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lillianna-davenport · 4 years

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The minutes ticked by as Wayward Howl and No PB&J starred at the tree line. From forest edge, dense with shadows, the black corruption began to take form. The spirals were close to the lodge by the time there swirling venality became a tangible stench. One by one their coiling, twisted forms snapped, multiplying in size until the nightmare that is Wyrm tainted chrinos took form. No PB&J glanced at Wayward Howl who seemed rather non pulsed by the exaggerated swagger the Black Spirals mocked with every damming step. Stopping in a curve formation as jagged as their smiles, the poisonous group snarled, growling out under breath snipes at the two warriors facing them down. Marking his position as leader, the shark-toothed giant called Madman gave a surprisingly clean smile. A smile that began to crack and crumble as the screeching cackle that before his name came rumbling up from a chest laden with scars and mussel.

“I was excited to hear such a warrior challenge. A would be hero? In these lands? Well, I just had to come see." The spiral alpha's face became hard, mocking. "But here I find two cubs. A white-furred bitch,” he huffed dismissively at No PB&J, he continued “and a grey-furred cuck.” Six jeering voices guffawed with pleasure and insult.

A wolfish grin curled Wayward Howl's lips. “Can’t be a cuck if I’m virgin, you pack of Ripley’s rejects.”

The mocking smile left Madman's eyes. “Aren’t you just full of spunk and sass," he spat. "What’re the sad sack fuckwits callin’ ya?”

“Wayward Howl," sneered the war alpha. "I am the one that challenged.”

A moment of silence seemed to enhance the bays of laughter cut with jeering taunts of "Wayward Howl? More like: Wha! Worried Howls!" followed by several long whimpering calls of a pup to its mother. Madman let this continue for a moment longer, then threw his predators gaze at the motley gang of walking bile with him. The silence returned. Shaking himself off like a displeased car salesman, Madman grinned at Wayward Howl. “Well little lost yapper, since you demanded a challenge and I’m in the mood to watch a fool die - and that runty mutt bitch piss herself," snorting derisively, "I’ll take it.” The Spiral alpha stared, steepling his fingers. “Now, if I recall I get to set the rules, right?" This was not how challenges went, but Wayward Howl said nothing. "Yeah," grinned Madman, "you’ll fight two of mine. All. By your. Lonesome.”

No PB&J narrowed cold blue eyes, jaw flexing with outrage as with a shake of his head Wayward Howl chuckled. “I’ll agree to that right now. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Madman flicked his wild eyes left and right. “Go. Skin this mewling pup. We’ll use his fur as a fuck rug for our… dates.” The fire of brutality illuminated his eyes as he licked his lips. Before he could get the slithering thing back into his mouth the Spirals flanking him ad surged forward with a flash of obsidian claws, blacker than the smoke of the forest fire they'd just recently set.

In a flash Wayward Howl took stance, fang dagger at the ready, his own claws gleaming with a razors edge. He could feel the deep searing pain of the enemies poisoned touch as they raked sin and hate against his skin. As blood broke skin, Wayward Howl struck. A crunching, ripping of corded flesh and a stunned expression accompanied the spray of rancor that splattered all nearby as the gleaming blade made its displeasure known. From throat to belly a Spiral lay gutted, his dead expression cast in horrified hues for all eternity.

Mid charge, the second assailants eyes followed the body of his pack mate as it fell, then turned towards the target. Shock mingled with bloodlust as they caught Wayward Howl's hard stair. Instinctually the Spiral pulled back from the power of the alpha's gaze, unable to face the righteous power of the uncorrupted. In the seconds it took for the mangled corps to hit ground, Wayward Howl shifted his stance, bringing his claws up. They cut deep. Flicking bits of vital organ off his fingers as the Spiral gurgled black blood, Wayward Howl glanced at Madman as if to say, "That's all?"

Madman lost his grin. The fire left his eyes, replaced by a blackness darker than his soul. “Kill’em.” The four men flanking him didn’t move. His eyes flicked dark command into each of their souls. “KILL’EM!” he shouted. They jumped.

In a booming reply, Wayward Howl demanded counter measures with a single directive. “Strike.”

Three forms drop out of hiding around the Spiral pack. From the forest line Talks to Many bolted like the howling winds, clipping Spiral with his claws, pivoting on his heel, using the movement to rip through the Dancer like paper. The Spiral desperately swiped his claws at the black furred wolf, trying to get away. He failed. Closing his crushing grip about the Spiral's sternum, Talks to Many thrust his arm back. A door to the heart now lay open, but before he could strike it, the Spiral lost his life, bleeding onto the earth.

As blood crept towards his hiding place, Green Venom Toungue lifted his scaled tail to avoid the hissing icor. Blinking one eye, then the other, he saw his chance. Letting out a hiss as ominous as the back water swamps, the massive Mokolé dropped onto a charging enemy, snapping powerful jaws at a startled Spiral.

Flailing his claws at Green Venom Toungue's armored hide was a mistake. The Mokolé felt little more than the faint itching of something passing by. The Spiral was desperate to get away from the danger. Green Venom Toungue obliged, jaws opening into a cavernous death, sharp teeth sinking into weaker flesh, opening the wound to poisonous toxins. Staggered from the blow, arms flailing, the Spiral tried in a panic to strike at the Mokolé. A few seconds more as Green Venom Toungue's jaw clicked and crunched, crushing organs and breaking bones as the Spiral grew still. Black blood dripping from his maw, Green Venom Toungue turned at the sound of Amarguq's howl. It cut thrugh the air like hot thunder. One could expect ancient heroes of old to come storming from the mists of time to take on these would be threats.

Surging from the unseen places, Amarguq leaped into the air. With a gleam in his eye, he came down on the spiral, his maw locking around the unfortunate neck. Sinking in ivory fangs, Amarguq clawed savagely across the chest and belly of the foe beneath him. The Dancer never again moved of his own volition.

As viscous blood began to wash the dirt black, a luminous flame, silver and radiant began to wreath itself around the white furred chrinos, casting a bright ambiance into the growing twilight. Her claws found and savagely tore out the side of her quarry as he yowled in pain. Feebly the Spiral swiped at No PB&J, trying to weave and dodge. His eyes failed against the radiance of Luna's Flame. A final, fluid sweep of her claws arched a bloody trail as his neck was no more.

As the artistic stroke flecked the air with sanguine, Madman's twisted features became confused, his rage and fury now abandoned. His entire pack wasn’t just cut down, they were decimated. Realizing he was the only one left standing he looked to his Gaian counterpart.

Wayward howl watched him as if seeing every flaw, every blemishes in a clear stone. There were so many, he sneered with disgust. “Congrats asshole. Your pack made a mess of the lawn.”

With a gesture of his hand, the gathered defenders fell upon Madman with a chorus of howls. There was no mercy.

From a vehicle a couple dozen yards away Basil and Heather watched the violence and savagery as the distant fire illuminated the sprays of black blood, all of it… over in few heartbeats as a storm would rolled in. A great hiss cooled the sizzling foliage as strong winds let loose much needed. The flames soon died away, weighing down the acrid smoke, leaving the fresh scent of rain. The immediate threat was gone, but its scars would require time to heal.

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Credits and Contribution (in alphabetical order) _~_ ~_

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_Basil Leandros played by Naberius _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Esadowa "Talks to Many" played by Kjeld _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Green-Venom-Tongue played by Dehaka _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Heather O’Connor played by Bridget _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Kiska Yeva played by Capsensis _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Amarguq “Mark” played by DMWolf _~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ ~_

_~_ ~_ ~_ ~_ Roth "Wayward Howl" Berggrem played by JB _~_ ~_

#werewolf #WtA #werewolf the apocalypse #world of darkness #mage #mage the ascension #WW20 #MtA #Find us on Discord #Malibu Nights

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trampledcactusboy · 6 years

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Second Chances

Genderbent Castiel X Male Reader

Y/N’s POV

“Cas, get out of the way!”

I slammed the startled angel into the wall behind me as I shielded her with my body.

I managed to get in one good shot before crumpling to the floor like a loose piece of paper spilling with red ink.

“Y/N!” I heard Dean scream from across the room, heavy and fast footsteps headed my direction.

I slumped back into the soft trenchcoat beneath me, realizing the body in it belonged to none other than the celestial being I had just saved but not having enough strength to prevent myself from falling further into it the more I bled out.

My breaths started to get shallow, a slow but painfully high pitched sound ringing through my ears, blocking out everything else.

It felt like a movie.

It was weird, I always used to think that these moments were so cliche, so overdone and overdramatic.

