#to all the people who have been kind enough to draw ellen in the past thank you so very much for bringing my oc to life!

[mediumgayitalian]

part one

— — —

Reyna meets them right inside the borders, arms open wide the second she catches Nico’s eye. He leaves the rest of his friends to argue with Terminus – Nico stopped listening very quickly – and sprints right to her, nearly bowling her over with his enthusiasm. She laughs, holding her ground, but wraps her arms so tightly against him, squeezing, and she smells like wool and sunshine and her clementine shampoo, and just barely, chocolate. 

“I missed you,” he whispers into her shoulder, and instead of responding she just holds him tighter. 

Sometimes touch makes his skin crawl – hardly, anymore, with how touchy his friends are. Sometimes he has to remind himself that a hand on his shoulder is friendly, not trying to restrain him, that whatever annoying person who is ruffling his hair is fond of him, not mocking.

He doesn’t have to remind himself of anything with Reyna. Her touch is familiar. Her hold means safety, her hold means I watched out for you, kid, and never stopped. Her touch feels like Bianca’s, like someone who has seen him at his worst and angriest and not only loves him but respects him. 

“Hazel’s riding Arian,” she says, clearing her throat and reluctantly pulling away. 

Nico swipes quickly at his face and pretends he doesn’t want to tuck himself right back under her chin. (He is happy with his choice. Despite what he expected, he loves Camp Half-Blood. It’s home, now, in a way Camp Jupiter was never going to be. But his sisters – both of them – are his home, too, and it aches something horrid being away from them for so long.)

“Frank’s trying to chase after her, but he’s running out of fast animals, so it might be a minute.”

Nico cracks up at that image. It was clearly Reyna’s intention, because she grins, and continues, “He tried to dive after her as a falcon when they were running along the Bay, but he missed and nearly drowned himself. Or so claim the rumours, Kahale has been watching from the towers for the past hour at least.”

“Thank you for this. I’ve run out of things to give him shit for, lately, I needed that.”

“Anytime.” She flicks her gaze over at his crew of dumbasses, who have not, in fact, managed past the border in the ten or so minutes since Nico ditched. In fact, their whining and arguing is drawing a bit of a crowd. 

Or maybe that’s Leo and Lou Ellen, who have given up trying to get through and are amusing themselves by making a mini firework show. Will seems to be the only one still actually arguing with Terminus, long arms flailing as he tries to convince the god to let them in. (Well, one arm is flailing. The other is clenched in the back of Cecil’s shirt, preventing him from running off to do Zeus knows what). Piper is next to him, possibly by virtue of charming their way in, but she appears to be occupied with teaching Kayla and Austin some kind of clapping game. 

“We should probably go collect your circus.”

“I mean, we could also walk away,” Nico offers, even as he follows her towards them. “They’re capable people.” He pauses, thinking back to the sheer number of rest stops they were kicked out of on the way here. “Kind of.” And fast food restaurants. “Mostly.” And, notably, one public park. “Well, whatever. I’m sure they can figure themselves out. If we go to the cafe now, we’ll have hot chocolate to rub in Cecil’s face by the time they finally argue their way in.”

Reyna says nothing, although her mouth twitches. “Terminus,” she calls, when they’re close enough. All the squabbling and fireworks and general ruckus stops as everyone turns to look at her. “These are friends, who have come to visit. Why are they being detained?”

“Detained?!” Will squawks. “Try held hostage!”

“Back in my day you’d be whipped for your attitude, boy, why I should –”

“Oh, go ahead, Bucky Barnes, I’m real scared –”

“Your man is going to get himself smited,” Reyna comments.

Nico sighs. “He gets himself almost smited a lot, actually.” It takes him a moment to clock the entirety of Reyna’s sentence, in which time her smile becomes evil and Nico’s face matches the hue of Apollo’s sun cows. “And he’s not my man! Why would you say that! What does that even m –”

“Terminus,” Reyna says again, visibly snickering, “this group has my permission to enter the borders.”

Terminus grumbles, but he knows better to defy her. There’s a brief shimmer to the air, and then the seven of them scamper inside before Terminus changes his mind.

“What have we come to,” Terminus mutters. Will sticks his tongue out behind his head.

As the group follows Reyna and Nico towards the city, Nico squeezes her hand once and ducks back to join Will, who is still pouting. He couldn’t help his smile if he tried.

“What happened to civil relationships, Mr Diplomacy?”

“It’s not my fault!” Will cries. Nico ducks slightly to avoid his hand before he’s smacked in the face – he’s gotten smacked enough times by Will’s dramatic gesturing to become well-used to avoiding it. “I was polite, I requested entry, I had our papers, he was just a dick!”

“I think you maybe just don’t get out enough,” he says, biting the corner of his mouth to keep from laughing. It’s hard, because Will’s eye genuinely twitches. “I think Chiron was right, man. You need to be re-socialised.”

He can’t quite keep his shoulders from shaking as Will’s jaw clenches. It’s just – he is so so easy to wind up. He really is. The second you learn what buttons to push, they’re big and bright red and begging to be abused. Nico didn’t get it in the summer – but by November, he was exchanging looks with Cecil, of all people, and snickering every time they made Will stomp out of the pavilion. 

(It has, of course, nothing to do with the way his face scrunches when he glowers, or the way his blue eyes go dark and a little bit furious and a lot bit sexy. Nothing to do with the growl in his voice when he bites out “I swear to all that is holy, di Angelo,” and shudders zap up Nico’s spine. Obviously. It’s just funny.)

Will opens his mouth – no doubt to let loose a string of insults that would make Mr. D. blush – but before he can let Nico have it, a flash streaks in front of them, and a second later a gust of wind bowls them both over with a yelp.

“Nico!”

Groaning, Nico tries to stand, but finds that he can’t. He glances up and meets Will’s eyes, milimeters from his own, and goes so brightly scarlet that he can hear Reyna’s sharp bark of “Ha!” before she clamps her hand over her mouth to keep her dignity. 

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains, but the effect is significantly lessened when his voice cracks – no lie – thirteen separate times.

Cupid, he thinks, as loudly and pointedly as he can, kill yourself.

“I’m not that heavy,” Will grumbles, getting petulantly to his feet and immediately tripping over the world’s smallest pebble. Nico covers his face and screams, very quietly, just a little. When he finally manages to drag his hands away from his eyes, the face of his sister hovers over him, grinning wickedly, dark eyes glinting.

“Wow,” she whistles, at least having the decency to keep her voice down, “Piper wasn’t kidding. You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” he says halfheartedly. “Just – leave me to die.”

She laughs, and Nico smiles on reflex, because she sounds like twinkling gold bangles on a waving arm. He accepts her hand up and laces them together, squeezing gently. Her smile widens further when he leans over and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“It’s good to see you, bella. Even if you’re mean to me.”

She knocks their heads together gently. “You just make it so easy. You should try not swooning into his arms whenever he so much as smiles at you, it would help your image –”

“My image is fine –”

“ – and I heard something about a sleepover? Unsupervised? In cabin 13 –”

“That was greatly exaggerated! We passed out playing –”

“ – can’t forget the time he laughed so hard he snorted and you walked into a wall and broke your nose –”

“You weren’t even there for that! No one was! How do you –”

“Dear, dear brother,” she says, patting his head patronizingly. He's appalled with himself for leaning into the touch. “There is not a soul – living or dead – that doesn’t know about it. I was IMed by four separate people an hour after it happened.”

“I’m leaving,” Nico announces abruptly. He turns back towards the van. “I’m going back to Dad, I’m literally never leaving my bedroom again –”

“Oh, no you don’t.” She hauls him back after the rest of the group, a few yards ahead of them, still grinning. “Let’s go, Nick Gatsby. I want to watch Aeliana’s eye twitch as a vanful of noisy Greek teenagers cause a ruckus in her restaurant.”

— — —

part three

#ill post this all in one go when im done #i just cant stay up till dawn writing again 💀💀 i got work tmrw #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #solangelo #will/nico #hazel levesque #nico di angelo & hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico di angelo & reyna avila ramirez arellano #nico & hazel #nico & reyna #pining nico #my writing #longpost #fic #fluff

[milkybishop]

i commissioned this piece from @lokh years ago now and i still love how they drew ellen sm and her laugh makes me so happy

#not my art #lokh #that's the last of the pieces i have commissioned of ellen! (for now...there is another in the works) #to all the people who have been kind enough to draw ellen in the past thank you so very much for bringing my oc to life! #to the ones who draw her in the future i will bestow upon you the remaster screencaps i am about to get

[gunterfan1992]

Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

[thewitchis-lucky]

hA I haven't been feeling well; but here's a post about my experience working with Vual!!

INTRODUCTION

“FALLEN ANGEL and 47th of the 72 SPIRITS OF SOLOMON. Once a member of the angelic order of powers, Vual is a duke in HELL with 37 LEGIONs of DEMONs under his command. He appears first as an enormous dromedary camel, then changes into human form and speaks in imperfect Egyptian. He procures the love of women; knows the past, present, and future; and makes enemies become friends.”-p.g281 The Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology(Rosemary Ellen Guiley).

Other names:

Uvall

Voval

Rulerships:

Vual rules over many things. But mainly he rules over things that relate to communication; for example, he’s known to rule over: ancient languages, clarity of mind, deep thought, divination, romantic attraction, and restoration of bonds(friendly or otherwise).

There are a few rules regarding working with him:

Be polite.

Just like with any other deity; Vual requires respect. If you are disrespectful(i.e calling him a nickname, or a b!tch, or anything else like that), he will leave and never return to you.

Respect yourself.

Although Vual is extremely patient; he has no problem checking you into your place. If you are disrespectful towards yourself in his presence; he will remind you of who you are, and what you deserve from everyone. Including yourself.

His History:

When the tyrant god, Jehovah, usurped the Throne of the Universe and punished the gods who had opposed him, many were immediately banished to Hell, the land of torment. However, some deities were taken and split in half as punishment. This is what happened with the god Khonsu (god of the moon), whose other half became Vual. After this, Khonsu remained with the Egyptians but Vual left and joined the kingdom of Hell that is ruled by Leviathan (the other two kingdoms are ruled by Lucifer and Satan). Here, Vual was efficient and trustworthy enough to become one of the military commanders as a Duke.

Elements and offerings:

His Elements are *Akasha and Air. Feel free to give him offerings of dry red wine, veal, camel meat, goat meat, eggs (chicken or ostrich), dates, bitter oranges, lanterns, ostrich feathers, fine-quality blank journals (especially with intricate covers), fountain pens, quills, graphite or black urns (with golden rims), pyramid figurines, art nouveau, secretaire desks, antique leather armchairs, mandrake, ivy, weeping willow, mahogany, ebony, morion quartz, dark amethyst, garnet, tigers eye, elongated pebbles (not flat), bronze-gold cloth or silk, old silver coins (the older the better), obsidian mirrors, floating wick lamps, small dark-green jewelry bags (transparent), Egyptian-styled incense (Eye of Horus, etc). If for nothing else; I also found that he accepts intricate drawings of Dromedaries.

*Akasha: “Akasha or Akash means space or sky or æther in traditional Indian cosmology, depending on the religion. The term has also been adopted in Western occultism and spiritualism in the late 19th century. In many modern Indo-Aryan languages and Dravidian languages the corresponding word retains a generic meaning of "sky".”(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akasha)

His Teachings & What he can do:

Vual will assist you in your divinatory practices, he may also  help with learning ancient languages, and he might even help you achieve mental clarity while learning about anything!  Another specialty of his is reforming relationships* of all kinds!

*Although some may argue that he only reforms/creates loving relationships only, he will advise against creating/reforming a loving relationship(in my experience), if there is 1. No reciprocation of feelings, or 2. The relationship ended in flames. He is a caring deity; and wants nothing but the best for those who work with him.

Personality:

Vual’s personality is like having your moon sign in your twelfth house. On the surface, he may seem cold, analytical, studious, introspective, or even closed off. He has a strong dislike towards loud noises, and unruliness. As he much prefers order and peaceful atmospheres! He often supports the usage of reasoning and logic, but may indulge in speaking of his inspirations and desires. Vual deeply appreciates elaborate art, landmarks of majesty and grandeur, traveling alone, effort put into learning, and the pursuit of knowledge put over physical strength or social graces.

The people Vual tends to value are mystics, magic users, and scholars. He hates humorous jokes being made towards him or being treated in derogatory ways (if you call him a nickname, he will leave and not return). With those whom he appreciates, Vual is steadfast and enjoys assisting them in their paths.

Thanks for reading this far!! And I'm super duper sorry for the inactivity!!! I'll try my best to be more active!

Have a wonderful day and stay safe!!

#demonology #pagan witch #baby witch #lesbian witch #advanced witchcraft #witches #witchblr #witch community #magick #witchery #witchythings #lgbtq witch #wlw witch #wlw community

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-7)

Word count: 5K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels... like a lot of them ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​​ You da best <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

14th August 2008

It was the third time you were looking into the mirror, straightening the pleats of your dress and smoothening your hair. It absolutely refused to behave today. 

“Y/N!” Jo yelled from downstairs. “Sam’s here!”

Your heart beat reacted to the news before the rest of your body. You stared numbly at the reflection in the mirror and it stared back at you stupidly.

Sighing, you picked up the coat which you had washed and pressed, and folded it on your arm.

Sam met you at the base of the staircase just like the last time. 

“You-” he started to say; in your nervousness you cut him off. “I’m just gonna tell aunt El and Jo that we’re heading out.”

Your aunt was at the table chopping onions and Jo was grinning at you widely over the top of her book.

Ellen smiled, “Have a great time,” she said, then a little louder. “You have her home by ten, Samuel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam made a big deal out of bowing.

Jo winked at him and mouthed ‘hot stuff,’ which you weren’t supposed to see but did anyway and blushed.

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Sam opened the door to his brother’s car for you.

“There’s really only one good place in the town,” he said apologetically. “Dean felt so bad about it that he even lent me the Impala. That way I can at least notch up some impression.”

You laughed and he gave you a winning look. The sort of look one would have on their face if they came across a twenty dollar bill out of the blue.

“How’re you holding up?” He asked, averting his eyes from the road just for a bit to look at you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, honestly. “I miss her awfully, and I feel lost sometimes, though the more I think about it, the more I feel relieved that she passed away peacefully and painlessly.”

She had been happy till the last day of her life, and you were trying to draw some peace out of that. Gran would have wanted you to.

“Here,” You handed him his coat, as you stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant. It was the same one that he had offered you on the day of the average birthday. You had never gotten around to return it.

Sam didn’t take it. “You hold on to it a little longer for me,” he said with a cryptic smile.

The restaurant was crowded, as was expected out of a Saturday night. The hostess met you at the door and when Sam gave her his name, she led you to a corner table. Sam pulled your chair for you like a true gentleman and then nudged the menu towards you.

You took a look at it, ordering the first thing that appeared familiar; some type of red sauce pasta. The table had lovely roses in a vase, with water sprinkled on them like dews. Underneath the vase and over the table was an expensive looking lace tablecloth. 

“You’re very quiet,” Sam said after a while. “What’re you thinking?”

“This,” you gestured towards the table in front of you and the restaurant in general. “I’ve never done this before.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

He really didn’t know. “I come from a small town, Sam. We didn’t have fancy restaurants there. Just one crappy diner and few take outs, and I’ve lived there all my life. In fact, the only few times I went to a city was to Topeka; once with Aunt El when I was thirteen and then a couple of times with a neighbour, to help my Gran with some bakery stuff. I’ve just never been to a fancy restaurant before.”

It baffled you that Sam even wanted to date someone like you who knew so little about the world, when he had been to Stanford and then to Yale and New York. What could he possibly hope to find in common with you? 

You were expecting him to look at you funnily. Instead, you found wonder in his eyes. 

“Yet, you wanted to apply to universities so far away?”

You looked down at where his hands lay on the table, and nervously placed yours over his. At first his hand jerked, as if he hadn’t expected it, but then flattened against the table top, allowing you to cover it with yours.

“My dad was a lawyer,” you said. “First person from that town to ever actually get out and get a degree, and Gran was so proud of him. I don’t remember much, but I remember him getting smartly dressed in the morning and mom picking a tie for him and tying it around his neck. Every morning she would do that, and every morning he would swoop her in his arms and kiss her.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you quickly jerked your hand back. Sam looked bereft at the loss of contact. He didn’t press you for conversation though. 

The spaghetti was good; mouthwateringly so and you worried about how much it cost. You wanted to split for the dinner, and there was just so much money you had. You were hoping that the food wasn’t so expensive that you wouldn’t be able to pay. Sam had ordered what looked like a somewhat unappealing salad. You wanted to offer him your spaghetti but weren’t sure if that was against the etiquette.

Uhhggg curses to the small town upbringing. You knew nothing about this sort of thing, or even how to talk to boys. Maybe telling them on the first date about how woefully limited your knowledge was of the world was actually a bad idea.

You were hell-bent on making it worse.

“When I said I’ve never done this before,” you said slowly, rolling the fork in your spaghetti. “I also meant that I’ve never been on a date before.”

“What?” His fork clattered into the bowl, the shock clear on his face. 

Maybe now you had done it. You still wanted to clear it up. “I just- I don’t want you to think I’m super cool or something, when I’m not,” you stressed. “I don’t want you to have any expectations from me that I won’t be able to live up to.”

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s not like that. I’m just surprised that I’m lucky enough to be the first person who had actually managed to convince you into going out with him. Can’t say I’m feeling too sorry about all the poor souls who didn’t get the chance.” He grinned. 

He was just so good with words. It did relieve you of some of your worry. 

“Seriously,” he insisted. “Please don’t think that. All week I was worrying if you had changed your mind.”

How could you not think like that? He was the male model adonis type, from the big city and you were just so inexperienced. Sure a couple of guys in high school had asked you out, but no one had ever appealed to you the way Sam had. There was just something about him that was reassuring, like he would never break your heart. Like nothing could ever go wrong when he was around. When he was gone, however, the worry that he didn’t feel the same way about you started to seep in.

