’t get through to you. Every call went to voicemail, every text was left on read and it was driving him crazy. FTR had started just walking away the second he said your name. He had an idea, probably not a good idea but who would stop him?

-

You hated being at an arena this early, you couldn’t even do some bumps because the ring wasn’t set up yet. Your father had insisted you had came with him, he had barely let you out of his sight since those damn flowers showed up. So you found a quiet spot to go over your promo for tonight.

Barely even 15 minutes later a security guard came up to you looking mightly pissed off, with a very sheepish man following him.

“You know this guy?” The guard asked gruffly. Max was giving you his best puppy dog eyes, you glared at him for a second before answering the guard.

“Yeah I know him, thanks for not kicking his ass” You replied. He gave you a curt nod before walking off, glaring at Max as he passed.

“Are you fucking insane?” You hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

“You weren’t taking my calls, what was I supposed to do?” He answered. That made you stop in your tracks.

“I don’t know, not show up here? Do you understand what my grandpa will do if he finds out your here? Or, god forbid, my dad and uncle Shawn?” You ranted

“Princess-“

“Don’t call me that! You don’t get to call me that after you ghosted me!”

“Look, I’m not really one for apologies but give me one more chance. I’ll be different this time”

You couldn’t figure out why you were still standing there, your brain was screaming at you to slap him and walk away. When you hadn’t moved away, he took your hand in his to pull you closer. Your lips were inches away when you finally, his hand slipped around your back holding you to him as he finally kissed you.

“Alright, one chance Friedman” You whispered as you parted. A grin spread across his lips before he pulled you in again. You were too wrapped up in him to notice anything around you.

Hunter was marching through the halls of the arena, his PA was struggling to find you to pass on the message that your promo for tonight had changed. He knew you like to hide yourself away in dark corners so as he turned another corner he wasn’t surprised to see you, until he realised what you were doing. Was that that little shit Friedman??

“What the hell is this?!”

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Comfort in His Arms

Summary - Part 19 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - none

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

Back in the apartment, Dean is met with Suzy holding a stack of books on purity and abstinence. 

“There you are, I thought I’d scared you off.”

“Never. Just had to take a call.”

“Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah…” His eyes drift back to the DVDs sitting on the cabinet. “Actually, not really…Carmelita.”

Her gaze follows his and her eyes go wide in shock. “So, you've seen my...work. Listen, I don't blame you if you want to be assigned a new counsellor. I-I get it.”

“No. No, no. Are you- are you kidding me? I mean, you're- you're a freaking legend.”

“No! I-I am -- I'm not that girl anymore. I moved here. I changed my name. That girl was- was horrible.”

“Listen, uh, Suzy, I've seen a lot of awful things, the stuff of nightmares, okay? But you- you're the good dreams. And nobody in Hartford knows?”

“Yeah, what am I supposed to say? Oh, yeah, hey, I used to be a porn star. Let's pray?”

“Well... They do not appreciate you. I mean... the things you can do- the scene with the tacos. My g-let’s just say that was a fun one to reenact…” 

“Yeah.”

“Made me want to join a mariachi band just to be near you.”

“Well, you are now.”

“I am, aren't I?”

“You're not like... the other guys in town, are you? You're kind of a... a bad boy.” She moves in close wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I don't know. Why don't you ask me that in Spanish?”

“Eres un Chico malo?”

“Sí.” She closes the gap between their lips, pulling him close. 

He pulls her head in and hungrily kisses her back. After a moment he pulls back suddenly, “Shit! Shit! I can’t do this! Shit! I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, you just got reborn today and I’m already ruining you. Look, this was a mistake. You should go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He quickly leaves the apartment and walks down the street as it starts to rain. He pulls out his phone and calls Y/N’s number. It goes straight to voice mail, he tries multiple times and leaves a number of apologetic texts begging her to call him. He walks for a few more minutes before his phone starts to ring. He answers quickly not caring to check the ID.

