#what the fuck even happened to her. hes deep in research into the occult and cults and conspiracies.

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

grand finale ! BITB!! rand is the spiral. kian is the corruption. rolan is the stranger.

[shtern-and-art]

In The Dark – a cryptid AU about Bad and Skeppy – part 2.

All text is captioned under the cut!

THE STORY

Bad told Skeppy that he is- he was a human, a long, long time ago. And Skeppy didn’t really suspect this, no. But, when the rare rays of sunlight snuck under the canopies, and danced across Bad’s features… sometimes, in those flashes of light Skeppy did see a human face. It happened just a few times before. And if after that conversation, at times of silence and comfort with just the two of them, the white eyes faded out to green more often, Skeppy didn’t mention it. He just collected those moments, like his pretty shards of glass – dark on first sight, but shining brilliantly, when you look through them at a sunny day.

Skeppy keeps them close, and doesn’t ask yet, doesn’t pry in too deep at first. Because he knows even more about this town’s story now. About all the animal attacks many years ago, about woodcutters killed and thrown out of the forest, or hanged up on the trees by “the mafia”. About how quickly the tree logging business was shut down after the big “accident” on one of the forest stations. About the photo he saw, in the little museum near the closed factory, with families of the major business owners of the town. And one of the faces he saw on that picture was the same that shined with gentle kindness, between the flickering of shadows, when Bad sneakily tangled wildflowers in Skeppy’s hair.

Bad never speaks about his past, and why he despises people of the town so much. And with trial and error Skeppy learns that asking doesn’t get him anywhere. It only gets Bad to fuss up, and disappear to nap in the deeper woods for a few days. It is a long way to where they can talk about it directly, without someone freaking out.

Anyway, the woodcutting business is slowly coming back to town, and more and more people and workers are wandering around the forest. So Bad has plenty of reasons to be irritated already, and they both have so many fun pranks to pull on the locals to get distracted and pleasantly pass the time.

THE PAST

The trick of it all, is that the forest is old. And the forest is alive, like an animal in its depth might be. And a while back, in the 40-50s, the wood logging company started cutting way deeper into the woods than before. Going to far, not letting the land recover, chasing that profit on increasing sales. The business was doing amazing – by destroying the calm existence of the forest, hurting it’s body and mind, and not giving anything back.

And in many places, they could’ve done all this and more without immediate consequences. But this land was old. And this forest was alive. And, when scared and hurt, living things can bare teeth and lash out to protect themselves.

The forest was in distress, and angry, and its feelings were feelings off all the living things inside of it. Over time, the animals started getting sick, and more aggressive, venturing into the town, possessed by the shared pain and fear. That pain and fear seeped through the land, and in the town, too, distrust and crime rates started rising up. All was unwell. And, of course, it was very bad for business.

Said business was run by several prominent families in the town. The tree logging factory and the adjacent businesses were all tied together economically and through the reliance on the forest being there on their doorstep. And the people running those businesses more or less knew about what this forest was, how it was. Everyone from the town who was around long enough understood – at least in some way – that these woods are more alive and dangerous than many others. And with several years of disturbing happenings occurring more and more, not many of these business owners could deny the supernatural element of their troubles.

And so, they began looking for the ways to make it better. To appease and calm down the spirit of the forest. It was a real group effort, a whole ass multi-family project. Even if some family members and younger kids didn’t fully believe in all this “occult pagan stuff” – they still tolerated it, and went along. Because families and communities stick together. And what harm can come from building some altars in the woods? Or a few chickens spilling blood on the old rocks near the abandoned trails? They will go on the grill same afternoon anyway.

The spirit of the forest is just, well. A spirit. It’s not exactly sentient, it’s more like a mushi, or a very smart animal, or a thunderstorm – half-personified, semi-aware, just a force of nature taking form and prominence. It just exists, and lives, and it is not human. So, taking leeways with appeasing and calming it down should be ok, right? It’s not like the forest spirit would care, if people will make even with the land by taking care of it, and letting it heal with time… or just perform a cool ritual, and give the forest an equal sacrifice in return for its pain.

Replanting the trees and reworking the business is way too expensive and time consuming anyway. So, they try, and research, and try… And the forest barely takes note of their efforts. And the creepiness, and all the bodies keep piling up, all the bad press is getting harder to contain… It starts to seem, that to really break equal the sacrifice should be of an equal or a greater value than the hurt they’ve caused.

So, in a tragically escalating turn of events, several heads of the families came to the conclusion, that the proper sacrifice, the one that will hold, should be one of their own. A human sacrifice – a life of-, and from people connected to the land, those who caused the forest distress.

It wasn’t the main plan, of course. Probably. Not from the start, for sure. Things just turned out this way, you know. It was just an option on the table. And it just happened that things were going especially terrible, down the drain so fast, and it just happened that they had a good option, a person who was there, and-

It was just so convenient. The accountant in their clique, the newer guy who just recently joined old wealthy families in running the town, build his own business from ground up through the years. He had a son, 20-something. That quiet but loud one, that they barely noticed. And it’s sad, of course, that it had to come to this. And tragic, yes. A real sacrifice. But, really conveniently, no skin of the main businessmen’s back.

They can even keep the distance, and ask their kids/grandkids to mark him for the ritual. None of them really liked the guy anyway. They all were just forced to hang out sometimes, because of status and all that.

So, they’ll gladly go on to make the special paste, or whatever, and make sure the guy touches it. Even if the kids may not believe in all this ritual stuff fully – it’s still fun, and creepy, and that guy was so-o-o stuck-up-ish anyway. Always pretending to be so perfect and proper, you know. Didn’t even partake in all their fun ritual stuff all year. Fuck him, draw a little mark on his raincoat with old herbs and dirt, on the soles of his shoes too, and the inside of his jacket. All 6 of kids got to draw a little finger-painting on something of his, and they all watched him leave to visit his grandma in a cabin deep in the woods.

By the time Darryl got to the grandma’s house, late at evening, the bouquet of flowers he brought her was overgrown with wildflowers.

The voice coming from the dark bedroom, asking him to come in was ever so slightly off grandma’s usual stern tone. So, Darryl didn’t go in, of course. He had his hands full with the pastry bags, and the sweet smelling flowers, spilling out from their paper raping. And when grandma came out – moving just a bit too smoothly for her age, staring at him just a tad more intense than any human would – Darryl excused himself to go chop more firewood behind the house.

And standing there, under the light rain and weak backyard light with only the old, dull iron axe for himself, he knew that his grandma always had a distant, and a bit scary presence, but… The creature in the house was not her. And he knew that something was watching him from the forest – and from the window of the house – dozens of inhuman eyes staring right at him. Waiting.

He tried to run, of course, to get back to town. But the car started to die halfway. And the other kids, the 6 that followed him into the woods, to make sure he stays put… They were right there to take him deeper through the trees, away from main roads. Perhaps, they, too, were scared, and saw the glimpses of white fur far off in-between all other animals following them. But it was too late, they were too deep, and Darryl lost his glasses, struggling on the way to the clearing they decided to stop at.

There was no going back now. The ritual was in motion, gears turning, and the forest took the offer that was promised – the blood of the youth that was tied to the earth. All 7 of them, who partook in the offering, and touched the herbs and blood, and the sigils made with them – because this is how the ritual works, if you really, actually read through and research it.

The kids, or, more likely, their parents, didn’t. And so, after that night, none of them ever came out of the forest. Well, not in one piece, at least. Six badly mangled bodies (some partially eaten by wild animals) were recovered couple days later, and it was blamed on the mafia taking revenge on the local businessmen for some dealings going bad.

The tree logging company and the adjacent businesses didn’t really had a chance to recover after that. Not after several years of lawsuits and bad rumors, and not after loosing most of their kids – one of the bodies was even never found!

And with that tragedy and the following scandals, no one really noticed at first, but the animal attacks quieted down, and people stopped disappearing in the woods. But, in retrospect, it made sense – with mafia moving on from the totally defeated and bankrupt rivals.

THE FOREST SPIRIT

So, yes. The ritual kind of worked, the forest took what was offered, like water running down the newly dug out path. At that time, going down that path, the forest was angry, and hurting, it felt helpless and betrayed. And so did Darryl – just as strongly. And here they were, getting dragged down the same path, connected through it, unable to stop it all. In that shared intensity, being so similar in the moment, tangled through the flow of the ritual, they… kind of became the same thing.

Its normal for the forest spirit to have a vessel – an animal from that forest that carries out it’s will. And over time, those vessels can change, when the time comes, or something big happens with the forest. And there, at that moment, close to death, and merging with the forest spirit, Darryl became it’s next vessel, too.

It’s normal for the forest spirit to possess other forest life sometimes – they act out it’s feelings, if they get too strong. This is a natural prosses, easy like breathing, happening purely on instinct. Usually forest spirits do not possess fully sentient beings (or don’t do it for long). Because people and thigs similar to them, they have more self-awareness and recollection. They can not follow the impulses of the forest so blindly.

What happened here was a freak accident, an accidental turn of unexpected events… Because even after dying, and coming back to life no longer human, even connected to land and the forest so deeply now, being literally a part of them. Even with all of that… Darryl couldn’t get too “possessed”, like other animals or vessels would. That could probably happen, but only if those feelings would be really big, all encompassing, and – matched his own. If they shared them fully and strongly, with the forest, like at the time when for a few minutes they became one.

BAD

When Bad’s sense of self slowly came back to him, he was no longer human. And, after being connected to supernatural world so deeply, he knew of many non-human things just on instinct. He knew what happened with him (what was done to him). Knew that the people who did it paid for it right after, and will be doing so for the years to come. Bad knew that he, himself, will be here, in the forest, for all the years to come. That he’ll never be able to come back to his old life, or even say proper goodbyes.

Not that he’d want to, though. Most people in the town, and especially from his family’s newer circle didn’t like him. For his dad finally making it big and “forgetting the roots”, for Bad being too perfect of an example to compare other not so helpful sons to. And, of course, for Bad being too close to not fitting the perfect example of what a proper young bachelor should be. But the Darryl they whispered, and spread crude rumors about was dead. And Bad didn’t have to try to- or pretend to like them back.

He didn't have to deal with it anymore: with all the greed, maliciousness and distrust of the people and “the business”, all the lies. He was no longer part of them – now outright – didn’t have to deal with them, or pretend to be anything he wasn’t.

They could just. Stay out of each other’s way.

It was pretty easy to do now, since Bad had lost most of the human cravings due to his supernatural nature, and his pain. Pain, and anger, and- So, yes, sure, he could keep people out, just like the forest spirit wanted, and have everyone leave him alone, like they both wanted.

RAT

Forest was already not as seething, and the tree logging business was shutting down, and Bad’s restless, half-dazed wandering between the trees was at least somewhat calming. At some point, Bad found a small wolf puppy deep in the brush. It was really small, weak, and completely alone. Its fur was as white as Bad’s new hair, and its eyes glowed, exactly like the ones Bad saw watching him from the shadows, back on the last day he was human.

This was the previous host of the spirit of the forest, Bad saw it now. He knew that it was born in these woods, and took on the spirit of them just after being born, and carried out it’s will for many, many decades, until Bad came along, and took this wolf’s place. And now its job was done. And it was dying. Slowly fading away to become part of the forest again.

There was some sort of solidarity between them, stumbling into each other between the gears of nature and time. Or, at least, Bad felt it in the moment. And, well, he didn’t have much to do, and fussing over and taking care of a little pathetic puppy the size of a rat was way more pleasant way to pass the time, than just endlessly feeling all the things Bad felt all the time.

So, he took care of Rat (yes, the Rat) for a while, took on hunting for her, and learnt to sleep in the minds of the forest creatures, while she rested. Time lost nearly all of it’s meaning for Bad, but it did pass, more and more of it. And Rat got better, and grew back into a full wolf, and lived past the life-span of all other wolfs born after the ritual. She went on to live on her own, but stayed close by, always keeping Bad in her sites. She joined him on the hunts, and watched over Bad, while he slumbered in the shadows.

Bad had no idea why, but her fur still rippled under moonlight, and her growl rumbled the earth, like some of the power of the forest remained in her still.

Masterpost / first meeting /part 1 / part 2 / part 3

[punksarahreese]

Bloodletting | Werewolf!Will

Will’s backstory for my occult!au 🐺

CW: murder, attacks, gore, talk of revenge

***

Will Halstead was kinda dumb ngl

He got it into his head that he was way bigger than he was

To go back to the beginning, Will was just a normal teen when things got crazy fast

His brother Jay had always been his best friend and when he said him and some friends were going to go “ghost hunting” in the woods, Will obviously had to tag along

There were all these stories about the woods around their home, about vampires and ghosts and even witches

It was all fun and games to them

Until it wasn’t

They joked around at old abandoned cabins and decaying sheds

One of their friends brought a Ouija board and Will should have taken that as a sign that this went too far but he didn’t

It was all a game, wasn’t it?

The boys started taunting the “ghost”, mocking it, and then didn’t say goodbye because suddenly the planchette flung itself across the ground

They got spooked and Jay broke the board

Dumb of him

So after a few minutes they all laughed it off, jokingly cursing out whatever “ghost” was trying to mess with them

Will was a little uncomfortable but he also “didn’t believe this junk” anyway

So the boys left the forest, kicking mushrooms and ripping branches off trees on their way; as teenaged boys do

They parted ways so Will and Jay could head home, it was almost midnight and the old streetlights were dim at best

They had just passed a stretch of ground where there was almost no light, when they heard a voice

“Bit disrespect, aren’t you?”

Both of them whipped around trying to figure out who it was but it was just too dark

“Should learn your lesson,” the low, feminine voice continued, “Since you think all of this is a joke.”

Will was about to say something; ask what the fuck was going on, when Jay cried out

“I haven’t eaten recently, you know,” she continued with a short chuckle, “I just can’t help myself.”