But now, as my vision blurs and my hands shake with the touch of cold that rushes inot me, I want to laugh at the accuracy I’ve mocked all these years.

I saw everything happening in slow motion.

Perhaps, God just wanted me to remember this well.

Remember the faces of my best friends. Remember the feeling of Castiel’s gorgeous hair cascading down my neck from underneath my withering form. Remember being a ‘hero’, even if it was a short-lived career.

I always had a nagging fear in the back of my mind, telling me I wasn’t really making a difference, telling me that I wasn’t hunting for the right reasons.

But right now, in this moment, that constant voice finally quieted down.

Because I knew, with every organ in my body, every slowing pump of my heart and every ounce of my corrupt soul, that what I just did meant something. It meant something to me.

If saving Castiel’s cute ass was how I was going to go out, then so fucking be it. There could be worse ways to die.

The ringing and slow motion all began to subside when I gasped out for a breath of air, coughing as blood dripped out of the corner of my mouth.

Dean was beside me, trying desperately to close the wound temporarily with some cloth.

Sam was standing above us all, eyes watering and heaving like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

And Castiel, bless her pure self, was still beneath me, eyes widened and looking straight ahead whilst clutching onto my arms securely.

Her warm, small hands wrapped around my thick biceps in a way I wished would’ve lasted forever.

“Why would you do that?”

I looked over at Dean wearily, not knowing how to respond to such an obvious question.

“DAMMIT, Y/N! SHE WOULD’VE BEEN FINE! YOU DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO SACRAFICE YOURSELF!”

Castiel’s eyes watered at the sound of the older brother’s shouts resulting in me to rub up circles on her hands that surrounded me to soothe her.

“I didn’t miss…did I?”

I smiled softly, Sam scoffing at my ability to make any situation lighter.

“You better not die on us, Y/N. I don’t know how I’d explain to Bobby that we couldn’t save you.” Sam’s voice cracked, attempting to hold back sobs.

“Don’t bullshit me when I’m dying, Sam. We both know you just can’t stand the thought of going back to fast food dinners every night.”

He laughed, tears falling as he did and even Dean had a tight lipped smile slide across his face.

“You’re a great cook.” Castiel whispered, still not looking down at the scene playing out before her.

“Yeah? Be sure to write that exact quote on my tombstone, will ya darlin’?” I coughed out another low laugh.

“This isn’t funny.” She said, louder this time, finally staring down at me.

Her big, captivatingly blue eyes sparkled with what I knew was tears but convinced myself was her depleting grace leaking through her beautiful vessel.

“Hey now, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m sorry.” I reached up a hand to caress her flushed cheeks that any other time would be such a vibrant pink.

“You should be. I didn’t need saving.”

Her tone was stern but the waver in the delivery gave away her true emotion.

“I know you didn’t. You’re strong, you never need anyone to save you. I just wanted to show off, you know I can’t resist that disapproving look you give me. It’s sexy.”

My voice was now horse and weak, volume so shallow I was surprised she heard me.

A tear fell down her face and I wiped it away, smiling up at the angel who had taken over my life since she flew into it three and a half years ago.

“Cas, I…”

My body was shutting down, now. I could sense the drowning within my own self occuring as I tried to swim to the surface, selfishly wanting just a few more minutes with her.

But it seemed as thought my time was up, I had wasted too much of my energy stalling the inevitable that I lost my chance to say what I had been needing to say for much too long.

It felt like fainting, not dying.

And I guess, in a way, I was grateful for that.

I expected something painful and excruciating but wa sgreeted with something of elegance and gentlness instead.I felt trapped inside a pool of complete darkness.

Nothing and no one around me to guide me thrugh whatever I had been sent.

I scratched my head in confusion, not understanding what had happened.

This wasn’t hell.

This certainly wasn’t heaven.

This wasn’t even enough to be considered purgatory.

I wandered around aimlessly, calling out to any that could hear me.

“GOD!”

No answer.

“GOD!?”

Nothing.

“HEY, ASSWIPE! I THINK THERE’S BEEN SOME KIND OF MISTAKE! YOU SEE, I DIED! I NEED SOME CELESTIAL TRANSPORTATION PLEASE!”

I pulled at my hair in fristration before plopping down on the black ground.

Was there somplace besides heaven, hell and purgatory that we hadn’t known of yet?

Was I the first to be brought here?

Were they just holding me here while they decided my fate?

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I spent what I assumed to be centuries sitting in that damned pit of despair, only thing to acompany me being my own thoughts.

Some days I’d cry.

Some days I’d scream.

Some days I’d try to speak with God again.

Some days I’d just lie there and try to remember what clouds looked like.

And some days…Some really rare days…I’d hear Castiel.

Or at least, I thought I did.

I couldn’t tell if it was actually her or me just going insane from the torturous isolation.

But when I did hear her, I chose not to question it and instead would admire it like a magnificent ballad.

She would say all kinds of things to me.

Usually it’d be about her day with Sam and Dean, never refraining to tell me how she think I would have handled the situation. Other times it was about a movie or show she had seen or even a song or a picture or a skyline or a car, anything that reminded her of me and how much I would’ve enjoyed those simple things from life.

Sometimes, though, she’d get real depressing. I’d spend hours not being able to hear anything other than her crying and it made me feel like I was dying all over again.

These moments, however rare, were a double edged sword.

I loved them but resented them all the same, for I yearned to be with her again, to stroke her hair and hold her close to me and reassure her that everything was alright.

Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that this is where I belonged.

God doesn’t make any mistakes, he’d unfortunately made me quite aware of that during our encounter on Earth.

Why he decided to give me the silent treatment, I had no idea. But I’m sure he put me in here for a reason, and that was something that was easier to find peace in than fight considering I had no legitimate choice in the matter.

I took up mediatation, yoga and even singing to occupy my infinite time.

Sure, it wasn’t the best routine in the world and definitely wouldn’t comfort me forever but it was something and that’s better than nothing at all.

I’m sure the boys and Cas would’ve laughed their asses off at the sight of me prancing around here, stretching, hopping and singing to those stupid songs Dean has gotten stuck in my head after all this time.

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Another two years went by.

Castiel spoke to me a few months ago.

It was shocking, she hadn’t taked to me since a year ago.

I was beginning to think she was gone, that maybe my mind had settled down and I was sane once again.

She informed me that it was New Year’s. She told me of all the things they did to celebrate, how Sam had tried to make it fun and cheerful but her and Dean just weren’t having any of it. How Dean had snapped at the sight of decorations and kicked down the small christmas tree his brother had brought in. She told me how christmas was the same, neither of them bothering to open the gifts Sam had sought out for them in protest of the holiday as a whole. She told me how Sam made a joke about her having a first kiss to egt into the spirit of New Year’s, offering Dean as a pair of lips. The way she described how disgusted she was by just the mere image of that exchange had me smiling to myself in both amusement and relief, even if she was just a figment of my vivid imagination. She told me how she always thought I would have been her first anything, how she didn’t find it possible to even contemplate another person to replace my role. She didn’t verify in any detail on what she meant by ‘role’ so I could only hope she meant what I wanted her to mean by it.

She ended the converstaion, if I could even call it that, by telling me she was sorry for abandoning me lately. She vented about how guilty she had been feeling because my birthday had come around and the memories of me consumed her like a vicious beast. I wanted to tell her I forgived her. I wanted to let her know I didn’t mind and that i hadn’t even known my birthday had passed, make her aware that time in here was only an abstract construct of my own consiousness. I wanted to tell her to live her life to the fullest, to stop wasting her time on me and start taking Sam’s positive influence as an excuse to forget about me.

After that, I spent the next couple of months concluding a hypothesis I loathed to be true.

I figured that God was behind the lingering voice of his child, my angel castiel.

That he had to of been using my care for her as a cruel form of punishment, forcing me to face the reality of my hurting the ones I loved by the actions I took in my leave.

At first, I was enraged by such a theory but gradually accepted it as a lesser of evils.

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Today marked what felt like the third century.

That’s 300 years for those who don’t know.

I had no watch, of coarse, so I was probably off a good 50 years but whose to say I wasn’t in here for longer than I thought?

I honestly had no clue, and I didn’t strain myself with the stress of craving taht sort of knowledge.

I was jogging around in circles around the vast, endless darkness, clearing my mind when I heard a flutter.

I stopped in my tracks and spun around to see a woman in a grey suit.

She had long, wavy red hair, a pale complexion and navy blue eyes that could have easily been mistaken for black.

I debated speaking to her, not sure if this was another trick from my own head.

She giggled, taking a small step forward.