You ate the rest of your dinner quietly, feeling a bit stupid. Way to ruin your first date. 

Afterwards, Sam absolutely denied splitting the bill even when you insisted. You noticed that he also tipped the waiter well.

You were upset with yourself as you walked out of the restaurant. After dreaming for days about how amazing it would be to finally go out with Sam, you had gone ahead and made a mess of it. Worrying about what must be going on in his mind, you turned towards the parking lot.

“Hey, you mind if we walk back?” Sam asked in an unsure voice. “Dean’s close-by and he always keeps a set of keys, he’ll drive the car back home.”

“Sure.”

It was cold outside, and the thin-strapped dress you were wearing was not helping with the wind at all. So you unrolled Sam’s coat and pulled it over, regretting that unlike the last time, it wasn’t smelling like him. He saw you rolling the sleeves up and smirked.

As you stepped onto the pavement, Sam offered you his hand and you took it gladly. Maybe the whole evening wasn’t ruined.

“Sorry I’m making you walk,” Sam confessed. “I didn’t want the night to end just yet. I feel like I’ve been a terrible date tonight.”

What? 

“I had a great time!” You protested.

“Did you? Really?” He looked chagrined. “I am still being terrible. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked the moment I saw you on the stairs; I didn’t. In fact you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I didn’t tell you that, either.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. This felt unreal… not just because of his words, but because of how dazed he sounded.

“That’s not the only reason why I like you though,” Sam said hurriedly, as if he was scared of offending you. “It’s because you are one of the bravest people I know. Seeing you hold yourself at your Grandmother’s funeral, after losing everything… It was the hardest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

You had stopped walking. The two of you were simply standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands interlocked.

“And you’re so bright, so ambitious. Despite every shit hand that you’ve been dealt, you want to make something of your life. You have goals and a desire to prove yourself. How could I not want to be with you?” His eyes were melting, and so were you inside.

“Beyond that, you are kind and patient,” he said. “And I never told you any of it. I thought of it, over and over and yet I never said a word. So of course I’m a bad date.”

He was standing so close now, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face. You moved closer still and closed your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked softly. “Is it something I did? What aren’t you telling me?”

You placed your hands on his arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “I’ve never felt this way before, Sam,” you admitted. “I think of you all the time when I’m not with you, and when I’m with you, I feel giddy with happiness. I guess, I’m just scared that one day you’ll wake up and not find me interesting anymore.”

“Have you considered for a second that maybe I’m scared, too?” He asked. You opened your eyes and looked directly into his unearthly ones. They were reflecting the same need you felt, a strange and unknown hunger to touch, lean in just a bit closer and…

You gave in to that instinct just as he did, your lips colliding with each other’s. Sam was gentle at first, hesitant as he pressed his full lips against your bottom lip, drawing out the moment, but there was something desperate within you. You raised your hands and snaked your fingers through Sam’s hair- they were just as soft as you had imagined them to be- and dragged your teeth along his lower lip. Sam moaned into your mouth and his whole body shuddered. His muscled arms wrapped around your waist hoisting you up and he gave up on all attempts to be gentle, following your lead.

This was happening, you were actually kissing Sam. A giggled escaped you, and Sam pulled back, reluctance clear on his face.

“What?” He asked, face flushed, lips parted. You didn’t answer him, diving right into another kiss.

“One other thing,” Sam mumbled against your lips. “Of all the things that I should have said already, and I didn’t, I’m not going to hold back this one. It could be years and years from now, but I would never not find you interesting. I’ll never not want to just keep looking at you.”

*****************************************

Sam’s POV:

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Jody asked, coming to stop over him.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Sam said, without looking up from his laptop.

He could feel Jody roll her eyes. “Stop being a smartass. I meant aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Sam read through the last line and closed the file. In fact, he took his time to push away the laptop, then remove his glasses, clean them with the tip of his tie, before looking at his now colleague. Jody had been a new addition to the faculty when Sam had been a student here. She had been one of his favourite professors then. Now, she was staring down at him with amusement in her eyes.

“I don’t have to go in today,” Sam said. “Chase said he’ll fill in at the hearing. I can just look over the papers from here.”

“If I didn’t know better,” she said sitting down next to him. “I’d think you were finding reasons for sticking around.”

Sam did a double take, “What? What makes you say that?” Surely she didn’t mean it.

Jody laughed. “I’m kidding. What’s got your panties in a twist? Loosen up.”

“It’s just that I’m not used to being alone. And I worry about him all the time,” he sighed.

“You know what you need?” She said, “You need alcohol in your life! Make the most of the alone time. He’s a good kid, you know that. He can take care of himself.”

“I know,” Sam said, feeling lame.

“Seriously, what’re you doing Friday evening?”

Sam didn’t even pretend to consider. He didn’t have a social life. “Nothing much.”

“We’re getting you that alcohol.”

“Sure.”

“If you’re sticking around,” she said too nicely, “Why don’t you help me grade the assignments?”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Sam said firmly. “I got enough of my own and you’re not dragging me into your bundle.”

Jody tried to smack him, but Sam ducked to the side, grinning.

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” she waved her hand. “The fresh batch is actually pretty impressive. I heard you let them off easy with just a case brief for an assignment.”

“I figured with you guys setting up the heavy essays, I’d let it slide this time.” He stood up to gather his files.

“It’s not the only thing I heard,” Jody said, eyes on the papers in her hand. “Your TA, Paul, said you were particularly happy about one girl’s brief. What was her name again?”

Sam swore internally. “Y/N. Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

She turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You remember the names already.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t press. “I actually checked through my stack for her essay, and what do you know! She’s actually gifted.”

Sam already knew that. He tried his best to not show it by attempting to look busy with his bag.

“It’s really funny,” Jody continued, looking at him curiously. “You know who her writing reminded me of? 

“Who?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“You.”

“Really?” Sam said hurriedly packing his things.

“It’s actually quite weird,” Jody mused. “The same style of paraphrasing. And I’d know. You were one of my first students, and good, too.”

All packed, Sam turned and smiled tightly at her. “I’m still your favourite, though.”

“That you are, Winchester,” she winked. “Heading to the library again?”

“Yeah, I gotta return a book,” he said grimly.

Thankfully, it was only 4:30 and Molly was at the desk. It would be another hour and a half before her shift ended. She gave him a bright smile as he placed the book on the desk. “I need a huge favour,” he said urgently. “Can you quickly pull out the Development Control and Promotion regulations for San Jose? I need a specific hard copy. There are yellow tags on the pages.”

“Right up.” 

Molly disappeared into the shelves and Sam congratulated himself on finding a quiet place to  go through the references for the case he was working on, where no would quiz him about his past life. The solution for the case was in semantics, he knew that. It was still a lot of research and he needed to verify what his junior had sent him.

“Here you go,” Molly handed him the exact copy he had been working out of on Friday. “I don’t know why the hell you’re still living in the 90’s with paper tags, but to each his own.”

“Molly, you’re a lifesaver!”

She blew him a kiss and he went off to the farthest corner of the library. Sam had discovered this spot when he was a student here. No one ventured this far back, and it was well hidden from view.

He set up his laptop and got to work. It was all there. In bits and parts he put together a pretty good defense for his client. It did help that the client was wrongly accused of property damage to begin with, and the timeline of how things had gone down worked in his favour. Before he knew it, he had a rejoinder of his own ready to go for the next hearing. 

Sam stretched his arms, and looked up to see that it was dark outside. Already? 

He flicked his wrist to look at the watch. It was quarter past 7. Where had the time flown?

Sam craned his neck sideways to look at the librarians desk and there she was in front of the computer, looking intently into the screen. From here, Sam couldn’t see Y/N’s face. Just her profile. She wore a pale grey t-shirt and jeans underneath, not what she had worn to class today morning. Sam hated the fact that he noticed as well as remembered what she was wearing each day. He forced himself to look down and concentrate on the work at hand. He just had to phrase the concluding statements and it would be done. However, all the force that had been driving him for the past few hours seemed to disappear just like that. Try as he may, he got stuck on simple words. Soon he had read the same line five times. It didn’t help that he kept stealing glances at her.

This wasn’t like class, where he had so many eyes trained on him, where he was obligated to deliver a perfect lecture. No one was watching him now, which made it thousand times harder to keep his eyes off her.

She was busy working, completely unaware of his presence. Hadn’t she spent the past years like that? Completely unaware of what was happening with him. Anger burned bright and new within him. When he had read the brief about the Weather man case, he was already impressed before seeing who had written it. It had to be her! Sam had fought with himself over announcing her name in front of the whole class. But if it had been any other student, he’d have praised them, right? So he had to be fair and praise her, too. Never-mind that the words would burn on their way out. He had swallowed his feelings and done what was right.

Every little thing about her, may it be those cookies, or running into her in the corridors affected him to the point where it was all he could think about for the rest of the day. So had he been under the wrong impression all this time? Had he not moved on at all?

Y/N was still engrossed in her work, but as Sam looked closely, he soon realised that she was rubbing the nails of her hands against each other. Her feet were drawn up on the chair, under her legs and her shoulders were hunched. He squinted and could make out the slight shivering of her frame. She was cold.

He looked away. It wasn’t his problem. Y/N was hypersensitive to cold. She knew that very well, and made it a point to carry sweaters. If she was indeed that cold, she could just pull on one. 

Sam went back to his rejoinder, typing out two more sentences of the conclusion. However, his eyes kept flitting towards her, as she rubbed her hands. Y/N smiled at the people who came by, asking for books. By this point it wasn’t hard to see that her lips were quivering, maybe her teeth were chattering, too. There was no sweater nearby. 

There were so many reasons that stopped him from helping her. So many. And for all his anger and seething, all Sam wanted to do was go over and hug her so tight that she would stop shaking. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to do that anymore.

Sam’s fingers balled into fists in frustration and helplessness, nails digging into the flesh of his palms painfully.

Just then a girl came wandering over. She looked in her teens and Sam wondered what she was doing here. 

“Are you from the college?” Sam asked her, certain that he had never seen her before.

The girl gawked at him. “I’m seventeen, dude!”

Sam didn’t care what she was doing here, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Hey, if it’s not too much to ask, please could you help me with something?”

Reader’s POV:

It had been a slow morning  and an even slower afternoon. After Professor Mcleod’s class, the last one for the day ended, you decided to duck back to the apartment for a while. Madison asked you to hang out with her afterwards, but the thought of hanging out with Brad and the rest of that girl gang, didn’t appeal to you much. You had thought that you’d get over their raving about Sam, but the more you listened the harder it got. Neither could you say anything. You didn’t own Sam. So it was better to avoid them as much as you could for the sake of your own mental peace.

Since it was only two, you could actually catch some sleep before heading for the night shift which started at 6 pm and ended at 2 am. Usually everyone emptied out the library by then. You could clock in an extra hour if someone wanted to stay back. There was a Librarian’s room which you could use to catch your sleep, but from having worked two nights, you figured it was better to walk back home and grab a few hours in your own bed before classes. What was the point of living so close if you weren’t going to make the most of it?

The apartment building was too quiet and empty at this hour on a Tuesday. The only other people were Pam and Cas, both knocked out after the night shift. Even Kevin had to show up at work today. You contemplated whether to start reading for college but decided against it and headed to bed instead.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because given your track record of not waking up to the alarm lately, you slept on till the front door banged open. You sat up straight, disoriented. 

“Y/N?” Meg called, uncertainly. “You’re home?”

“Sure am,” you answered through a thick throat. Like an idiot you had fallen asleep in your morning clothes and were sweaty and icky now. 

Meg appeared at the door of your room. “Whoa, you’re sleeping! I thought you’d be at work.”

“Why would I be at work,” you said, sleepily, turning to the clock. “It’s only- 5:45! Shit!”

You jumped out of the bed and ran straight for the shower. 

“Doesn’t your shift start at 6?” Meg shouted from outside. She sounded amused and it only worked you up as you stripped at a super speed and got into the shower. The water was cold and it was all you could do to not yelp at the sting of it on your skin. Thankfully, Meg hadn’t stuck around in the living room, when five minutes later you made a beeline for your room wrapped in just one towel. At least you didn’t have to worry about what to wear this time. A pair of jeans and any top would do. On your way out, you grabbed your bag, laptop and keys.

“Meg, I’m so sorry I didn’t cook. I was just so tired, I fell asleep.”

Meg, who was filling her nails with what looked like a pen knife, gave you an incredulous look.

“Y/N, fuck dinner! I might just go out anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “You go go go!”

You muttered a thanks and then sprinted at full speed, coming to stop seven minutes later in front of the library.

Molly was fixing the slips for the day. 

“Molly, I’m so sorry- “

“Save it,” Molly waved her hand. “It’s just 6 o five.”

“Yeah okay,” you sat down, catching your breath.

“Hey listen,” Molly said, “There’s a few kinds from Palo Alto high school. They’re visiting with their teacher. That woman you see-” she pointed towards a middle aged woman who was breathing down a teenage boy's neck- “that’s her. The kids are well behaved, but they’ll stick around till dinner. You think you can manage?”

“Sure, I can do that!” 

“Good luck,” she gave you a thumbs up before leaving.

As had become your unwitting habit lately, the moment you were free of a conscious thought, your mind went to Sam. He had been so frequent to the library before- Molly had been clear about that- but since your joining, he had not shown up once. Maybe your face was still that repulsive to him.

Feeling dejected, you slid your bag under the table, plugged your laptop on charging and settled into the seat, ready to go through the night’s tasks. It didn’t take you longer than five minutes to figure out that you had left your sweater at home in all the hurry to get here. Suddenly, the conditioned air in the room felt ten times colder and you grabbed your arms, hugging yourself. Oh, this was going to be a terrible evening. You briefly contemplated calling Meg, then remembered that she might have gone out for dinner, and both Kevin and Jack were out. Even Pam and Cas would have returned to their night shifts by now. 

You would have to sit through this. 

The high school teacher came over and introduced herself, then pointed at the seven kids she had brought with her. You barely managed to listen to what she was saying though, trying your best to warm yourself by chaffing your hands against your arms. 

“Hey, you think you can grab a copy of Lord of the rings for me?” One of the kids asked, coming up to you.

You forced a smile. “I’ll have to check if we have that one. We d-don’t stock too much fiction here. You would find multiple editions of it in the Central Librar-ry th-though.” 

You typed in Tolkien in the catalogue. Somehow one copy was still there.

Shivering, you turned back to look at the boy. “We have t-two towers. If you’ll give me a minute, I can get it for you.”

Breathing in and out of your mouth, you walked to the shelf and retrieved the book for him.

“Here you go,” you said. “Be sure you h-hand it in b-before you go.”

Maybe you should call Meg anyway, you thought. There was no way you could get through the night like this with nails turning blue and your teeth chattering.

“Hey!”

One of the school girls was standing before you with a blank expression on her face. “Here.” She put down bunched up fabric in front of you.

Thoughtlessly you took it, unfolding it to realise that it was, in fact, a grey coat. The sort that was part of a three piece suit. You ran your fingers over the fabric. It was soft and expensive, but felt so warm.

“Put it on!” The girl said. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You held up the coat. “W-Who gave this to you?”

“That dude sitting at the back,” she said. “He asked me to give this to you. That’s all I know.”

You twisted your torso to glance at the table the girl had pointed to. It was empty. 

Strange.

You put on the coat nevertheless, shivering violently as the fabric began to contain the body heat. Soon enough you stopped shaking completely, the warmth reminding you of happier, easier times. You walked around the corner to see who it was, but there was no one there. Shrugging you pulled the coat closer around, inhaling deeply. The scent of his cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. 

It couldn’t be.

You took a look at the coat again, remembering what Sam had been wearing in the morning. It was a grey suit- in fact, this very grey. Without thinking, you rushed back to the very end, looking for him, but he was most definitely gone, leaving you with his borrowed warmth. You sank in your chairs, tears blurring your vision. 

Sam was here… and he still cared.

*******************************

A/N 2: Aaaaahhhh so what do y’all think??? I mean the reader will have to do something with the coat, right? Do you think it will finally make them talk? ;)

I’m beyond grateful for all the feedback. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!

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#sam winchester x reader fluff #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam x reader #professor!Sam #lawyer!Sam #allu7 #Ana writes ALLU #anawritesspn #anawrites #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #mutual pining #q

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH22

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW

WC: 5110

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean drops her off at his apartment, carries all her bags up with her and helps her by cleaning out half of his closet space so she can put her things in there.

It baffles her that he’s willing to do it all so easily, as if there’s really nothing else he’d rather do. He unselfishly bends and twists his life around to be able to fit her into it.

She does not deserve this. 

“I’ll meet with the others to talk about what happened. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” She says because she will.

“Take your time. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says, and steals a kiss before he leaves. A kiss that lingers a fraction too long but at the same time not long enough.

*

It didn’t take her long to stow away her belongings. All the contents in her safe stayed at her apartment. She’ll tell Linda to send someone to pick it up once things are settled. It’s not like she needs it anyway, haven’t even looked at the files for days. She didn’t need to, because she got to know more of Dean than all the files packed with his information can ever reveal about him. 

Oh god, she’s got to tell Linda what happened. Got to tell her the truth with Dean and she’s scared of that, if she’s honest.

She showered and is in bed when Dean’s back. He undresses and picks out a fresh pair of underwear from his closet, slips into the shower wordlessly. And she’s thankful for that, thankful that he knows when to talk and when not to.

He comes out with his hair and body still damp, smells of fresh mint and body wash. Picks her up and pulls her into him. She lays her head on his chest, drapes an arm over his body, hooks her leg over his thigh.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers and she can hear the rumble in his chest, next to his heartbeat.

“Tired,” She says, and it’s true. Exhausted even. 

“I’ll talk to Ellen tomorrow.” He whispers, as if he’s reading her mind again. 

Because she thinks that she’s out of job which maybe might mean that Linda will order her to go back to where she was before. Make her abort the whole operation, since it might be enough to have Meg still working at Crowley’s club. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He breathes out, “No, I’ll probably won’t even tell her the truth. Don’t want you there when I’m lying.”