Everything moved in slow motion, Will could hear Jay fighting with whatever was out there but he couldn’t move

He felt like he was frozen in place, his muscles screaming as he fought against it, he couldn’t speak though he did try to call out for Jay

In the dim lighting up ahead, suddenly he caught sight of two figures

A tall woman, holding Jay up by the collar like he weighed nothing

She was mocking him, Will could hear it, but he couldn’t do anything

All he could do was watch in horror as the woman bit into his brother’s neck

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing

This couldn’t be real

But the scream... God he would never forget that sound

He remembered nothing after that, because the next thing he knew he was being struck and suddenly the world went dark

Will woke up in the hospital with a concussion

He thought everything must have just been some wild, traumatic brain injury-induced dream

But then him mum came in and she clearly had been crying for hours

All she could do was hug Will and cry

And all of a sudden he just... broke down

She didn’t need to say it, he knew

Jay was gone

When he got out of the hospital, Will dropped everything and could only focus on what happened

He couldn’t sleep, didn’t eat; all he could do was sit at his computer and try and figure out what the hell happened that night

He went through millions of books and forums and links

Deep down he knew what it was

But it just seemed so surreal

So... wrong

Will just became so obsessed with supernatural things and the occult

Especially vampires

He was always reading something new, researching lore in their area especially, planning something... revenge?

How would he kill a vampire? He wasn’t sure but he wasn’t letting his brother’s death go unpunished

Eventually his grief-driven interest into the occult would catch up to him

He was walking back from a hike, scouting the area for any signs that seemed out of the ordinary

It was a scheduled thing, he did it every weekend

Had cameras and everything set up in those woods

It was obsessive

But Will didn’t stop; couldn’t stop

And this walk back home would prove just how in too deep he was

“You have no shame, do you?”

That voice

He would never forget it

“What is your problem, lady?”

“Oh, a temper,” she laughed as she came out of the trees. She was almost taller than Will, long dark hair and unforgiving red eyes that burned into his skull as she stared at him in amusement.

“Fuck off,” he snapped, “You killed him.”

“Who? Your brother? Merely an appetizer, not much to him, you know?”

Blind rage was what fueled Will as he launched himself at the vampire at that

She stopped him in mid-step, the horrifying freezing sensation washing over him again just like all those years ago

“Down, boy,” she spat, “I see you still haven’t learned any respect.”

He couldn’t respond, couldn’t flinch away when she stepped closer and grabbed him by the jaw

“I could give you the same fate,” she pondered out loud, her long nails driving crescent shapes into his cheeks, “But that would be too easy.. too kind of me; considering you’ve been plotting my death for years.”

One fast flick of her wrist had big gouges running from Will’s cheek down to his clavicle, ripping through layers of skin and muscle

And then she dropped him to the ground like he was nothing, leaving him writhing in agony

All Will could do was watch as she licked blood off her hand, grinning at him maliciously

A boot met his rib cage, making him let out a gurgling cry

“Goodbye, foolish boy.”

And she was gone in a flash, Will left bleeding out on the forest floor

Not far away, two creatures had picked up the scent of blood and it piqued their interest

Will barely heard anything that was happening, couldn’t feel the hands on him as he drifted into unconsciousness

“Shit, Ethan!”

“Oh God,” Ethan had caught up to Connor and saw the scene in front of them

“Vampire,” Connor sighed regretfully as he searched the area for signs of the attacker, “Ava will want to know.”

“Yeah, we’ll go talk to her,” Ethan glanced sadly at the man in front of them, “Put him down, Connor. Make it quick.”

“Ethan...”

“Connor, no.”

“Please, I can’t just let him die!”

Ethan shook his head fiercely, “No way, you said you wouldn’t wish this life on anyone.”

“I know but... God, Ethan, we can’t just leave him. He has a chance, we could save him!”

“A lifetime of lycanthropy is anything but safe,” Ethan grumbled. He didn’t want to let him die either but the thought of turning someone voluntarily made him sick to his stomach

“I’ll do it, you don’t have to be involved at all. I can’t just kill him, I won’t do that ever again; you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“... Can I?”

Ethan was exhausted, didn’t want to be the one to make the call, but he knew the human’s time was running out.

“Do it.”

Will woke up three days later in a cabin he didn’t know existed. His head ached and his eyes burned, but when his hands went to his throat he felt no sign of the recent injury, save for some deep scars that felt years old already

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice made Will flinch and he immediately apologized for scaring him

“You must be thirsty,” the other man was holding out a glass of water, strange golden eyes watching Will carefully

“You-”

“Ethan,” he supplied, “What’s your name?”

“Uh... Will.”

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Will,” Ethan took a seat in the chair beside him, “You can stay with us, though.”

“Like what? Us?”

“Our pack is small, just me and Connor. It’s safe here though and given the situation... you’re our responsibility now.”

[dead-ghouls]

Theres no way that i could ask for a break down of what you see in his ftes in ask format is is there?? I already love korekiyo, but I'm really curious about what you have to say.

I can do that! The only thing is that most of what he says I’ll be quoting from memory, but direct quotes can be found in his FTEs and in-game dialogue on wiki. I’ll do my best to provide as many screenshots as I can, but I doubt I will be able to find all, it’s a very long process and I dont have the whole day.V3 spoilers below, ofc. Also TW various types of abuse, you know the drill if you played the game. Long post!Let’s start from what we know about Korekiyo. What makes him Korekiyo, what makes him stand out, what’s special about him. 

- Unique outfit- Long hair- His deep knowledge of anthropology- His interest in occult/speaking to the dead- His deep relationship with death, grief and how he looks at it- His love for ropes- Being a serial killer

Now let’s break down every trait he has and where it comes from.

Unique outfit

FTE 3, he tells us his sister made it for him to suit her tastes, claiming his school uniform doesnt suit him.

Long hairI don’t remember if it was mentioned in-game, but it was mentioned in V3 manga anthology, that his long hair is a memento to his sister, since she had long hair, so he refuses to cut it. It is stated that events of manga obviously not canon, but I dont think this claim was outside of his canon characterisation. 

His deep knowledge of anthropology

In the same FTE he mentions that Sister was the one who “pushed him to research as much as he could”

His interest in occult/speaking to the dead + his relationship with death and griefI dont think i gotta find proof for that, he mentioned travelling looking to speak to the dead, the whole ch 3 with Caged Child + he mentioned having near-death experience after a seanse (see next bullet point), and that’s how his Sister came to him.He speaks about human mortality and coming to terms with it, but he himself cant do that. 

He doesnt fear death, maybe he even seeks it - to reunite with his Sister [cut to him enduring his execution and seeing his spirit happy and free, ready to meet her] but no way he could properly cope with human mortality and his own grief. That’s where all the occult stuff comes in - him telling how he tried so many things and how nothing worked (?). He says it during ch3 investigation, if you wanna look for a direct quote. Him being into occult, speaking with the dead, being possessed by his Sister - all of it is just his ways of coping with loss. He was very dependant on her (I’ll talk about it more below) and couldnt stand being alone.

His love for ropesOf course it can be a kinky thing but also look closely at this exchange:

This incident with ropes is what actually ended up “reuniting” him with his Sister. Of course he’d hold a special interest to this kind of activity after. 

Being a serial killerWell this one is obvious. Who did he kill? Girls. Why did he do it? To bring friends to his Sister. Simple as that.

Now look back at every bullet point and tell me: do you see a pattern? Yep, every aspect of his life, likes, personality, experiences, even his looks - it all traces back to his Sister. Controlling what he wears, what he does, what he likes; even after her death he is deeply affected and is devoted to doing everything in her name. Now try to recall one single thing about Korekiyo that wasn’t his Sister influence. Something he likes maybe? Something he enjoys on his own free time? Even his official dislike is a reference to a gift you might give in-game, an air refreshener that exorcises ghosts [He believes that he is possesed]. All I can think of is him telling he prefers green tea over black in one of FTEs. Korekiyo that we see and interact with in game isn’t his own person, just a reflection of grief, his Sister wants and needs. His whole existence is just a devotion to his late Sister, and it was the same way when she was alive.

Sister’s personality

From what I mentioned you should already hear the faint bells ringing in your head. “Pushed me to study” “Told me my uniform doesnt suit me” “I will kill people because her spirit told me to”He respected her, depended on her a lot. No shit, Sherlock - he was his Older Sibling. A side note, he never mentioned anyone else from his family, only said that they “had to hide their relationship from others” once. Sadly, I cant remember where it was said. No matter if he had any family present or not (having no family would worsen the case, but with family present its still fucked up) he still depended on her a lot, maybe considered her a parental figure, or at the very least - a role model. Korekiyo’s analysis on youtube brings up a very valid point - anthropology couldve been her passion as well, she just couldnt actually fullfill it because of the sickness. Explains her “pushing” him to research it.Basically we have an older sibling holding power over a younger sibling, presumably, from a younger age. More of her personality and influence can be seen in his trial. “You mustnt lose composure, you mustnt become flustered, you mustnt waver”Im linking this bit, but I strongly recommend rewatching the full version where his Sister appears. She appears to be his guardian, keeping him in check, making him act right. Telling him what to do and how to act. She appears in moments of distress when he needs comfort. He depends on her, he listens, he does everything she tells him to. Im not gonna get into the whole tulpa thing, so if youre not on board with it, I recommend reading into it more, even wiki has a brief explanation. Basically this possession is just his mind, but it does hold her true personality. So Sister is: assertive, calm, plays a role of guardian, has power over Korekiyo due her age, his respect and dependance on her, probably her being his parental figure. 

Now tell me, how this power dynamic could be healthy, consensual and (a very popular opinion in the fandom) this relationship was started from Korekiyo’s advances? How a younger sibling, that was so dependant and devoted could be in a consensual relationship with his older sibling that always tells him what to do?Korekiyo was groomed, he’s a victim. Most people in fandom hate him for being creepy and a sister-banging freak, because he doesn’t fit your cookie-cutter perseption of abuse victims. Everyone thinks that abuse victims only come in “i hate my abuser, i am currently away from them and i am healing” package. Korekiyo was never given a chance to realize it was wrong, he never got a chance to heal. He was groomed, abused, used and forced into relationship. Told that it was secret and sacred, that theyre breaking the boundaries, that’s why he mustnt tell anyone about it. Of course he believed her - its his Sister. She convinced him that his love and dependance on her was romantic/sexual love.

The same analysis brings up a good point of his Sister guilt tripping him because of her illness. Never getting a chance for romantic love, never getting a chance to make friends.

What breaks my heart is that after all of this, after devoting his life to his Sister, studying what she wanted, wearing what she wanted, killing for her sake and even being executed because of her - he says that he wasn’t enough.

TLDR - Their power dynamic is very obvious from his FTEs and the trial, he was clearly groomed and abused, never got to recover from her manipulations. And fandom either fetishisizes their relationship, excusing their nasty kinks by saying it was consensual, or hates him because they never took the time to analyze the content. He was abused, he was manipulated, god knows what else was done to him when she was alive, and he died driven to insanity, full of grief devoted to his Sister and blaming himself for not being enough. As a side-note: it is completely okay being uncomfortable with his character/everything that happened in ch3. You dont owe anyone interacting with the piece of media depicting such topics. Your comfort and safety comes first. Kodaka is a shitty fucking writer. What is not okay is hating a character for being a victim. 

I probably missed a lot, my brain is very disorganized, so feel free to ask more questions/add your own opinion. 

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Jonah Magnus begrudgingly becomes a trans ally after putting himself in the wrong body “as a joke” and suffering

Concept: Dramatic Bastard Jonah “Hubris” Magnus decides to put his eyeballs in a female body for one of these bodyhops because he “thought it’d be fun”  (and also perhaps make that snippy young librarian Gertrude stop commenting on the fact that the Institute has never had a female Head and that she feels it’s high time they got their heads out of the Dark Ages and stopped ignoring half the population) and it BACKFIRES HORRIBLY 

(long post under the cut)

For one thing, half of his (actual, unstated) reasoning behind the switch was to spice up his third marriage with Peter, but Peter is Too Gay to Function(TM) and just takes one look at the new body and immediately books a year-long voyage to Siberia and leaves the country without so much as touching Jonah. 

And then Jonah has to deal with having a female body to take care of and absolutely no idea how one works because despite serving the Watcher he is, also, Too Gay to Function(TM) and has not prioritized information on how to handle having a coochie. He didn’t think it would be a big deal. He was wrong.

See, up until now Jonah Magnus has always picked young, twink-ish bodies that have at least a superficial resemblance to the young Jonah Magnus, and has assumed that being able to adjust to the slight differences just fine and even enjoying the changes means that he’s immune to dysphoria. 

Jonah Magnus is convinced that gender dysphoria is bullshit and that he’ll like a female body just fine because he wore drag once and had a fun time. Jonah Magnus has not thought this through. Jonah Magnus has not considered that “wearing drag as a man who enjoys being a man but also likes dresses” is actually different from “actually not being a man or comfortable in a man’s body”. 

Jonah Magnus figures out the difference very quickly. 

Jonah Magnus, King of Denial, writes it off as “needing to adjust to the new body” until he catches himself wishing he had that Leitner that makes you disappear bc he doesn’t want to be seen, or to have to see himself, in this body and he just wants it to disappear. 

The first barista at Jonah’s favorite coffee shop to call him “ma’am” gets to watch a grown woman visibly flinch at being properly addressed and then rush out of the store. The barista then violently remembers something embarrassing that happened to her in high school, and spends the next week suffering from nightmares about her worst memories. 

A man makes the mistake of catcalling some academic-looking librarian dame. She gives him a freezing look and suddenly he’s having violent flashbacks to all his worst experiences at once. He falls down on the street and has a nosebleed and eventually has to be picked up by the police and brought to a mental hospital because he’s raving like a lunatic. 