“I’m as real as it gets, Y/N. Shameful to believe your mind is so weak that it would conjure me up. You should give yourself more credit.”

I tilted my head a bit and furrowed my brows, standing in place.

“Who are you? You dead, too?”

She smiled a scarily happy smile, almost like she was a pushy salesperson trying to sell me some load of garbage.

“I’m no person, Y/N. I’m an angel. God sent me here for you.”

“God sent you here?” I asked in the most ‘I-doubt-that’ tone I could muster.

She simply nodded and I stepped closer to her, scoffing with a fake smile drawn on my lips.

“God’s long forgotten about me, sweetheart. So why don’t you fly on out of here? I didn’t ask for no angel.”

“Oh, but you did.”

I placed my hands on my hips and rose an eyebrow at her words.

“Well, not me. But you did ask for an angel, didn’t you? Have been ever since you landed here.”

“Get to the point, ginger.”

“Why? We have time.” She spoke so sweet but so deviously all at once, pacing around the empty space as she continued her little speech.

“You weren’t brought here on purpose by anyone, Y/N. You brought yourself here…”

She paused in her spot, then stolled back over to me, placing a hand and wacthing as it slid down my chest to the spot where I had been wounded but now looks as if nothing ever even grazed the area.

“When you took a bullet to the chest.”

I eyed her carefully, stiffening under her touch. She snapped her head back up to me, hand resting on my chest.

“How brave you were and yet, how naive. So willing to risk your mortal life over a creature that couldn’t ever understand why you had saved it.”

“Her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not an item, she isn’t an ‘it’. And I don’t care if she knows or not, I chose my fate and I’m not apologetic about it in the slightest.”

Her grin widened as she slipped her hand away from me.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I hope you still have that attitude when you’re in Purgatory.”

“What?” My voice held panic inside it, I didn’t want to leave this place, not anymore.

She began pacing again and she explained herself.

“You know, it’s not often I get to do this type of thing. I’m happy there’s a change in schedule, I was getting quite bored of the same old ‘you get to go to heaven!’ and ‘you’re going to hell!’ bullshit. I was craving something new…”

She spun back around to me, biting her lip.“I guess I owe you a thank you for that.”

“No…wait. There’s gotta be a misunderstanding, I’m supposed to be here.”

“What aren’t you getting here, honey? You were never supposed to be anywhere but the land of prey. You’re meant to be some demon’s dinner. God doens’t have any sacred plans for you. God doens’t even know where you are right now. You think you’re the first to have the plug pulled on ya? You’re nothing special, baby.”

“Plug? What plug? What the fuck are you on about?!”

“Oh dear, you haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

I just stood there, breathing rapidly at the spinning of an ensuing headache.

“You’re not dead, Y/N. You’re in a coma.”

My breath hitched in my throat and my body went limp.

“Or at least, you were in a coma. But it seems like Sam’s had enough of your dreadful existence. I have to admit, it took longer than I bet on. Gonna lose some good change over this. But dropping you off into a sea of hungry misfits will make up for that.”

“You’re lying. Sam wouldn’t do that.”

“You need some proof? That’s fine.”

With a wave of her hand to my temple my body jolted and the view of my hospital room came into view.

Sam and Dean were arguing by my bedside, Castiel gripping my hand and not tearing her sorrowful eyes away from my unconscious body.

“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS, SAM! IT’S NOT YOUR CHOICE!”

“IT’S TIME, DEAN! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH OF THIS CONSTANT SUFFERING? BECAUSE I KNOW I HAVE AND Y/N WOULDN’T WANT IT TO BE LIKE THIS!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT Y/N WOULD HAVE WANTED! NO ONE IS PULLING ANY PLUGS HERE!”

“HE’S NOT GONNA MAKE IT! WOULD YOU RATHER WAIT UNTIL THEN? WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE TO SPEND THE NEXT GOD KNOWS HOW LONG CRYING OVER THE INEVITABLE, HUH?”

“NOT THAT YOU GIVE A DAMN, BUT YES, I WOULD! I PREFER TO HAVE HIM HERE AND YOU’RE NOT DOING HIM ANY FAVORS BY ACTING AS IF HE’S ALREADY GONE!”

“BEING IN A COMA ISN’T CONSIDERED AS BEING HERE, DEAN! SO, YEAH, TO ME HE’S BEEN GONE SINCE WE BROUGHT HIM HERE! START LOOKING AT THE REALITY OF THINGS FOR ONCE!”

“THE REALITY?! YOU GO-“

“ENOUGH!” The brothers looked over in surprise at the yell of an angered angel.

Castiel stood from her spot, releasing my hand as she turned to face the the hunters.

“Neither of you has the right to dictate what happens to Y/N. you are not God! You will let Heaven decide what is best for him and if either of you-!”

She gulped and took a deep breath in.

“If any of you dares to try and take Y/N away from me…I will not be held responsible for what I’ll do to you.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear, Dean’s had relief wash over them at the threat, knowing Sam wouldn’t deny Cas of her wishes.

“Okay…Okay…” Sam stepped one foot forward about to reach out to Cas in comfort but she moved away, not breaking the stare they shared as she did.

She sat back down on the chair beside me and put her hand over mine as the room fell silent.

“You sure you don’t have enough juice in those tinkle toes of yours? Not even a little? Even a drop could go a far way-“

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve by now, Dean?” Cas growled at the older man, not even glancing up at him.

“Sorry…I know you would’ve. I just miss him.”

“We all do.” Sam confirmed, walking out of the room, an expression of distress from the situation evident on his face. He wasn never able to be around people when times like this arose.

But just as he left, a beeping sounded throughout the small room.

I was flatlining.

Fast.

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Castiel started to freak out, latching her hands onto me and shaking me, fisting my hospital gown, stroking the sides of my face, any sort of contact she could perform she did as she spewed out all kinds of pleas, begging me to stay alive.

Dean was rushing out into the halls, screaming for assistance on the top of his lungs, running back in with nurses and docters as he tried to pull Castiel off of me to no avail.

Sam skidded back in, helping pry Cas away from me into a corner of the room as they watched the workers attempt to revive me.

The image then faded away, my eyes opening to see the redheaded angel in front of me.

“Guess Sam was too little too late, huh? I was really pulling for him.”

My mouth hung open, jaw dropped at the realization that this entire time I could of been fighting. This entire time I should have been searching for a way out. The realization that Castiel wasn’t in my head, but out there visiting me, and I never bothered to put any weight to her words.

“Sorry, was pulling not the proper word? Too soon?” She snickered as I closed my mouth, swallowing a knot in my throat.

“Oh, have a sense of humor, will ya? Now let’s go, steamboat.”She dragged my arm but I yanked back refusing to move.

“I’m not dead yet.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

She tried dragging me again, this time more forceful but again, I yanked back.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Listen, I admire your determination to outlive your own body, I really do. But my job is to send you to your designated place of rest, or lack there of, and you’re starting to test my patience.”

“I’m not even a demon! I’m not a monster of any kind. I don’t belong in Purgatory!”

“Sweetie, every rule has it’s exception, and you’re purgatory’s. Your actions on Earth have been a fair share of both good and evil. When it comes to something like that, the person’s own mind determines their sentence. Normally, being the egotistical maniacs humans are, they all believe themselves to be worthy of Heaven. But you...”

She stepped a bit closer, digging her long nails into my arm.

“We both know you’ve been anticipating this for a long time. You’re ongoing battle against yourself has lead you to this, Y/N. You can’t decide if you’re a man of justice or a man of revenge and because of that you’ve managed to climb you’re way into Purgatory. Where there is no good and bad, no damned and righteous, there is only what you do best… hunting.”

She scratched down my forearm, a long trail of red in the carved marking. I winced and hissed at the pain, using my other hand to shove her down.

She shot up and charged at me, her wings extending out of her back.

She tackled me down, me writhing underneath her as she punched me in the face.I kicked her off of me, her rolling beside me and I stood only to reach down and pluck a handful of feathers from her wings as I returned the favor by bashing her head back into the floor.

She screamed, a scrunched expression of sadness overtaking her from the loss of feathers.

I started to run, to where I didn’t knoe, there really wasn’t any place to go in here, just a never ending blank canvas of black. She didn’t take long to bolt after me, trying to land a few ‘zaps’ at me, thank the lord for my yoga because I was now flexible enough to jump high over the blasts she repeatedly shot at me.

Then, the wildest idea came to me.

If I wasn’t dead, I could still pray to Castiel.

I was such an idiot, how had I not tried this before??