“Y/N? Baby! I’m so sorry! I-”

“Dean?”

“Sammy! Hey.”

“You gotta come to Peoria.”

“What’s going on? I’m working a case with Bobby. Anyway, what are you doing in Peoria, you’re supposed to be at the Bunker with Y/N.”

“I know. I promise to explain everything. You just gotta get here.”

“Bobby has the car, I’m on my way to the library to meet him. You can explain while I walk.”

“It’s about Y/N, Dean. She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone? She went to Peoria? Alone?”

“Not exactly. Listen, Bobby and I had a plan. You work a case with him while I work one with Y/N. So, we came to Peoria. But we had a fight and she left.”

“You had a fight?” Dean arrived at the library and leans against the Impala as he sends a quick text to Bobby to meet him outside ASAP. “Have you tracked her phone? The car?”

“That’s the thing, her phone and the car are still here. I think something took her when she went outside. I was inside and then there was a bright blue flash in the car park and when I got outside she was gone.”

“You let something take my girl?!” 

“I didn’t let it, Dean. She’s a hunter too, I thought she’d be okay.”

“A hunter who’s in recovery from surgery and who wasn’t thinking straight. I hope you’re damn proud of yourself.”

“She’s not just yours, Dean. I love her too. Look, I’m not the villain here. Just get here and help me find her.”

Dean hangs up and gets in the car as Bobby hands him the keys. Bobby gets in the passenger seat as Dean speeds off.

“Drop me at the motel. Jody and I got this one. You and Sam get our girl back. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“Blue light, Sam said there was a blue light. Same as our survivor here. Could it be the same thing? How can it be in two places at once.”

“Nearest I can tell we’re dealing with Vesta, Roman Goddess of the Hearth. She needs virgin sacrifices. Unless they went and got reborn today, she doesn’t fit the profile.”

Dean pulls into the motel parking lot and pulls out his phone in desperation. He texts Sam asking if they went to church today. “He said they didn’t visit any churches.”

“So, it’s something else. Jody and I’ll gank this God and then meet you boys in Peoria,” Bobby says as he gets out of the car. Before he shuts the door he says, “She’s a fighter, Dean, she’s gonna be alright. She has to be.”

As Bobby steps back, Dean takes off towards the highway at full speed. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s the early hours of the morning when Dean pulls into the motel where Sam’s waiting for him. He jumps out of the car and bangs on the door. “Sammy!”

Sam opens the door quickly and then sits back down at the table in front of his laptop and mess of paperwork. 

“We gotta find her, Sam. I swear to you if we don’t-”

“I know. I want to find her just as bad.”

Dean snatches the files and reads over them as he sits at the end of what was Y/N’s bed. That’s when he noticed all her bag sitting beside him untouched. He opens it and rifles through her stuff finding her knife and gun at the bottom. He twirls the knife in his hands admiring the etching of their initials. “She’s out there alone and unarmed, Sam. We gotta find her. I can’t lose her. Not like this. I can’t.”

“I know. We’re gonna find her. Just help me research.”

Dean pulls Y/N’s laptop on top of his lap and starts to research with Sam. When the sun’s starting to rise Sam says, “I'm pretty sure of it now. We're hunting a Djinn.”

“A freaking genie took my girl? You mean she’s in some abandoned warehouse somewhere being drained of her blood.”

“At least we can find her now. There’s an old abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. She’s gotta be there.”

Dean slams the laptop shut and tucks Y/N’s knife and gun into his jacket before standing up and rushing outside and into the car. Sam follows.

As Dean speeds off Sam says, “I wonder what she wished for?”

“Once I would’ve said I knew. But now, I don’t know. And I don’t know if she’ll fight to come back. When I got caught that time I fought hard to come back. I couldn’t blame her if she couldn’t find a reason to fight it. To want to come back to me.”

“She loves you, Dean. Pretty much unconditionally. She’ll fight for you. We’re gonna get her back.”