Jonah “Cannot Admit I Made a Mistake” Magnus, still trying to convince himself this isn’t that bad actually, catches himself making a mental schedule for showering As Little As Socially Acceptable so he doesn’t have to see himself naked. Jonah Magnus is usually fastidiously clean, and can’t stand the feel of going more than two days without a shower. Jonah Magnus suddenly prefers that to seeing himself naked any more than necessary. Jonah Magnus finally admits that he made a mistake. Jonah Magnus is starting to understand what the words “gender dysphoria” and also “male privilege” mean and he’s hating every moment of it. 

And then he forgets to take the birth control that this body was on and its period comes back with a vengeance and he does something he never does and calls Peter, screaming about how he’s LITERALLY DYING and Peter is like “you know women have periods right.” 

“WHAT” 

“Yeah they bleed every month” 

“They WHAT?? EVERY MONTH???” 

“...Jonah you serve the Eye. How do you not know basic human biology” 

Jonah “Too Proud to Admit that the Information on Coochie is Buried Under Years and Years of Occult Secrets and Sexy Robert Smirke Moments” Magnus: “I KNOW!! I JUST--IT’S COMPLETELY IRRATIONAL THAT IT HURTS THIS MUCH” 

“Yes” 

“THIS CAN’T BE NORMAL” 

“Yes it can” 

“I’M DYING AND ALSO I’M STAINING ALL MY SHEETS THIS IS HORRIBLE” 

“All of these are things I’ve heard my sisters say.” 

“NO IT--wait really” 

“They talked way too much. Really weren’t suited for Forsaken. I was so glad when they left. Partly because I was a squeamish little boy who really didn’t want to hear about their girl puberty issues any more” 

“Hang on, I’m NOT dying?” 

“Probably not. Do you have any painkillers? Get in a hot bath and wait it out.” 

“HOW LONG???” 

“Euuughgjs I dunno maybe like a week? Ask a woman” 

“A WEEK?? WHAT?? I’M GOING TO DIE PETER I CAN’T ENDURE THIS FOR A WEEK” 

“You.... didn’t think about this BEFORE you stole the body?” 

“Y-YES OF COURSE I DID” 

“Jonah Magnus, world’s greatest occultist and scholar, forgot to do his research?” 

“THAT’S NOT IT, I JUST DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD BE THIS BAD,,, PETER YOU’RE LYING TO ME PETER PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE LYING I CAN’T TAKE A WEEK OF THIS PETER” 

“I said I don’t know. A week sounds right but I could be totally wrong. Ask a woman.” 

“I DON’T KNOW ANY WOMEN THAT I CAN ASK AWKWARD QUESTIONS OF” 

“Go to the library” 

“I CAN’T I’M IN PAIN AND BLEEDING ALL OVER EVERYTHING” 

“Oh, yeah, there should be stuff for that. You’re in, uh, the former body’s apartment right? She’s probably got like, what are they called? Feminine pads?” 

“WHAT? PETER I’M AN ADULT I’M NOT WEARING A DIAPER” 

“Okay, have fun getting the bloodstains out of everything you own.” 

“HOW DO WOMEN LIVE LIKE THIS” 

“I don’t know. Rather impressive really.” 

“FUCK” 

He caves and goes to young Gertrude and is like “listen if you tell anyone this I’ll destroy your life but I’m actually an ancient bodyhopping bastard and this is my first time in a female body and I’m in hell please help me” and that’s how this Gertrude finds out who Jonah Magnus is

Elias Bouchard gets snagged for the next transfer because, yeah he’s kind of a weird pick for next Head of the Institute and people might talk but Jonah is Desperate at this point and Elias more or less fits his MO as far as physical traits go at least 

Peter is so relieved to have A Husband when he gets back that he doesn’t even complain about Elias picking a blond just because he knows Peter doesn’t like it. And for once Elias didn’t even do it on purpose, he was just in a hurry to get out of the Hell Dysphoria Body and took the first option he saw. 

The formerly-plagued-by-nightmares barista at Jonah’s favorite coffee shop stops seeing the increasingly depressed-looking woman who’d been coming in, but now there’s a nice young who smiles like the sun when she calls him Sir and it’s such a nice smile that she feels a deep sense of warmth and contentment and only thinks good thoughts for the rest of the day. She falls asleep content in the knowledge that all her friends love and appreciate her and that she makes the best coffee in London and for the next week she has pleasant, restful dreams that she can’t remember but that she wakes up from smiling. 

Elias Bouchard quietly starts offering trans-inclusive health benefits to employees of the Magnus Institute. Martin Blackwood, Broke Trans Guy In Need of a Job, instantaneously appears on the doorstep. 

[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan Chapter 13

John came back first.  He hadn’t been gone long, but I could see the residual anger on his face.  Sam and I were still eating, every bite I took having to be forced past a lump that steadily grew bigger as I waited.  He took his own plate and filled it, not speaking and I knew that was simply because he was trying to control the ire he was feeling.  

“This is really good food, Tali,” Sam offered, clearly wanting to fill the silence that was growing oppressive in his dad’s presence.  

I nodded and offered him a small smile.  “Comfort food from my favorite local diner.”  

“Better be pie,” Dean’s voice growled from the doorway.  I swallowed as I felt John tense up beside me, still spoiling for a fight with his eldest.  

Clearing my throat, I nodded again.  “Of course there’s pie, Dean.  I sold my soul, but I didn’t lose it yet.”  Flippant humor, inappropriate, but fuck if I couldn’t stand the waves of anger I felt rolling over the four of us.  

“Funny.”  Dean snarled, sitting down and taking up his own plate to fill it.  “Very funny.” His tone implying anything but.  

“I like to think so,” I offered, figuring screw it.  In ten years I’d be dead and gone, why not start living like it.  “Eat up, the food is great fresh, but it loses something when it’s reheated.”  I took up my fork and realized the lump was gone.  Getting over the strain, not letting the Winchester testosterone ruin my dinner was easier than I expected.  

We ate for a few minutes in silence, not nearly as heavy with tension now that I’d let my own stress go.  No use crying over spilled milk, right?  I could still feel the irritation in father and son, but what could I do about it?  I made a choice.  I couldn’t nor would I take it back.  It was MY fucking soul.  If I wanted to sell it to a hippy down the street for a clutch of patchouli incense, then that was MY choice.  

The plates were clean and I stood up.  Gathering them to take to the dishwasher, I saw Sam stand to help me.  Ah, leave the two bullheaded men to it.  We worked together to stack the dishes and then I pulled smaller plates from the cupboard as Sam went in search of the pie.

“It’s in the oven.”  John offered, clearly watching us.  “Tali mentioned it’s better warm.”  

I realized with a start that the oven had been on the lowest setting this entire time, warming then keeping the pie warm while we ate.  Tossing an oven mitt to Sam as I grabbed more utensils, he pulled the pie out carefully and I took the dessert plates to the table.  John jumped up to grab a divet to put the warm pie on so it wouldn’t mar my table.  Dean sat silent as a waiting storm cloud as the three of us worked to dish out dessert.  

“Here, Dean, your pie is served.”  I handed it to him with a flourish and that did it.  He looked up at me smirking down at him holding warm apple pie and shook his head. 

“You make it so damn hard to stay pissed off, sweetheart.”  He gave me a half smile and took the plate and fork from me.  “This smells amazing.”

“All I can take credit for is ordering it,” I replied, taking my own seat and looking down at the perfectly flaky crust and letting the cinnamon scent hit my nostrils.  “It is the best pie in town though.”  

“We’ll see,” He shot back, taking a forkful into his mouth.  His eyes shut and he made an indecent sound.  When he opened his eyes, he saw that none of us had taken a bite, but were all watching him.  “Fine, it’s GOOD pie.”  

I giggled and took my own bite, nearly biting my tongue when I felt John’s hand on my knee under the table.  I glanced up to see most of his own anger was gone.  I smiled and kept eating.  These three would be the death of me, which might suck, since I only had ten years with them.

Dessert went better than dinner.  And then we all got comfortable in the living room to really discuss my deal.  Hash it out before bed, and don’t go to bed angry were good in theory, right?

“I just don’t understand how it got in here,” was Sam’s first issue.  “How could it bypass the protections?”   

“My guess?”  John offered, sitting with my legs over his lap on the sofa.  “It used Tali’s grief.  Her grief and-” his fingers went to his wedding band.  “This.”  

“What?”  Dean asked, eyes on the band.  “How?”

It flashed to me then.  John admitted that the mind play was usually a one way street, but sometimes he could read the demon.  “He played you.”  It was a whisper.  “He planted his plans for me in your head, and I bet he even helped get your ring here.”  

John nodded.  “I’ve thought about it.  I wanted so damn bad to send you a sign, Tali, but nothing happened.  When he ‘accidentally’ gave me access to his mind, suddenly it worked.”  

“You’re saying it planned it.”  Dean muttered.  “That between Tali’s grief, your-” he stopped and took a deep breath.  “It played the two of you right into its hands.”  

I sighed.  “Yep.  Hook, line, and sinker.”  I shook my head.  “Between the absolute craving I had to see John again, and John wanting to protect me from it.”  I nearly snorted at how effortlessly it had made it work.  “But why?”  I felt like the answer was within my grasp, but like a word on the tip of my tongue I couldn’t find it.  

“It wouldn’t give us the advantage.” Sam declared.  “Three Winchesters is better than two, and with you and your ability to figure out the obscurest occult information, that makes four against one.”  He shook his head.  “Why would it stack the deck against itself?”  

“There must be a loophole.”  Dean muttered, glaring at the wall across from him.  “A loophole in your deal, Tali.”  He clarified.  

But what?  What would a demon do to make sure that four against one wasn’t bad odds?

The boys, along with their father because he wasn’t built for the house pet life, headed out for another hunt a few days later.  To West Texas.  And I got wrapped up in research about the demon.  I felt like I SHOULD know its name.  Classes were back in session and I had to smile when Hank came to me at the end of one class to say he was happy I was back.

“Yeah, feels good to be myself again.”  I returned his last paper to him.  “This was well thought out and a good argument for the topic.  Keep this up and you’ll be in the running for my job.”  

“No one could replace you, Dr. Sullivan.”  The words and tone sounded similar, but I couldn’t place it.  So I thanked him and then went to the white board to clear it for the cleaning crew.  It was my last class of the day, and I planned on heading home to a night without research for once.  

The janitor bumbled into the classroom before I was finished, and I offered that I would be out of his way shortly.

“No rush, Dr. Sullivan.”  That tone, dark and somewhat sinister made me turn and realize he was right in front of me, eyes flashing yellow.  Shit.  “Miss me?”  

I was about to tell it just how much I hadn’t missed it, when it leaned in and kissed my lips.  Tongue flicking against the lips I had snapped shut when its head lowered to mine.  

“Come now, Tali,” it pulled back and the yellow eyes were flashing with humor.  “Surely you know that I can’t WEAR John if he isn’t in range.”  It rolled its eyes as I glared up at it.  “Fine, no hanky panky when I’m wearing a different meat suit.”  It moved to sit on the edge of my desk as I went back to gathering my things.  “I hear you want to know the loophole in your contract.”  I shot it a look and it chuckled.  “Don’t look so irritated or surprised that I have ways to keep track of you and your little ‘family’s’ plans.  Honestly, I was shocked that JOHN came to the realization about how I gained entry into your humble abode.”  Its eyes were slithering down my frame as though to remind me where else it had gained entry.  “Dean was right, you know, I would NEVER stack the deck against myself.  Not with what I have planned.”

I raised an eyebrow and finally spoke.  “What is it then?  What’s the loophole to make the return of another Winchester NOT an overload against you?”  I sat in my desk chair and waited.  Why not hear just how fucked we really were from the source?

It laughed and I could see how fucking tickled it was by its own brilliance.  “Oh it’s simple really.  If they kill me, then I promise you, the last three months of your ten year time limit are going to be excruciating for you, Tali Sullivan.  You’re going to want to die.  You’re going to wish for it, you’re going to be tempted to end it yourself.  And if you do, if you die BEFORE your ten years, then all bets are off.  Hellhounds? Check.  Torture? Check.  Your soul won’t be mine, but you’re gonna wish it was.”  

I sat stunned.  I knew, had always known, that the deal was inescapable.  At least the ten years and the Hell part, but if this beast died I wouldn’t have guessed that it would want to take me down too.  Not this way.  Not force me to commit one of the ultimate sins and thus cement my own fate.  And I knew, the fact that I hadn’t even considered that something like this could be in the cards, that I had been far too confident in my own intelligence.  I also knew that I couldn’t stop them.  I couldn’t stand in front of John, or Dean, or Sam and stop them from killing it.  Not after what it had done to them.  And in that, I knew that the deck WAS stacked against someone.  Me.

[sacredarts-blog1]

~ Return Announcement ~

*dramatic upset YouTuber sigh* I'm so not ready for this, but it's time.

So, I'm back.

Why was I  gone? Where did I go? Why did I come back? Will I stay? I don't know if anyone is asking these questions, but I hope there are some people who still care.

I'll cut right to it - I left out of fear.

I also left out of a severe identity crisis - which has, in truth been building up since at least 2015. I haven't been diagnosed with anything yet, but I will be soon. It has been a very lonely experience though.

Now, the fear. I have a particular kind of phobia - a paranoia - but now I have a plan on how to deal with it. Because this debilitating fear is also the thing that is leading me to my ultimate destination in this life. This fear is what always stops me from pursuing spiritual & psychic matters, after a certain point. I guess it happens whenever I get too strong, or get certain dreams, or have this increasing sense that I am not alone (whether in a good or bad way, it still disturbs me). I just lose my grip on reality, and on myself, because all these things that happen go way beyond what's normal. And then I freak out, afraid to lose myself.