“You wanna lie about the death of her daughter?”

He kisses her forehead, lets his lips linger there. “Sometimes, it’s better to not tell people the truth because it’ll hurt them far too much. I know it’s selfish and another level of cowardice but I’m protecting myself and most of all, I’m protecting you.”

She doesn’t say anything to that. Feels her own guilt choking her, it’s gets harder to breathe.

“Can I ask you something?” She says instead.

“Anything.”

“Don’t be mad at Gabriel, please.” She starts and Dean’s already letting out a groan. 

“What did he tell you?”

“Well,” she paints figure eights on his chest with her finger. “He said that you’re looking for a way to get out of this life, is it true?”

“No,” He says, and adds, “I’m not looking for a way. I have found a way, it just needs to go as planned so I can set everyone up with enough money to last because if I’m out, I want all of my people to get out too. What we’re doing? That’s no way to live.”

“Set everyone up with money?”

“Yeah, enough for them to last a lifetime and longer probably.”

“And you? What about you?” She tilts her head to look up at him. 

“I still have my properties,” He shrugs, “Looking to get something smaller anyway, something simpler, somewhere remote.”

“Dean Winchester wants a simple quiet life?”

He chuckles at that, “Yeah, it’s more my thing.” Then he adds, “And you? What do you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” She says, feels that weird thing in her throat that makes it harder for her to breathe. Guilt — it must be guilt.

“Can you imagine a simple, quiet life? Alone somewhere, no neighbors to bother you? Walk around the house naked all the time? Get up when you want, eat when you want… Just do things because you want to and not because someone expects it of you?”

“That’s a great life.” She wholeheartedly agrees.

“Would you think I’m a creep when I say that when I picture that life, that you’re in it?”

She can feel his heart beating faster after he asks the question.

“Would you really want me in it?”

He chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “Baby, you’re the reason I even dare to think about a life like that. The reason why I’m doing what I’m doing and making extra sure that everything will work out.”

 ***

 “Did someone follow you?” Linda asks as she sits down on the bench in the dog park.

“Not that I know of,”

“Why the emergency meeting? Couldn’t you have used your phone?” 

She sighs and fidgets with her fingers while she looks down. “You remember the snitch I told you about? The double agent?”

“Yeah?”

“It was Jo. Well, and another guy named Adam but yeah, they’re both dead now.” She starts and Linda listens.

Y/N begins to tell Linda about her and Dean, leaves out some details of course because Linda doesn’t need to know every little thing but the big picture, that one she tells Linda.

“You know that you have to come back.” Linda says, her voice stern.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s either our side or his, Y/N, there’s no in between. Make a wise choice, Y/N. Don’t you think you owe us and your father that much?”

“You can’t possibly use my father against me, Linda!” Y/N hisses but she also knows that Linda’s right.

Linda breathes in and exhales audibly. “Okay, listen, I love you like a daughter, and you know that. You were always the daughter I never could have and your happiness is important to me. It pains me to see that you’re not happy so the only thing I can give you is this…”

*

Y/N goes home with the deal. It’s something she can accept, and it kind of lifts the cloud that was hanging over her heart. At least she’s still got to have it until then. Got to have time with Dean, and she’s going to make the best of it.

She’s drawing a portrait on the sofa when Dean comes back. 

“Honey, I’m home.” He calls out as soon as he steps in, probably means it as a joke. It does sound quite good in her ear, though.

He braces his elbow on the sofa and leans over the edge, kisses her temple and looks at her drawing. “Is that me?” 

Her cheeks are warm all of a sudden, kind of afraid of what he thinks of it. Wondering if he thinks she’s creepy by drawing him. 

“Uh-huh,”

Dean tilts his head, looks at her and with the light, his freckles are visible. She loves them. His eyes too, they are so green. And then he smiles, creases deepening around his eyes. “You’re drawing me?” 

“I also draw Cuddles, you’re nothing special, calm down.” She says, a playful tone in her voice. 

“No,” He looks at the portrait again. “I love it.” 

Dean walks around the sofa, comes to sit down next to her. He plays with the hem of her shirt while he watches her draw. 

After a while, she has to giggle. “You’re distracting me.” 

“That’s the plan.” He smirks, and as soon as she drops the pencil, he pulls her towards him by her shirt, there’s a sound of fabric ripping. 

“Dean!”

“I'll buy you a new shirt.” He just says it like it’s no big deal and manhandles her onto his lap. 

It’s like the first time she was here, the time when he got her off by letting her grind on him. She thinks back to the times they’ve been intimate, thinks that it has always been about her. It was never about him. And somehow, she wants to be able to satisfy him too.

She cups his face between her palms, their noses touch, his scruff scratching away underneath the palms of her hands. “Hi,”

“Hi,” He whispers back, and cranes his neck, sucks in her bottom lip before he lets go, only to dive in again.

His hands are firm on her ass, guiding her movement as their kisses grow heavier and hungrier.

Y/N breaks the kiss, leans back a little to see him better. She lets her thumbs trail along his face, his eyebrow, touches the creases around his eyes. “How did it go with Ellen?” 

He sighs, and closes his eyes for a brief moment before he looks at her again, his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, this finger traces along her neck, over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t wanna talk about it now. The important thing is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

“I am.” She says, smiling a little to reassure him and he smiles back, pulls her into him by the nape of her neck, kisses her sweet, soft and deep.

She can’t help but grind into him, rolls her hips and searches for that friction and she’s shamelessly wet.

“Christ,” Dean breathes out, “You turn me on so much, you know that, right?” He pulls her in, kisses her throat, licks a line up to the shell of her ear. 

There’s a smile on her face, it’s cocky and she leans in, kisses his throat, her hands sneaking into his suit jacket, pulls them off and he sits up a little, helping her to get it off.

She slowly unbuttons his shirt, one by one, and kisses the skin he reveals with each button that is missing. 

Y/N kisses his scars, his freckles. Her tongue toys with his nipple to which Dean groans out. She smiles, sucks it in some more and he almost has to pull her away because he’s too sensitive, his fingers already tugging at her hair. 

Climbing down his body, she kisses a trail, likes the crease his stomach makes when he’s sitting. Loves the trail of hair past his navel. Dean spreads his legs wider, so she can kneel on the floor in between. She looks up at him, her hands working on his belt buckle.

Dean has his lip between his teeth one of his hands on hers to stop her, “Baby, you don’t have to.” He says, his voice soft and low. 

She looks at him, a smile tugging away at her lips. “I know that I don’t have to, I want to.” 

He breathes out, maybe to calm himself down but he lets his hands fall down to his sides. His gaze still lingers on her. 

Y/N’s hands are a little shaky as she loses his belt, needs more than four tries to open up the button and the hook on his dress pants before she can bring down his zipper. 

His hands stroke the side of her face while she works on it, his patience obviously knows no bounds while she almost dies of anticipation.

Finally, she hooks her hands in his underwear, brings it down together with his pants and Dean helps her, lifts his ass a little so she can pull it down. She pulls at them, takes them off his legs one by one before she throws it behind her. She takes off his socks next and stands up, taking off her own socks, her jeans and top, but leaves her bra and panties on before sitting back down.

She swallows hard and Dean’s doing the same. Her hands are resting on his knees and she strokes his thighs. Her eyes are fixed on his at first but then she let it travel down his body, until they’re set on his cock. 

Taking her hand, she places it on his shaft, tugs his cock lightly towards her. It feels warm, is hard and heavy in her grip, and Dean bites down on his lips so hard she thinks he might draw blood if she doesn’t stop soon.

Y/N cups his balls with one hand, let them roll around in her palm while she places a kiss on the tip of his dick, chaste, soft. 

“Baby,” Dean’s voice sounds broken. She doesn’t know if that’s a warning.

She smiles, sticks her tongue out and lets it circle around the head that is leaking by now. She holds his shaft firm in her hand and smacks the head of it against her awaiting tongue a couple of times, making him close his eyes and groan. She doesn’t know if it’s a frustrating groan but his face makes her chuckle. 

“You’re killing me,” He drawls, his voice is dark, deep. 

Accumulating enough spit in her mouth, she lets her saliva drip onto the slit at the tip and proceeds to massage the slick down onto his shaft. She’s smiling when he moans, and then she opens her mouth to suck it in, taking him in further with every movement of her head. 

“Jesus,” He bites his lips harder, his hand brushing at the hair that falls around her face. 

She goes as far as she can — which is not really far since she hasn’t done this a lot and her gag reflex is very much existent — and strokes the part of him that she can’t fit into her mouth.

When she pops his dick out of her mouth to take a breath, she says, “Tell me how you like it.”

He rolls his eyes and his hand balls to fist next to his thighs. “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, any way you want it is fine for me. I’m already having a hard time trying not to lose myself at the moment. I like it very much the way it is.”

“Am I doing good?” She asks, and it might be a weird question but it’s just… she doesn’t know if it’s good? She sucked dick before, yes but also it wasn’t that many times and she never enjoyed it like he enjoys it now — enjoys him.

“You’re perfect.” He says, stroking her cheeks with one hand. 

She smiles at that, takes him into her mouth again, sucks him deep and wet, makes it extra slick because she once read in a magazine that guys like that. 

“Look at me,” He chokes out, brushing at her hair, holds it back behind her head with both of his hands, watching her, and she does, her eyes looking straight at him as best as she can. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” Dean whispers, and she can’t lie that it turns her on when he talks like that. She never knew that she had a praise kink but apparently, she does. Loves it so much that she’s soaking wet just by hearing him say things like that.

“You’re looking so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.” He’s breathing hard by now, and then he adds, “Would you think it'd be creepy if I took a picture?”

She pulls his dick out of her mouth with a lewd pop, almost chokes because she has to laugh at his words. “I swear I’m never gonna talk to you again if you do.”

“Yeah, I don’t want th—” He couldn’t finish his sentence because she sucks and swallows him down. “Fucking Chri—” He exhales and inhales, wheezing a little. “Baby, I’m so fucking close.” 

Y/N pops his cock out, starts to stroke him, twists her wet hand around the head of his dick. She looks at him, a playful smile on her face. “I want you to come in my mouth.” Not waiting for a reaction, she takes him in her mouth again, bobbing her head and watches him lose himself. 

“Jesus Christ Y/N!” Dean groans, his hips twitches as her mouth fills with his warm cum. 

Before he even collects himself, he grips at her arms with both his hands, pulls her up and manhandles her into his lap, kissing her roughly, not even caring that her mouth tastes like himself. 

He parts then, his chest heaving. “God dammit, you can’t say shit like that and expect me to still be able to have control over myself.” He growls, pecks her nose and her cheeks. “You alright? How are you feeling?” 

“Good,” She says and then again with a smile, “Great.”

Dean grins at that. “Good, I have an idea.” 

He pushes her off his lap, makes her yelp up and fall down onto the sofa with a laugh. He’s halfway over to his bedroom when he turns around, soft dick hanging between his legs and she doesn’t know why but she thinks he looks funny, next to still looking ridiculously good and that is indeed not fucking fair. “Get rid of your bra and panties. I’ll be back.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, but proceeds to take them off, bunches them up and throws them onto the pile of clothes already lying on the floor.

He comes back only a minute later, with two towels in hand and a smile so bright she could confuse him with the Joker. 

“Dean, no!” She has a strong feeling she knows what he’s about to do.

He chuckles, as he comes to the couch, “Dean, yes! Now get your super cute ass off the couch so I can spread the towels on it.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up because if she won’t, he’ll make her, she knows that.

“Hop back on.” He says when he’s finished.

And she looks at him. “How do you want me?”

“God dammit, baby, don’t say things like that, it triggers all the right buttons.” He spanks her ass, pushes her onto the sofa. “Lie down, on your back.”

“Like this?” Her head is short below the armrest of the sofa.

Dean climbs over her, bends down to kiss her, “Just like that,” His one hand rubs at her clit, “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

He works his way down her throat, sucks and nibbles along her skin until he reaches her nipple. He teeths at them, making her arch her back. 

His fingers are teasing around the rim of her hole. “What do you want?” He says, tickles her nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Tell me,”

“Your fingers,” She’s clearly out of breath, chest moving up and down, heart racing so fucking fast. 

Dean sits up on his heels, his fingers painting along her lips and spreading them, “You’ll get them. But I need to do this first.” He doesn’t wait for her to ask what he’s talking about, instead he’s lying down on his stomach, his shoulders wedged between her thighs, and lick and sucks at her, hums with pleasure like she’s the best fucking thing he’s ever eaten. 

His hands strokes up her body while he’s nibbling at her clit, fingers twisting her nipples and kneading her tits. She’s almost ashamed that she’s close already, he barely touched her but she’s falling apart. She comes hard, her legs pushing together, trapping his head between her thighs, making him tap his hands at her bottom to release him.

“Sorry,” She says, her cheeks red. “It just happened.”

“Thought I’d die down there for a minute,” He looks up, one hand stroking her thighs up and down before he rubs at her clit, slapping lightly down on it, making her yelp up but it’s more pleasure than pain. “Would have been a great death, though.” 

He climbs up her body, places little kisses on her stomach, up to her chin, seals his lips around hers, pushes his tongue into her mouth. She tastes herself on him. 

Dean breaks the kiss, whispers to her while he looks her in the eye, “Tell me again what you want,”

She can feel his dick on her thighs, it’s hard again. From just eating her out! It fills her chest with some kind of weird pride. She kisses him as one of his hand wedges between them, the pad of his fingers toying at the rim of her cunt. She whispers, his bottom lip between her teeth, “I want your fi—” He pushes into her in that moment, making her choke on her own words. “F—”

He chuckles against her lips and sits back up, works his fingers in and out of her and presses the heel of his hands against her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet, can you hear that?” He curves his fingers, places the hand that’s not in her onto her stomach, right above where his fingers dig into her wall from the inside. 

It makes a sloshing sound down there and she’s embarrassed at how wet she can get. 

“Can I go harder?” He asks and waits for her reply. 

“Uh-huh,” 

She can’t push out a coherent word if she tries.

He goes in harder, breathing heavily while he does it. She can see his biceps flexing, veins standing out.

“Oh my god,” She breathes out and clasps a hand over her mouth. 

Dean’s quick to take the hand and pushes it out of her face. “Don’t even think about covering your mouth again, we’re alone, you can be as loud as you want. I want you to, okay?”

Y/N nods.

The pressure builds and builds and she’s a blink away from coming. Dean’s free hand roams her body, kneading her flesh. They go up past her chest, until he holds her down by her throat. “You ever been choked, baby?” 

“Nu-huh,”

“Nu-huh? Can I try? A little? I think you’ll like it.”

“Uh-huh,” Honestly, it’s embarrassing that she can’t even form real words. But also he could ask anything right about now and the answer would be yes.

“God, so perfect,” He says while he claws a hand around her throat, pressing on it lightly. The pressure grows harder the harder he fucks her with his fingers. “Tap out if you want me to stop, alright?” 

She nods, and grabs at the wrist of the hand that’s around her throat. Her whole body jerks and shakes and there’s the feeling that she has to pee again. “Fffffff!”

There it was, the feeling of taking a free fall, she’s gone, sees white and her body goes limp. The pressure on her throat’s gone and Dean nuzzles his nose against her cheek, “You’re fucking amazing,” He whispers, kissing her while he still rubs her lazily down there. 

“Oh my god, I think I passed out.” She says when she’s back to her senses.

The towel below her ass is drenched in her wetness.

Dean pushes in three of his fingers, making her yelp up. They go in easily, she’s plenty wet down there. He chuckles a little, kisses her before he whispers, “Come on, another one, baby, can you do that?”

He starts to move his fingers and she can’t even say no because the sensation picks up right where she left off. It’s like she’s close on that top of the mountain again, by him just pushing his fingers into her. This is not fair at all. Not fair, that he can make her come so many times when she can only make him come once. But she can’t dwell on it because she’s so fucking close.

“Choke me,” She whispers, her mouth has run dry, the voice came out a little scratchy.

“What was that?” Dean asks, didn’t hear it because of the splashy sound that her pussy makes with his fingers inside.

“Choke me again.” 

Dean grins at that, works his hands up her body, slaps onto her nipples in passing, making her arch her back and push her pussy against his fingers. He claws at her throat, presses down just enough to make her lose her mind. “My god, look at you,” His own voice is deep and soft. 

He works his hand harder, scratching at that button on the inside, rubbing against the wall and she’s gone. Her legs cramp up, she’s literally shaking as she comes again.

But as soon as she comes down and Dean has pulled his fingers out of her, there’s the empty feeling again. 

“Dean,” She says breathlessly. 

“What is it?” He asks, kisses her sloppily and deep. 

“I need,” The words come choking out of her in a sob. “I want,” 

“Tell me, baby,” 

She cradles his face, feels the pricking of his scruff against the palm of her hand, “I want you to fuck me,”

He lets out a huff of hot air, breathes in and kisses her while exhaling. “How do you want me,”

“Wanna ride you,” She says, and Dean complies, sits down and pulls her with him, making her straddle his lap. 

Y/N lines his cock at her entrance, sits down a little more. 

His hands are on her waist, helping her to sit down on his cock. “Breath, baby, don’t forget to breathe,” He says when he sees that she’s been tense. 

She nods at him, and together they work him in, inch by glorious inch, until she’s able to take all of him.

Dean’s breathing hard, inhales and exhales loudly. 

“You okay?” She asks, as she sits there motionless.

He breathes out again before he speaks, “Yeah. You just feel so fucking good.” 

She smiles at that, “Do you want me to wait or—”

“—Christ’s sake, fucking move, baby, I’m dying here!”

Y/N giggles at that and starts to bounce on his cock. 

Dean’s hands are on her ass, spanking and kneading at them. It kind of urges her to go a little faster. At one point, he throws his head back and squints his eyes close. 

“What is it?” She’s almost out of breath. 

“You feel so good, I’m already close.” He mumbles, picks his head up from the sofa and looks up at her. “Do you have another one in you? Can you come with me?”

“I don’t know,” She shakes her head, fact is, she doesn’t think that she can come a fourth time. 