It’s not long before Dean’s pulling a park in front of an old dilapidated factory. They practically jump out of the car, quickly gathering weapons from the boot before making their way inside cautiously. They split up and search the rooms down the opposite ends of the hall. After searching five rooms and coming up empty, panic starts to settle in. Dean can’t stop his heart from pounding. The thought of losing her drives him to keep going. Searching room after room, tearing them apart. As Dean enters a dirty and crusty store room a bloodcurdling scream echoes through the halls. It’s a sound that breaks his heart and sends him into a fury – he’d know that scream anywhere. He sprints down the hall in the direction of the sound, Sam meeting him at the door. Dean pulls out his gun and takes the safety off as Sam opens the door in front of him. 

As soon as they enter, you start to run over to them. But your muscles are weak and you only make it a few steps before you trip. “Dean? Sam?” Dean catches you before you hit the cold cement.

“We’re here, Sweetheart. I’m here. You’re safe.” Dean engulfs you in his arms carefully. He takes in your pale skin and sunken eyes – the telltale signs of blood loss. He picks you up bridal-style and begins to carry you towards the door. As Sam opens the door you’re met with the ugly tattooed face of the man you’d met the night before. You burrow your face into Dean’s shoulder as Sam reaches out and stabs the djinn in the heart. You start to cry and Dean pulls you tighter to his chest.

“It’s over. You’re safe. I got you.” He keeps whispering reassurances to you as he carries you out to the car. He climbs into the backseat with you and continues to hold you close. After a few minutes Sam returns, having searched the room for any of the other victims. He takes the keys and drives back into town to the local hospital. Where the boys would muscle their way through this, Dean insists on getting you checked out, especially after the pregnancy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A few hours later you’re sitting in the motel bed in Dean’s arms. You’re feeling much better after getting some blood, fluids and painkillers pumped into your system. 

“So what was it like? What’d you wish for?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“After what I said to you last night I really don’t.”

“That hurt, I won’t lie, and we’ve got a lot to talk about but I still love you, Dean. I just hope you didn’t mean what you said.”

“I meant some of it. I meant what I said about you making me feel safe and happy. I meant it when I said I should tell you how much I love you more often. And honestly, I have felt lost since...But the rest…the rest I regret with everything I have.”

“We had a little boy, Sammy Jr., he looked just like a miniature you and he loved Scooby Doo as much as you do. And I was pregnant with a little girl. And we were happy. Married even. The whole nine yards.”

“But?”

“We were too happy. We didn’t fight. And we didn’t hunt…”

“Still not seeing an issue. I thought that was your dream. Get out, start a family-”

“Sam and Bobby died helping us get out of the life. I wanna get out Dean, but not at their expense.”

He nods and hugs you tighter to his chest. “So, how’d you escape?”

“I drowned myself in the lovely bath fake you drew for me.”

“Too bad this divey old place doesn’t have a tub. When we get home, I’ll draw you a bath and we can enjoy it together without drowning. But for now, why don’t you take a nap? I promise I’ll be here when you wake up and we’ll talk more then.”

You nod and snuggle into his embrace as he kisses the top of your head.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99

[thelittlestaxolotl]

glad you enjoy long asks ^^

I’ve got some more :

For Blue

What’s your favourite potion (idk if Blue makes potions in this AU if he doesn’t ignore the question , I have another one just in case) How frightened of Alan were you when you met him on a scale to 1-10?

What kind of food do you eat?

How are you feeling => ?

For King

4. If you are King who do you rule?

5. Do you care about purple? Like look after them , give them food?

For Yellow

6. Do you like to read books? If so what kind of books? If not what do you enjoy doing?

7. Does Yellow like using redstone? (He might not in this AU-)

8. How’d you and Alan meet ?

For Green: (a lot of em)

9. Do you enjoy hugs or head pats or whatever cuz Purple enjoys headpats ^^

10. If we would tell you where Purple is what would you do?

11. How are you? You might be a bit shocked about your friend but..

12. What kind of music do you enjoy? Perhaps just singing?

13. Do you sometimes try to talk to Alan?

14. What’s your relationship with other fairies? (Not purple)

1.1. "My favourite potion? Oh, so many to choose from, I can't de-"

"Awkward potion."