When I was younger, having just gotten into this stuff, my biggest fear was self-delusion. Convincing myself, or someone else, of something that wasn't true - but appeared to be true because I really want it to be, or really fear it to be. That came to pass, of course. I went through all of that, and so I am not afraid of self-doubt anymore, because now I know how to trust myself, and I know how to recognize denialism and myside bias. I am also completely intuitive now. I know when something doesn't feel right. But there is this thing in my family where the dominant fear becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. My grandfather was afraid of ghosts. After he died, he showed up as a spirit multiple times to my uncle. My uncle, on the other hand, was always afraid of getting brainwashed. He wouldn't even watch TV or listen to pop music or anything, knew nothing about mainstream culture. Well, he ended up joining a cult. My mother's biggest, deepest fear is to be forever alone, to be single and never be in love or have a normal family, a normal home. This has been exactly true for the past 23 years. And me? I have many fears and phobias, but when it comes to the dominant one which has haunted me since childhood, it is very simple. The fear and hatred of evil. True evil. Demons, torturers, dictators, rapists, pedophiles, organized crime, any kind of coercive authority, whatever represented coercive force, oppression, violence, corruption, whatever we look at and say "that's inhuman" or "soulless" or "monstrous" - not to be confused with the fear of the unknown. But I constantly think about it. Everything I do, read, listen to, whatever, always somehow comes back to it. And how come evil is part of human nature - is it human nature? I've been entirely evil at times too. No empathy. Scary stuff.

I don't know where this fear comes from. I do not come from a religious background and I have no experience with this. I can only say it could come from my past life, due to some very bizarre behaviors I had as a child, my photographic memory recall, my borderline DID, the dreams I've had at night, and my deep fascination and fear of mind control, medical and historical torture, cults and identity disorders. Why is this relevant? Because whenever I'd get into spiritual & psychic stuff, I would eventually come to a point where my reality would start to shift. I won't go into detail, but I get this sense that I am opening gates to another world. I don't understand that world, no matter how "wise" and "experienced" I may come across. I fear to attract certain energies. I blame certain things in the past on my dabbling with witchcraft, Tarot, crystals, divination, paganism... I end up either turning hardcore Christian or militant atheist, to protect myself, and distance myself from all of this. But now I know that's not going to work. That this is just going to keep repeating, until I will drift back to this again, because something is calling me, and so much good can come from it. My intention is always pure. But I feel so vulnerable and alone. I can never explain it to anyone. Other people I meet are either focused entirely on the good, light aspects of the spiritual world. Or they romanticise the dark as "misunderstood" or something, and see occult as just another tool. Yet evil exists. Morals exist. But nobody could explain to me, in this fucked up world, what's what. So I'm going to find out for myself. I have to defeat my fear or it will catch up with me, just as it did the rest of my family.

I'm doing the same thing outside of my spiritual life. I'm studying music and business and doing a lot of research into psychology and history. My main intention is to find out what's going in our entertainment industry in the West. What's up with these musicians saying they sold their soul to the devil? Or the actual occult symbolism in music? The greed, corruption and lack of authenticity disturbs me. There's other things I want to do in music that are completely unrelated to these, but it's the main driving force. I want to know why Beyonce would need to completely disassociate from herself on stage by becoming Sasha Fierce, to say "that's not me up there, I wouldn't do that", why Britney would shave her hair in an attempt to "get them out" of her head, and many other artists take on alter-personas too. It could be totally harmless. It could be just a conspiracy theory, though the psychological pressure and insane social demands put on these artists is clear for anyone to see. But that's exactly what I want to find out, not theorize about, because I've seen artists that I care about start off authentic and real and end up like soulless dolls who are nothing like what they used to be. Like what the hell is up with that??? I wish people wouldn't have to do that, that they could be themselves and create from the heart, instead of having to force themselves to do what they would never normally do. As Wilde's tragic hero Dorian Grey said: "The soul is a terrible reality. It can be bought, and sold, and bartered away. It can be poisoned or made perfect. There is a soul in each of us, I know it."

So now I want to balance both worlds, and dive into my fears. If I sense something dark, I'll try to understand it, and to get help from someone I trust. I'll read about science as much as spirituality, I'll try to always maintain a balance in everything I do, even if what I'm going to do is extreme. Evil is, after all, something that also deeply fascinates and excites me, not just scares me. But equally, I want to know what is it that's good, and pure. Purity, innocence, liberty, authenticity, passion - are things dearest to my heart.

Where did I go?

I have been completely alone and isolated for almost two months now, as my mother has gone away to another country, started fasting, and I have deleted my social media, stopped going to classes and stopped going to work. I have went completely into myself. I have been caught in an endless cycle of death and rebirth for years now and I endeavoured to figure out how to finally "break the wheel" as it were. I did everything I could. Now I'm emerging, but I don't know anything about myself anymore. I feel like a wisp of smoke. I've realized my true nature is beyond ego, beyond identity. It's always changing, going with the flow. I've been suffering because I've been trying to hold onto a coherent self-identity, some kind of ego that I don't actually have, because everyone else seems to know who they are and what they're like. I always envied that, because I change so damn often, day by day. My moods entirely affect my speech, behavior, preferences, styles, interests, aesthetics - everything. I thought there was something wrong with me, makes me fickle and shallow. But I've made peace with that now. Perhaps that's my unique strength - to be able to experience and understand all sides, all ways of being, everything as it is. Like as a great stained-glass cathedral.

Why did I come back? Will I stay?

I came back because I need help, and because I know that whatever happens, the worst I can do is do it alone. I came back because I realize that I can help and guide others, whatever way I can, and that you can do the same in return for me. To generate goodness, healing, understanding. Even if I feel nobody can ever understand me because wow I'm so deep and complex and unique!!! In the end, I want to create a strong support system. To be part of a community without over-identifying myself with it as I used to, which again, brought me suffering and identity crisis. We're all different and have different gifts, and there is something to learn from everyone. Everyone knows something you don't. I want to know what it means to belong, to connect, because I feel I have been deprived of it, no matter how hard I tried. I've been arrogant and extremely resistant to joining any groups or movements or saying anything that's been said already. I always wanted something that would last forever, soulmate sort of stuff. But I forgot that the most fundamental aspect of this world is transience. That's what makes it so heartachingly beautiful, so valuable. Forever is in a moment, though things return in another form after a while... I may not stay, in the long-term, but what I want to do is grow and expand. So that if I leave, you can come with me to do something more than this. But it won't be like dropping and running or getting bored, the way I used to do it. It's more like a stream joining a river. That's the kind of mindset I have now. I have an actual vision for myself and all of us, but you'll just have to trust me on this one, as I try to trust in myself.

What's next?

Next, I will be doing readings for all of you. Starting with small, general stuff - scrying, Oracle, Tarot. So, you ask a question, and I answer. I haven't decided on specialized categories like love readings, past life, career etc. so just whatever's on your mind, really, even if it's just "anything I need to know?" I'll almost always write about what your energy feels like, though. Your current vibration.

I will also have a new payment policy - which is Pay What You Think It Is Worth. Even if it's just 20c, every single penny matters deeply to me. Like I can't even describe it. It's not the quantity that matters, but what it means to you. You don't have to pay, but if you don't, I'll assume the reading was worthless.

I will also accept private readings now, which people can request if they want more detailed readings.

I have a lot of unread messages left over from months back, and those will be cleared. If I didn't get to yours, you can write me again!

I will be replying to readings almost everyday, except Sundays. I don't have a set number of how many readings I will do a day, but I'll do as many as I can. This may be anywhere from 5 to 20 or more different readings. First come first served, whether on IM or Inbox. There may be exceptions.

I'll also be removing/editing my "services" page and the layout of my blog, but the mobile theme will remain exactly the same :)

If you read all of this, or even some of it, I personally consider you my friend. Hello, and thank you.

~Ciel

[onisionhurtspeople]

He Murdered my Friend

I used to be a diehard onion fan. I worshipped his views, even while in an abusive relationship. I researched Sisesca, though I disagreed with his views on the occult. And then I learned about Shiloh. I saw what he did to her. I was horrified and began to watch less of his videos, i only watched his “funny” sketches. His portrayal of The Joker… I compared myself to Harley Quinn in my own relationship. Horribly abused but madly in love with my abuser. I started paying more attention to the things he was saying about mental illness, suicide, self harm, and realised how fucked up it was. And then a friend left a suicide note on her facebook. As I read, my stomach dropped. “I’m an attention whore” “waste of space for having depression” “don’t deserve help” “Faking” “Im just a burden” “cutting is just hurting everyone else.” I knew where I had heard those things. Onision Speaks. UhOhBro. All lies he had made me and dozens of others believe. That friend died in the hospital. She overdosed on pills and had inch deep cuts on her legs. I sent onision’s facebook page a frantic message telling him what happened. I was furious and hurting. He never responded. He killed my friend and couldn’t even say anything. I hate him. I will hate him forever.

[svartalfhild]

All the Things She Knows

Rating: T Genre: Supernatural Words: 2,197 Summary: Rowan Axel, a young college student and self-taught witch, likes to know things, especially about people, and when something piques her curiosity, she follows that thread to the end. Warnings: Reference to past self-harm, discussion of death. A/N: This is a prequel fic to @disabledpaladin‘s new Monsterhearts campaign.

- - -

It happened the very first week of classes, the little moment that set off a chain of events that would lead Rowan Axel to knowing more about certain of her classmates than she had ever expected to discover.  It was a simple thing, silly even, but it was more than enough the spark her curiosity.

It was lab day in Marine Biology.  The professor wanted them all to “experience different forms of marine life”.  She had them touching different creatures in a long, shallow tank and writing down observations.  Rowan found the whole thing a bit distasteful.  How would she feel if she were put in a tank and groped for three hours by 16 college students?  Not bloody good, most likely.  Nonetheless, she wanted to pass this class, so she followed her assigned group to the tank when it was their turn.

Olivia Bennett, a short, auburn-haired girl in her group, was by far the most eager of the four of them to stick her hands in the tank.  She was in up to her elbows, holding a starfish, before the rest of them had even found a place to set their notebooks.  

As Rowan watched Rufus Grunberg roll up his sleeves, she contemplated how she could avoid having to roll up her own and reveal to these people the faded scars like hash marks up her forearms.  She didn’t want their questions or concern.  Tyra Amaal, the arguably most put together person in the group, or indeed entire class, was a hijabi and had thus been given big rubber gloves that went up to her elbows.  Rowan considered asking for some herself, but realized that’d only draw more attention and scrapped the idea.  Before she could think on it further, however, she was interrupted by Rufus tripping on a lab stool on his way to the tank and she had to grab his wrist to steady him before he could fall head-first into the water.

It was like grasping a big icicle.  Rufus was colder to the touch than any living person could reasonably be.  He quickly pulled away from her once he regained his footing, almost as if she’d shocked him, and she stared.

“Sorry!  Sorry.  I should be more careful,” he apologized, eyes shifting about as he nervously ran a hand through his dark hair.

“No worries,” she replied, though she narrowed her eyes as she continued to watch him.  He seemed determined to pretend nothing had just happened and was pointedly giving his attention to a crab that had had its pincers bound.  This told Rowan that he knew she had just felt how cold he was and wanted her to think she’d imagined it, but unfortunately for him, she was a witch who didn’t discard such things.  No, she salted that shit away like a ham to cure.

For now, however, she let him think he was home free and returned her own attention to the lab assignment.  With a sigh, she went to the far end of the tank, away from everyone else, pushed up her sleeves, and hoped the others were too busy to look closely at her while she poked at a sea anemone.

- - -

When Rowan entered the library after a long day of classes, she was hit by a rush of cold air.  Clearly they had the air-conditioning set to stun.  It reminded her of what had happened with Rufus earlier and she immediately decided her library time wasn’t going to be for studying.  Instead, she hit the stacks and spent the afternoon learning more about the history of the town and all the unusual deaths that had occurred here in past century.  She was, after all, quite certain that Rufus Grunberg was dead, more specifically undead.

She had had some experience in this area before.  She had already uncovered a cabal of vampires in town led by the owner of Beppe’s Pizza the previous year.  They didn’t know she knew, but that was half the fun.  Was Rufus another vampire and she had somehow missed him in her previous investigation?  Perhaps not.  He seemed a little too...independent.  What was he, then?

By late evening, she found herself flipping through familiar microfilms of hundred year old newspapers, looking at obituaries in search of Rufus.  Her stomach growled with hunger and she was on the verge of giving up for the day when a familiar face caught her eye in an obituary from 1922.  Ah, yes, there he was.  Rufus Grunberg.  The photo was some sort of portrait, probably commissioned by his family for some special occasion.  Same long face.  Same neat hair.  Only real difference was that he looked happier.  

He had evidently died in an “unfortunate accident” at the old meat packing plant where he had worked.  Rowan made a note to look into the plant before continuing on to learn that he was a Great War veteran.  Damn.  He’d survived one of the most gruesome and pointless wars in human history only to be killed by pre-OSHA factory conditions at home.  That was a cruel irony, to be sure.  In any case, it fully ruled him out as a vampire.  She made a note to look into lore about other types of undead before going on to read that he’d been buried in the city cemetery.  She made yet another note to try to find his grave.

“Ms. Axel, the library is closing for the night.  You have to leave,” one of the librarians came to tell her, shaking her from the almost trance-like state that was brought on when she got deep into her research.  She nearly jumped out of her skin, she was so startled by the voice behind her.  She turned to give an acknowledging nod to the poor librarian and began to pack up her things, despite not being remotely prepared to stop her investigation.  It had only just begun.

With a sigh, Rowan slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out of the library into the open night air.  She wasn’t ready to go home yet, antsy with everything she’d just learned, so she pulled out her phone to look at the notes she’d made as she stood on the street corner.  She had a choice between going to the old factory district and going to the cemetery. The cemetery was closer and she didn’t feel like hanging around rusty meat hooks in the dark, so she hailed a cab and asked for the cemetery, ignoring the driver’s odd looks.

- - -

The graveyard was a familiar place to Rowan.  She came there often to be away from people.  The dead did not judge, belittle, or betray.  They were silent, peaceful, and patient to no end.  