“Let’s try it,” He says and fucking winks. He clearly sees it as a challenge. 

Both of his hands go around her throat, his hips fucking up to meet her mid motion. His hands aren’t pressing as hard as before but she still feels like the air doesn’t reach her lungs and before long, she feels a tingling sensation on the base of her spine as her toes start to curl.

“Dean, I—”

“I got you, baby,” He says, “Keep on riding, don’t stop, just don’t stop.”

“Fuuuuuu—,” She’s close to sobbing, she’s gonna come, it almost physically hurts. 

“Just like that. You’re doing good, baby, so good. Such a good girl,”

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” She sobs out.

“Don’t stop, keep on going, keep on riding, you can do it, baby.” He encourages her and it works, the praise goes where it’s needed to help push her over the edge.

And then there it is, she’s coming with a throaty moan, her whole body relaxes and goes limp, held together by Dean’s hands around her throat. 

“I got you,” He whispers, as he too, comes undone, shoots his load into her while he pulls her close and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. 

They stay like that for a while, chest to chest, his arms around her, her hands lazily stroking the base of his neck. Their breathing is hard, their hearts beating fast. 

“Wow,” She says and buries her face into the crook of his neck. They’re both sticky and sweaty but she enjoys it. Enjoys the smell of sweat and sex on him. She breathes in a little more.

“You’re wearing me out.” He whispers, making her chuckle lightly upon hearing it.

“How are you feeling? Everything okay?” He asks, his fingers lazily stroking her back, feels every bump of her spine. 

“Yeah,” Y/N answers, and then sits up a little. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me come four times.”

He laughs at that and pulls her in for a kiss. 

“Hold on,” He says and stands up, his hands supporting her around her waist and one hand on her ass. 

“Where are we doing?” 

“I was thinking about something involving you and me, a bathtub and a back rub.” He’s in the bathroom now, is kind of trying to turn on the faucet with her in his arm, shouts out Yahtzee when he succeeds and she’s laughing the prettiest of laughs he’s ever heard.

*

 She’s sitting on the other end of the tub, holding out her foot and he massages her there, tickling her in between. 

“How do you feel about going to a fundraiser?” He asks.

“I feel like I won’t like it.” 

“What if I buy you a dress?” 

She raises one eyebrow, “Do I have to?”

“Well, they actually know now that I have a girl and I have to bring someone?”

“You could go with someone who looks like me.” 

Dean snorts out a laugh before he pulls her towards him, so that she’s sitting between his thighs. He hugs her from behind, drops his head on her shoulder. “Please?”

“Well, if you say please.” She tilts her head, kisses his temple. “When is it?”

“I think about a month's time, Crowley says he’s gonna send an invitation.” 

“No, Crowley? Really?”

“Shush, he knows. He says that he thinks you were great with rejecting him.”

“You owe me.”

“Anything you want.”

*

When the water turns cold she turns around in his grip. “Do you have to be anywhere today?”

“No, I’m all yours.” He answers, and it’s true. He canceled every meeting just to be with her, knowing that she doesn’t have anywhere to go. 

“Then, I think I know what we could do,” She’s grinning at him with that cocky smile. 

Dean sighs, “Oh god, I hope it doesn’t involve sex. I’m too old and need more recuperation time.”

She laughs and kisses his nose, “Don’t worry old man, I was thinking that we could go eat out at Bobby’s?”

“How did I deserve you again?” He grins, and kisses her. 

CH23

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

[evanescentdawn]

Fanfiction of Fanfiction!

On Top Of An Upside-Down World by @thelegendofwinchester (which everyone should read because it’s AMAZING and everything.)

.

She doesn’t have anything against Sam. It’s simple. The wound doesn’t look good at all, it’s infected. And just not that—he’s too skinny. Malnourished. There’s a very low possibility he wouldn’t survive. And Dean wants to use up the last antibiotic they have on him.

He doesn’t listen to her rational reasons.

He narrows his eyes, when she tries to show any kind of protest, squaring his shoulder, all tense. His voice clip and dark as he says, “Yes?” Challenging her to disagree.

And she wants to, for a brief, brief moment—there’s anger. Sharp, boiling anger, the words are begging to get out. No. I am not going to fucking get it. He’s going to die, it’s so clear—you can shove your words back up your fucking—

“I’ll go and get it,” Brenda says, instead, biting the words down. “We don’t have IV tubing or cannulas, so I’ll have to use a syringe.”

“There’s only enough for one course, Dean.” She adds, reminding him.

Dean, of course, ignores it. He shifts his attention to Sam again. She had never really seen him like this before. So intensely focused on a person. He hadn’t been like this with a person before. Not even with Jo. Or...Ellen.

(She can kinda understand it. And doesn’t want to at all—it hits too close for home for her liking.)

In the end, Sam doesn’t die. Not yet. He’s getting his strength back, slowly. It’s a good thing. The antibiotics were not wasted up.

Brenda remembers, vaguely, of the time that she was a student before all this shit hit. Before the end of the world and Walkers. She had family, siblings. She too had a life.

They’re all gone now.

She liked helping people, getting them back alive and seeing them getting stronger.

When she looks at Sam and how he’s laughing and fitting in and living, holding on Dean’s arm—there’s a part of her that hates so much. It’s unfair. So fucking unfair.

Why does—

Brenda shoved away the thought. It’s never done her any good to dwell on the past.

(She never stops though, it’s one of her problems.)

And then, Kyle happens. He trips and gets hurt and infected—that stupid, fucking idiot—and there’s no antibiotics for him because Sam used it all up.

He’s going to die and Brenda can’t do a thing to save him.

She had to watch him die.

It’s an all too similar situation.

“It’s just a cut, Brenda.” Kyle says, carefree. “I’m sure, it’s fine.” Smiling up at her, and she hates how her heart jumps at the sight of it. She presses her lips together and doesn’t say anything, focusing on her cleaning and stitching up his wound.

Stupid, fucking idiot.

He doesn’t even know that he’s going to die. And Brenda can’t bring herself to say it. She tells them, there’s a risk of an infection—when it’s painfully obvious. She leaves, tears prickling hot between her eyes, chest tight. Why.

She snarls kicking the stones beside her. Why.

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Brenda allows herself this moment, letting the tears follow before she rubs them away furiously and moves on to deal with the other people who need her attention. There’s always people who do.

She’s exhausted and furious and done, when she comes out of the store and runs into Dean and Jo. They’re smiling. They’re smiling and joking around when Kyle is dying.

When it’s all of this is his fault. And Dean even has the gall to tell her how to do her work. It takes restraint and self-perseveration to keep herself from lashing out at him. She bites down her anger.

“I’m just—stressed.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair.

They, of course, don’t believe her.

Dean accuses her of thinking that the antibiotic was a waste on Sam. And while Brenda immediately denies it, she thinks it was. An absolute waste to spend it on some guy she doesn’t know, an outsider, because Kyle may die now because of it.

Just like everyone else Brenda loved.

Kyle develops a fever and his wound gets more and more worse. Infected. And the fact he’s going to die is more certain now. Brenda watches him struggle in his bed, and hates so much.

It’s all Dean’s fault. Her mind latches on to. Dean’s and fucking Sam’s.

She marches up to Dean’s place and slams the door open and spits out. “I hope you’re fucking happy, Dean. Kyle is going to die now because of your little stunt.”

Jo shouts something but Brenda doesn’t hear it, hands fisted and face aflame with rage. She’s shouting and screaming and doesn’t quite hear what she’s saying except the rush of her blood and heartbeat and Kyle’s struggling breath.

“—If you had been able to compartmentalise!—”

“—What, so that your little boy could live?—”

Boy toy? Is he being for real—

Jo’s sharp voice interrupts them and talks like Kyle could be saved. Brenda snarls at her and Jo says—“Just give him what you need.” Carelessly, like Brenda hadn’t thought about it.

“No harm in trying.” Jo adds. And Brenda fucking had enough.

“You want me to let the Amoxiclav and Metro run out too?” She doesn’t want Kyle to die but she’s not stupid. There’s other people that’s gonna need them and they—want her to waste them on Kyle who’s already done for. No harm in trying. Do they even hear themselves?

What the fuck? Who the fuck let them run? She slams the door on her out.

Jacob meets her when she ducks back into Kyle’s hut, wearing a grim face.

“He’s not going to get better is he?” Jacob asks her when she kneels beside Kyle, trying to do whatever she can to elevate his pain and make this any easier on him.

Brenda chooses not to answer which is an answer in its own and he says, “What about the antibiotic—we had one, didn’t we—”

“You mean the one that Dean used it up on his little brother?” The sharp words are out of her mouth before she registers. Brenda raises her head, angry and done and those were never a good combination for her. Jacob is staring down at her, like he can’t believe it. He will though. Just like everyone else.

The story passes around the whole compound by the time that Kyle is nearly—Brenda swallows the word, closing her eyes and squeezing Kyle’s hands. She can’t say it. Not now.

No one wants to believe it but all the evidence is spread out right there for them. Especially, after there’s no word from Dean when the funeral takes place.

Kyle dies that morning after, and Brenda’s there right beside him as he takes his last breath, struggling to the last minute. She bends her head down and sucks in her inner cheek and god, no matter how many times—it hurts every single damn time.

This time it digs a little harder, since it’s someone she knows.

They have a quick and swift funeral and she watches his body burn up with stinging eyes and an ache so big inside her chest, she can’t breathe. There’s whispers and demands about Dean but he’s already gone, taking away any doubts they may have had at what she said to them. She could hear Jo trying to calm them down and putting some bullshit into their heads about how Dean wasn’t—

Brenda ignores it all, dragging herself to her hut and flopping down on the bed. There’s a moment of silence, of everything sinking in before it crashes down and she’s sobbing and crying hysterically. Curling into her knees and thinking about every single memory she had with him and how—

at least he didn’t die a walker, she tells herself, at least he didn’t die a walker.

(That one is always worse.)

When there’s a knock on her door, hesitant and quiet, Brenda gets up immediately and rubs at her face, despite how she desperately doesn’t want to because—there’s someone hurt and they need her.

She keeps on moving with that sharp, sharp thing piercing in her chest and pressing onto her lungs because if she stops, what’s left for all of these people.

It doesn’t get better as time passes—it never does—everywhere she looks there’s that memory of Kyle, her siblings, her parents and every fucking person she failed and she’s so, so tired.

“Thanks, Dr. Brenda!” Rob gives her a crooked smile when she finishes up his arm.

She gives him a flat stare in return and he cringes under it. Good. That should tell him not to mess around and get hurt in the first place and joke about later. When Brenda turns to leave, she hears Rob and Jacob whisper to each other and curls her hands into fists when she catches her and Kyle’s names.

Things have been different since Dean has left and she wants to say better but—it hasn’t. Not really. Jo taken his place as the leader but the betrayal of Dean still lingers. And Dean’s always been good at giving orders and controlling the order here in the Camp, she reluctantly acknowledges through her bitter hate of him.

Ash’s arrival changes things. He stumbles into their camp with new ideas and changes. And it’s—getting better. Slowly.

Brenda almost forgets about Dean. (He’s never going to come back anyways.)

Then, she wakes up to noises and comes out from her hut to Dean fucking winchester and his brother standing there. She narrows her eyes.

Things escalate, and everyone is shouting, pointing their guns at each other, ready to shot and then, Sam’s in front of his brother and lifting his shirt up to reveal—

A bite. A Walker bite that’s healed over. Brenda doesn’t register it first, stuck on the image of the teeth marks on his skin, eyes wide. She had seen that mark, too many times. More than she ever wanted to.

How—? Brenda never thought it was possible. Immunity. But it’s right there, in front of her eyes.

“Are you really immune?” She asks to him, later. because she still can’t believe it despite everything as she draws out his blood. This is the answer they’ve been looking for. All the possibilities that his blood could give them—

“Yeah,” Sam confirms. And It takes effort for her hands not to shake. Her mind is racing. If they could find out what actually find out what exactly is making him immune—it would be the answer to everything.

Despite her effort, her hands slightly shake.

This could mean...the end of this apocalypse.

(Freedom.)

#supernatural #brenda! #I LOVE HER SO MUCH #this got....longer than I ever expected lol #it was v fun to write #BLARGH. there are so many other stuff I wanted to include in here but I just got Brain Tired #(didn’t even include that last scene where they kind-of reconcile) (which is my FAVE) #maybe I’ll write it some other day #my writing

[writinginstardust]

An Unexpected Christmas

Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x reader

Prompt(s):  my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

Warnings: pretty sure there’s some swearing

A/N: Thanks to @writingbychelle for requesting this prompt! As you can tell by the word count, I had a lot of fun with this one and got very carried away.

Word Count: 3484

*

The White House Christmas party could either be the most entertaining or dullest event of the year and it was in full swing right now. Fortunately this year it was erring on the side of entertaining, mostly due to the increased presence of people my own age. The White House trio in particular. They were respectable - you had to be - but by god were they good at livening up a bunch of boring politicians. The ones that needed a little livening anyway. Some, I knew, could do it on their own.

Alex, June, and Nora. I envied them sometimes. They always had each other and they positively shone in the spotlight, unlike me. I tended to slide into the background alone and for the most part I didn’t mind. I’d been dragged to these things for half my life, one or both of my parents having held high offices since Obama was first elected, and for most of those years there’d been no one my own age I’d really managed to make friends with. I’d always been alone at parties and desperately tried to hide from anyone who wanted to engage in any sort of political discussion or ask about my future. Which was just about everyone. 

I knew my parents ambitions for me, everyone did. And they all would have assumed whether my parents had said a thing or not. But that was never what I wanted. It came as quite a shock when word got out that I was going to Georgetown to study art with a minor in creative writing. It’s funny. Maybe if I’d followed in my parents’ footsteps I’d actually be friends with Alex and not alone at this party.

It’s not as though I never spoke to any of them, we saw each other constantly at state functions where there generally weren’t many other young people to talk to since we were usually the only ones living in DC, but I knew I wasn’t exactly their first port of call for entertainment. They had each other and I had a 10 year old coping mechanism. And that was fine. It was all very fine. I was used to it. I just kind of wished things were different.

“(Y/N)!” June’s voice drew my attention and she beckoned me over to where she was talking to Nora and Alex. 

“Hey,” I offered them all a smile when I reached them, noticing that June and Nora both looked way too pleased and Alex ever so slightly uncomfortable. Huh, that was odd.

“Enjoying the party?”

“It’s one of the better ones I’ve been to. Half the interns are already drunk as are the Attorney General and Defence Secretary and I heard someone mention karaoke so hopefully it will be spectacular.”

“Karaoke?” Nora asked in surprise.

“Yep. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I have a lot of questions.”

“And I have a lot I could tell you.”

“Not right now though.” June interrupted. Alex, surprisingly, hadn’t said anything yet. That was weird. 

“You’re right. Ask her then,” Nora prompted. I looked back at June expectantly.

“Mom heard that you’re not going away with your parents for Christmas?”

“Unfortunately not. They get to enjoy the Bahamas and I’m stuck slaving over an assignment.” Normally I wouldn’t mind but my art professor had been in a rather cruel mood and set the class a 10,000 word paper and a large scale practical project right before Christmas break. All because someone laughed when he tripped on the way into class.

“Well, she wants to invite you to spend Christmas with us instead so you’re not all on your own. Unless you already made other plans, that is.”

“No...I, uh, had nothing planned.” Surprised at the invitation, the words were out of my mouth before I could really consider their consequences.

“So you’ll come? Mom is pretty insistent so if you’re saying no, I’m making you tell her yourself.” Well, looked like I was spending Christmas at the White House then. It’s difficult to say no to a president, especially when that president is Ellen Claremont.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Brilliant!” June was positively gleeful. “I’ll go tell mom.” She spun on her heel and took off to the other side of the room, Nora trailing behind her. That left me alone with Alex who was still uncharacteristically quiet.

“Are you alright?” I asked when the silence started getting awkward. “You haven’t said a word.”

“I am so so sorry.”

“Why?”

“Why on Earth did you say yes?” He asked rather than answering my question. “You must have realised what that was.” 

And I had. It was a very obvious and deliberate attempt at a set-up. Just about everyone apparently thought that we’d be great for each other and I knew everyone badgered Alex about it all the time. Maybe that’s one of the reasons we’d never really managed to become proper friends. I didn’t have it so bad. I was an only child and most of the people I really cared to talk to knew very little about this part of my life. There was the odd comment from my parents but they knew by now that I wouldn’t just go along with what they planned or thought best for me. I’d overheard enough to know Alex wasn’t so lucky.

“They caught me off-guard. It’s not ideal, I know, but it’s better than the Christmas I was in for otherwise.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about that. It’s going to be unbelievably awkward you know?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“How can it not be?”

“Just try to ignore it all.” I sighed. “Look, I know it will still be a bit awkward no matter what we do-”

“A bit? Do you realise how relentless my family are?”

“I know. But maybe we should just actually talk. Get to know each other a bit. It might make it more bearable.”

“Or less.”

“Alex, like it or not, we’re stuck in this situation now, we might as well make the best of it. Maybe this will give us a chance to actually become friends.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, if everyone thinks we should get together then there must be something compatible about us. We could try and be friends rather than having whatever this is.”

He knew what ‘this’ I was referring to. Whatever was between us. Neither of us really knew what it was or what to call it. We weren’t friends. It wasn’t some weird sexual tension. We were more than mere acquaintances too. A couple of young people in the same position who talked and occasionally got drunk together but had no significant attachment to each other (well…) was about the closest description. Whatever ‘this’ was, I didn’t want it.

“Okay. Let’s see how this goes.”

*

It went pretty well in the end. 

I woke early on Christmas morning, hours before I needed to think about leaving for the White House, I always did. Trying to sleep again would be futile so I rolled out of bed and went to make myself pancakes, shooting off a quick message to Alex to check the time and what I should wear on the way. It was a valid question. Some people dressed up, some didn’t leave their pyjamas, I didn’t want to be over or underdressed. I put the kettle on and felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was Alex. I had a text from him timestamped at 3am and it was 7am now. Did he sleep at all?