I chuckled distatefully at myself as I lunged, tumbled and glided out of the way of numerous attacks from the mad angel behind me, knowing if this didn’t work I was toast.

This was my last resort.

“CASTIEL!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping my vigorious effort to get in touch with her would be heard through all the chaos in the real world.

“CAS, PLEASE! I’M HERE! I’M TRAPPED, BUT I’M HERE! CAS, DON’T GIVE UP ON ME! DON’T LET ME DIE, DAMMIT!”

“You’re precious Castiel won’t be able to hear your cries! Stop wasting your breath and give up! You can’t outrun me forever!”

“CAS, C’MON! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME! JUST LIKE I’VE HEARD YOU!”

A blast of I’m-not-even-sure stung my leg, me limping to the ground as the redhead smirked and sped up to catch me at my weakest.

“I HEARD YOU WHEN YOU TOLD ME ABOUT NEW YEAR’S, CAS! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T KISS DEAN! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T OPEN SAM’S GIFT ON CHRISTMAS AND I KNOW THAT YOU STOPPED THEM FROM PULLING MY PLUG!”

I got up and kneeled over, panting just as the angel pinned me down and wailed me in the face, blood spurting out my nose at the hit.

“I HEARD YOU CRY, CAS! I WAS HERE! I’M STILL HERE AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO CRY ANYMOE IF YOU JUST LET-“

Another harsh blow to me face.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

The angel above me dug a nail into my chest, where I had been shot.

I screamed in agony as she drilled it into me, reaching inside of the now present wound.

“I told you.” She said lowly in a deep voice, twisting her finger inside of me, making me gasp out for air.

She reached down beside my ear, whispering. “She. Can’t. Hear. You.”

Suddenly, the real world and this one flickered back and forth.

I was overlooking the hospital room one second, seeing the drama unfold as they kept resesitaing me.

Then I was back here, watching an angel stab me with her own hand.

I went back and foth numerous times, like my sou couldn’t decide on where to go, confused on which body it was meant to inhabit.

The entire time, I felt the pain of the bullet all over again, but ten times worse.

Maybe this is what dying actually feels like.

Maybe the first time wasn’t an accurate representation of how this goes.

Or maybe the angel who was currently prolonging my death just to see the life leave my eyes was the cause of this horrific feeling.

Who knows?

All I do know, is that I regret everything now.

I used to think I was okay with how it all ended, how I went out, where I was, all of that shit.

But being in this moment right now, I realize I’m not okay with any of it, not even in the slightest.

I regret allowing myself to get shot so easily.

I regret not telling Castiel how I truly felt when I had the chance.

I regret accepting my presumed fate so quickly.

And most importantly, I regret ever letting myself believe for even a minute that I wasn’t a good person.

Because as I look back on my life, I notice all the great fucking things I’ve done.

I take notice to all the impacts I have made in people’s lives and all the sacrafices I have given for the greater good of humanity as a whole, no matter how unfairly I was ever treated.

I remember all the times I had doubted myself or taken blame for things that weren’t within my control.

I remember all the nights I’d lie awake wondering if I had a purpose.

And lying here now, I know I did.

Because maybe I couldn’t save everyone. Maybe I couldn’t fix the world. But I sure as hell did a lot more than most people, and I’m proud of that.

I’m proud of myself.

And I know my friends are too. I know Sam, Dean and Castiel would agree with me for once. I know Bobby would slap me upside the head for taking so long to come to this ruling about myself. And I know God, wherever he is, never thought any different of me. I don’t need any stupid angel to tell me any of that. So if purgatory is where she wants me to be, let her take me. And let her keep taking me back there each time I claw my way back out, because I’ll be damned if I ever give up on myself.

Not anymore.

Things started to turn white.

Everyone washed away from view until nothing was left but that whiteness.

I felt peaceful.

I felt content.

I felt…A hand?

I opened my eyes, swuinting from the bright light invading my vision.

I blinked a few times to adjust into focus.

The ceiling was white.

The ceiling…was white.

Since when were there ceilings in purgatory?

“Didn’t know purgatory had interior designers. Who the hell redecorated this place?” I muttered under my breath.

I then looked down to discover the hand I had felt was holding mine.

A soft, smaller, feminine hand.

“Y/N?”

I glanced up at the most stunning sight I had ever seen.

Castiel, with freshly tinted cheeks and wet tear stains covering the bags under her crystal eyes, looked at me from beside my hospital bed.

“Cas.”

She leaped onto me, her body devouring mine in a hug full that reeked of need.

I slowly wrapped my frail arms around her as she buried her face into my neck.

I felt her take a strong whiff of my scent and smiled to myself at the cute gesture.

I rubbed circles into her back, thriving in the moment of being back, it honestly kicking in at a very steady rate.

I couldn’t help but to wonder why I was back.

Last I knew, my destiny was sealed by a bitchy redhead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thankful enough for you.” She whsipered into my skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No need to be sorry. I shouldn’t of been so impulsive like that.”

“No. You saved me.” She pulled back, hands around my neck as she hovered above me. “You’re my hero. Even if you are stupid.”

I let out a raspy laugh, a smile etching across her face at the sound.

And that’s when I understood.

‘You’re my hero.’

That’s why I’m back.

I had finally made up my opinion of myself.

I decided I was a good man and that I was worthy of much more than the ending I was given.

I decided that I was meant to do more in this world.

And because of that, because of me seeing myself for the ‘hero’ I am, God has given me another chance at a better fate.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” I smiled back, running the back of my hand down her cheek as she leaned into it.

“I was wondering…” She looked down hesitantly, leaning back into her seat.

“Yeah?”

“What were going to tell me? Before you…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

I stared at her in confusion, not connecting the reference.

She just waited for me to answer, knowing I was trying to remember what she meant.

“Oh.” I breathed out, my hand falling from her and onto my lap.

“I was going to say…”

Her face held anticipation and nervousness within it, my teeth knawing on my inner lip.

I was given another chance. I can’t waste it.

“I love you, Cas. And I don’t mean as a friend or a partner or family. I mean I love you. With every part of myself.”

She took in a breath, holding it for a few seconds.

And, man, those seconds felt like hours to me as my anxiety built on her response.

“I love you as well, Y/N. I thought you always knew of this.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was told humans can be oblivious to the natural sentiment that occurs between ones who share a deep attraction both spiritually and sexually due to denial and or simplicity being as…how does Dean say it? ‘Ignorance is bliss’? But I just always assumed you were not one of these humans being as you’re-“

I sat up and moved toward the rambling brunette, pressing my lips against hers lovingly.

She didn’t reciprocate the kiss and I chuckled against her lips, pulling back just a little bit.

“You talk too much. Now follow my lead.” I mumbled, her nodding in return and finally kissing back with so much emotion I thought I was going to go into another coma.

Her devotion felt like warm silk surging through me. It was almost like reading her mind, but with no words. It was wonderful.

We pulled apart and I sat back against my pillow with a dreamy sigh.

“So where’s the boys?”

“Uh-Uh-Uh-“

I laughed at her stuttering, entwining our hands together and squeezing.

“They went to go call Bobby, update him on your stability status. Or what was your stability status.”

“Perfect! When they come in here act like nothing happened. I’m gonna pretend I’m still in a coma and jump scare those sons of bitches.”

“I know I have professed my love to you but that doesn’t mean I want to be involved with your twisted ‘pranks’.”

“Wow, nice to know my girlfriend doesn’t have my back. And after I took a bullet to the chest for your angelic ass.”

I rolled my eyes teasingly, pulling her on top of me and nuzzling my nose against her temple.

“Girlfriend?”

“Do you not want to be?”

“No, I do!”

I leaned back slightly looking up at her with an amused expression at her immediate reply.

“Relax yourself, eager beaver. I know you do.”

I pecked her nose with a light kiss and she snuggled into me.

“Ow, ow, ow. Careful with the bullet wound, there.”

“Well maybe now this will be a warning to not be an idiot.”

My chest vibrated with a rorar of laughter.

“Point taken, snarky. Next time I’ll just let you take the hit. I’d rather see you in this gown, they don’t have any backs you know.”

She picked her head up to glare at me, inches away from my own face.

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible not to looove apparently.” I mocked, booping her nose with my pointer finger.

“For once, you’re not wrong.”

She locked our lips in a kiss, one of her hands combing through my slightly overgrown hair.

As we let the kiss end and she cuddled me, I hummed to her before stopping.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Four months.”

“That’s it?!”

“How long did you think it had been?”

“Like…300 years?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little absurd, Y/N?”