"-H-hey, that's my ask!"

1.2. "11/10. I thought he was a hunter who poisoned my river to make me get out. Good thing Sec were with him that time."

2. "Fish, shellfish, seaweed, whatever you can find in a river and on shores. Although I'm an omnivore, so I can eat whatever others would prefer."

3. "Numb. As always since the poisoned river incident."

4. "King is more of a nick name. I'm a viceroy of one of the biggest towns in our country."

5. "...Yes? I don't think he agrees with me, but I look after his safety and well-being."

6. "Reading? I don't like fiction, but I always read any redstone directory I and Alan can find."

7. "Damn yes. This is the main reason I befriended a human. They can do so much stuff with it, it's all just incredible!"

8. "Unlike the others who were forced by circumstances to get along with a human, I did it purposely. I was watching them for a while, joining them more and more and slowly blending into their lives."

"Long story short, it was slowly but surely."

9. "Purple's weird. Whatever affection that doesn't include messing with my hair."

10. "Went to save him! What kind of question is this?"

"You surely wouldn't know what are you doing."

11. "I'm fine, but still worried."

"He hadn't slept last night, like, at all-"

"SHUT YOUR NON-EXISTENT MOUTH"

12. "All of 'em! And I mean each and every."

13. "We all do. It mostly looks funny."

"We've worked out several ways of communication, so this is not such a problem now."

14. "I can't remember my colony and I've never seen Purple's colony. That's all I can say."

[aylacavebear]

She Thought She was Normal

Story Summary: Maria really thought she was normal, for most of her life. It was normal for people to have natural talent, she would tell herself the older she got. Many things came easy for her, and that was probably how their rivalry began when she was five and he was seven and she met the Winchesters. Little did either of them know that it wouldn't stay like that forever, both having a far larger destiny than they could imagine

Word Count: 3878

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will eventually be 18+!

Warnings: Mention & Insinuations of Sex, some angst, Cussing, Tattoo, Highly Sensitive Person (HPS) discovery for OC

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

Over the next couple of days, things seemed to fall into some sort of routine for the five of them. Dean and Maria didn’t avoid each other, but they’d gotten verbally snarky with each other.

There was more than one occasion where someone would have to remind them to be civil to each other, which they did. When Dean’s phone rang on that third day near noon, he begrudgingly answered it.

“Hello?” he groaned, annoyed at the last comment Maria had made.

“So, where I am supposed to meet someone? I’m in Lebanon,” the man on the other end said.

“Dad?” Dean asked, sitting up in his chair.

“Yeah son,” John told him, and Dean could tell that the man was smiling.

“Meet me at the diner in town,” Dean told him, smiling a little himself.

The other four looked at him, but he didn’t say anything, just grabbed his jacket and keys before he left, leaving them wondering what had been said. They had a vague idea as to the gist of the call, John had made it, finally. They’d still been looking for a way to kill Azazel, wanting to do more than just send the demon back to hell. If they just sent him back to hell, he could just come back to earth to possess a different person, starting his antics all over again. 

An hour later, Dean and John pulled into the garage. John was impressed and Dean was smiling, happily as the two made their way into the war room, then the library, “So, I hear you have some intel on yellow-eyes. Dean wouldn’t tell me anything till we were here,” John said as he stood at the end of the tables in the library.

“Nice to see you too Uncle John,” Maria chuckled.

John chuckled a little in return, a bit uneasy seeing Sam, and the girl next to him, remembering how the two had parted ways a few years back, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You went off radar for a while.”

She smirked, “I wasn’t the only one,” she replied a bit sassy.

“I had my reasons,” John replied.

“Yeah, so did I,” she retorted back.