It was still weird - getting texts from Alex. He’d taken my suggestion of friends to heart and had been texting me about all sorts at all hours of the day and night for the past week. It was odd, but nice. And I - and by extension, everyone - was right. We had a lot in common. 

I checked his text.

Alexander the not-so-great: I’m already up so come by whenever. Dinner at 1 though so before then.

Me: Okay. Making pancakes now, see you in a couple of hours?

Alexander the not-so-great: ...If I come over, can I have pancakes?

Me: Sure.

I froze. Had I seriously just invited him over for breakfast? I read the text again. Yes. Yes, I had. Okay. This wasn’t weird at all. Too late to do anything about it now though. 

10 minutes later I heard a car pulling up outside. That would be him.

“Merry Christmas!” I smiled as I opened the door for him, trying to look as if I wasn’t freaking out a bit at this turn of events.

“Hey,” he smiled back and I swear that smile didn’t used to do the things it was doing to me now.

“Come in, food is nearly ready.” I stepped back so he and one of his security team could come inside. I couldn’t help feeling bad for the woman that was stuck coming out here with him so early in the morning.

Breakfast turned out not to be as awkward as I’d anticipated, in fact it was quite nice. I hadn’t actually seen Alex since the Christmas party last week but thankfully we were getting on as well in person as we had been over text. Better, even.

“Okay, I need to go take a shower,” I said when we’d finished washing up our plates. “Wi-Fi password is on the router in the living room through there if you want it. Just make yourself at home while I get ready.” We wandered out into the hall and I started up the stairs before pausing and adding. “Guest bathroom is at the end of the hall upstairs and the door next to it is the guest room, you can use anything you need in there. There’s towels and stuff if you need a shower or anything.”

“Is this your way of telling me I stink?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“No worse than usual.” I grinned back and finished climbing the stairs, Alex’s laughter following me until my bedroom door shut between us.

I tried to get ready quickly, feeling as though I was keeping him waiting somehow even though he’d said there was no rush. I managed to shower in record time but that was all I got done quickly. Everything seemed to have gone missing, my hairbrush, moisturiser, toothbrush - which I could have sworn I left charging on my desk, and half my clothes. Maybe I should have tidied my room a bit over the past few weeks, but to be fair, I had a lot of work to do and keeping my things tidy wasn’t much of a priority.

Kicking a pile of clothes to the side, I freed my underwear draw and managed to find a clean set to wear. That was something at least. I looked in my wardrobe, at what was the only selection of clothes I knew for sure were clean, and tried to find an outfit in there somewhere. There was a cute dress or two, but I still wasn’t sure if that was too formal, and a few paint covered t-shirts, some jeans, all my party clothes, and a few shirts. I could probably find something that would work but I needed to check with Alex first. I tried texting him but he didn’t answer. Of course the one time I needed a reply, he was ignoring his phone.

With a huff, I threw on my bathrobe and went downstairs to find him. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen and his security was still here so he hadn’t left. I asked her if she knew where he was and she told me he’d gone to the bathroom. Thanking her, I padded back upstairs to intercept him on his way out. That turned out to be a mistake. 

The bathroom door opened and Alex stepped out. Apparently he’d taken me up on my offer of the shower and I was having a hard time deciding if I was happy about that or not. On the one hand, the sight of him still slightly damp with water dripping from his hair and a towel slung low on his hips was fucking glorious. On the other, the sight of him like that was probably going to kill me.

I could feel my cheeks burning as I tried and failed to keep my eyes on his face and not his annoyingly toned abs but I could tell he noticed as he smirked at me. Asshole.

“Can I do something for you?” Yeah. He could take the fucking towel off. I swallowed those words that got alarmingly close to spilling out of my mouth.

“Yeah. I wanted to ask what I should wear. I’m a bit low on options but I don’t want to be overdressed or anything.”

“What have you got?” And I definitely shouldn’t have, especially not now, but I gestured for him to come into my room and take a look.

“Sorry about the mess. It’s not usually like this,” I apologised when I saw how taken aback he looked. I pointed at my open wardrobe. “That’s the only stuff I know for sure is clean.” He considered for a moment before pulling out one of the slightly more casual party dresses along with a cardigan.

“This should be fine. Don’t bother with heels or anything though, just put some sneakers with it.”

“Thanks.” I took the clothes from him and shooed him away. “Go away now. I can’t get dressed with you in here.”

“You sure?” He winked and I smacked his arm, rolling my eyes.

“If I’d have known this was what being your friend entailed, I never would have suggested it.”

“That hurts.”

“You’ll live. Now go get dressed.”

“Sure you want me to?” He winked at me again and in all honesty, I wasn’t sure but I needed him to if I was going to stay sane.

“Oh my god, just go.” He grinned at me one last time before I shut the door on him and let out a deep breath. Alex Claremont-Diaz was going to be the absolute death of me.

*

We got to the White House just before nine and the rest of the family were up and waiting in the living room. And that was something interesting to walk into. Never in my life did I think I’d see President Ellen Claremont half asleep on the floor in her pyjamas. There were some very meaningful looks aimed our way when we walked in together and I could tell we were both regretting turning up at the same time. It was too late to do anything about it though.

“So that’s where you disappeared off to this morning,” June said with a smirk.

“Well I had to do something while I waited for you all to wake up.” There were raised eyebrows at that and Alex froze for a moment as he realised how that might have sounded. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

No one bothered to respond to that and just shifted to make space on the floor by the tree for us, failing to repress their smirks when they basically forced us to sit together. Alex really hadn’t been exaggerating about how bad his family was with this.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that everyone had got me gifts to, and good ones. They apparently knew me better than I’d thought. Thankfully I’d managed to find something for everyone too, though I doubted my gifts were quite as good. But it’s the thought that counts after all.

Soon after the presents were done everyone headed back to their rooms to get dressed, once again leaving Alex and I alone. I didn’t miss the wink June threw our way as she left and pointedly shut the door behind her. I kind of wanted to die.

“I am definitely starting to understand why you seemed so horrified by this idea,” I groaned when the door clicked shut.

“I did warn you.”

“Yeah, after I’d already agreed.”

“You could have just said there was a change of plan.”

“You try telling your mother that.”

“...Okay, you have a point.” I sighed and laid down on the rug. 

“It could be worse. At least they’re not saying anything embarrassing yet.”

“Give them time.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“With good reason. I hope you’re ready for this.” And, like a fool, I thought I was.

Christmas lunch passed agonisingly slowly with meaningful glances thrown both my way and Alex’s from Zahra and every member of the family. The food was great though and it was still enjoyable when I was able to ignore the looks and immerse myself in the conversation but even that didn’t last long. Leo just had to ask about both our love lives. Alex managed to field most of the questions and more than once I saw him shoot his family murderous looks which made them drop it for a few minutes. I appreciated the attempts.

Drinking and ridiculous games followed for the rest of the day and I lost track of time, enjoying everyone’s company even if they were still giving us looks and comments. I found myself minding less and less the longer I was there though. It sure wouldn’t be the worst thing to get together with Alex and honestly the idea was becoming very appealing. 

11pm rolled around. Eyes started drooping, conversations died down, and murmurs about heading to bed started up. I was half asleep myself, leaning on Alex’s shoulder and not really caring anymore what anyone might think, and dreading the prospect of getting up and making my way home. I’d gotten a lift with Alex from my house and I was regretting it now. Either I’d have to trouble someone for a lift home or walk. Neither option seemed great but I’d have to pick soon. The longer I stayed there, the harder it was getting to move.

Ellen and Leo stood and announced they were heading to bed and I decided that probably meant I should leave too, no matter how much I didn’t want to. I shifted and started to get up but Ellen stopped me.

“(Y/N), honey, it’s late, you can stay here tonight.” There was only the faintest smirk on her face now so I knew the offer was more out of care than the family’s attempt to set Alex and I up.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” She smiled and left, Leo following with Zahra close behind. I hesitated for another few moments. I probably shouldn’t stay but the option was incredibly tempting.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Alex said quietly. I looked over at him and he was smiling slightly, the look on his face softer than any I’d ever seen before. “But I’d like you to.” There was something strangely vulnerable in his voice and I found myself agreeing to stay without thinking.

“Okay.” He grinned and stood up, much more himself now.

“I’ll show you to a guest room.” We both pretended not to notice the smirks on both Oscar and June’s faces as we left. I didn’t have the energy left for conversation so we walked through the residence in comfortable silence until we finally arrived at a door that looked just like every other. 

“Well, goodnight I guess.” Alex finally spoke again. “I hope today wasn’t too awful.”

“It was actually really nice.” I smiled sleepily at him.

“Even with all...that?” He gestured vaguely to indicate his family.

“It wasn’t so bad.” I mean, it totally was but being with Alex had been worth it.

“I’m glad. It was nice having you here.” I tried to ignore the way my heart swooped at that but it was difficult in my tired state. “I’m just along the hall in the east bedroom if you need anything and I basically never sleep so don’t worry about disturbing me.”

“Thanks Alex. And thanks for today.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight.” And then, quite unexpectedly - though maybe if I’d been paying more attention it would have been less of a surprise, he leaned in and kissed me. Just lightly, his lips soft and warm against my own for a few brief moments before he pulled away with a soft smile. “Sleep well, (Y/N).”

He turned and headed to bed himself, leaving me standing dumbly in the hall, surprise rooting me to the spot. After a few seconds spent staring after him I finally shook myself out of it, turning the doorknob and slipping inside the guest room. My whole body felt warm and molten and I collapsed on the bed, mind swirling with thoughts of Alex. Today hadn’t been what I expected but it was better than I dreamed. Maybe being set up wasn’t so bad after all.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz x reader #alex claremont-diaz imagine #alex claremont-diaz fanfic #alex claremont-diaz x you #rwrb imagine #rwrb fanfic #red white and royal blue fanfic #red white and royal blue imagine #reader insert

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Nick Jonah Davis

Photo Credit: Andy Joskowski

Nick Jonah Davis lives in Derbyshire, England, which is a place where evidence of older editions of England is always easy to find. Successive eras likewise coincide in his music. Davis plays acoustic and electric guitars, drawing on both American and English folk and instrumental traditions. He has worked with like-minded folk, such as C. Joynes and Sharron Kraus, and is also an established guitar teacher and provider of therapeutic musical interventions. He’s been recording the occasional solo record since 2009, and in 2016, Dusted’s Bill Meyer had this to say about House of Dragons: “the Nottingham-based guitarist isn’t living in bifurcations of the past, and he isn’t asking us to either. Rather, he invites the listener into a world bounded by the resonance of his tunings and the vividness of his evolving melodies.” Thread Recordings is about to release a swell new LP, When the Sun Came, and Davis has compiled a list of sounds made by some of his favorite associates.

Even for solo guitarists, music is a collaborative, social thing. For this list I’ve picked some music by artists that I’ve collaborated, recorded or gigged with over the last decade or so. Members of the NJD home team.

Kogumaza — “Ursids”

WAAT048 Split 7" w/Hookworms by Kogumaza

When I lived in Nottingham, Kogumaza were my favorite band in town. They play deep, droning riff-based cosmic guitar music which draws on their backgrounds playing with local heroes like Lords, Rattle and Bob Tilton. They’ve also done their homework, having sat in with heavy hitters like Glenn Branca, Damo Suzuki and Boredoms. This tune was recorded in Nottingham, with Nathan Bell of Lungfish sitting in on bass. I was the assistant engineer on this session, and remember getting a pleasing headful of Katy Brown’s kick drum as we set up the mics. Mind-manifesting stuff.

Ex-Easter Island Head — “Large Electric Ensemble Third Movement”

Large Electric Ensemble by Ex-Easter Island Head

Liverpool’s Ex-Easter Island Head are a revelation. They repurpose electric guitars through a variety of extended techniques, with unprecedented, nourishing results. I was lucky enough to play a couple of shows as a member of their Large Electric Ensemble, a 12-guitar band powered by 1 drummer and multiple Arts Council pizzas. I learned a lot from them in terms of playing guitar with craftily-deployed allen keys and bolts. Living proof that people can and do make genuinely beautiful, ground-breaking music without being all precious and up themselves about it. Good lads.

C Joynes and the Furlong Bray — “Sang Kancil”

The Borametz Tree by C Joynes & The Furlong Bray

Joynes and I have been fellow travelers in the solo guitar realm for many years now. We’ve probably seen more of each other’s gigs than anyone else alive. I was really pleased to be invited into the making of the Borametz Tree album. Not exactly sure how you’d describe my role on that project, but it involved some bass playing, some refereeing and, in the case of this piece, heading into my cellar with Nathan Mann to process some sounds through my echo units. I really love this bizarre, swirling piece of music. It defies description and I really can’t see how it could have happened under any circumstances. Power to the Furlong Bray.

Jim Ghedi — “Bramley Moor”

A Hymn For Ancient Land by Jim Ghedi

Jim popped up a few years ago, around the same time as Toby Hay, and has been a sure source of decent sounds ever since. Jim’s initial, masterful solo guitar work has bloomed out into an exploration of both traditional folk and his own songwriting. Having sat right next to him when we played together in my village a couple of years ago, I can confirm that he has a huge, resonant chest voice. Luckily, he always commits to his guitar just as fully, as you can hear on this jaunty instrumental on which I played some weissenborn. Nathan Mann pops up again playing percussion on this one, small world…

Cath and Phil Tyler — “King Henry”

The Ox and the Ax by Cath and Phil Tyler

I first met Cath and Phil at the legendary Sin Eater festival, a 3-day weekend of fine underground music and excellent ale at an isolated pub in Shropshire. Almost everyone on this list played there actually. This is folk music as it should be played, plain and flinty with a complete focus on the song. Understatement goes a long way in this music and, I suspect because of this, Phil is one of the most criminally under-rated guitarists around. There’s a little part of me that lives for Cath’s jaw harp break at the end of this one.

Toby Hay — “Now in a Minute”

New Music For The 12 String Guitar by Toby Hay

Toby has a special place in my heart for lining me up an annual show in a cafe at the wonderful Green Man festival for the past several years, meaning my family could go for free. Here’s a near-perfect example of a miniature acoustic study from his album New Music for the 12 String Guitar. The guitar in question was custom-built for Toby by Roger Bucknall of Fylde guitars. Fylde put out the word that a label was looking for a young guitarist to make a record on a custom-built Fylde that they would commission, and I immediately suggested Toby. He rose to the occasion. Reckon he owes me a handmade guitar though; I’ll give him a nudge one of these days.

The Horse Loom — “Silver Ribbon”

The Horse Loom by The Horse Loom

Steve Malley played in post-punk bands back in the day, gigging alongside the likes of Fugazi. He later picked up a Fylde guitar and went down an acoustic rabbit hole where his love of British folk and flamenco come to the fore. The DIY-or-die roots of his playing flash an occasional fin. After we met I persuaded him to come down to Nottingham and let me record his first album in First Love studio. He did the whole thing in a day and it’s awesome. This is my favorite instrumental from that collection.

Sharron Kraus — “Sorrow’s Arrow”

Joy's Reflection is Sorrow by Sharron Kraus

I started playing shows with Sharron as we were both UK artists on the Tompkins Square label at the time, so it kind of made sense. She’s a bit of an institution in psych-folk circles and eventually I began playing on her records and at live shows, which has been a real joy. This tune features some heavy drones and an occasional splish of my lap steel. It’s classic Kraus — mournful, insightful, immersive. If you want to hear someone with a bigger brain than yours talking about the weirder side of life, check out her Preternatural Investigations podcast.

Haress — “Wind the Bobbin”

Haress by HARESS

Haress is centered around the twin electric guitar work of Liz Still and David Hand. Located in downright gorgeous rural Shropshire, they ran the Sin Eater Festival and still put out essential music on Lancashire and Somerset Records. I reckon they’ve helped me out more than anyone over the years, releasing House of Dragons on vinyl and always setting me up a show when I need one. This gorgeous piece features Nathan Bell again, this time on trumpet. Those Nathans do get around.

Burd Ellen — “Chi-Mi-Bhuam”

Chi Mi Bhuam by Burd Ellen

I first saw Debbie Armour singing with Alasdair Roberts, a good start. When I went up to play in Glasgow in 2018, I asked if she’d like to open up my show at the Glad Café, which she did, alone except for a borrowed harmonium. I was mesmerized, I think everyone was. Too good for a support slot. Here’s a Gaelic vocal piece which demonstrates exactly who we’re dealing with here, a profoundly talented and committed artist with a lifelong immersion in traditional music, using it as a springboard into something entirely her own.

#dusted magagzine #listed #nick jonah davis #kogumaza #ex-easter island head #c joynes #the furlong bray #jim ghedi #cath and phil tyler #toby hay #the horse loom #sharron kraus #haress #burd ellen

[nickelkeep]

Twas the Night

Pairing: Dean/Cas - Timestamp to Like the Angel Rating: Teen, to be on the safe side. Word Count: 3500 Warnings: Tooth. Rotting. Fluff. Written For: @notfunnydean​‘s 2019 SPN Advent Calendar Day 11 - Christmas Story On Ao3

Quick Side Note - I’ve been sick, which is why you haven’t seen one of these in a while. I missed days 12 through 15, which I have made reference to in the fic. There’s a better explanation if you follow the Ao3 Link. 😘

---

“Daddy?”

Dean shook his head as Emma called him from down the hallway. Sixteen years old, and she knew that she could get just about anything she wanted by singsonging ‘daddy’ instead of just calling him Dad. “What’s up, Em?”

“It’s Christmas Eve!”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean got up from his bed and walked down the hallway to Emma’s room and leaned against her doorframe. “You gonna tell me something I don’t know, Kiddo?”

“We need to get started!” Emma was sitting on her floor with her back to the door. “It’s Cas’ first Christmas with us, and I want to make sure he enjoys it.”

Dean smiled. “Whatcha got there?”

“It’s uh, it’s a part of his Christmas present.” Emma looked over her shoulder and smiled.

“You’re not going to tell me what it is?” Dean stepped closer to look over Emma and see what she was making or doing. “You know I can keep a secret, Em.”