“You know what’s absurd? The fact that I’m going to be spending the next four months up your butt to make up for my absence.”

She lifted herself up, elbows on my shoulders and hands holding her head.

“Up…my butt?”

“It’s an expression, honeybee.”

Her face was unreadable so I continued.

“Unless you don’t want it to be.”

She blushed immensely, flicking my nose.

“Hey! What was that for!?”

“Dean said if you ever got fresh with me to do that.”

“How do you even know what fresh means!?”

“I’ve learned a lot while you were asleep, Y/N. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh yeah? Well about you surprise me some more then, huh? Spill the beans, kiddo.”

“Well, for one, I understand that saying.”

She went on for the next three days updating me on all the winchesters had taught her in the past four months.

She even revealed some information “the pizza man” had taught her.

And you best believe I put that one to the test.

Let’s just say the pizza man is quite the teacher.

#castiel #supernatural #supernatural fandom #genderbend #castiel genderbend #gender bent castiel #female castiel #girl castiel x male reader #castiel x male reader #drama #dramatic #fluff #fluffy #long one shot #one shot #supernatural one shot #castiel one shot #male reader

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reapers-carino · 6 years

Note

this may be an odd request, but would you be able to write a fluffy a/b/o scenario with alpha sombra and an omega fem reader w anxiety? maybe something like, the omega is anxious for whatever reason and is frantically arranging their nest, always a tell tale sign theyre feeling anxiety, and their mate comes in and cuddles, scents and calms them down? again sorry if this is odd, i didnt really see many sombra requests yet fgsghdjfk

It felt like static was tickling at your fingertips and arms and shoulders and legs, anxiety lapping hungrily at your stomach and making it feel like a tornado had been set off in your insides. Your nose scrunched up at the chemically sweet smell that rolled off of you anytime your anxiety took hold, hands fidgeting nervously as you stared at the nest. It was wrong. Everything was all wrong.

Your boss had sent an email asking you to come in early so that they could speak with you as soon as possible. You had typed a speedy, respectful of course but your insides had practically set off every warning sign known to man. You didn’t know what or why he wanted to speak with you, so your mind filled in that blank with every negative thing it could conjur. You were going to be fired or possibly reprimanded and if not that then you were going to be demoted, something that would directly hit your pride. And Sombra…god you couldn’t imagine telling your Alpha, she would be so disappointed in you…

Tears burned traitorously in your eyes as you tried to quell the thoughts, a broken keen rising up as you scrubbed hard at your face before twisting around and grabbing an armful of blankets and repositioning them. It felt like the millionth time that you had completely deconstructed and re-arranged your nest, trying to at the very least make something right. And yet…no matter how many times you fluffed the pillows or weaved in Sombra’s t-shirts or plushes, it just didn’t seem to come out right. A painful lump formed in your throat as you sank to the nest, hands shaking as you tried to find a way to make these blankets fit the way they should.

“C-come on, j-just work!”

“Mi amor?”

Your shoulders jerked violently, heart thundering at Sombra’s sudden voice, turning to look at your mate tearily. Sombra’s brow immediately pinched in concern, her glossed lips ticking downwards as she made her way towards you, crouching down in front of you and lightly cupping your face.

“Hey hey”, she murmured softly, exuding waves of sweet comforting energy while she smoothed her hand down your head. You sniffed hard, bottom lip quivering as you twisted your face into her shoulder, hiccuping hard as you let out a quiet sob. “Pobrecito...”

She carefully dropped completely into the nest, her arms still wrapped tight around you, legs intertwining with your own. You shuddered as the soft thrum of her crooning vibrated through you, tilting your head slightly as she dropped her cheek against yours, nuzzling and scenting you hard. It felt as if a fuzzy blanket had been pulled over your entire being, Sombra’s sweet scent of cinnamon and fire and static pulling you slowly out of your own mind and into a calm, relaxed space. The sniffs slowed before stopping all together, Olivia’s hands gingerly moving to both sides of your face, ad tilting it up as she covered your cheeks and forehead and nose and lips in obnoxious kisses. Quiet giggles grew turned into breathy laughs as she pulled back, placing one last hard kiss on the center of your forehead.

“So cuchura”, she started, booping you on the nose as she used the nickname, earning a small smile. “What’s wrong and who do I have to beat up?”

Your heart thrummed happily at just knowing your Alpha was worried about you, stealing away some of the nervousness that had choked you earlier. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad....letting out a rush of air you began to tell your lpha what was wrong, leaning into her touch and her scent to pull yu thrugh the rest of your anxiousness.

#Anonymous

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

Text

It follows

Series Summary: Reader is running from financial problems and his/her studies, will they catch up with him/her? Charlie's close friends (none other than Sam and Dean) go to check up on the reader due to Charlie becoming worried for him/her. Trouble pursues, as the reader wants to keep silent about his/her struggles.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Masterlist

Chapter 9

Sam glared at his brother as (Y/N) tried to suppress (his/her) breathy sobs in the bathroom.

"Dean, c'mon!" Sam shouted in a subdued voice.

"What?" Dean retorted quietly.

"Don't you think you were a little harsh on (him/her)?"

"Uh, no? I'm telling (him/her) how it is, Sam. (He/She) can't live like this forever, and it would be too risky to have (him/her) on a hunt in this predicament. And we can't really babysit!"

"We don't need to babysit, (he/she)'s clearly old enough to do that. Putting how you feel like that isn't going to help (Y/N), it'll just make the situation worse. (He/She) needs to come out on (his/her) own means, and the only way to do that is to make (him/her) comfortable with us."

"You know what? Fine." Dean said, tossing the room key to Sam. "I'm going out."

Sam silently scoffed as his brother slammed the door behind him.

"What a child." He mumbled.

They had just got there, and yet, his brother decided to put on a show, once again. It was more like Sam was babysitting Dean. Hearing (Y/N)'s cries calm to sniffles, Sam lightly rapped on the bathroom door. After receiving no response, Sam took it as a signal to proceed.

He found (Y/N) against the porcelain tub suddenly looking small and shriveled, as if (his/her) father had scolded (him/her) for drawing on the walls. (His/her) hair was both crumpled and standing in different directions. (His/her) face was slick with tears, and (his/her) eyes were moist, yet dry enough to see grit forming on (his/her) caruncles. Even though (he/she) didn't dare to look the younger Winchester in the eyes, all was in plain sight.

"Is it okay if we talk? Dean left... and won't likely be back for a while." Sam started calmly, fearing he might startle (him/her).

Considering what you knew from Edlund, Sam's story had some connections. After all, he seemed pretty open and understanding. Maybe you could ensure your trust onto him a little, and see how things turned out. You nodded slowly in response to Sam's request.

"Alright." Sam made himself more comfortable on the surprisingly not-as-grimy, tiled floor. "There's one thing I want to clear up first, Dean."

You could only imagine where this was headed.

"You may not think so, but he cares about you. He just.. Doesn't want to latch on. Every time he feels he cares for someone-"

"-He feels they'll leave.." You finished instantly.

"Correct." Sam replied.

You wondered what he would ask, if he would even really question you. Were you going to do all of the talking? Were you going to have to resurface those horrid memories? There's no telling, but you still felt safe with Sam. Even if you had not known him, you would likely trust him. He was so compassionate and understanding, what was there not to trust?

"You don't have to tell me everything, or even anything, but just know I'm here for you (Y/N)." Sam said "Because I think I know what you're going through, I really do. And maybe.. I could help."

You believed him, but trust went a long way now a days. After the way Dean just treated you, who knows if Sam is the same? The books can't be 100% accurate... They were supposed to be fiction after all. You wondered if they knew about them.

"I don't really want to talk about it." You replied softly, becoming interested with the floor tiles.

"Alright, that's fine. Just know we're here for you. It may not seem like it, but Dean will listen too." He reassured.

Were you doing the right thing? You couldn't help but think that their lives would be better without your current dead weight on the run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean sighed with pleasure as the liquor burned his throat. The bar around him was crowded and filled with life, but he was just a random customer passing through. This was what he liked, and he couldn't imagine it any other way. While he drowned his emotions, the world continued on. The world likely wouldn't have continued without him and his brother, but it continued on.

He could get away for a while, he didn't have to think about a troubled (guy/girl) wallowing in their emotions. He could just sit and think for a while.

The more and more he thought, the more he became confused. Dean wasn't with Sam when he went off to college, he wasn't living in his brain either. Maybe he understood less than he thought. And that realization made him even more pissed. One quality he envied of Sam was his deep understanding. He never quite grasped it, not really.