Rowan climbed the fence with practiced ease and quietly made her way between the gravestones to a section at the back she rarely explored.  She knew most of the names in about three-quarters of the cemetery, so if she was going to find a name she hadn’t seen here before, that would be the logical place to start.

An hour of searching and pacing later and she was growing increasingly frustrated at her lack of success.  The newspaper had said he was buried in the city cemetery.  It had to be here somewhere.

Just as she was about to give up for the night, she saw something the shadow of a huge oak, about the right size to be a grave marker.  Sure enough, when she approached, she could see it was a headstone that had gone unmaintained for some time.  It was covered in dead vines and moss and the grass of the plot was overgrown.  She could barely make out the Star of David carved at the top and the name Rufus Grunberg beneath it.

A sudden and profound sadness came over Rowan then.  This guy had worked so hard in life and spent nearly a century condemned to walk the mortal world in death and he’d just been forgotten, even by his family, seeing as they couldn’t be bothered to make sure his grave was well-kept.  She knew a little something about being alone and forgotten; she could only imagine what it must be like for him.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she hastily wiped them away.  She prided herself on having a heart of stone.  She wasn’t gonna wimp out now and get weepy over some dead person she didn’t even really know.  Not ever.  Especially when she’d sworn to herself never to cry about a boy for any reason again.  Fuck that shit.

Still, seeing Rufus’s grave like this bothered her, so she took out her pocket knife and began to clear off the vegetation.  When she was done, she stood back and admired her work.  The thing looked like a proper marker now, readable from more than a couple feet away.  She was about to walk away but the instinct to leave something to be respectful nagged at her and she looked about for a nice rock of any kind.  There were a few pebbles amongst the grass, but nothing worthwhile.  

With a frustrated sigh, she pulled a polished black stone the size of her palm from the pocket of her jacket and looked at it, tracing her thumb over the runes carved into it.  She didn’t want to give it up.  She’d bought it at the occult shop last week and it hadn’t been cheap.  Besides, it wasn’t her policy to just give things away.  The world had never been generous to her, why should she be generous?  What was a dead Jewish guy gonna do with a pagan rock, anyway?  Some other part of herself, probably the part that was always bringing out the phrase “momma didn’t raise no animal”, prodded at her with notions of respect and good intent.  She’d already put forth the effort to clean up the grave, how hard could it be to go the rest of the mile and leave the protection stone?

In the end, that pang of empathy she’d felt for Rufus earlier returned to grant victory to her moral conscience and she bent down to place the stone against his grave marker.

“If you make me break anymore of my rules for you, I’m gonna hex you,” she murmured, wiping her hand across his name one last time before she got up and briskly walked away.

- - -

The next week and a half was strange, at least from Rowan’s perspective.  Since visiting Rufus’s grave, she had also made trips to the eerie-ass danger zone that was the site of the old meatpacking plant, with its half-collapsed building and sinkhole that was dark brown with the animal blood that had caused it.  She hadn’t found anything but some dumbass kids playing with a ouija board and a lot of old and dangerous equipment.  Nothing seemed to tell her anything new about Rufus’s death and continued existence in her marine biology class.

And the class?  Well, it was getting more bizarre by the day.  It wasn’t just Rufus who was odd.  Tyra kept referring to her own body in strange ways.  The first time, Rowan hadn’t paid it much attention.  Slips of the tongue happen.  But the girl just kept doing it.

“The hands are really cold,” she’d said in their latest lab, clenching and unclenching her hands, and it was at this point that Rowan decided Rufus Investigation Time was now Rufus and Tyra Investigation Time.  It didn’t take much to find out that Tyra’s entire being from California backstory was total bullshit.  This girl didn’t seem to exist before about two years ago, so what was she?  People who were in witness protection or some shit didn’t generally talk about their own bodies like objects.  Nobody does that.  So something clearly supernatural was going on there.

And Olivia?  For a while, Rowan was fairly confident that that girl was a normie.  After all, she’d known of Olivia since they were kids and nothing had been really off about her.  Sure, there was the whole thing about the Bennett house burning down, but it wasn’t like that kind of thing never happened.  But then Olivia accidentally left her locket necklace behind at lab and Rowan, ever the opportunist, picked it up.  When she opened it later, she found it contained not a picture, but a pocket of blood.

First of all, what the actual fuck?  Second, Rowan knew enough about dark magic to know that this was some seriously dark shit, putting Olivia firmly in her Shady-Ass Motherfucker Book and adding her to the theory board in her room dedicated to figuring out what sort of creatures Rufus and Tyra were.

What was even more strange than all of this was the question of how the four of them, little monsters all, had managed to end up in the same class, in the same lab group together.  Something definitely weird was going on.

Rowan would have her answers, one way or another.  And if she could pull a few favours out of them in the process, so much the better.

[iamcmims]

NIGHTMARES

You were working on a case with Sam and Dean for now a week. Every lead you had ended to be a dead end. You were frustrated and tired, never really sleeping, thinking too much about that case. You hated case like that. You knew that it was right in front of you but you just didn’t seem to find it, and it was pissing you off.

You couldn’t take it, you needed to sleep. The three of you needed to sleep.

“Okay, stop. Both of you. We need to rest.”

Dean close the book, and Sam his computer. You went to your bed shared with Dean and immediately fell asleep. When Sam’s head touched the pillow, he drifted off to sleep, too.

Dean? Sam? What are you guys doing here?“

Dean comes to you and kisses you. You back off, shocked.

"What the hell, Dean?”

“What? Why do you push me away? This isn’t supposed to happen this way in my dreams!”

“Your dream? Dude, this is my dream.”

The three of you look at each other.

“Hold on. We all know we’re dreaming and we’re in the same dream? Guys-”

“-This is our case.”

“Shit.”

You start to look around and see houses all around.

“Alright. We gotta focus. In our dreams we’re always the protagonist, like in a story. So if we focus enough on ourselves and on what we want, this should go our way.”

“Yeah well I’m sorry but I’ve never been able to control my dreams!”

“Are you even sure we can do that?”

“Sammy, I thought you were the nerdy one.”

“Shut up, Dean. Alright Y/N. What do we have to do?”

You look around and then stops at a house. You focus on it, suddenly the place changes into the motel the three of you are staying.

“Holy crap. How did you do that?”

“I’ve worked on myself in the past. After all of the things I saw during hunts I wanted to be able to also control my dreams. To never be you know, a victim. Just as right now. Alright. You guys need to focus with me, take this as if we were ghosts. We can’t really touch things. We’ve gotta find a way to make it ‘real’. ”

“What do you mean?”

“If we want to find out how to get out of here, we’ll need to do some research, so we need to focus on being able to touch everything. Then we’ll start searching but, the thing is we’ll find only the things that our brain knows.”

“Crap.”

The three of you focus, you tried several times touching your computer but it didn’t worked. You took a deep breath and then sat, closing your eyes breathing in and out. You lifted your hand and touched the computer.

“Y/N, I never you knew you were this mentally strong.”

You take your computer, still focusing. All you could see on the computer was memories, and the things you knew about legends, creatures etc…

This wasn’t working. You couldn’t reach out to the real world. Not unless if you-

“Son of a bitch I got it.”

“What?”

“What do you guys know about astral projection?”

You look back on your computer and search “Astral Projection”. You knew things about it but you couldn’t make it out.

“Okay so. Astral projection, or astral travel, is a term used in esotericism to describe a willful out-of-body experience,OBE, a supposed form of telepathy, that assumes the existence of a soul or consciousness called an "astral body” that is separate from the physical body and capable of travelling outside of it throughout the universe where it interacts with other astral bodies and is capable of implanting ideas into other people’s minds.

The idea of astral travel is rooted in esotericism and occultism, and was promoted by 19th century Theosophists—philosophers who explored the mystical and preternatural origins of the natural world. It is sometimes reported in association with dreams, and forms of meditation. Some individuals have reported perceptions similar to descriptions of astral projection that were induced through various hallucinogenic and hypnotic means, including self-hypnosis.“

"So you’re telling us, that we need to astral travel? For what?”

“To reach the real world. Whatever we find here, will only be what we know nothing else. If we can astral travel, then we’ll be able to maybe wake ourselves up or even search in the real world. The dreams or nightmares land is a universe. The thing is, with the lack of sleep we had lately, I don’t think we have enough strength to do so…”

“So what do we do now?”

“We can’t astral travel, so for now I think that we should search in what we know, everything about sleeping creatures, nightmare creatures anything related.”

The three of you start searching through your memories, but you couldn’t find anything about sleeping creatures or anything related. You stood up and went to the bed. If your body was resting, your soul wasn’t. And you needed your body and soul to be at its full strength.

“You’re alright?”

“My soul needs to rest if I want to be strong enough to astral travel.”

“Whoa whoa. Who told you you were the one to do so?”

“Dean, as much as I don’t like it either, Y/N is the strongest right now. We control no shit right now. She’s the only one who can do it.”

“Plus, if you guys disturb me while I astral travel, I’ll come back. I need 100% focus”

“Alright.”

You fully fell asleep for an hour. When you woke up, Sam and Dean were standing next to your bed.

“What?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at them and sit on the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Full of energy. It’s been a while I didn’t slept this deep. Literally.”

“So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to focus. And one of you will have to hypnotize me.”

“What? How the hell do we do that?”

“Not too hard, you’ll just make me focus on something and I’ll do the rest.”

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know. What do we have here?”

Suddenly, Dean started to bleed on his side.

“What the fuck?!”

“Crap! Someone’s trying to kill you. We’ve gotta hurry.”

You lay back down on the bed, you close your eyes and focus without the help of Sam and Dean. You didn’t had time. Someone was in your motel trying to kill the three of you in your sleep.

“Do you think she’ll make it?”

“She’s strong, Dean. And I’m serious. She’s had such a mentally strength. If she would’ve told me just like this, I wouldn’t believe her. She’ll be fine. The only thing that we have to do is making sure she’s focusing.”

Dean nods at his brother, worry spread all over his body.

After a minute, you felt like flying. When you open your eyes, you were in your motel room. You saw Sam, Dean and you asleep, and you saw someone coming at Dean again. You take a chair and knock it out.

You go to your computer and search all the thing you could about sleeping creatures. You search through the nightmares creatures.

“11 Mythical Sleep Creatures All Around The World”

“Batibat:

The native Filipino language Tagalog has a word for supernatural sleep death: Bangungut, which literally translates as “to rise and moan during sleep.” Filipino folklore says tree-dwelling malevolent Batibat spirits are its cause. The creatures, which look like ugly, obese women, infest houses when their trees are used as construction materials. The enormous hags wait until the homeowners are asleep, and then sit on victims chest and face to push their life force out.”

“No, not this once. Damn it come on.”

“Dab Tsog:

This cuddly bag of terror is the great granddaddy of Freddy Krueger. The Dab Tsog is part of the folklore of the Hmong, an Asian tribal people whose sleep deaths upon arriving in America inspired Freddy. Like theBatibat, the Dab Tsog kill through smothering sleeping victims. Survivors of encounters with the Dab Tsogcompared it to a furry American stuffed animal, only with prominent claws and teeth.”

“Baku:

Made up of the leftover pieces from the creation of the world, Japanese dream creature Baku is a piecemeal beast with a bear’s body, an elephant’s trunk and an ox’s tail. It feeds on dreams, and Japanese children will call to it upon waking from a nightmare. The nightmare removal can come at a price: a hungry Bakusometimes eats the hopes and motivation of the dreamer along with the dream.”

“Lidérc:

This Hungarian gender-shifting bloodsucker starts from a tiny egg and grows to be a bizarre lover-tormentor. Similar to its Asian dream cousins, it exerts pressure on victims, but its embrace is associated with sex and lust as much terror. It latches onto its victims, sucking blood and strength; the Hungarian word for nightmare, lidércnyomás, is taken from its exertion. While the Lidérc sometimes seeks to destroy its hosts, it sometimes becomes fond of its victims and tries to enrich them with hoarded gold. It can be warded off through trickery; convince it to attempt an impossible task and they will be at it forever. ”

“Mare:

No, not the horse. Mara, the word from which nightmare is derived, was an Anglo-Saxon and Old Norse word for a demon that planted itself on sleepers’ chests, causing unpleasant dreams and sometimes death. Usually female, the mare is associated with the incubus and succubus, demons who have sex with women and men while they sleep. ”

“Okay that’s just fucked up.”

“Alp:

This German nightmare creature is related to the mare, but is usually male. The name is variation on elf, from the so-called “old high” German that predated the current language. While its preferred tipple is breast milk, the Alp will suck blood from nipples on men and children. They can be defeated through such rituals as pointing shoes towards the bed and hiding old pieces of metal in the straw where you sleep.”

“The Hag:

If someone from Louisiana tells you they spent the night witch riding, they had a bad night. The night hag, a hideous old woman who spreads nightmares across the world, visited them. She’s traveled to Britain, Newfoundland and the south Pacific, riding sleepers’ chests and crushing out their breath. Associated with sleep paralysis, the hag is followed by bad smells and strange shadows.”

“The Jinn:

In Turkey, unwanted paranormal nighttime visits are called Karabasan. A demonic jinn enters a victim’s room and holds them still before strangling them. They will retreat upon hearing prayers to Allah or readings from the Koran. If a jinn visits, make a note if the jinn wears a hat. If you are clever and brave enough to steal the headwear, the jinn, also known as a genie, will be your slave.”

“Nocnitsa:

If you see a knife in a cradle, a mother is trying to keep the Nocnitsa from visiting her child in the night. She is made from shadows, speaks in a screech and smells like the forest in which she lives. A Russian and Slavic variation of the Sleep Hag, the nightmare monster will sit on victims’ chests but has also been known to spread out on a sleeper’s back and tightly grip the chest.”

“Pesanta:

The Night Hag cuts across cultural lines. While the form is elastic, it usually retains certain characteristics, like its female gender and humanlike form. For the natives of Spain’s Catalonia, the night hag isn’t human, but an enormous dog or cat. Despite its four legs and animal hair, it smothers sleepers like its human counterparts. Along with its bestial nature, it has like steel paws with holes, so it can touch but cannot take objects from the waking world.”