Emma blushed bright red. “I was gonna, you know, that thing we talked about a week ago.”

“Say no more, Kiddo.” Dean squatted down next to Emma and pulled her into a hug. “Cas is gonna love it.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m glad one of us is sure of it.”

Dean stood back up and rested his hands on his lower back. “You gonna come help me make breakfast?”

“Cinnamon Rolls? Or are you going to try that new recipe you found?” Emma gathered the items that had been spread out on the floor around her and stacked them neatly in a pile before standing up. “I’m okay with trying something new for breakfast.”

“Is this that new tradition thing you’ve been pushing?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and smiled fondly at his daughter. “I love how much you want to make sure Cas is included.” He started backing up towards the door. “Come help me make the Honey Bread?”

Emma returned the smile and followed down to the kitchen.

---

Cas made it downstairs to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and something baked or baking in the oven. Emma was sitting at the kitchen island drawing while Dean was standing over the stove dancing and singing along to some Christmas song. “You still working on that drawing, Em?

Emma looked up and shook her head. “Nope, these are just some warmup sketches. Wanna see?”

“Of course.” Cas stopped and gave Dean a kiss before sitting on the stool next to Emma’s. “Looks like you’re in the Christmas spirit.” Cas pointed to one of the figures. “Ghost of Christmas Yet-to-Be?”

“Yep! I really liked Mr. Roche’s lesson on A Christmas Carol.” Emma smiled. “Did you check to see if I get to be in your class next semester, Cas?”

“Which one?”

Emma shot one of her Uncle Sam’s bitchfaces at Cas. “Really, Cas?”

“Yes, you are in my Mythology in Modern Literature class.” Cas chuckled. “But, remember, Ms. Milton wasn’t really sure that with your dad and I dating that it would be a good idea. We gotta prove that this will work.” Dean set a mug of coffee in front of Cas, and Cas immediately picked it up to drink. “I know that we’ll be fine, but we have to make sure I’m not showing favoritism.”

“I didn’t slack last year.” Emma pouted.

Cas tucked a piece of hair behind Emma’s ear. “Which is why Ms. Milton said it was okay for you to be in the class and for me to teach it.”

“Coming in!” Dean placed a plate in front of Cas and waited as Emma moved her drawing stuff before setting hers breakfast down. “Sorry to interrupt serious school talk.”

“Dean, you told me you guys do cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning.” Cas tilted his head. “What’s this?”

“Em and I found the recipe online and thought it might be something you would like.” Dean set some sort of spread on the table. “It’s a honey bread, with cinnamon sugar butter. And of course, bacon, because God forbid I don’t ever make you two bacon.”

Dean’s quip earned a chuckle from both Emma and Cas. Cas watched as Dean finished putting together his own plate and sat down with them before taking a bite of the bread. “Wow,” Cas replied with food in his mouth, causing Dean to roll his eyes. Cas swallowed his food before speaking again. “I’m serious, this is really good.” He reached for the butter and started spreading it on.

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Cas.” Dean popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“I am.” Cas took a bite of the bread with the butter and moaned happily. “So good.”

“Cas, you’d think you never had food before.” Emma snarked.

“I’m always a sucker for new foods that are delicious.” Cas winked at her. “So, you two haven’t told me what you all do on Christmas Eve, besides breakfast, of course.”

Emma looked at Dean, who nodded in approval. “Well, after breakfast, we usually go and get any last-minute gifts and pick up anything that Gramma Ellen might need for dinner.”

“Ma feeds us at the Roadhouse,” Dean elaborated, “She won’t know for certain what she needs for dinner tonight until she does a quick inventory check after closing. She’ll probably be calling in the next…” Dean looked at the clock on the microwave. “Ten to fifteen minutes.”

“That sounds like an adventure.” Cas propped his chin on his hand. “So should we get dressed?”

Dean shrugged. “Not to sound apathetic, but while it sounds like a day of adventure, we’re still kinda lazy. Usually, Ma calls, then we get dressed. But, if you’re raring to go.”

“Sorry, just looking to spending this Christmas with my…” Cas looked back and forth between Dean and Emma. “With my family.”

“Well, Cas. We want to celebrate it with you too.” Dean stood up and grabbed the empty plates, taking them over to the sink and rinsing them off.

“We want to know your traditions too. We don’t want to force you into a mold. We’ve grown as a family, so we have room to take in and make new traditions.” Emma took Cas’ mug and took a drink from it. “You really need coffee with your cream, Cas.”

Cas laughed and ruffled Emma’s hair. “Let’s go get dressed then, and your dad can follow suit. I’ll show you two what I do on Christmas Eve.”

“Do we need to get fancy-dressed?” Emma raised her eyebrow.

“No, Emma, jeans are fine.” Emma did a little happy dance and headed off to her room. Cas looked at Dean. “‘Fancy-dressed’ is your phrase, isn’t it?”

“What can I say, Angel? Emma and I are simple creatures.” Dean closed the dishwasher and started it before crossing over to Cas. He pressed his lips against Cas’ temple, leaving a soft kiss. “Let’s go get changed.”

---

As Dean had promised, Ellen called with a list of groceries for their dinner. After stopping to pick up their last-minute Christmas Gifts, Dean, Cas, and Emma stopped by the grocery store to grab the items for dinner. They swung by the Roadhouse and dropped them off, asking if there’s anything they could do to help with dinner. Ellen playfully swatted at Dean with a towel and promised that Jo and Charlie already claimed the elf honors for the year.

After joking about food poisoning - “Did they forget that Charlie could burn water?” Dean complained in jest - Cas took Dean’s phone and plugged in an address in the maps app.

The location Dean pulled the Impala in front of turned out to be a homeless shelter. “What’s all this, Cas?”

“It’s a bit of a story,” Cas explained, but he continued when Emma leaned over the front seat. “I haven’t told you much about when I was in college, Emma. But I didn’t go for what my parents wanted me to go for. It was bad enough that I was gay, but to completely misuse their gift of college was the last straw. I was just short of disowned. So, my first year after I graduated college, I was completely alone on Christmas Eve.” Cas paused and ran his fingers through Emma’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m okay, as you can see now. But then, I was a new teacher, I didn’t know anyone well enough, and I had nowhere to go. 

“Instead of moping around my empty apartment watching TV by myself with just Chinese food to keep me company, I pulled out my laptop. I found the closest LGBT friendly shelter.” He gestured to the building they were parked next to. “I called and asked if they did any kind of dinner, and the rest is history. I felt loved, I felt safe, and I felt good giving to people who didn’t have even the little bit I had. So, every Christmas Eve I come here. To thank them for taking me and accepting me when my own family wouldn’t. Some years I even join in for Christmas, even though they don’t necessarily need me on that day.” Cas turned to face Dean. “Remember, you asked where I sometimes go when I don’t come home right away?” Dean nodded. “It’s here.”

Cas patted the back of the seat and smiled. “Let’s get you two inside and introduce you both to the people who run the shelter and those in charge of the kitchen.”

“That sounds great, Cas.” Dean beamed at him.

Once inside, Cas was greeted by several members of the staff with whom he was familiar. They were excited to meet Dean and Emma. They had heard so much about them over the past several months. Cas had bragged about Dean’s skills in the kitchen, and he was quickly got roped into helping cook. Cas took his usual spot on the serving line. Emma was a little too young to help with the food– “I just turned sixteen!” She complained. –but they asked her to play with the younger kids and watch over them.

They stuck around for as long as they could. Dean had to literally pull Emma away from the younger kids, and Cas bribed her with the promise they would come back sooner than next Christmas. She spent the entire drive to the Roadhouse recounting her stories of playing with the kids, bringing smiles to Dean’s and Cas’ face.

Once they pulled into a spot, Emma practically leaped out of the car and ran inside. Dean and Cas took a moment to look at each other and revel in her enthusiasm before getting out themselves and grabbing presents out of the back of the car.

“You think she would have helped us.” Dean smiled at Cas, kissing him on the corner of his mouth before heading inside. “Oh, by the way. Ma has probably hung up at least a dozen sprigs of mistletoe.”

Cas laughed and looked up. “Looks like we hit the first one.” He leaned over and kissed Dean on the cheek.

---

After dinner and introducing Cas to their Christmas Eve Present tradition, Dean excused the three of them from the drinking games portion of the evening. There was no argument from any member of his family, which Dean was grateful for. He walked behind Cas and Emma, watching as Cas wrapped his arm around Emma and hugged her tightly. Warmth flowed through him, and he silently kicked himself for not having his phone out to snap a photo.

Emma curled up with a new blanket that Charlie made her, while Cas admired a first edition copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that Sam gave him. Dean snuck glances at them both on the ride home, excited for what was next.

As he pulled into the driveway, Dean looked at Emma. “You wanna tell Cas about our last tradition, Kiddo?”

“Cas, do you know The Tailor of Gloucester?” Emma yawned and slid out of the backseat before Cas could answer.

“I do,” Cas replied, getting out of the car right behind Emma. “Beatrix Potter. It’s a Christmas story of hers. Why?”

“Dad tucks me in and reads it to me.” Emma blushed. “I know I’m probably too old for that now.”

Cas pulled Emma into another hug. “You’re never too old to enjoy having someone read to you. Your dad bugs me to read to him occasionally.”

“Will you read it tonight?” Emma asked.

“But, you just said it’s you and your dad’s thing.” Cas looked at Dean with a look that Dean was pretty sure equated to asking for help.

“It’s fine, Cas. I already knew Em was going to ask.” Dean winked and walked to the front door. “Let’s get inside, so we don’t freeze, and then we can all curl up in Emma’s bed and enjoy the story.”

The suggestion appeared to calm Cas down, and the trio entered the house to warm up. Emma ran ahead upstairs, while Cas and Dean took their time climbing the stairs.

“Dean, I don’t want to step on your toes,” Cas commented, concern still in his voice.

They entered their room, and Dean cupped Cas’ face in his hands. “I promise that you’re not. Do it this year, and next year we can do it together, or we can take turns to who does it.” Dean ran his thumb over Cas’ cheek before crossing to their dresser. He grabbed a pair of Cas’ pajama pants and tossed them to him. “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

Cas and Dean finished changing and walked down to Emma’s room. She had left the door open for them to come in. 

“Hop under the blanket, Kiddo.” Dean pointed at the bed, and Emma obliged him, quickly scrambling to climb under the covers. She grabbed the book off of her nightstand and waited until Cas was sitting next to her.

“Last call, Emma. Are you sure you want me to read it?” Cas hesitated as he took the book and opened the cover.

“Yes, Cas, I’m sure. I’m positive. I’m 16, not six.” She stuck her tongue out at Cas and was bopped on the nose playfully.

“I hear you. Just…” Cas took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning back against her headboard. “Thank you, Emma.” He shot a warm look at Dean, which Dean responded to with a hair ruffle. “‘In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets—when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta—there lived a tailor in Gloucester…’”

As the story continued, Dean would occasionally poke Emma to keep her awake, knowing how she was prone to fall asleep when being read to. He smiled as he watched Cas animate the story with his body and his voice. Even Dean could admit to finding a new love for the story, with Cas reading it in his own way.

“‘He made the most wonderful waistcoats for all the rich merchants of Gloucester, and for all the fine gentlemen of the country round.

“‘Never were seen such ruffles, or such embroidered cuffs and lappets! But his button-holes were the greatest triumph of it all.

“‘The stitches of those button-holes were so neat—so neat—I wonder how they could be stitched by an old man in spectacles, with crooked old fingers, and a tailor’s thimble.

“‘The stitches of those button-holes were so small—so small—they looked as if they had been made by little mice!” 

Cas turned the page to get to “The End,” but found in its place a sticky note. “What’s this, Emma?” He pulled it off and read it. “‘Ask Emma for your card.’ What card would that be?”

Emma reached under her pillow and pulled out a card. “Merry Christmas, Cas.” She handed it to him and smiled, cuddling up against Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“Thank you?” Cas tilted his head and opened the envelope. “Oh, good, no glitter.”

“Glitter is the herpes of the craft world, Cas.” Emma laughed.

“Is that your Dad or your Aunt Charlie?” Cas pulled out the card. On the front was a stylized picture of two dads and a daughter. “‘Your art only gets better and better, Emma.” He opened the card and started reading it to himself. Cas smiled until he got to a particular spot and froze. He looked back and forth between Emma and Dean, tears building up in his eyes. “Emma?”

Dean had pulled out his phone and set it to record. “What’s it say, Cas?”

“You knew.” Cas pointed at Dean and sniffled, fighting to hold back his tears. “Dear Cas. I want to thank you for so many things. First, for being my teacher. You have taught me so much, and not just from the books you share. I’ve learned about caring and compassion.” Cas smiled at Emma, “Your dad has taught you a lot of that too.”

“Hush, Cas, keep reading.” Dean smiled.

“Thank you for making Dad happy and becoming apart of our family. While we were content, you brought a new kind of happiness to our lives.” Cas reached forward and tucked Emma’s hair behind her ear. “You two have brought such joy to my life.”

Emma leaned into Cas’ touch, smiling.

“Since I’m running out of the room on this card, let me thank you for being my other Dad. I never knew I was missing a second parent until you became mine.” Cas sobbed softly. “Merry Christmas, Papa. I love you, Em.” Cas pulled Emma into his arms. “I love you too, Emma.”

“If you don’t like Papa, we can pick something else.” Emma looked up. “Or I can keep calling you Cas.”

Cas wiped away a tear from Dean’s face, and then one from Emma’s. “Emma, I am proud to be your Papa. Thank you for letting me.”

Emma surged forward and wrapped her arms around Cas’ neck. “Love you, Papa.” Dean wrapped his arms around both of them, causing Emma to giggle. “You know I love you, Dad.”

“Of course I do, Kiddo. I just needed to hug my two favorite people.” Dean planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Time for bed, though.” Dean stood up and walked to the other side of Emma’s bed and offered his hand to Cas, helping him to his feet. “If you don’t go to sleep, Santa won’t come.”

“Really, Dad?”

“Yep. No presents for daughters who remind their Dads of their age, either.” Dean pointed at Emma, winking as Cas dragged him out of the room. Dean quietly closed the door behind them and turned to smile at his partner. He gently cupped Cas’ cheek and rested their foreheads together. “Can I give you your present now?”

Cas smirked as they walked to their room. “Did you get me the nutcracker I asked for?”

“You were serious about that?” Dean laughed, entering their room, and heading to the closet. “I thought you were just a Grinch when I asked what you wanted.”

“I was a little facetious.” Dean handed Cas a few presents as he continued. “Remember what I said at the shelter earlier?”

“Of course, Angel.” Dean loaded up his own arms and gestured to the door. “I knew about your family, that was one of the first things I learned about you. I want to give you the holiday that you haven’t been able to experience in years.”

Cas led the way downstairs to the Christmas Tree. “You’ve already done so much, Dean. You and Emma both. I haven’t had a Christmas this memorable since my first one after graduating college.” He set the boxes down and turned to look at Dean. “I love that you want to do this for me, and I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.” Dean set the presents under the tree and took the ones out of Cas’ arms. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“I did, I asked if you got me a nutcracker.” Cas crossed his arms. “None of those boxes look like they could be a nutcracker.”

“Cas.” Dean rotated toward Cas while dropping to one knee. He pulled a box out of his pocket. “I know this is probably a little soon, but when you know something is right, you shouldn’t let it go.”

Dean watched as Cas’ face twisted in confusion before brightening in understanding. “Dean, is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean swallowed and nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he cracked the box open. “Emma said it best: We were happy, but you brought us something we didn’t know we were missing.” Dean paused and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Marry me, Cas?”

Cas broke out into a brilliant smile and reached to the Christmas tree, pulling off an ornament. “I lied about this one.” Cas fell to one knee in front of Dean, putting them at the same level. “I’ll marry you on one condition.” He twisted the ornament and took the top off, revealing his own ring. “You say yes, also.”

“Hell, yes.” Dean lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Cas’ - his fiance’s - neck, and enveloped him in a tight embrace.

#spnadventcalendar2019 #profoundnet #spncreatorsdaily #writersofdestiel #deancas #destiel #timestamp #domestic fluff #christmas fluff #marriage proposal #nickel writes

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Fidget Spinners IV

           Once they were aboard the Ferry of the Dead, riding down the River Styx with Charon in his proper creepy and grim black robe, Alabaster stopped vomiting. The ship was an old Greek vessel, something Matthias could have identified immediately. They sat as far from the stern as possible. Apparently this boat was usually brimming with ghosts, but Charon had shoved the three of them aboard in such a hurry, less ghosts had flooded the space.

         This gave them the room to sit on the edge of the boat so Pax, Lou Ellen, and Alabaster could stare off at the inky, polluted river. They wanted to be as far from the ferryman as possible. Charon was cursing under his breath, something about children being electrocuted in bathtubs and getting into car accidents.

         Maybe, in a normal tour, Pax might have been excited by the black stalactites and terrifying horror movie set. For now, all he could do was rub Alabaster’s back. Lou Ellen sat on his other side, pulling one finger off and putting it back in a different one’s place, frequently messing it up. This was her way of acting concerned.

         After he was certain Charon couldn’t overhear them, Pax whispered, “You died coming after us?!”

         Before now, he couldn’t process what was happening enough to ask. The sight of Alabaster with his intestines dragging on the floor and blood spewing out of his mouth—it was enough to make Pax tremble more. And he was already trembling pretty hard in this cold cavern.

         “Of course I died!” Alabaster’s voice rose, making Pax and Lou Ellen flinch. “How else would I be in the Underworld?!”

         Tears threatened to spill down Pax’s cheeks. He could hear Lou Ellen sniffling. Crying would really make her missing-eye illusion less believable.

         Alabaster sighed. Pax thought he was reaching for something in his pocket.

         Alabaster wasn’t. He grabbed the end of his intestines. Casually, the child of Hecate wound them up around one wrist. Once he got towards the end, he ripped off a chunk.

         Pax shrieked.

         “Be quiet,” Alabaster snarled. Softer, he grumbled, “And Mercedes thinks you can keep it cool in enemy territory.”