Damn the girl had gotten mouthy, but he couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle a little, “Alright. So, what’s the news?” he asked.

“His name is Azazel, and he’s a night of hell, or a prince of hell, depending on the lore,” Sam explained.

“Oh, and we’re all getting tattoos,” Jess added.

John ignored the part about the tattoos, “Any luck on finding a way to kill him?” John asked, more serious than before.

“Not that we found yet,” Bobby told him.

“I might be able to help on that front then,” John said, smiling a little.

That got all their attention, “We’re all ears,” Bobby said, and they were all hopeful at this point.

“There’s a legend, or at least that was what I thought it was. A Colt. Back in eighteen thirty-five, when Haley’s comet was overhead, same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter. A man like us, only on horseback. The story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter, used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. They say this gun, can kill anything,” John explained.

“Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. I think I might have tracked it down, to a hunter who might have it,” John replied.

All of them were hopeful at this point, “Tattoos first, then we’ll work on getting it,” Maria said, feeling hopeful for the first time since she’d learned the demon’s name.

“I’m not getting a tattoo,” John chuckled.

“If I have to get one, so do you John,” Bobby grumbled.

Maria grabbed the book with the anti-possession sigil in it, showed it to John, and explained the importance of it. John was not happy but also knew that it was a good way to protect all of them. When Maria saw the comprehension cross John’s face, she smiled, triumphantly. 

“Alright kid, you win. When we doin' this?” John asked, still not keen on getting a tattoo.

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow, give you some time to settle in,” Maria replied, proudly as she moved into the war room to make the phone call.

Dean gave John the tour while Maria made the call, setting it up for when they opened, at nine the following day. Jess had already talked her into getting the tattoo in the same place that she was. Dean and Sam had opted for their chest, near their heart. Bobby on the other hand had decided on his back, over his shoulder, which John would also choose. Maria pulled out chicken for dinner, letting it defrost in the sink until it was time to cook, in a few hours. She felt more than hopeful now. They knew the demon’s name, and now, there might be a way to kill it. They’d also found a summoning spell in one of the books, plus, they had a dungeon to hold the demon in.

Maria was humming to herself as she moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need for dinner when Dean stopped in his tracks in the doorway, Before she could look over at him though, John moved past him into the kitchen, looking around. That pulled Dean to his senses, putting on that cool guy facade again. John was thoroughly impressed with the bunker.

“To think, Will kept this a secret,” John said quietly, still in awe.

“He was a Men of Letters, or was until before I was born,” Maria said without turning from her task of putting spices on the counter for the chicken.

“Looks like I’ve got a lot to catch up on,” John chuckled.

“Well, I’m gonna get dinner started and can fill you in, if you want,” Maria suggested, “Unless of course, Dean already filled you in,” she said that last part with a smirk as she glanced over at him, letting him know she knew he was there.

He rolled his eyes before he went back into the library, annoyed. John sat down at the kitchen table, “So, what’s up between you two? Still rivals?” he asked, bemused. John knew how Dean felt about her, but it wasn’t his place to bring it up.

“He’s a jerk and yes, we’re still rivals,” she replied plainly, which made John chuckle.

Maria explained what her father had told her in the letter she’d found on her pillow that first day, leaving out the weird stuff about her, that she still hadn’t gotten around to facing. John was fairly impressed and decided it might be nice to have a place to call home again. The thought of being able to be rid of the demon who had killed his wife more than two decades ago had been his only goal since then, even if he had wanted more for his boys than this kind of life.

“I heard about what happened between you and Sam. There’s still time to patch things up,” she suggested as she put the chicken in the oven and turned to look at him.

“That kind of thing works both ways,” he told her.

“So, be the bigger person and understand he’s an adult,” she replied bluntly.

John chuckled a little at her bluntness, “After we take out yellow-eyes. How’s that sound?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “If it were me, I’d do it before. You never know how long you have, being a hunter. It’s not like those that have gone up against Azazel have survived,” she told him, making a point he couldn’t find an argument to.