“The Domovoi:

Latvian folk stories tell of Lietuvēns, a ghost of hanged or drowned person that kills with a Night Hag-like pressure death and can be defeated if a sleeper is able to move a toe on their left foot. Latvian stories also offer a more playful, less lethal otherworldly sleeping companion. The Domovoi is a house spirit that watches over occupants as they sleep, occasionally giving families the odd pinch. Usually harmless, it will leave painful bruises if it wants you out of the house.”

“The Trauco:

According to the legends of the Chilean island Chiloé, women young and old find this sporty little gentleman irresistible. Whether asleep or awake, no woman can fend off his advances. Despite his charms, Trauco’s wife is the notoriously ugly and cruel Fiura. When a woman becomes pregnant on Chiloé under unexplained circumstances, Trauco is the default father, no doubt the annoyance of Fiura. Many face her wrath.”

None of it was what you were dealing with. You sigh and searched for something else. You needed to hurry before the thing wakes up and tried to kill you. You were remembering a story that your mom used to tell you but you couldn’t make it out to the English name of it. Instead you just typed it in French “Marchand de sable (folklore)”

You searched through the page quickly, needing to find something real quick.

“In the Grec Mythology Morpheus-”

“Of course!”

That’s all you needed to read. You were dealing with a God. Again.

You were about to search further when you suddenly woke up in the bed, with Sam and Dean next to you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing why?”

“Because I didn’t finished! I must have used all my strength. But we don’t have any more time. We need to hurry. I need to go back now. I don’t have time to deeply sleep for an hour once again.”

“Damn it.”

“What do you know so far?”

“We’re dealing with a God. Morpheus. Well, at least that’s what I think. I didn’t have time to search further…”

“It’s fine, we’ll see if we know anything about him.”

You nod and go to your computer. You take a deep breath and see what you can find on Morpheus. After an hour or so, you didn’t find anything. The thing that hurt Dean didn’t make any sign again. So you decided to astral travel again.

“Okay if I’m not back in one hour, wake me up, whatever you have to do, wake me up.”

They nod. Within a minute you were back in the motel. You looked around and saw the thing still on the floor. You decide to knock it out again with something heavier.

“Alright, what’s up Morpheus.”

“Morpheus (mythology):

God of dreams and sleep.

Morpheus has the ability to mimic any human form and to appear in dreams. His true semblance is that of a winged daemon.

Morpheus was the God of Dreams, the one with the amazing ability to appear in dreams of mortals in any form. As his name implies - the Greek word "Morphe” means “form” - he was the one who shaped and formed the dreams.

Morpheus was the God responsible for the dreams of people. When in the arms of Morpheus, people would enjoy a sound sleep, but would also dream about their future or even coming events. Morpheus was the dream messenger of Gods, communicating the divine messages through images and stories, created as dreams.

Being the master of dreams, Morpheus had the ability to send images to the visions of people, to shape these images and give a form to the creatures that lived in dreams. Morpheus himself had a talent in mimicking any human in the dreams and was able to take any form he wanted.

Family tree of Morpheus:

Father: Hypnos, God of Sleep. Descendant of Erebus and Nyx.

Mother: Pasithea - Goddess of relaxation and rest. Descendant of Hera and Dionyssus.

Uncle: Thanatos - God of Death.

Brothers:

Phobetor: He was the one who created the scary dreams. He was the personification of nightmare, taking the form of huge and scary animals.“

"Here it is. So how do we kill you?”

“You can’t kill me.”

You turn around and see Phobetor in front of you.

“Crap.”

He touches your body and suddenly you were fully awake but not Sam and Dean.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Where is she?!”

“I have no idea!”

_______________________________________________________________________

You were tied up to a chair. Phobetor was in front of you, smirking.

“What do you want?”

“I want to have fun!! So, what do you think we start with your friends, huh?”

“No!! Leave them alone!!”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Dean, please tell me it’s not a clown outside.”

Dean looks outside and sees three clowns.

“It’s not one, it’s three. Something’s going on.”

“No you think?”

_______________________________________________________________________

Suddenly, Dean finds himself in a plane. A plane that was crashing down.

“Crap! Crap! Y/N! Hurry up!!”

_______________________________________________________________________

You were trying to find a way to cut your ties but you couldn’t. You didn’t had time to figure out how to kill him but you knew how to summon a God. Or at least you hoped it would work.

“Morpheus, if you hear me, please, help me and my friend. Your brother Phobetor is going to kill my friends, just like he killed ten other people in their sleep. I need your help, please.”

You hoped you believed, you trusted, you prayed, you did everything you had to call out for Morpheus. After a second of two, another man was standing next to you.

“Morpheus? Brother, what are you doing here?”

“I came here to stop you, Phobetor.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Dean? Y/N?! Crap!!”

Five clowns were now in the motel room. Sam was trying to focus to be able to take his gun but he couldn’t.

“Damn it!”

The clowns were getting closer and closer to Sam.

Dean still was in the plane, who was crashing, slowly crashing.

“Y/N, you gotta hurry!! Son of a bitch!”

He closed his eyes tight and prayed as hard as he could, he prayed to the only person he knew who could save him, you.

_______________________________________________________________________

You were on the ground. Morpheus and Phobetor fought, which made the whole room upside down. After a moment, Morpheus finally killed his brother. You came to you and untied you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I am sorry for what my brother did.”

Morpheus went to Sam and Dean, he touched their forehead, they both woke up.

“How did you knew praying to me would work?”

“I didn’t. But I needed to believe it. For them. I’m sorry you had to kill your brother…”

“Do not worry about this. Worry about yourself. You have a bright future ahead of you, you’re one special soul. Way stronger than you think. After all, you resisted to a God. Not many can say that.”

You smile and nod.

“Well, Morpheus, do not take offense, but I hope to never see you again.”

“If you do, you’ll never know.”

With that, he was gone. You looked at Sam and Dean and smiled.

“What the hell happened? And did you just talked to the God Morpheus?”

You explain them everything and they tell you their nightmares...

“Y/N, you need to teach us how to take control like you did.”

“Yeah, that was one of the most bad ass move you’ve ever done.”

“But we’ve gotta talk about what Morpheus said. About your future and your soul.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Morpheus is a good God.”

Sam stands up and looks at you and Dean.

“With all of this, I’m starving. I’ll pick up some food and beer. I think we deserve it.”

You nod at him. Sam leaves the motel, leaving you and Dean alone.

“Dean? What was that about in your dream? When you kissed me. You said that in the last dream I didn’t push you away.”

Dean sighs and looks away. You stand up and sits on his lap, his arms immediately find their way to your hips. He looks at you with those deep green eyes.

“Why you never told me?”

“Told you what? That I had feelings for you? For you to push me away the way you did?”

“Dean… I didn’t know what was happening, alright? I knew something was off with this dream.”

“And you were right. But… I mean… I’m so out of your league…”

“Me? Out of your league? Damn it, boy, the crash of that plan must have really hurt your brain! You, you are the one out of my league. I never thought that I was enough for you to think of me this way.”

“Y/N, you would make any man crazy in this world. You even had a God at your feet today. You’re smart, beautiful, crazy, funny, strong and fierce.”

You look at him and smile. You saw in his eyes he didn’t believe you when you were telling him that you shared his feelings, so you did the only thing that crossed your mind. You kissed him.

Since that day, things changed, you two started to date, but this wasn’t different. This was normal, well at least your normal. And the rest? Well, the rest is history!

[nykole5]

Hunting with Dean.

Pairing : Dean x Reader 

Warnings : Idk...language I guess 

Word Count : 1,557

A.N . : Heey guys this is my first fan fiction that I wrote, I took your advice yesterday and give it a try, hope you liked it. And also if you do, the request’s are opened! Enjooy. 

Hunting with Dean was always a new experience. You knew he didn't want you there, although Sam was able to convince him every time that you are good asset to them. You are an occult professor at the university for God's sake, you could have helped them at every case they got if the older brother wasn't such a stubborn ass and refuse to let you come with them. 

But this time?  This time was hella different, they caught a wiff about some wicked witch from the '500 and they sure needed your help.

So now you were standing in the living room of the bunker with a smug grin on your face.

"Cut the smirk Y/N, you are not impressing anyone sweetie.  "

The deep voice of Dean made your knees go weak and that made you awfully aware of what you're wearing, some ripped shirt and some black yoga pants you put in this morning not even bothering yourself to care. But now? Now you we're regretting everything, it was no secret that you've developed a bad crush on the older Winchester, that obvious that even Sam and Cass knew about it and they were pissing you off all the free time to telll Dean. Not gonna happen so soon tough, plus you didn't even know if he even liked you that way.

"Bite me Winchester!  You need me, But you are an ignorant ass who doesn't want to recognise that they need a woman to help them."

You throw at him, seating in the chair opposite from him and trying not to strangle him. Some times you wanted to kill him, he was indeed an insufferable asshole and a ladies man all the way, and despite everything bad you tought about him,  didn't seem to help you forget him. To help you not wanting him, not wanting to feel his rough skin on you body,  and those plump lips on yours.

Damn stop it Y/N !

You tought, you couldn't get yourself hot and bothered for nothing.  

"Good morning Y/N, here's your coffee ."

Raising your head you smiled gratefully at Sam and thanked him.

"So with what are we dealing ? "

Sam put a folder in front of you and you laugh. That couldn't be possible.

"This can't be possible, you want me to believe that we are after the ghost of Rebbeca Bishop?  The witch from Salem ?  "

That was unbelievable even for you, and you saw enough to not be impressed so easily, but the Salem witch was crazy even for you.

"Oohh are you scared baby? " Dean said in a baby voice making you wanting to smack that beautiful face of his.

"Oh shut up ! I guess we need to make a trip to Salem then. "

Dean groaned and let himself on the chair with his hands besides his head. It was clear that Dean hated witches and he had his reasons too, that doesn't mean he gets tired of complaining every time they have a case with witches. This time makes no difference.

***

Five hours and as half later you groaned stretching your legs, being in baby for that long made you itchy and tired.

The motel you were staying at wasn't making you feel better either but it will do for now.

The bad part ? You all were gonna be staying in the same room, that means bickering with Dean all the freaking time, good news ? Maybe....maybe you'll get to share the bed with the same  asshole you seemed to like so much.

The only problem? It was only 3 pm and they needed to go out and start questioning people and stuff, you would have come with them, but your acting skills were zero, and you would’ve put thei cover in danger, so you choosed to stay in the motel,  and so some research on how  to kill the witch that seams to cut their victims on the stomach and splatter the organs, now you were sure she is her, I mean that’s how she was killed, in Africa. The only thing you didn’t know was how was the ghost still here….on what object she was attached?  You did online research, called one of your friends  from college and collect as much intel as you could, but still, you were not having a single clue on how to kill that bitch.

Somewhere between the hair pulling and the cries of helpness, Sam called you, and his voice was erratic.

“Y/N we found how to kill the ghost – it sounded ironic to you, the ghost theoretically was already dead but… - It’s attached on some ring from some history museum in town, could you help us with some you know, historian to another? “

You sighed, it shouldn’t be hard to talk to the historian from the museum, but you didn’t know if he or she would let you touch the ring, how were you supposed to grab him form his hold and destroy it?

“Kay, meet me at the hotel, I need a ride and to discuss the plan with you” .

Closing the call, you put the fake badge of an historian, cause let’s face it, you weren’t really an historian, just a professor, and get out of the motel room. Puttin the gun in the back, you put the shirt over it and took a jacket over you too.

“Couldn’t you take longer?”

Was the only snarky remark coming from Dean when you pop in the car, and you rolled your eyes, a break, you needed a fucking break from his behaviour, but did you get it? Noo, why should you?

“You know what? Kiss my ass will ya? “

You almost scream at him when he didn’t stop with sarcasm, and he looked at you with wide eyes. Then a pervert smile came on his face making Sam almost wanting to vomit, but he choose to say nothing…that traitor!

“Oh, you wish princess, name the place and hour I’ll do it happily!”

You blushed like a fucking lava and put your hands under your breasts from instinct, making them look bigger than they actually were.

You wanted to strangle him, kiss him and fuck him at the same time, and you didn’t know wich one was worse.

“Just…can we solve the fucking case and go home? I need a break from Don Juan here.”

Sam snorted and Dean gave you the “I’m gonna kill you “ look, that didn’t seem to scare you, so he grunted and resumed to driving.

***

“Hi there, Regina it is? – You asked looking at the historian name tag. – My name is Clair Smith and I’m coming from the history museum a few towns from here, these are FBI agents Clarcke and Johnson, wee need you to gave us a look about the ring of Rebbeca Bishop.

Getting the ring destroyed was hard, hard when the ghost was possessing Regina’s boddy and, boy she did everything in her power to stop you and the brothers to destroy it. You didn’t escape being hurt either, and when you arrived at your shared motel room Dean started to shout  while Same did go out to take some medicine for your shooted arm.

“What the hell were you thinkin Y/N ? Were you even thinking at all? You almost got killed! That’s why I don’t want you on our hunts, you always get hurt slowing us from everything!”

He yelled furiously and you flinched, that stung….actually that fucking hurt, you knew he couldn’t stand you, but you hoped maybe for some restrain from him but no….

“Why do you fucking care huh? It’s not like I’m your favorite person in the world, I didn’t expect you to get so rilled up about nothing! So I got shot, so what? Is my boddy not yours. “

You could see the fury in his green eyes, that sparkle that make your knees go weak, the sparkle that made you wanting to rip is clothes off and have your way with him.

“You are so fucking stupid Y/N…so stupid.”

“Excuse me…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, in a few big steps Dean was in front of you, his big and rough hands on your face and hair and you couldn’t say a thing, he was touching you, feeling you and you couldn’t say a damn thing, he was good, you needed to give him that.