         Pax wanted to point out that enemies (hopefully) wouldn’t be ripping off pieces of their organs. Was that a thing they did in Camp Half-Blood? Did Percy Jackson, in fact, an organ-eating zombie?

         Before Pax could withdraw his hand, Alabaster shoved the chunk into Pax’s palm.

         Pax almost screamed again. Maybe this was an experience he should have smiled upon—after all, it isn’t every day that your crush tries to hand you an organ, granted, a heart might be better.

         “I knew you idiots wouldn’t bring enough snacks,” Alabaster hissed, shoving another chunk into Lou Ellen’s hands.

         “Oh my mother…” Lou Ellen whispered.

         Pax didn’t want to watch as she held up the chunk for investigation. Then he saw what she saw. The scent of iron vanished like it had been a whiff from a distant breeze. That chunk had some kind of label covered in blood—not blood.

         Pax sniffed.

         The scent of barbeque sauce became overwhelming.

         He rubbed his own chunk with his thumb. The sauce smeared to reveal a packaged sausage, like the kind you’d have on a cheese platter. There was even a bright label on the protective packaging.

         Pax stared at his hand. The spell had been so convincing.

         Lou Ellen made a low whistle. “You’re good,” she said, “Titans, can you teach me how to do that?”

         “When you have enough discipline to pull off your nose instead of your chin,” Alabaster scolded.

         Pax couldn’t think about the spell or the sausage.

         He threw his arms around Alabaster.

         Alabaster made a grunt of annoyance.

         Slowly and firmly, as though not to draw attention to them, Alabaster removed Pax’s arms. There was an embarrassed hue to his pale cheeks as he scowled from Pax to Lou Ellen. “You didn’t come to me to devise this plan?” he demanded.

         “We thought you’d be mad,” Lou Ellen meeped. She sheepishly poked at the fake dent in her head. By comparison to Alabaster’s effects, hers looked like something out of a D-rate horror movie.

         “Oh, I am mad. When we get back, I’m killing you, and then you’ll have to march right back in there and explain to Charon how you’ve shown up twice, then you’ll have to see what he does with you,” Alabaster said.

         Pax couldn’t help but grin. Threats aside, he couldn’t handle looking at this very-much-alive Alabaster. It was cute thinking about it: Alabaster finding their, “Went to Underworld. Will bring back souvenirs,” note and stuffing a bunch of sausage links into his shirt, cussing at the confused centaur that could swear he just took Alabaster and Lou Ellen off the ship. He really cared. At least about Lou Ellen.

         “Are you making us go back?” she whispered, shuffling away from a wandering soul and closer to her brother. Pax understood. Everything here was cold. Touching another warm person was a nice reminder of the above world.

         “How, pray tell, am I to make you go back in our current situation?” Alabaster closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids. “Mercedes warned me you’d want to go after Axel. I didn’t think the two of you would be stupid enough to throw away your life chasing him or smart enough to get off the boat undetected.”

         Lou Ellen and Pax exchanged a glance over Alabaster’s shoulders. Neither could decide if the comment was more compliment or insult.  

         “So, we’re going after Axel?” Pax clarified.

         “We’re certainly not going back the way we came. I have no interest in angering Charon on his own boat,” Alabaster said.

         That meant that Alabaster had come down here with his own plan. Even if he didn’t have one when he left, trying to catch them before they went into DOA Recording Studios, he would have come up with one by now. Before Pax could hear any awesome details, their ship pulled up along black sand.

         Pax guessed that Hades hadn’t heard the memo—that pink was the new black. If Pax ever got scared while he was down here, he would have to remember to visualize the Underworld in various shades of Easter egg with magenta stalactites meeting a sparkling, rose floor. His stomach dropped about what shade of pink the river would be with its thick eddies. That went too Mayan in his head.

         Alabaster tossed the plastic-wrapped suit backwards into the boat, quickly shuffling the younger two off. They didn’t wait to hear what Charon thought of the contents.

         They walked towards the airport-like security with ghoulish attendants separating people into various lines. There were signs above the lines, ones that Pax couldn’t read since the letters jumbled into incomprehension.

         A low whine, like that of an injured puppy, echoed around the chamber. Yea, there were wails too, but those were human wails. Pax was way less interested in those. He couldn’t find the source of the animal noises until Lou Ellen tugged furiously on his jacket.

         Pax didn’t know how he missed the view before. Unlike Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Axel, he struggled to see through the Mist. Even so, the Mist deserved a pay raise.

         A few yards ahead of them was a massive Rottweiler with three heads. Maybe the truck-sized dog would have normally been intimidating; Pax had heard some intimidating stories about Cerberus. Instead, the dog just looked pathetic, curled up and nursing a paw. Pax could see why.

         There was a sword imbedded between two toes.

         “He’s hurt!” Pax cried.

         “Ajax, no,” Alabaster growled.

         Lou Ellen joined in the cry, “We have to help him.”

         “What part of—”

         “Please!” Pax and Lou Ellen said together.

         “Grant me the patience of the Furies,” Alabaster said under his breath.

         One of the heads must have caught their scent. It perked up and glanced in their direction, growling.

         The other two were licking at the injured paw still. He looked cute, the way a monster truck might if painted with bambis and rabbits.

         Alabaster stopped in his tracks. He fumbled with his intestines—sausages. Pax really needed to stop thinking of sausage as intestines. “Who do you think stabbed him?” he asked in his you’re stupid if you can’t answer this question and I know you too well to let you play dumb. “See many stray demigods wandering down here with blades?”

         “It wasn’t Axel,” Pax said. Axel was obsessed with mythical creature rights and would have known Cerberus was just doing his job. One caged animal to another—Axel would have likely tried to play-wrestle with the beast. “I’ll bet it was Luke.”

         “Yea, Luke’s an asshole,” Lou Ellen said.

         The two of them vigorously nodded their heads towards Alabaster.

         “Lou Ellen,” Alabaster chided, “I expect more creative insults than vulgarity. And you aren’t going to win me over by insulting Castellan.”

         Despite him saying that, the corner of his lips twitched into a smile. Until then, Pax hadn’t realized how glad he was to have Alabaster along. The Witch Boy would know his way around the Underworld, or Pax guessed he would. Alabaster held that easy calm, even amongst the dead.

         Pax and Lou Ellen would have feigned calm confidence. But, uh, that would have only lasted so long as they got closer to the line’s attendants.

         Another of Cerberus’ heads noticed their movement. It raised and joined in the low growl.

         The noise didn’t seem to bother Alabaster. “How were you planning on getting past?” he asked, gathering the rest of the sausages from his waist—he must have wrapped them under his shirt, and withdrawing them like a towel around a hand wound.

“We brought a chew toy,” Lou Ellen said. Pax could tell that she wanted to sound proud, but had realized a flaw in their plan. There were three heads and only one chew toy.

“Seriously?” Alabaster’s growl chimed in with Cerberus’.

“I heard it worked for Annabeth,” Pax said.

         Although Pax couldn’t see it, he could feel Alabaster roll his eyes. “The amount of inconvenience that girl has caused,” he said under his breath.

         Pax hesitated. Cerberus’ growls were making his body vibrate. This dog was massive, the size of a truck. Pax didn’t even come up to Cerberus’ chest and Cerberus was half-laying down. One of his heads still licked the sword hilt imbedded in his paw. Focus on that, Pax thought, and not on how his teeth are about as long as that sword.

         “We have a treat for you!” Alabaster called. His voice was way too cold for dealing with a ball of cute fluffiness and death. Pax had a feeling that Alabaster had never been allowed pets as a child. Other than Axel and Pax. Pax was fairly certain that they were pets to Alabaster.

         Cerberus stood up. When he applied pressure to his front paw, all three heads whimpered. They pulled the paw up slightly, to alleviate the pressure.

         “Go fix his paw if you wish. I can only hold him for a few moments with this,” Alabaster said. “If you take too long or are sloppy, you’ll get yourself killed.”

         For an instant, Pax wondered if Alabaster was nervous. The Witch Boy unwrapped a link of sausage and tossed it into the air towards Cerberus.

         The two heads less affected by the wound snapped at it, nipping at each other to bite it to pieces, probably the same way they would do with Pax’s limbs if he was caught.  

         Its breath flooded over them, almost as bad as Pax’s little brother’s, Hiro’s breath.

         “You suck at this,” Lou Ellen said, pulling a link from Alabaster. “You heard him, Pax. Have fun getting that sword out. Hey puppers! Look what I got for you puppers!”

         Her voice raised in pitch and excitement. The sentiment worked. Cerberus sat upright, letting his butt drop back onto the ground. From what Pax had heard of Annabeth’s interactions with this dog, he thought their red ball plan might have worked with Lou Ellen’s charm. Uh—natural charm. No witchy charm required.

         Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, realizing Lou Ellen had volunteered him for the harder job. His heartbeat pounded in his head. It’s just a cute, injured puppy, he told himself, It just so happens that it wouldn’t need to chew to swallow you.

         Alabaster gave Lou Ellen a look that might have been reproachful or approving. He handed her the rest of the sausage as Cerberus’ short tail thumped against the black sand, echoing around the chamber. Pax thought it was weird that interacting with this dog wasn’t a red flag for the Underworld Security. What dead person wanted to poke at the landowner’s attack dog?

         Alabaster made a few signs in the air around Pax’s head, muttering in Latin. Was he making him invisible? Or at least making him blend in with the stone? Or smell less like a delicious treat? Pax hoped all of the above. When Pax glanced down at his hands, they still looked visible and potentially delicious to a monster.

         “We don’t have enough sausages for you to hesitate,” Lou Ellen said.

         Pax swallowed. He thought about Juana, Axel’s jaguar. Their father bought it for him a few months after they were forced back “home.” Axel warned his siblings not to go near Juana without him, since she could tear them to shreds. Juana was a tenth the size of Cerberus.

         From what he knew of Juana, there was no point in trying to sneak up. He approached Cerberus’ injured paw, hands outstretched in attempt to look non-threatening. Not that a 4’7 rail of cuteness could look threatening.

The other two heads were locked on Lou Ellen, or fighting over bits of sausage she threw.

         The last head faced him. The eyes didn’t quite focus on Pax, showing Alabaster’s spell must have done something. Pax heartbeat thudded in his head as he took the last few steps to Cerberus’ foot. The dog hadn’t batted him out of existence yet.

         The head whimpered and pulled its paw closer to its body.

         “It’s okay,” Pax said, the way he did when his littlest brother had a nightmare. “I just want to help. It’ll be quick, like ripping off a Band Aid.”

         That felt like a threat to Pax. Just gonna take that sharp, pointy thing in your paw and move it around a bit.

         “Pax,” Alabaster said in warning.

         Pax didn’t look over to see why. He figured it had to do with how the middle head had turned to sniff furiously in his direction.

         Now or to Xibalba, Pax thought. He wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of the hilt and pulled up, trying not to twist the blade or yank at an angle.

         It slid out easily.

         Pax wanted to gloat about the Sword in the Paw and how he’d be king of the Cerberi.

         His mouth went dry instead.

         When he wretched the blade out, dark liquid splattered up from the paw. Something clear and goopy dropped on his head from above—saliva.

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, looking up. The other two heads glowered down at him. Their teeth were barred within inches of his face. Their low growl rattled his skull.

He trembled, thinking at least one good thing would come out of this: if he died in the Underworld, he didn’t need to worry about going through Charon’s Waiting Room again.  

 ***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you and your loved ones are staying healthy and safe!

Stay tuned next week for part X!

#Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Tales from Mount Othrys #fanfic #PJO #HOO #TFMO #pax #lou ellen #Alabaster #CUTE PUPPERS!!!! #irritable bowel syndrome #Also known as Alabaster #I hope you guys are doing well! Stay safe!

[madam-lit-nerd]

The Apocalypse AU I just couldn’t get out of my damn mind

“You have to promise me something...” Michael whispered, his breath hot against Castiel’s neck in the darkness. 

“Anything,” Castiel immediately responded. The word tasted salty on his lips. 

“You have to promise me,” Michael had to stop, to draw a deep, rattling gulp of breath before he could finish. “Promise me...You’ll shoot me.” 

The silent tears that had been pouring down Castiel’s cheeks, the tears that he’d been struggling to hide from the alpha, finally wrenched a hoarse sob from his throat. 

“I can’t.” 

“Have to,” Michael insisted weakly. “You just promised me anything.” 

Castiel shook his head, even though he knew Michael couldn’t see him. It wasn’t fair of Michael to ask him this, wasn’t fair for his alpha to leave him like this. 

But none of it was fair, was it?

It wasn’t fair that Michael was bleeding out on the floor of a dark closet in an abandoned house, wasn’t fair that Raphael had been damn near gutted by a horde of mindless monsters just last week. Wasn’t fair that, as far as Castiel knew, all of his friends and family were dead, as good as devoured by that same bloodthirsty mob. 

But most of all, it wasn’t fair that he and Michael had come so close, so close, to reaching the sanctuary past the outskirts of the city, out in the middle of nowhere. Days of careful planning and traveling, mindful vigilance and never ending lookouts—all ruined by sheer happenstance. 

They’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time...

“Castiel!” Michael hissed. “Promise me,” another deep, wet breath, “that you’ll shoot me...in the head.” 

“There’s only one bullet,” Castiel tried. “How will I protect—”

“Bullshit,” Michael rasped. “There’s three. Enough to...” he trailed off, but Castiel knew what he meant. Enough to shoot him in the head and make it the few remaining miles to the sanctuary. 

“Please, Casti...” the final syllable broke off in another angry breath. 

Castiel ran his hand through Michael’s dark hair. “Okay,” he finally whispered. “I promise.” 

The breaths were coming more slowly now, more painfully. 

“Do you remember...” a long pause, almost as if he’d fallen asleep mid-conversation, as he had so many times before, but then he continued. “That day by the quad...” 

Now Castiel’s sob was almost a laugh. “You were the clumsiest alpha I’d ever seen.” 

“Only...you,” Michael gasped. Only around you. 

His unspoken request was clear. 

Castiel spoke silently in the claustrophobic space of the closet, his gentle words competing with Michael’s final gulps of air. He told his alpha the story of them one final time, listened as he slipped away, breath by breath. 

Then, when there were no more breaths, he brought the gun to Michael’s temple, drew a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut. Then he pulled the trigger.

  —

Dean’s head popped up at the sound of the gunshot. 

“You hear that?” He asked Benny. 

The giant beta looked up from the body he crouched over. After a moment he nodded, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Came from that house,” he drawled. 

Dean’s mind raced. Had that been the couple that the men had been joking about before Dean and Benny got to them? The gang they’d just finished off—and yes, once upon a time Dean would have felt bad about killing actual humans, but these men had only been out for blood, adding to the mayhem by attacking innocent civilians trying to reach safety, which meant that they were just as bad as the real monsters out there—but they’d talked about an alpha and omega couple... 

“Let’s go check it out,” he grunted. Benny nodded, imperturbable as ever as he wiped off his machete then fell into step behind Dean. 

Dean tread up the walk toward the front door, careful to keep his senses alert in all directions. He paused at the closed door, drew a deep breath, then reached for the handle and pushed it open. He only released the breath when he found the living room empty. 

Dean always knew that any closed door might be his last. He’d learned that early on when Ash...well, he hadn’t been so careful with a door they’d been opening. The damn monster inside had latched onto him before the poor guy could even let out a yell. 

After working methodically to clear the first floor, Dean and Benny climbed the stairs quietly, pausing to listen every few steps.

As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, they could hear the muffled sobs. Dean followed the heart-wrenching sound down the hall to a closed bedroom door. Another breath held. He pushed the door open. Another breath released. 

“Hello?” He called out as he stepped into the room. “Who’s in here?” 

The sobs, which Dean could now tell were coming from the closet, faltered. Dean looked to Benny, who simply shrugged. 

“I’m Dean, I’m from the sanctuary,” he tried again, staying clear of the closet door, just in case whoever was inside decided to shoot.

A sniffle, then, “My name is Castiel.” 

“Anyone else in there with you?” 

A long pause. “No, not anymore.” 

“I’m gonna open the door,” Dean warned, then reached for the handle.

There, at the back of the deep closet, sat the omega, and curled up on the floor with his head in the omega’s lap, lay the alpha. 

“He made me promise,” the omega—Castiel—whispered. Only then did Dean see the revolver in his hand. He glanced back down at the alpha, to the obvious hole in the temple, but his eyes skipped past it to the prominent bump of the omega’s tummy. 

Pregnant. This omega was pregnant. 

“Was he infected?” Benny asked from over Dean’s shoulder. 

Castiel shook his head. “There were these men...” a sniffle escaped. “They attacked us.” 

Dean nodded. “We took care of them downstairs.” 

“Good,” the omega whispered. He looked back down at his alpha, down to where his blood-soaked fingers stroked through dark hair. “Michael was worried I might not make it, if they were still around.” 

“Come on,” Dean stepped into the closet, held out a hand toward Castiel. “Let’s get you back to base.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” the omega whispered. “I can’t just leave him...what about...” Sobs erupted from the omega’s throat as his body shook, trembled. “We were so close!” 

Dean took another step forward and cautiously plucked the gun from the omega’s grasp. He’d learned the hard way that some people just couldn’t leave their loved ones behind, even if they were dead. 

He handed the gun back to Benny, then slowly crouched down in front of Castiel. 

“Michael would want you to be safe, right? He’d want you and the pup to go somewhere safe.” 

Castiel nodded but didn’t speak, probably couldn’t speak past his tears. 

“The sanctuary is set up in an old hospital, and we have some doctors and other people who can help you and your pup.” He tried to smile reassuringly. “We can keep you both safe.” A somewhat empty promise in the face of...everything, but it got the omega to finally look back at him in contemplation of his offer. 

Castiel stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded. Dean reached for the alpha’s body, gently pulling it from the omega’s grasp and laying it prone on the floor, then offered a hand. 

“I don’t know if I can stand,” Castiel admitted, but still he reached for the alpha’s help. 