He wanted to trust his brother's intuition, he really did. But when has his understanding really helped them? Was this Sam's act of saving his younger self, or was there more to it?

"Sir?" A light voice snapped him back to the surrounding atmosphere.

"Sorry to bother you, but is that all?" The female bartender inquired.

"Yeah yeah, I'm good. Thank you." Dean replied gruffly.

He smiled, left a tip for the lovely lady, and head back out to his beloved car. Maybe he'd drive around for a bit, before he had to face what lay back at the motel room.

He marveled the wondrous purr as he started the engine and took off onto the empty stretch of road.

About forty five minutes into his drive, his one cellphone shrilled from inside the glove compartment. Even being upset, he couldn't refuse a phone call, not knowing what his brother may have gotten himself into. His mind was more clear anyway, and he was ready to face whatever was on the other end of the line.

"Yeah?" Dean answered, guessing it was Sam.

"Dean?" A small voice returned.

He glanced quickly at the caller ID. Seeing Sam's name, Dean began to think the worst. He illegally turned around and began to speed back the way he came.

"(Y/N)? Where's Sam?! Is he okay?"

"Yeah, yeah he's fine... Just in the shower."

Dean let off the gas; he was never good at these type of conversations.

"Okay...So uh... What's up?" He asked.

"I just..." Dean heard (his/her) breathy sigh. "I'm sorry about earlier." (He/she) mumbled audibly.

He didn't know what to say.

"I... I couldn't control what happened. I barely even know what happened.. And I feel bad, that you have to put up with me.. I can leave, if I'm too much. It's fine." (Y/N) tried to explain.

Now it was Dean's turn to sigh. "Look, (Y/N)... You don't have to be sorry. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry. I blew up at the wrong place and the wrong time, and you happened to be the tiny cause of that. There's been a lot going on lately, and I'm admitting it. I don't understand what's going on, and it's why I got upset."

Silence grew heavy on the other line. Did he say something wrong?

"..You mean it?" (He/She) squeaked.

Dean mentally gave himself a big, fat face palm. "Yes, (Y/N), I mean it."