He took a deep breath and sighed, looking at the table in front of him, “That was a low blow, but I’ll let you have that one, and… I’ll think about it. That’s the best you’re gonna get,” he said quietly.

Maria shook her head and got busy peeling potatoes, annoyed at how stubborn John was, which Dean had clearly gotten from him, although, in a way, so had Sam. John went to the garage and grabbed his bag before looking for a room to at least sleep in for the night. He was still debating staying there, especially with the unspoken conflict between him and Sam. Maria waited till she was working on the gravy before she hollered for Sam, who looked confused when he entered the kitchen.

“What’s up SIs?” he asked her.

She didn’t look over at him, not right away, “You and your dad, you two can patch things up,” she told him.

“Sis…” he said, not wanting to have this conversation.

“I’m serious Sam,” she stated as she turned around, “It might take being the bigger person for once, letting shit go. I know you don’t hate him and you’d be devastated if he died, so don’t lie to me,” she stated, narrowing her eyes a bit, then sighed, “We’re going up against Azazel. He killed both my parents, your mom, and who knows who else he is gonna try to kill to get to us. All I’m saying is that… you have an opportunity, to have a better relationship with your dad, just in case.”

He said nothing, just absorbed her words. She had a point and part of him hated that. Sam grabbed a beer out of the fridge before he went back into the library, lost in his thoughts. Her words had hit him fairly hard. Neither Jess nor Bobby pushed him. They could tell he needed time to think, even if they had no idea what was going through his head.

Dinner came and went and the six of them sat in the library, drinking and sharing stories again. Jess and Maria were looking forward to getting their tattoos in the morning. The guys though, not so much. The girls showered after dinner, shaving their nether regions so that the tattoo could only be barely visible above their jean line, leaving plenty to the imagination of how far down it would go. Maria was having second thoughts about where she had agreed to get the tattoo but knew there was no backing out of it now. 

In the morning, the girls dressed in loose-fitting sweats and went commando for the tattoo, none of the guys knew. Well, Sam knew about Jess’s, but not Maria’s. She was keeping that to herself. Maria found Jess in the kitchen, up just as early as she was, the coffee pot had just finished.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Jess told her excitedly.

“I’m not sure I can go through with this,” she replied nervously as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Oh come on, don’t wimp out on me now.” Jess pouted.

Maria groaned a little as she sat down across from her, “It’s just… that’s a really sensitive area, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but if you ever end up with a guy, he’ll find it hot as hell. Trust me,” she winked with an insinuating tone.

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t have time for a guy.” Jess chuckled, “Maybe after this whole demon business is done, you might,” she said optimistically.

Again she groaned at the thought. She had spent her entire life being a hunter and wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop doing it after Azazel was taken care of. She really didn’t know anything else. The guys joined the two of them almost an hour later, looking a little nervous, which made the girls chuckle.

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Dean almost burst through the door when he heard Maria let out a pained, quiet scream that sounded also like a groan. He’d already gotten his tattoo and it was tender, but he wasn’t letting on. The girls had been behind that closed door for almost a half hour now and the brothers were trying not to worry. Sam was smiling though, knowing where Jess was getting her tattoo and he couldn’t wait to go exploring to see it all. 

“Remind me to never let that girl talk me into something like this again,” John groaned, joining his sons in the lobby area of the tattoo parlor.

“What’s the matter Dad, don’t plan on getting any more tattoos?” Dean teased him with a smirk.

He ignored that as he joined their gaze on the closed door, “Those two still in there?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sounds like wherever they’re getting theirs, it’s tender,” Dean answered, trying not to sound concerned.

“They’ll be fine,” John chuckled.

Just as Bobby joined them, the door opened. Jess was laughing while Maria was glaring at her a bit, “I’m never letting you talk me into something like that again,” Maria told Jess, feeling the skin where her tattoo was burning a bit, which was normal.