“How could you not see that I was trying to protect you. I care about you ok?”

He whispered with his lips almost touching yours, it was an undescribible moment, the feeling he gave you…

You moaned and his lips crashed with yours letting you without breath, this kiss was everything you imagined and more, teeth touching, tongues dancing, your hands in his hair pulling him close, his hands on you waist this time, everything was perfect, unbelievable almost.

“There’s not going back now Winchester, you’re with me from now, I’m not going back to that school, I want to help you! “

The older brother sighed and took you in his arms, your head on his shoulder, you could feel his heat and that made you instantly sleepy.

“I wouldn’t dream about letting you go now, princess. “

[prettypaprika]

2016 Year in Fic

This year I wrote a lot (especially for me!) and wanted to take the opportunity to look back and see just exactly what I spent all that time doing…

STATS Fics: 14 Word Count: 91,174 (give or take)

Fandoms: 8 Star Wars: The Force Awakens: 4 Original: 4 (Although two of which were fake superhero, so not completely original) Misc: 6

Ships: 10 different ships m/m: 6 f/f: 2 m/f: 2 gen: 1 most written character: Poe Dameron and Finn most written ship: Poe/Finn (shocker) OVERALL:

Did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? In terms of words, absolutely! I’m a little bit in awe of just how many words I wrote this year, although I ended up doing two long fics for exchanges that pushed up the number. In terms of stories, less. Last year, I think I wrote 11 or 12 fics and thought I would write a lot more this year. But, I think that my most productive period last year was October/November and this year I was packing and moving during those two months, which really cut into my ability to write.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? Gen in Over the Garden Wall--I hadn’t even heard of this wonderful, amazing show in January. I think it’s also been years since I wrote anything truly gen, so that was definitely a surprise.

What’s your own favorite story of the year? I think that my Charlie/Adam Mighty Ducks fic, “@thatduckingcharlie” is my favorite. It evolved very naturally from a fake twitter quote about one of the characters to a whole story told through twitter. I had so much fun writing it and trying to figure out how tell a story from snippets of a public life. I also really enjoyed writing the two stories set in a rip-off superhero world, mainly because of all the bad jokes I got to make in those stories. My s2b2 story was also a blast–I took a lot of inspiration and spirit from one of my favorite movies, The Thin Man, and tried to translate that into a fun slash 1930s occult mystery.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? I like to think that I took some risks this year--I tried to diversify my style as well as write stories outside of my usual repertoire. I think that non-romance focused stories as still hard for me, but something that I’d like to keep working on. 

Do you have any fanfic goals for 2017? Maybe to finish and publish some of my random WIPs that are hiding on my computer. Survive the big bang that I signed up for. I would also like to write the original story that I spent about three months researching this year but wasn’t able to write in time for the s2b2 issue it would have been for. Write more in general!

Did you meet your goals from last year? No clue. Knowing me, I probably set goals that aren’t able to be easily measured and so would deem myself has having failed them.

BEST AND WORST:

My best story of the year: Stylistically, probably “@thatduckingcharlie” since it was told from an interesting perspective. Technically, I would probably say “Mystery in the Adirondacks”, which I wrote for s2b2′s October issue. I wanted to evoke the banter and gaiety of The Thin Man, because it’s a film that I’ve always thought had fantastic dialogue and atmosphere. At times it was difficult to convey that luminosity on paper, but, I think that the end product turned out well and I had an amazing artist, @beili, working with me who did breathtaking illustrations. 

My most popular story of the year: Kudos-wise, it’s “Barks and Recreation” for sure (it also wins in bookmarks). Kudos/hits ratio, I think it’s “Drowning in Our Blood” mainly because it’s in a super tiny fandom.

Story of mine that is most under-appreciated by the universe: “The Violators” which was a story I wrote for the Trick or Treat challenge that featured a superhero and supervillain that fall in love without knowing who the other when they first meet playing rec league hockey. Mainly, this was a story that I cracked myself up writing as I created ridiculous fake superheroes and supervillains. I also gave a lot of blood, sweat and tears for “This Story Does Not End With A Kiss” which was a modern retelling of the fairytale Kate Crackernuts, but it’s definitely a super tiny fandom, so I didn’t expect much attention.

Most fun story to write: Probably “@thatduckingcharlie”, because of the coming up with twitter handles and figuring out how to convey fights and confessions of love without outright saying anything was explicitly happening. Coming up with the dialogue in “Mystery in the Adirondacks” was also a blast.

Story with the single sexiest moment: Toss-up between “The Priestess of Divinity” featuring dubious consent between a priestess possessed by a god and the priestess’ loyal knight and “Mystery in the Adirondacks” with Hank and Jack finally getting together after having UST for the entire fic.

Most “oh um.... uh ok....” story: Probably the closest that I got was “The Priestess of Divinity” featuring dub con all around, divine possession during sex, a threesome and...more!

Story that shifted my perceptions of the characters: This is a hard one...how I think about characters constantly changes throughout every story I write. I think that “The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep” definitely changed my perception and understanding of how Over the Garden Wall functioned as a show and how difficult it is to balance between whimsicality, appropriateness for kids but also depth and darkness. Buuuut, I suppose the answer to the actual question asked would be “Yo Helga!” because it gave me a chance to explore Helga as a character not just in Hey Arnold! but also how her experiences would continue to affect her as an adult.

Biggest disappointment: Not getting to write my epic slash story set in the 70s about two actors in New York. I really wanted to write it in time for the December issue of s2b2 but training for a triathlon in the summer and moving in the fall decimated my free time.

Biggest surprise: Deciding to write two treats for the Trick or Treat Exchange (after not signing up) and writing for the October issue of s2b2. On a whim, I decided to write those stories all around the same time period and they were done fairly quickly.

Most unintentionally telling story: “The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep” definitely echoes some of the uncertainty that I feel in my own life, including my reluctance to change paths.

WIPs

untitled joseph liebgott/david webster big bang fic Joe followed David in and they both stood there for a few seconds in the entrance, awkwardly measuring each other up. Joe had been a skinny guy back in the day, army rations persistently unhelpful, but now he’d evened out a bit, muscle thicker in his arms and chest, making him less lanky and more wiry. He was paler than he’d been in the war; with a faint scar up above his left eyebrow and he was exactly as David had dreamed the other night. The resemblance was so complete, it took David’s breath away for one heart-hammering second. untitled dan/blair pregnancy fic Blair turned back to Dan and began taking off her coat to drape over a chair. “Well, you said that you wouldn’t move back to New York, so you only left me with one option.”

“One option—” Dan started and then stopped abruptly. Blair was wearing a very fashionable print wrap dress with black kitten heels. Dan would hazard a guess that the dress was probably Marc Jacobs or Gucci. The shoes, Alexander McQueen. But even clearer than Blair’s continued sartorial achievements was the fact that Blair was definitely, most certainly pregnant.

“Eleanor is embarrassed beyond belief that her only daughter is having a child out of wedlock. She is also no longer speaking to me since I refuse to tell her who the father is. Serena has promised to come out and help when I’m due, but I can’t exactly crash with her and her husband in Chicago,” Blair said, pronouncing Chicago like it was a bad word. To Blair, it probably was. 

untitled femslash mermaid story (based on this picture) When she'd been a young mermaid, every time that Adriane had gotten in trouble from skipping classes to hang out with the kelpies or learning to smoke from the selkies, her father would threaten to send her up one of the rivers where there were plenty of humans. "If you keep this up," he used to say. "They'll find you and skin you for your pelt and you'll deserve it."

untitled 28 days later fic The refugee camp is fucking depressing, which says a lot after having survived a rage virus pandemic. There are only a few hundred people in the camp. They’re told that several thousand people have been rescued since the United Kingdom and Ireland were quarantined and that the search is still ongoing, but the facts are pretty plain: tens of millions of people—entire villages, cities, metropolitan areas have been wiped out. Out of the seventy or so million people living in Great Britain and Ireland, maybe only seven or eight million remain.

On their second day in the camp, they find out that Hannah apparently has some distant family in Canada. The immigration officer comes to speak to Jim, Selena and Hannah in barely accented English about sending Hannah to live with her family, Hannah flatly says that she’ll kill herself if they separate her from Jim and Selena.

 “Jim and Selena are the only family that I have left,” Hannah says. “I’m not going anywhere without them except in a body bag.” 

untitled cinderella fic In the glimpses the woman-child had taken of her dance partner throughout the evening, a spectator watch a spark begin to deepen. It was one thing to abstractly know that such a life of luxury and wealth existed, but to have a taste—to have an intoxicating glimpse of lust and richness—there was no return from that knowledge.

Although the woman-child could not have identified the flame beginning to burn within her, her observer could. It was the deepest longing, the start of a desire that would go to the very core of the woman-child’s soul. A desire that, once it had taken root, would accept water at any cost so that it could grow.

RECS!

AT THE SAME STARS by spicyshimmy -- (Star Trek) Kirk/Spock with a Tarsus IV divergence. Such Great Heights by softlyforgotten - (HP) Draco/Harry EWE where Draco has a dragon. A Year and a Day in Old Theradane by Scott Lynch -- (Original) Amazing fantasy universe heist! Sixteen Days in September by Tevere -- (GenKill) Nate/Brad AU set during the 1999 East Timorese crisis The King’s Road by Tsukizubon Saruko -- (Original) Femslash utterly fantastic story of the kidnap and ransom of a noble daughter got a million ugly words for what you are by spock -- (Slow West) Silas/Payne pre-canon

(i make no guarantees regarding when these were written, only when I read them)

[whatsanartpocalae]

Here’s what I’ve got so far and now I want to write short stories for all of the characters:

Tome of Promised Dues

Concept:

Okay fuckers here’s what happened. Grandpa Mortismus Groff, was a fucking idiot. The kind of idiot who was super goddamn smart and good at getting his fingers into everything, trying to do research and learn as much as he could. He was part of an intellectual elite of 12 people,

1. Mortismus Groff – Deceased at 74 from self poisoning. After the birth of his two children, Molara vanished, leaving the two with their father. Mortismus returned five years later, unrecognizable and without any sign of transition. He was insubstantial in his children’s lives, too busy for them. Had many interests, many of which were terribly dark and lead to further darkness. (occult researcher)

2. Alanis Cantrin – Deceased at 47 of unknown causes. They spent much of their time in an in between state between life and death, returning from the brink with knowledge of the afterlife. They never married or had children, but were obsessed with spirits, ghosts, and death. Ran a salon for séances. (paranormal investigator)

3. Bathal Ismarris – Presumed deceased at 62. Intrinsic knowledge of witchcraft, having been raised by a black witch, she dedicated her life to white magic. A healer and herbalist, she had a young son who she also taught the arcane too, although he could never do any of it. She lived in the clinic that she ran but she and the building have gone missing.  (white witch)

4. Carthall Mizmystir – They made their living as a stage magician, even though they were the real thing. Having made connections with those on the other side of the veil, their magic was powerful, but restrained by their own desire for showmanship. They haven’t aged in the past 12 years.  (magician)

5. Erinmar Lorinsmith –Deceased at 37 through absorption.  Twin of Fendar, these two were inseparable.  They studied natural anomalies, birth defects, bodies gone wrong. They were always touching until they couldn’t stop. They were very scientific, very clean, and all of their information was valuably and specifically kept. (medical alchemist)

6. Fendar Lorinsmith – Twin of Erinmar, the two heavily relied on autopsy and biopsy. Many of their findings were considered fabricated by the scientific community but were accepted as truth by their peers. Fendar was found alone, covered in blood, their sibling missing, and has been institutionalized ever since. (paranormal mortician)

7. Gashindrish Alisnisarani – presumed deceased at 55. Was a psychiatrist who had lost his job, made a laughing stock for his findings in the connections between some of his patients and the occult. There had been an uprising in fae infection that had spread through his office to his patients, feeding off of mental illness and acting as a new one within. (psychiatrist)

8. Harmisha Mamins – deceased at 18 from an acute aneurism. The youngest member of their elite, she had terrible headaches and visions. She went to them as a subject, hoping they could cure her, and they had just helped her open up to her abilities. She was precognitive and telepathic, able to read both the living and the dead. (Medium)

9. Norina Tillans – Has dealt with demons throughout her life, after the “mysterious” death of her parents. She used her connections to make pacts and get her own transition completed. She was ruthless and odd, had a hard time connecting with others. She has not aged past 36. (Demonologist)

10. Reidans Gormsa  - set up shop reading people’s dreams. Their shop was the largest place and, while the others believed them to be a fake at first, they were accepted into their space to use it as a meeting place. They soon found them to be the real thing, when they started to predict things that would happen in their lives from their dreams. They still run the shop but now with their daughter Perntasia.  (Dreamologist)

11. Sithelra orlands – Retired at 68. A traveling monster hunter under the guise of a priest, he found his way to protect people through invitation. He was invited into their group by the twins, when some of their pieces came back together after autopsy. He was the most likely to be possessed himself. (Exorcist)

12. Terhasn Hioenhas – Deceased at 78 of unknown causes. Had visited all of the darkest corners of the world, deep in the gnarled cracks of the most dank and disturbing. Studied the similarities between different forms of the occult. Did so out of curiosity instead of the ability to see the spiritual without aid. (international spiritualist)

All with their own skills and intelligencies. They worked together on translating ancient texts and testing the limits between our world and others. There were prophecies read and trivialized, demons summoned and chastised. Basically they did a lot of shit that they were not supposed to do, all in the desire for more information and more power. Luckily prophecies are crap and all that but they did do some shit that made a prophecy all of its own. Mortismus got in a bunch of shit with this demon, Shdiefrlajsena: The Allotted Death of the Last Stars, summoning them and having it run a huge fucking rampage that set in motion the end of the world. Mortismus and “friends” went after it, trying to stop it and, ultimately, failing. Those who had summoned STADOTLS did not have the power to send it back, thanks to contractual obligations written into the summoning instructions. They do their best, trap STADOTLS and make it so that they cant do too much damage until the grandchild with the wrong eye comes to age and can send the demon back and stop the world from ending. This grandchild is, of course, the main character of this story.  Mortismus spent the rest of his life setting things up so that everything would run smoothly, so that our hero could make the connections necessary, as well as gain the tools needed, in order to fight STADOTLS.

playlist

[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan Chapter 4: The Return of the Winchester Boys

I only had two classes the next day. After answering a few questions my first year students had about the next assignment, I started off toward home. Pulling my cell phone out as I adjusted my bag across my shoulders I saw I had multiple missed calls and voicemails blinking at me. Damn it.