The tension dissapated as quickly as it came, leaving him listening to the almost unheard relief passing through (Y/N). "I'll be headed back your way in a bit, do you want anything special to eat? It's on me."

~~~~~~~~~~~

You ended the call just as you heard Sam turn off the shower faucet. Not wanting him to know anything just yet, you sat nonchalantly on the bed farthest from the outside doors and windows. It was almost impossible to not glance at Sam's well-toned body peeking out from the motel towel around his waist. He gave you a confused look as he searched the room briefly.

"Were you on the phone? I could've sworn I heard you talking." Sam asked curiously.

"No, um. I was just talking to myself." You lied.

You weren't sure if he believed you, but it was worth a shot anyway. The less you had to talk now, the better. There were things you wanted to sort out in your head first, like if you should burden their lives with yours any more than you had to.

Sam dug thrugh his duffle for another pair of clothes as his stomach occasionally let out some monster groans. It made you wonder how long it would actually be before his brother returned with the food he promised.

"Hey, you want to grab a bite to eat? It might be a while before Dean gets back." Sam offered.

"Actually, could we wait a bit? I'm still a bit... shakey." You replied with a believable pained expression.

"Yeah, sure, no problem." He said warmly.

It was around noon by the time the Impala engine ricocheted off of the thin walls of the motel. You had never felt so excited yet slightly nervous at the same time. Dean was on the phone with you over an hour ago, a long hour ago. Had it been any longer, you were sure Sam would've dragged you to eat something, resulting in missing Dean's return. You felt this moment was important; the brothers needed to see eye to eye for this to work out.

The lock pins clicked softly and the door was slowly wedged open. You would have helped Dean with the stacks of food, if it weren't for the fact that it would be a dead give away that you had called him earlier.

No need for trust issues on the first day settling in.

"Alright, I say we grab a bite, and head to the morgue." Dean insisted casually.

Sam lethargically glanced up at his brother, putting on the best bitch face he could currently muster up.

"Unless if the vics are multiplying by the hour, I say we eat and get a couple hours of sleep. Besides, werewolves don't normally hunt until the moon is lighting up the sky." Sam pushed.

Dean looked back at the digital clock set on the nightstand, which currently read 12:04. He dragged a hand down his face and sat down in compliance.

"That sounds fine to me." Dean responded, the energy starting to sap out of him slowly.

As the boys began to stuff their faces with a hearty burger (a side salad for Sam, of course), you dragged out your favorite dish out of the bag. You had not had it since you were at home... Years back. Nostalgia flooded your system.

You smiled as you removed the lid from the plastic container. "Thanks Dean."

Sam looked up surprised as Dean accepted your appreciation without a pause. He noisily set his fork down and cleared his throat lightly.

"Is there something I'm missing here?" Sam asked aloud.

Finally.

#spn x reader #spn reader insert #spn fanfic

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kabby-patty · 7 years

Note

Beg of you to update fic pls pls

your wish is my command…….

Chapter 3- So, this is love

Abby slammed the office door behind her. Marcus looked up from his paperwork. “Abby…” He smiled. “You’re awake.”

“You’re damn right I’m awake. Why am I here, Marcus? I told you what I wanted.” Her tone was threatening. It was teetering off a cliff of rage and hate.

“Abby, please, you need to understand….” Marcus ran his fingers thrugh his hair. “I….”

“You what Marcus?” She yelled. “You went against what I wanted what was right!”

“What else was I supposed do Abby!?” He yelled back at her.

She screamed in exasperation. “I just don’t know what to say Marcus. I can’t believe you!”

“I couldn’t live without you! Okay? Does that answer your question? I was selfish. I couldn’t imagine a day when I didn’t see your face. I could stare into your eyes for hours because they are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Abby, you’re my best friend. You’re my light. You’re the person I love more anyone I’ve ever loved ever. I couldn’t just let you choose to die.”

“Marcus I had to…” He put his hand on her arm. She violently shook it off. “The things I did in that bunker…”

He was yelling now. “NO! You didn’t HAVE to. You are CHOSE to. Do you know how much it hurt last time? Last time I thought I lost you? Do you know how much pain I was in at the thought of you not being by my side for the rest of my life? DO YOU?”

“OF COURSE I DO! I love you and I didn’t just want to leave you! YOU’RE MY EVERYTHING!” He scoffed and threw his hands in the air with sarcasm.

“If I’m your everything, why were you going to leave?!” He was so frustrated. “Nothing you did in that bunker matters! You are here now and I couldn’t lose you again I just got you back. If not for me, then our people. They needed a doctor!”

“Marcus!! How can I even call myself a doctor after what I’ve done. My job is to save lives not take them. I don’t know if I can even live with myself!”

“You’re sick too Abby! I heard Raven. What’s going on there that you’ve neglected to tell me!” Both parties were yelling at this point.

“Don’t pull that on me! Marcus you dont understand…!”

Marcus slammed his fist on the table. He was so frusturated. He turned because he couldn’t even look at her. “Abby are you even listening to me?……” Of course he understood. Everything she was going through he had been through on the Ark.

Her heart stopped. Everything around her began spinning. Abby’s eyes glazed over. The sound of Marcus’s fist against the table caused her to go back. Back to a time she so dearly wanted to forget….The sound of her heart pounded through her ears, drowning out the sound of his voice. She fell but caught herself enough to lower her way to the floor. Her hands came up over her ears. Marcus was still yelling.

“Abby! Say something dammit!” He turned to find her on the floor rocking back and forth. His tone dropped to a whisper. “Abby?” She was saying something to herself but he couldn’t pick out what. What had he done? He rushed over to her and sat next to her. Abby’s head was pressed against the wall. Her eyes were squeezed shut as tears fell from them. She had balled her hands into fists and they were covering her ears.

“I submit. I submit. I submit.” She kept repeating those two words that had gotten her through so many hard times. She shook her head back and forth. Marcus was on the verge of tears. Even in Polis, after they had woken up, he hadn’t seen her this bad. He reached out to touch her. He placed a hand on her arm. She jumped and yelped. But quickly bit her lip to silence herself. The sound that she had made broke his heart. It was truly painful to see her like this. He wanted to help her. He wanted to make it better. He just didn’t know how.

He placed his hand back on her arm. “Abby, baby, it’s me. Look at me. It’s Marcus. Abby look at me. You’re okay. I’m here.” She opened her eyes. It took her a second to regain her consciousness. She looked up into his eyes. Marcus put his hand on her cheek.

“Marcus…” her voice cracked and she jumped into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and grabbed at the fabric of his jacket. Her hands balled his jackets within her fists. Her voice was cold. “Jake….his death…”

“I know you miss him baby. I know you loved him.” Marcus put his hand on the back of her head. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like, to walk the one person you love to their death. He didn’t want to find out anytime soon anyway.

Abby cut him off. “Was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Abby’s voice cracked and she began sobbing. Marcus was beyond confused. He didn’t understand what was happening nor did he need to. He just held her. His arms enveloped her small frame. He ran his fingers through her hair as her body shook. He didn’t know how long she had been crying but eventually they subsided.

She sniffled and wiped her face. Abby sat up and looked at Marcus. She placed her hand on his cheek. She let it fall into his lap and catch on his hand. She grasped it tighter than she ever had before. Abby turned her eyes so she wasn’t making eye contact with Marcus. “For 6 years…Jake he…” Abby lifted her shirt and grabbed Marcus’s hand. She guided his fingers to a scar on the back part of her ribcage. His cold hand made her flinch a little. But when Marcus touched it, he felt something rise up within him. Suddenly everything fell into place. Every missed council meeting. Every small cut on her arms or lip. Every time she was sick from work. Every time Jake made a stupid joke about Abby being crazy. It finally made sense. Jake had abused Abby.

Marcus squeezed her hand as if to say he understood. She got the message and moved on. Tears began to fall from Marcus’s face as she began telling her story. Abby sat with her legs crossed in front of Marcus. He was also sitting on the floor, his back was against the wall. “Everything was fine when I met him. It really was. He loved me and I loved him. A lot. It was a good marriage. A year into it I got pregnant. It was the happiest I had ever been. Once Clarke was born, I focused a lot of attention on her. I was working a lot of the time and things just became strained between us. The fights started when Clarke was about 9. We never fought when she was around. Never in front of her. Never. We fought with our words for 2…..3 years. Then he turned physical.”

Marcus reached out for Abby’s hand. She grabbed it. Abby’s voice was sad but she wasn’t going to give Jake anymore tears. She slightly smiled to Marcus. “When things turned physical, it was right around the time the Ark began failing. I didn’t know what to do really. I thought I deserved it and I thought that was what love was supposed to be. Twice a week….usually. I mean sometimes more sometimes less. It depended on his mood and how he was feeling. It also depended on Clarke’s schedule. He never hit me when she around. For the first few years, I didn’t say anything. I thought it would resolve itself. But around Clarke’s 14th birthday. I couldn’t take it. I went to Jaha. I asked him for help and he told me it was my own fault and that Jake loved me. That he must’ve had a reason for treating me that way. I believed him. I let this go on for another 3 and a half years until I had a chance to get out. Not all of it was bad. Some of it was good. I mean we still talked and he was still held me at night and he still kissed me and he was still a good husband. I had the chance to get out when he told me the Ark was failing for good. He said he wanted to go to public and well…you know the rest. I told Jaha because I knew he would get floated. I knew he would be gone. Marcus one of the best moments of my life was when Jake’s cold body was sucked into space. From that moment on, my life got better. I opened my eyes and saw you. Now we weren’t exactly best friends but you showed me your heart. Trust takes time, look at us. You were…you are my salvation, Marcus.” Abby reached out and put a hand on his face. She used her thumb to wipe off his tears.

“Abby, I…” Marcus cried. He put his hands on her neck and cradled her head. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry i didn’t stop him. I’m sorry I let this happen to you abby. I’m so so sorry.” Again, tears rolled down his face as his tone was at a whisper. Marcus thought back to their time in Polis. He thought about the scars he’d seen on her back and her ribcage. The ones he asked about but she just brushed it off. He never pressed her because he didn’t want to break the spell both of them were under. One of love and peace. Now he felt awful. Marcus had never felt worse than he did in that exact moment.

“Marcus…” Abby sighed and smiled at him. “I love you. This is not your fault. I promise you. It is Jake’s. It took me a long time to realize this. A long time.” Abby chuckled sadly. “It was no one’s fault but his. He was the one who did this to me, not you.” Marcus cradled Abby’s face. Marcus sniffled. “The reason I never told you about what happened is because I was afraid. I was afraid that it would scare you away or that you would look down on me or you would…I don’t even know. But Marcus, that was a long time ago. I’m okay now.” She spoke softly. Abby leaned toward Marcus. She rested her forehead against his. Slowly, he lifted his head so his lips made contact with hers. Abby placed her hands on the back of his neck, playing with his graying hair. She kissed him back. Softly. Marcus pulled away so he could look at Abby in the eye.

“I love you Abby. So much. More than anything in the world. Don’t forget that. I want you to know that everything I do is for you or…or…..or will benefit you in some way. I promise you, with every fiber of my being, you will always…always be safe as long as I’m around. Abby, I can’t imagine my life without you. It’s not even something I can picture anymore. Abby, I promise to kiss you goodnight everynight, say I love you every morning, kiss you after every fight, and cherish every moment I have with you. Abigail Griffin will you let me spend the rest of my life as your husband? You and me….together.”

Abby instinctively reached for her necklace, which was gone. She put one hand on his face, feeling his beard. “Marcus, I’m sorry….”

#kabby #the100 #after literally a million years #sorry guys #ive been teaching and its super hard #pls remind me never to be a teacher

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bad-end · 7 years

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origin | elsword: fate/ AU | ee-centric. | 1193 words | 1

summary: setting the stage for when ee goes to war with his command seals.

warnings: nooooooone, except this is a settings chapter, so its quite slow. SOME canon familiarity with the fate/ franchise assumed.

From the moment the rune-shaped sigil appeared on his hand, Erbluhen knew his peaceful life would be disturbed.