“Just put that burn cream on it like the lady said and you’ll be fine, baby,” Jess teased her before she went over and had an intimate moment with Sam, not even caring that the others were there, “Can’t wait to show you later,” she whispered in his ear.

“Looking forward to it,” Sam smirked.

Dean just rolled his eyes but the adults chuckled. John realized how much his youngest son loved that woman and that was enough for him to decide to be the bigger person and put the past aside. 

“I’m so glad I didn’t drive here,” Maria groaned.

“Rethinking the whole tattoo thing?” Dean teased her as he smirked.

“Shut up,” she growled before she went outside.

The others just chuckled to themselves as Dean found her response amusing. There were only a couple options for driving back, Dean’s Impala or Bobby’s little beat-up car, neither of which were appealing to Maria at the moment. They joined her outside moments later, all of them but Dean went to Bobby’s beat-up car, leaving her to sit with Dean. She glared at Sam who just shrugged with a smirk before he got in Bobby’s car.

“Looks like you’re riding with me sweetheart,” Dean smirked.

Maria looked more than annoyed but got into the passenger seat and crossed her arms, doing her best not to slam the door of the Impala. The car hadn’t done anything wrong and she didn’t want to take her annoyance out on it.

“Don’t call me that,” she said somewhat coldly when he got in the driver’s seat.

Dean made a mental note of her reaction. He figured if he couldn’t talk to her normally, he’d at least find ways of annoying her. It wasn’t the attention he wanted but it was amusing nonetheless, “Alright Sweetheart,” he told her, that damned smirk plastered on his lips again.

Maria didn’t even look at him as she attempted to sit so that the sweats she was wearing didn’t rub against her tattoo. However, the moment he started driving, she felt every bump in the road and made plans not to leave her room when they got back until her tattoo healed. She couldn’t even understand how Jess wasn’t bothered or in pain, let alone had made plans to be intimate with Sam that same night. Give her demons, werewolves, vampires, even ghouls any day of the week, but a tattoo in a very sensitive area and she turned into a baby. She put on a hard outer shell though, not wanting to let Dean see that she was weak.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Dean told her with a smirk as he drove down the one-lane paved road.

She looked out the passenger window, arms still crossed over her chest, “No,” she replied, flatly, but annoyed.

That made Dean raise an eyebrow, more curious than ever about where she’d gotten hers, “What’s the matter, not up for a little show and tell?” 

“Drop it, Dean,” she told him in a low growl, which only made him chuckle.

The moment he parked, she was out of the car before he could even turn off the engine, grabbing two beers before she locked herself in her room. Maria carefully slipped out of her sweats and grabbed one of her oversized shirts out of her dresser, changing into it. However, the bottom portion of it brushed against the tattoo, causing her to push her ass backward before grabbing the shirt to hold it off of her.

“Never again,” she grumbled as she sat down on her bed, carefully. 

Maria put some of the burn cream on it that the tattoo artist had given her, which gave some much-needed relief. The tattoo artist also explained that Maria was more sensitive than most, so it would probably cause her more discomfort than her friend. She popped the beer and took a decent drink out of it when she heard a knock on her door.

“You okay in there?” Jess asked her, trying not to chuckle as Sam was behind her, kissing along her neck.

“I’ll be fine, but I’m never doing that again,” Maria grumbled.

“You gonna come out of there?” Sam asked her.

“No,” Maria replied flatly.

“Dean’s cooking tonight. He’s making burgers. So, at least come out long enough to eat,” Sam chuckled as Jess teased her fingers along his back.

“Would you two just go get a room already and let me be,” Maria groaned, leaning back on the headboard.

“Stop being a baby about this. The tattoo was your idea,” Sam told her, doing his best not to chuckle at her behavior.

“It may have been my idea but your girlfriend out there is nuts and I’ll never let her talk me into anything again,” she grumbled.

All that did was make the two laugh as they walked to their room, leaving Maria to lick her wounds. She could take a beating from a monster but that tattoo had hurt more than any wound she’d ever experienced before. At least the burn cream was helping a little. 