I listened as the messages played through.

“Tali, fuck, he’s gone.” Dean? “Sam’s gone. I woke up in the motel and he wasn’t here, he hasn’t come back, and he’s not answering his cell. Do you still think it was a good idea to tell him?” Shit. “Call me if you hear from him, please. Maybe he’ll turn to you for- shit I don’t know.”

A few toss away calls from other hunters telling me the research I gave them had panned out. I waited through those, and then, Ellen Harvelle’s voice came on.

“Tali, call me, immediately.” That was it. The message. Cryptic. Short. Fuck.

I clicked on the Roadhouse's number in my recent missed call list and waited as it rang. “Roadhouse.” She barked on the other end and I smiled.

“Ellen?” I heard shuffling in the background of her call. And then she was back. “What’s going on?”

“Tali, I promised not to call Dean, but damn it, someone has to let him know.” A flash of fear ran through me. Shit. “Sam Winchester is here, and he’s not acting right.”

I snorted, when had a Winchester man ‘acted right’? “I’ll give Dean the heads up.” I waited, because Ellen sighed. “Is there more?”

“He’s asking Ash some questions, research questions and they aren’t-” Shit. He went to Ash instead of me. Fuck.

“What has Ash told him?” I asked, walking up my porch steps. Ash was a great researcher, but he wasn’t known for always putting as much forethought in his answers as he could. She whispered what she’d heard so far and I sighed. Fuck fuck fuck. “Great. Thanks for telling me, Ellen.” I promised to call her that I’d call Dean and she also made me promise to let her know if Jo contacted me.

“Postcards aren’t enough,” she whispered and I nodded as I opened my front door. “Damn hunting genes. Why couldn’t all our kids turn out like you?” I grinned despite my fear for Sam.

“Because everyone else wants to follow in their hero's shoes, Ellen.” I sighed as I closed the door behind me. “Let me know if anything else pops up.”

We said our goodbyes. And I was still leaning against my front door as I contemplated my choices. Call Dean first, letting him know where Sam was and why, or call Sam and see if he picked up? Sam won this round.

I hit the number that Dean had given me ‘just in case’. I was shocked when he answered. “Tali.” Damn it, didn’t any of these people know how to say ‘hello’? “You doing Dean’s dirty work now?”

I rolled my eyes. “You could have left him a note.” I answered, figuring we were far past the pleasantries. “You’re making me look bad, Sam.”

“How?” I started moving into my house. Tossing my bag, walking to the kitchen for a drink. Walking home was thirsty work.

“I pushed him to tell you, and he does, and what do you do? Run the fuck away. How the fuck does someone your fucking size sneak out of a motel room?” I shook my head as I studied the contents of my fridge. “Fucking Winchester men.” I muttered, as I pulled out a can of soda.

I heard his chuckle and rolled my eyes. “We’re a bunch aren’t we?” He sighed. “I need to know-”

“So you rushed off to Ash?” I popped the top of my can and took a drink. “I’m fucking hurt, Sam. After all, I have a fucking doctorate in this shit.” I leaned against the counter and shut my eyes. “He’s scared, Sam. He lost- You both lost-” I stopped, feeling that same piercing pain that I guess was permanent anytime I thought of John.

“Tali,” Sam’s voice was a breath. “We ALL lost Dad. Me, Dean, YOU.” I felt the tears burning again, but fought them. “I just need to know-” I heard him take a deep breath. “I need to know he didn’t die in vain.”

“Oh, Sam.” I sighed and opened my eyes. “John wouldn’t think that dying for one of you was in vain, no matter what he had to do to save either of you.” I took another sip of my drink and considered my next words. “I have to tell him, Sam.”

“I know.” He sounded resigned. “Did he ask you to-”

“To tattle?” He snorted and I smiled. “Of course.”

“No, to look into what Dad told him,” his voice was back to whispering. “Why would Dad make a deal with old Yellow Eyes?”

I swallowed the sip I’d taken as he asked. “Yes.” I wasn’t a Winchester, I didn’t need to hone my communication skills. “He asked, and I did. If you come visit, WITH Dean I’ll give you what I found.” I was bargaining. I didn’t care.

“I can’t make you a promise just yet, Tali, there’s something-” He inhaled loud enough for me to hear it. “Something’s wrong here, and I have to take care of it first.”

“Fine, but you can expect a visit from Dean soon.” I didn’t say goodbye, he’d pissed me off by being JUST like the other two. Damn them all.

I finished my soda and clicked on Dean’s number. I swear it barely rang once. Fuck. “He’s with Ellen.” Hell, no one ever said ‘hello’ to me, might as well get on the wagon with these dickheads. “He’s asking Ash for research into the demon you all were hunting. And he says he can’t promise to come to me for MY research into the same Yellow Eyed asshole.”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes at his voice. Sure, NOW you say ‘hello’. “I’ll head to the Roadhouse now, I was heading in that direction anyway.” I expected him to hang up, but he was apparently feeling chatty. “How was your day?” I pulled my cell away from my face and stared at it, trying to see if I’d dialed Dr. Phil by accident. Nope, Dean Winchester.

“Fine, I guess.” What the literal hell? “Yours?” I rolled my eyes at the question. “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

He chuckled. “It’s lookin’ up, thanks to you.” I heard the noise of his driving, the music in the background. “How many classes did you have today?”

Seriously? What? “Two.” I walked to my desk, and watched out my windows at the mailman sliding envelopes in the mailbox across the street. “I have the research ready for you guys.” It was printed up and sitting in front of me. “Get Sam, come here and MAYBE we can talk him down from the ledge.”

“Will do, Tali.” The way he said my name, why did it sound so much like John? I felt my heart clench. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart. Bye.”

“Bye.” And then the call ended and I wondered what the fuck I was doing?

 Hours later, after a rousing round of paper grading and lunch, I felt the fear blossoming inside me again. I pushed it down. I picked up another pack of class papers, and thought about dinner as I took up my red pen.

I was in bed, once again having stayed up far too late trying to tell myself that the pit of fear that felt heavy in my stomach was just a normal reaction to being around hunters. I ignored the tiny voice in the back of my head that was trying to remind me that I’d only worried this much about three hunters in my life. My parents and John, that fucking pain flashed through me again. I forced the nervous feeling down.

Sleep finally gripped me and I tried, even in my dreams to make the fear go away.

The ringing of my phone tore me out of my dream. A dream where I was tossing every possible tidbit of information that I knew about every single fucking occult situation ever, but nothing was working. I had to stand paralyzed as I watched John, then Dean, then Sam burn away from in front of my eyes. Impotent to stop a shadow with bright yellow eyes destroying the three Winchesters as I watched.

I was grabbing around the nightstand, trying to find the ringing phone in the dark, but I missed the call. Fuck. I slapped around working on finding the switch for the lamp, and then it finally clicked on, blinding me even with my eyes still shut. Fuck. As my hand took up the phone, blinking my eyes to try to focus on the fucking screen, it rang again startling me and making me drop it in the wrinkles of my tangled blankets. God Fucking Damn it.

I found it before the caller could hang up again. But then, for fuck’s sake, no one said anything. Are you fucking serious? All this for a heavy breather? “Hello?” I growled, my voice rough from sleep.

“Tali?” Sam? I blinked again, trying to focus. “Tali, we’re heading your way. Uh, is that alright?”

“Yeah,” I pulled my phone from my ear, and forced my eyes to pay attention to the time. Four o’clock, well that was marginally better than the last time. Fuck. “Yeah, it’s fine. When,” A yawn overwhelmed me. “When can I expect you?”

“Um, now?” Shit. Are you kidding me? “We’re outside your house.” Ugh. Of course they were.

“Yeah, give me a few-” I looked down at myself, what had I worn to bed? “The spare key is hidden in the rock beside the steps, the one that looks like a star.” I hung up and untangled myself from the blankets and took a look in my floor length mirror. Ah, shorts and a t-shirt. Thank goodness for that. I heard my front door open and the sounds of their boots on my hardwoods. My hair, well that was a lost cause at this point without a fucking shower and hair product. “Hey!” I called, walking to the open bedroom door and took in how fucking exhausted they both looked. Fuck, what happened?

“Tali,” Sam ducked his head as awkward as always. Dean’s eyes were locked on me and I suddenly felt far too under dressed. Fuck.

“You both look like shit.” I offered, and went to the hallway linen closet. “I have one spare room, and there’s ONE daybed.” I was pulling out blankets when I felt the warmth of a body behind me. I turned, arms loaded with a spare pillow and a few blankets and nearly smacked right into Dean. “Um, damn.” I sighed, and he grinned down at me.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he wasn’t being loud. In fact, I doubted that Sam could hear him down the hallway, but I heard him loud and clear. Fuck. “One daybed?”

I nodded, and pushed the pillow and blankets into his arms. “Yeah, your short ass will fit, but Sam would be a tight fit.” Without the blankets and pillows in front of me, I became painfully aware that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Damn it. “He can have the couch.” I finished lamely, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Do you have classes later?” I shook my head, he’d lost track of the days apparently.

"It's Saturday.” I started forward, but between his broader shoulders, the bulk of the linen in his arms, and the fact that he’d planted himself dead center in the hallway, I couldn’t pass him. “Let’s go give Sam his bed things, and I’ll show you to the guest room.”

“I could just bunk down with you,” he started and I flinched. “Then Sam could have the spare, and you wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him when we get up.” Shit. Fuck. Was I imagining the fucking dare in his offer? If I said no, if I brushed it off and forced the issue would he assume I couldn’t control myself with him? Damn it.

“Or,” I countered, “Sam could bunk down with me, since my bed’s bigger and he’d fit there better. And you could have the guest room, and no one has to tiptoe at all.”

“Sam’s a light sleeper.” He shot back. “Wakes up at the slightest noise. You go to leave that bed, sweetheart, and up he comes. Back to tiptoeing around the giant.” Fuck. Was his eyes twinkling?

I sighed. “Are you possessed?” I squinted up at him. “Should I squirt you with Holy water?”

His laugh belied the exhaustion that seemed to roll off of him. “Squirt me?”

I reached beside him on the hallway table and picked up a squirt bottle that looked like Windex. “This,” and pinching the trigger I shot him in the cheek. “Isn’t glass cleaner.” And I was sad to see it didn’t sizzle. Shit. “I keep it disguised in this bottle with a little blue food coloring, just in case.”

He swiped the drips away. “Fuck,” he was fighting a glare. “Do you really think that I’d have to be possessed to ask to sleep in your bed?”

“No.” I answered, and his smile came back. “I thought you had to be possessed because you sounded like you were a law student, and that’s Sam’s deal.” I put the bottle back in its spot. “Fine. You can bunk with me.” His grin grew wider. “If your hand crosses the invisible border, then I will fucking bite it off.” The smile dropped. “Now take those to Sam and the guest room is at the other end of the hall.” I pointed at the closed door and he shot it a look. “The bathroom is next to it.” I was NOT sharing my bathroom with his smug ass. “I’m going back to bed.”

I settled into my bed after untangling the covers and sheets, remaking the bed a bit so Dean and I wouldn’t have to play tug-of-war for dominance. I laid back down, fluffing my pillow and fixing my cell so it could charge again and waited for him to come in so I could turn off my lamp.

When he crossed the threshold, he’d already gotten rid of his coat and boots. And was down to his jeans, undershirt, and button down. I waited for him to take in his surroundings, fucking hunters and their need to assess the dangers in every situation. His hands went to his belt and I felt my eyes widen.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His eyes met mine and he winked. He fucking winked.

“Getting ready for bed, sweetheart.” And then he tugged his belt open and the jeans were off. Damn it. “What?” Another challenge.

“Not a single tiny little thing.” I rolled over so I was facing the lamp and window. “Let me know when you’re settled and I’ll turn off the lamp.”

The bed dipped not long after I saw his jeans hit the floor. “I’m ready, sweetheart.” I felt the blankets shift a bit, and his sigh of contentment as he got comfortable on the pillow.

I reached over and turned off the lamp, knowing that we wouldn’t have long of darkness and thanking God that I’d hung black out curtains a few months earlier. “Night, Dean.” I whispered into the darkness.

“Goodnight, Tali.” His voice, in the dark, was near enough to John’s to make my heart twist.

 I woke up wrapped around a warm body. I smiled, cuddling closer, smelling the familiar scent of John Winchester filling my senses. It HAD been a horrible nightmare. John was safe and sound and holding me tight against him. I felt his lips brush the top of my hair and his gruff chuckle vibrate against my cheek.

“Guess I should be happy you crossed that invisible border and not me, sweetheart.” FUCK. The voice, close but not close enough. “Does this mean I get to bite into you?”

Damn it. I pushed myself away, even if he was warm and smelled amazing. Dean Winchester was NOT John Winchester. And that meant that I hadn’t dreamed of his death, that he was gone, and I had allowed myself to crawl all over his son. Ugh, Tali, what the hell?

“Sorry about that.” I felt a blush burning my face. “Can’t control where I curl when I sleep.” I brushed my hair out of my face. “You think Sam’s up yet?”

“Tali,” Dean’s voice sounded pained. “You don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I do.” I got out of bed and picked up my cell phone. “I’ll get breakfast started, even if it is lunchtime.” I was gone before he could say another word.