It happened completely out of the blue one day in the middle of the night. A searing pain in his hand woke him from his dreams, and when he awoke he found the markings on his hand where there had been nothing previously. For a few minutes he tried to figure out where it came from, and if it was the mark of the devil. In the end he gave up. The sigils were simply markings now etched into his skin like ink, if ink could glow, and neither hurt nor caused discomfort. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was occasionally flicker with a small glow when coming into contact with certain objects. He ended up forgetting on a few occasions that it was inked there.

For a few days after, instead of confessing that he had the mark to someone, he just laid in his bunk when he was off duty, turning and flipping his wrist about until the nonsensical sigil turned into a single, three runed word. It was at that moment he realized he didn't know a single damn thing about runes, and vaguely regretted not paying a little more attention when they went over runes in one of the history lectures a few years ago.

Naturally, he turned to the library, running thrugh a list of possible translations, for it until someone saw the marks on his hand and told on him to one of the church elders. At least he had been able to figure out that it was as he had suspected, some instance of magic.

It wasn't like he was trying to hide it, someone would find out eventually whether or not he tried to do so. What could he do but do as he planned, shoving his hands in this pockets and reporting to one of them as his name was called for punishment?

They blindfolded him and brought him to a secret cloister and asked him to show them the mark, and when he did, he was met not with punishment but praise instead. Stunned by the sudden praise lavished upon him, Erbluhen did not react for a while.

One of the elders cried, "Bless Ishmael's name, the grail has chosen one of our own!"

The elders were crying, and Erbluhen didn't understand why. It was fascinating, though, because the old wise men that guided their church never spared even a look of smypathy towards him before.

There was a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Brother Erbluhen, we have been keeping secrets from you." One of the elders kissed his hand where the mark had stained it. "We will no longer keep you in the dark about the mystery of your destined command seals. The church has been waiting for a long time for an opportunity like this. For you."

Not understanding, Erbluhen simply nodded and smiled as they held him. Certainly, they must have understood his confusion, although all this rejoicing was kind of a pain. When they stopped crying, one of them finally spoke up.

"From now on you are Ishmael's chosen, you will win for us the Holy Grail."

Erbluhen didn't bother masquerading the confusion on his face. The Holy Grail, naturally, was an object the whole church had blathered on about for as long as he could remember. As for what it was, well that he wasn't quite sure.

"You will participate on our behalf in the upcoming Holy Grail War."

Erbluhen nodded, if only to quell their worries and fears.

He didn't know a damn thing about the Holy Grail War, other than the bickering that had just taken place here.

"We'll need a catalyst." "For Erbluhen? There is only one Servant that would befit Ishmael's name on this grand a scale." "Are you thinking-"

As they bickered Erbluhen merely smiled, knitting his fingers together while waiting for this whole thing to end. All these terms that were bring thrown around were unfamiliar, and he simply either wished for an explanation, or to be dismissed with further instructions. He had never seen the elders cry, so whatever this Holy Grail War thing was, what the mark symbolized, it must have been something important.

"We will send you to study under a magus," One of them said, and the others concurred, "So that you may use your magecraft once more."

The blindfold was over his eyes before he could say anything, but the last words the elder said surprised him. His own magecraft, the last time he had heard someone talk about it, was in condemnation of how unnatural magecraft was. It was the reason why he had never risen much further than to be perpetually in training, that's what he had decided from a young age.

When the blindfold was removed he found himself back in his dormitory, and perhaps out of habit, he nervously rubbed the back of his hands. The brother that had accompanied him back handed him a piece of parchment, which Erbluhen briefly glanced over.

He was to leave in less than a week's time to study under someone who had been working in the Mage's Association, and the duration was for as long as it took for him to understand and utilize his magecraft again. He recalled that as a child, they had called him an anomaly because no one in their family had a talent for magecraft. In the end, they were able to repress it but, sometimes he still saw the occasional flicker of light, red, blue, or green, even as he grew up.

Although Erbluhen had no fondness for the church he had called home for the last twenty-something years of his life, it still felt a bit upsetting to simply leave and not knowing if he was going to come back and when.

Before he started packing, he decided he would go on one last trip around the grounds. He would talk to the flowers in the garden, and anybody who could spare him a few moments. Although his memories of the church was never entirely pleasant, it wasn't like they had done him wrong.

He glanced at the sigils on his hand one last time, remembered how one of the elders had called them, 'command seals', and saw them brim with energy. For a few seconds, they glowed blue, and finally became their usual red and settled again.

Maybe he was hallucinating or thinking too much into it, but Erbluhen felt there was some sort of connection in the command seals. Like a telephone or a bridge, there was someone on the other side, Erbluhen could feel their energy coming through already.

For the first time in his life, Erbluhen felt like Ishmael may have been listening.

notes

magecraft in the fate universe is especially distinct from magic. i will be maintaining this distinction.

once again, some familiarity with the fate franchise (fate zero, fate stay night: unlimited blade works, fate extra/ccc/extella) is assumed. if not, i definitely recommend you pick something up because they’re all very good games/animes (except grand order, grand order will spoil everything.)

the elders are npcs, you can ignore them.

origin, in the fate universe, is “ is the starting point that defines one's existence and directs one's actions throughout life.” if that gives you any hints about where this fic is going.

if you are familiar with the fate series, feel free to guess who the Servant mentioned might be.

#tsu tries to fic #v: origin (elsword)#ive plotted up to chapter uh four so i will try to keep these updates weekly #elsword

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capsensislagamoprh · 29 days

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The free skate was far more simple than he thought it would be. His body bent and turned, leaped and pranced in ways it hadn't since he was in the Dream proper. When he pulled off a quad with a triple, he could feel himself grow feather light. A snow flake on the breeze, directed by his whim. Glamour flowed thrugh him, his material form radiating the glory of winter, the clear intensity of ice. Victor felt himself reforming. He felt the fulfillment of dreams, and he felt something distant calling. Yuri?

As his final pose lowered him into a swans grace, lifting him towards the heavens, stopping cold on a lifted wing, he reached into the dream. Yuri? Is that you? Where are you cousin? It's almost Beltane. It's almost time for you...

No response.

Standing in the kiss and cry was probably messing with his efforts to communicate. The closer the equinox came, the strong his ability to contact his missing relative should be. That thought sustained him as he looked at the scores, watched other skaters, tried to maintain his decorum. Madame Baranovskaya stood at his shoulder, taloned nails biting into his shoulder, helping him keep composed. He watched his friend slide along the ice in a perfect half split, then twizzle into a set up for a triple. His eyes caught the wobble, the smile thrugh the pain. For a moment he felt the shadows weigh down on the rink. Turning to Lilia he caught the tightening of her lips. She had felt that too. Suddenly he needed to talk to Christophe, the waiting a painful exercise in restraint. Finally the scores were in and he wasn't even phased. Rising he went with the rest for metal and praise, his blue eyes locking on his friends. Christophe resolutely ignored his attempts to suggest an aside. Mortal things would never wait. They had interviews to do, and he needed time to figure out what to say.

It took hours for the after party to begin, during which Christophe thought hard. What did he tell Victor, what to keep him at bay. It was a risky plan when it had begun, and now it was threatened. Something must have happened to Yuri. What, he didn't know. Yet as he watched his friend speak to sponsors and media, he could see something had changed. It wasn't the flow of glamour that radiated shimmering cool and glittering wonder. It was some sort of distant pull. A faint thread of magic that formed with every breath until it faded from fey sight. Tilting his head he moved closer to Victor, smiling.

"Comrade!" Victor called as Christophe came into view.

"Min vän," he returned with a cheerful glaze. "You were splendid tonight."

"Not so bad yourself, eh?"

"Thank you." Glancing at those gathered, Christophe smiled. "You are glowing."

"It must be the shock of it all," Victor winked. "It's hard to practice all the time, but the pay off! Oh the pay off!" Christophe chuckled, slowly working his way around the Russian, his eyes flicking quickly over the radiance winding itself into a taunt thread. A photographer popped into view asking a picture. Taking advantage, Christophe put his hand on Victor's back where the thread formed, drawing upon True Spring to understand its presence. As the camera clicked in rapid pace, power pooled into his hand. A faint gold glow turned pink, then shimmered into a faded into a distant red. If Christophe looked shocked or delighted in a few dozen images, he didn't see the problem. If he looked like a terrifying creature of haunted dreams and forbidden longing, well that was a trick of the light and the camera man's unsteady hands, wasn't it?

Left with Victor once again, he lowered his hand, beaming at his friend. Things were falling into place. They walked towards the buffet table, determined to destroy it with teenage appetites. Decimate was a better description. Fortunately the adults had the good since to leave the entire Juniors division to it, trusting the food to be healthy after a cursory inspection. And soon they were off to there rooms to rest before traveling home the next day.

Victor slipped into Christophe's room, listening to the hall with great interest. After a few minutes he smiled. "I think we're in the clear. Let's make plans."

"Bra. How much have you gathered?"

"I saw a shadow on the ice. This wasn't normal mortal things. I am confident I must be close."

"Interesting," Christophe said, sitting elegantly in the cheaply upholstered chair. "What did the shadow do? Was there any light, perhaps some fire with it?"

"Dose the fire in the blood count? I think it does. I felt... impassioned. Empowered. I felt the force of life flow thrugh me."

Christophe nodded, his head tilting. "That does cry balance. What did the shadow do?"

"I..." Victor hesitated. "I felt threatened? Warned, I think."

"Yes. That is the balance. But why warned? Were you in danger?"

"Not that I know of. I was in practice when it happened."

"Practice?! Victor Nikiforov! I was talking about today!" Greeted with a blank expression, Christophe sighed. "Didn't you feel it at all?" The expression remained. "Are you dross drunk?"

"How dare you! I haven't been Dross Drunk since I was a child!"

"You are a child Now, Victor! We both are! The Material realm took its toll out on our forms! We have the stamina and grace and power of children!" Christophe growled with exasperation. "Show me your coin pouch."

Victor smiled wickedly. "So forward!"

"Now, Victor. This is important."

A sniff and a pout didn't prevent the Ice King from pulling a silken cord from his hip, a bag of coldest blue forming, its sides bulging. Holding it in his open palm, he pulled the string, laying it bare. Dross, those glimmering coins of rainbow light, spilled from it with the tinkling of freshly cracked icicles.

"That's what I thought. You're dross drunk. Transform that into a treasure. Any minor thing will do," the spring fey commanded with the ease of life long friendship.

Victor pulled a face,but gathered the coins into a pile none the less. Filling the pouch with a reasonable amount of magic, he closed it, tucking it back into nothing. Plucking up a few remaining dross, he put two on ether side of his tong, letting them dissolved like the finest chocolates. Once they were no more, his hands lifted, eyes closing, as long fingers pulled and warped the dross unto a shape he couldn't quite imagine. They became a lump of immovable shimmering lights until he focused, calling to mind his greater purpose. A small bust formed, something he'd seen in the museum a few days prior.

Christophe rose a brow. "Well, I suppose you can say you bought it as a souvenir."

Significantly more focused, Victor opened his eyes. "It was all that came to mind." Eyeing his handy work, he sighed. "Now, what was this about shadows today?"

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27

#yuri on ice #otayuri #yuri plisetsky #otabek altin #yoi #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #victuuri #otabek x yurio #victor x yuuri #fey bois on ice #gay boys on ice #cannon compliant ships #primary cannon ship #secondary cannon OTP #WoD frame work #christophe giacometti

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