Dean couldn’t resist retrieving her himself. He really wanted to know where she’d gotten her tattoo. Once he was done cooking, he knocked on her door, “Dinner’s ready Sweetheart,” he told her with a smirk as he leaned against the wall next to her door.

“Go away Dean,” she groaned.

“Come on, it’s just a little tattoo,” he pushed.

She could hear the cockiness in his tone and it was annoying her, “Just leave me a plate outside my door,” she grumbled.

“If Jess can come out to eat, so can you,” he teased her, which pissed her off.

The moment she stood up, her shirt brushed against her tattoo, and she inhaled deeply as a pained groaned escaped her lips, “You’re an ass, you know that,” she snapped at him as she carefully slid her sweats back on.

“And you’re being a baby,” he quipped.

“Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath before she unlocked and opened her door. Seeing him there with that smug look and a smirk to match made her want to hit him.

“Awe, what’s the matter Sweetheart?” he asked, more to annoy her than anything.

She pushed him so that his back was against the wall as she forced herself to walk normally, not wanting to give him more ammunition to annoy her. He just laughed a little before he followed her, wondering why she had to look that good in sweats. The others were already sitting at the kitchen table. Maria barely kept the grimace off her face as she sat down, adjusting quickly so her sweats and thighs weren’t touching her tattoo, at all. Most of them caught it and chuckled silently, mostly because getting the tattoo was her idea.

“You alright there kid?” Bobby asked her, raising an eyebrow, sounding amused.

“I’m fine,” she answered, shortness in her tone, which made Dean smirk again.

“Leave her alone Dean,” John told him, noticing the smirk.

“What?” Dean asked innocently as he sat down on the other side of the table.

She glared at him, almost daring him to say something or look at her the wrong way. Due to the burn, she was ready to go off on him. John just gave Dean a look before they all served themselves. Jess found her discomfort hilarious, knowing it would only last a few days while it healed. Whether Maria wanted to admit it or not, Dean was a really good cook. She kept the annoyed look throughout dinner, not giving him the satisfaction of a compliment on the meal. There was some conversation but she stayed out of it, tuning it out due to the burning that had returned to her tattoo. It was quite the turn of events since when they were younger, he had been the one refusing the compliments on her cooking.

“You gonna help clean up?” Sam asked Maria, his face contorting a bit as he did his best to attempt to keep from smiling, let alone laughing. Jess had told him where Maria had gotten her tattoo.

Maria glared at him so badly that if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over. That was when Dean lost it laughing. Luckily Maria was done eating. With every ounce of stubbornness she had left, she got up and stomped off to her room, not even flinching at how badly her tattoo burned. It wasn’t until her door was locked behind her that she almost crumbled, carefully removing her sweats before sitting back on her bed as she had before, applying more of the burn cream. A sigh of relief left her lips as she leaned her head back on the headboard.

The way they had messed with her was just how their family was. It was all in fun. She was more annoyed at herself for being so sensitive down there than anything, something she wouldn’t have known without the tattoo experience. She also vowed to never again let Jess talk her into anything else like this, ever again. Maria glanced at the book on her night table. She hadn’t moved it since the night she had set it there and debated reading it. She had no plans of leaving her room anyway, not until her tattoo healed more first. 

“Not tonight,” she sighed quietly before climbing under covers.

That was when she realized that sleeping was going to be an even bigger issue for her. How was she supposed to even get comfortable and not let anything touch that spot? Then she remembered the little bit of gauze the tattoo artist had given her for the first night. She carefully climbed out of bed and pulled it out of her sweatpants pocket. Maria applied a little more of the ointment before applying the gauze bandage, sighing at the feeling of relief. Maria had been too distracted by the pain to remember everything that the tattoo artist had told her and hadn’t been in the mood to ask Jess. She wasn’t in the mood now either, but planned on asking her in the morning, or whenever she rolled out of bed.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16

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