He was a little wobbly on his feet for the first moment or two, but then Dean was wrapping a secure arm around his shoulders and guiding him toward the door, out of the abandoned house, down the empty street...away from Michael.

—

As soon as they reached the sanctuary, Castiel was pushed into a wheelchair and rolled away to the infirmary by a red-headed omega named Anna. She maintained a kind yet professional air as she checked his vitals and performed an ultrasound with some equipment they’d scavenged from what used to be the maternity ward. 

Once she’d assured Castiel that both he and the baby were perfectly fine, something gave way in his body. He felt so worn down, exhausted by weeks of running and the day’s emotional toll. He managed to nod once, acknowledging that he’d understood, then he lay back in the bed and was asleep within seconds. 

—

Two days later, Anna released Castiel from the infirmary under the watchful eye of a good-natured beta named Donna. She immediately whisked him off, promising to get Castiel “squeaky clean.” 

Babbling away as she led Castiel down one hallway then another, she pointed out the different living areas and made sure to introduce Castiel to anyone they passed. He already knew that he wouldn’t remember any of their names, and they seemed to know it too. 

He only tuned back in when he heard a name he recognized.

“Now Dean’s the boss ‘round here. Used to be special forces back in the day, so he’s got all sorts of survival skills. Sammy, that’s his younger brother, is his right-hand man. Benny too, I guess.” 

Benny was the beta who’d been there earlier, Castiel’s disjointed mind supplied.

“Well, here’s the showers. Do you need help, or do you want me to wait outside?” 

Castiel stared at her, uncertain. He knew that he didn’t need help; he was only four-and-a-half months along. But he dreaded the silence of an empty shower. 

As if she could read his mind, Donna waved a hand. “I’ll just sit outside your stall if you need me.” She followed Castiel into the room, still chatting on, but left him to step into a curtained stall alone. 

—

Ellen was the omega in charge of the kitchens, which was where Donna bustled Castiel off to after his shower. Ellen sat him down at one of the tables near her workstation and watched as he gobbled down three plates of rations. 

“Usually you only get one serving per meal,” she explained over his eating. “But after what you’ve been through, plus pregnant! It’s a miracle you haven’t starved to death.” 

“Just what I said,” Donna agreed from across the room where she was helping chop up food for dinner that evening. 

“How far along are you?” The young alpha woman seated across from Donna asked. Her name was Jo, and she was Ellen’s daughter. Her mate, a beta named Ruby, was somewhere in the facility, but Castiel had yet to meet her. 

Castiel tried to chew quickly so he could answer, but Ellen spoke up first. “I’d say just over 4 months?” 

Nodding gratefully, Castiel shoveled another bite of food into his mouth. 

Donna whistled lowly. “So we’ve got five months to go! This is exciting!” 

Exciting might not have been the word Castiel would use, and from the look Ellen tried to hide, he could tell that she felt the same. He simply smiled blandly and kept eating. 

“How’s it going in here?” Castiel heard from the door. He turned to find Dean standing there, but couldn’t find it in himself to provide much of an answer. 

“Good, now that we’ve gotten some food in him,” Ellen answered for him. She rubbed the omega’s back as she grabbed his empty plate to wash. 

“Good to hear!” Dean smiled encouragingly at Castiel. “Come on, Cas, I’ll show you where we’re setting you up.” 

As Castiel—or Cas, as Dean had apparently dubbed him—followed the alpha through the halls, Dean explained the setup of the sanctuary. 

“This place used to be a sanatorium, way back before it was a hospital,” Dean said. “Still got those old, high walls and everything. Before the outbreak, I used to drive past this place and think it was a survivalist’s wet dream.” He shrugged with a rueful smile. “When the shit hit the fan, I knew exactly where to go.” 

Castiel nodded but still remained quiet. 

“It’s all a bit much to take in, I know. Especially when...” Dean trailed off, a red blush staining his cheeks as he stopped himself from stating the obvious. “Anyways, we all keep sleeping quarters pretty close together. It’s just up here down this hallway.” 

As they drew nearer to the living quarters, Castiel began to hear high, ringing voices, giggles, cries. When Dean made to turn the corner, Castiel just kept walking straight, headed down the hall to find the source of the ruckus. 

He found a large common room where dozens of children and tiny little pups played, cried, laughed, all running or crawling around. It was the kind of mayhem that Castiel was well accustomed to. 

There were about five bedraggled omegas running around in the midst of the children, but it was clear they were outnumbered. He wondered if any of them had ever worked with so many kids before. 

He looked down to find a tiny little guy, maybe a year old, crawling toward him, drawn to that sweet, pregnant scent that put children at ease. With a smile, Castiel bent down and scooped up the pup. The small guy fit perfectly against his hip, a comforting weight he was used to. 

“Looks like someone’s trying to make a run for it, huh?” He teased. The baby lunged forward and pressed a wet kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “Thank you!” 

“You worked with kids before?” Dean asked from behind him. 

Castiel glanced back over his shoulder, his small smile still in place. “Yeah, I’ve worked in daycare since I was big enough to hold a baby myself.”

He looked down at the baby, his mind whirling. He should go to whatever room they’d picked out for him and get some rest. But here, with a pup on his hip and the sound of the kids’ laughter in the air, it was almost like normal. It was like...like Michael would be at home waiting for him at the end of the day. It let him push everything away, just for now.

“Do you mind if I...?” He gestured into the room, and Dean nodded. 

Castiel stepped into the mayhem, immediately drawing the attention of several children near the door. A young girl of about eight or nine jumped up to greet him. 

“Is that a baby?” She poked his stomach. 

“Indeed it is! His name is...” he turned to the child he held, “What’s your name again?”

Several children let out giggles as the girl cried, “No! In your tummy!” 

Castiel smiled kindly. “Yes, that’s a baby too.” 

“What’s its name?” Another small boy asked loudly.

“I don’t know. We haven’t decided on one yet.” His mind immediately skipped at the words. Hadn’t. They hadn’t decided on one. 

Before he could dive down that spiral, Castiel pushed the sadness from his mind and kept a bright smile plastered on. 

“Who wants to play a game?” 

—

From the doorway, Dean watched in mild amazement as Castiel got all 32 of the children settled into a circle on the floor for something called “the silly game.” Rachel and Hanna, along with whatever volunteers they could wrangle in for the day, they were great. But watching Castiel now, it seemed obvious by comparison alone that the two women didn’t have the childcare experience this omega had. 

Even the little children who hadn’t spoken so much as a word the entire time they’d been here were drawn into the game, given the opportunity to express wordless noises and actions. But the connection went both ways, obvious by the way Castiel had broken from his own wordless funk. 

Dean had to admit that he’d been worried at the way Castiel had closed up, unwilling or unable to talk when they’d arrived back. Now, to see him taking lead and guiding the kids through a game...it was night and day. 

Dean glanced back over his shoulder when he heard footsteps coming up the hall to find Sam striding toward him. 

“Look at this,” he murmured, as if afraid to break the spell Castiel had set over the children. 

“That the new omega?”

“Yep,” Dean nodded. 

“Well, at least we won’t have to find him a job.” 

They both sighed as they thought of Brady, a high-level management guru in his former life. Unfortunately for him, high-level management gurus were not in high demand during an apocalypse. 

“Who knows, maybe trash duty will be the one that sticks,” Dean muttered. 

With a smirk, he turned away to follow Sam back down the hall so they could discuss the renovations they were starting in the basement. 

—

Castiel watched as the last of the children wandered away hand-in-hand with her mother, enthusiastically relating the games she’d played and the stories she’d heard. 

Well, Jessie was the last of the children who had parents here in the compound. Castiel turned to the other six children who remained and smiled warmly. Whether their parents were dead or simply missing...

“I think it’s about time to get washed up for dinner,” he spoke brightly.

Having sent the other workers away for some much-needed rest, he was left to lead the children—or in one child’s case, carry—down the hall to the bathrooms. 

There was a pair of siblings, Leah and Micah, a pair of cousins, Brian and Amy, and two individual children, Ginny and Kaiden. Luckily most of them were above the age of five, making them sufficient enough to wash their hands and faces. Micah was three, but Leah seemed adept at helping him. Kaiden was the small pup who’d first greeted Castiel, and he’d stuck to the omega’s side since.

“Make sure you get underneath your nails,” Castiel reminded as he bent down and washed Kaiden’s hands with his free hand. 

“My mommy used to do that with Micah,” Leah suddenly announced, her voice sad. 

“She did?” Castiel encouraged.

“Yeah. You’re really good at it too.” 

“You’re doing a pretty good job yourself,” Castiel nodded to where she helped her younger brother. A small smile lit her face, and she returned to her work. 

—

When they stepped into the dining hall, Castiel found that most people were already seated and eating. After scanning the room for a minute, he figured out the system and guided the children toward the food line. 

“Well, that didn’t take long!” Ellen grinned at him from behind the glass as he lined the children up single file to pass through. 

Castiel shifted Kaiden from one hip to the other and smiled ruefully. “It’s what I’m used to, and if I keep busy...” 

“I understand,” she said, her voice kind. 

“Hey, Cas!” 

Castiel turned to find Dean coming up behind him with a smile. 

“Dean!” Micah yelled and flung himself at the tall alpha’s legs. 

“This little troublemaker causing any problems?” Dean asked, but his tone was teasing. 

“No!” Micah cried indignantly. He spun around to Castiel. “Tell him I’ve been good!”

Castiel smiled gently. “You have all been wonderful.“ He grabbed a plate from the top of the counter and handed it to Micah. “Hold onto this tightly with both hands.”

He handed a plate to each of the children and sent them along to a nearby table.

“Here, let me help you with this,” Dean offered, as Castiel was left with two plates and an armful of baby.

“Thanks,” Cas smiled gratefully and turned away to join the children at their table with Dean following behind.

As they settled into eating their dinners, Castiel was keenly aware of the attention he drew from everyone, but especially the alphas. 

He knew they couldn’t help it. Their instincts demanded they care for the pregnant omega, claim it. Castiel hid a shudder. 

“Something wrong?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing. 

Castiel shook his head. “I’ve just...I’ve never gotten so much attention from so many alphas. Michael was always there to...to...” he trailed off as he bit back the sudden tears. 

His expression grave, Dean nodded. “If anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. We’re supposed to be a safe place, for everyone.” 

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel whispered as he tried to ignore the stares. But even trying his best, he couldn’t quite escape the dark gaze of the alpha sitting at a table in the back corner. Castiel shuddered, obviously uneasy, and the nameless alpha smirked triumphantly. 

Best to stay far away from that one. 

Part 2 is right here.

So I had this idea over two years ago, and I kind of just let it fall to the wayside. But then recently, it popped back into my head, and I just had to write it. There is more than this, but because of Tumblr settings, I’m splitting it up into multiple posts. I’ll also be posting it on my Ao3! Let me know what you think. Cheers!

#yeah I wrote something #apocalypse au #alpha!dean #destiel fic #omega castiel #pregnant!castiel #destiel ficlet #destiel au #series

[coolicareaboutyou-blog]

Some people Never find the right kind of love, the kind that steals your breath away. The kind that jolts your heart, sets it beating apace. The kind that makes every terrible minute apart feel like hours. Days. Years. I wanted those moments – few and far between as they were. I wanted whatever time and affection you could give me. No matter what it cost. I felt like you found comfort in me. And maybe... I wasn’t your first choice, but I was glad that I was somewhere on the list. I let it happen again and again, more times than I can even count. Some people Dart from one insane possibility to the next. Never experiencing the connection of two people. rocked by destiny. Never knowing what it means to love someone else more than themselves. More than life itself, or the promise of something better. Beyond this world, Lucky me, I found the right kind of love. With the wrong person. Have you ever had so much to say that your mouth closed up tight struggling to harness the nuclear force fusing within your words? Have you ever had so many thoughts churning inside you that you didn’t dare let them escape in case they blew you wide open? Have you ever been so angry that you couldn’t look in the mirror for fear of finding the face of evil glaring back at you? So you try to think of someone else you're mad at, and the unavoidable answer pops into your little warped brain: everyone. you Wish you could turn off the questions, turn off the voices, turn off all sound. Yearn to close out the ugliness, close out the filthiness, close out all light. Long to cast away yesterday, cast away memory, castaway all jeopardy. Pray you could somehow stop uncertainty, somehow stop the loathing, somehow stop the pain. Smile. Nod. Say something witty before they find out what an incredible pain you’re in. Go One foot in front of the other, counting tiles on the floor so I don't have to focus the blur of painted smiles, fake faces. I believe Memory is a tenuous thing. . . . flickering glimpses, blue and white, like ancient, decomposing 16mm film. Happiness escapes me there, where faces are vague and yesterday seems to come tied up in ribbons of pain. Happiness? I find it in the smiles of new friends, the hope blossoming inside. My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create. Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they're pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet. Life is all about change. If it were static, think about how boring it would be. You can't be afraid of it, and you can't worry that you'll mess things up. You deserve good things, and I want to be one of them. HOW do you define a word without concrete meaning? To each his own, the saying goes, so WHY push to attain an ideal state of being that no two random people will agree is WHERE you want to be? Faultless. Finished. Incomparable. People can never be these, and anyway, WHEN did creating a flawless facade become a more vital goal than learning to love the person WHO lives inside your skin? The outside belongs to others. Only you should decide for you - WHAT is perfect. I wanted the part of you that you refuse to give. You wanted to keep things casual, you wanted to keep me at arm’s length. You leaned on me. I cared about you so much. I can’t explain it, but, I’ve seen the best and the worst of you… and I love you. I love the way you can tell me what I’m thinking. I love the way you tell a story, drawing me in. I love you for all the times you convinced me, with a stupid joke, or even just a look… to stop taking myself so seriously and just enjoy my life. Nothing could ever make me regret the way I feel about you. What I feel for you isn’t a negative thing. It makes me better, it makes my life better. That’s what I’ve been trying to say: That love is never wrong, even when it grows in the worst conditions, with no encouragement… Besides... You can have your pick of pretty women. Why me? You're like the ocean, Pattyn. Pretty enough on the surface, but dive down into your depths, you'll find beauty most people never see. Lucky me. I fell in, headfirst. Being In Love... Means hard questions. Will I? Won't I? Should I? Could I? Yes? No? You? Me? Is there a you without me? There is no me without you. And if we are truly one. how will I breathe when circumstance pries us apart? You are my oxygen. my substance, the blood inside my veins. When we touch, you are my skin. You hold all of my joy inside of you. When you go, I wither. Think of how they must have loved when all they had was each other. But... Falling in love with someone is the surest highway to hurt that I know. When the door to love opens, the window to control closes. & I guess that’s why Happily ever after is just a concept I'll never believe in.

Ellen Hopkins

#poetry #ellen hopkins #love #lust #joy #falling in love #being in love

[meowloudly15]

El Goonish Shive: A Rant

There's a pretty darn awesome webcomic on the 'net called "El Goonish Shive". I am a fan. Some of its highlights:

-Excellent character writing

-Adorable lesbian couples (don't judge me)

-Some AWESOME callback moments that prove for just how long the strip has been planned in advance

-It's hilarious

-The way in which the art style gradually improves is TREMENDOUS and gives me motivation to draw

-"I'M TOO YOUNG AND TOO MALE TO BE THE MOTHER OF A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD FEMALE ME!" (Yes, this is an actual thing that was actually said in the comic.)

So... below holds spoilers for those of you who have not read past the twelve-year mark. (Yes, there is a lot of comic for you to catch up on.) YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I like pretty much all of the characters in the strip, but the one whom I like the most?

Nanase Kitsune.

I think this quote sums her up pretty well:

"She's athletic, smart, trilingual, can kick the *** of anyone who messes with her, is theoretically good-looking enough that most people are nice to her by default (I wouldn't know because she's my cousin)… and when she's not burned out, she's an insanely potent magic user." -Tedd

You get a character like that, who has all that PLUS the longest-running, most stable relationship out of all the teenagers in the entire strip, some truly epic scenes of awesomeness, AND was on the receiving end of an AWESOME Deus Ex Machina moment, and you may think that she's a Mary Sue. (For those of you who don't know, Mary Sues are essentially perfect characters in relation to the story.) But she doesn't have everything going for her.

Nanase has had her share of struggles, what with dealing with her own sexuality, in general, in relation to her mother's more conservative views, and in relation to Ellen; witnessing her girlfriend ALMOST DIE and risking her life for her; that one incident in France (which is one of a number of reasons why I like Susan so much); and the hair issues. (Of course, that's an exaggeration.)

Again, you may see that and think, "She has had lots of angst. She is extremely gifted/lucky/favoured. She's definitely a Mary Sue." She's not. You know why? Her personality.

Nanase is very nice. She's almost always kind to others, no matter the situation. In the incident involving the hair (from which I took the above Tedd quote), Sarah summarises Nanase's reaction as the following: "And then something does go wrong and she's all understanding and awesome about it." Nanase is also calmer than pretty much all of the cast. She's serene and nice and a good person.

But she doesn't have a big head about it.

Nanase, above all else, despite her many talents, is humble.

Believe me, a Mary Sue would not be quite so humble.

Nanase is just a generally likeable character. She's sympathetic and cool and has an excellent personality and is not as perverted as some characters (e.g. Tedd, Ellen).

Last but not least, she's grateful. I think this is a good quote to end with:

"I don't know, but I thanked God all the same."

Nanase is a good little gay Christian wizard girl.

(P.S. ELLEN/NANASE4LIFE)

#el goonish shive #egs #nanase #nanase kitsune #rant #webcomic #webcomic rant #el goonish shive rant #nanase el goonish shive #nanase egs

[prettytragcdies]

♥☯ ❀ ⚜

♥ What’s the absolute best experience you’ve had in RP?

        This is such a tough question, because it’s so hard to choose just one. I guess I’ll go with the glory days of MySpace whenever Lauren and I were legit writing at least ten mother and daughter pairings together. Also, everything you and I have written together over the years. I’ve literally lost count of our relationship number, but yay Dynamos!

☯ Tell us all about your favorite muse you’ve ever written and why they meant so much to you.

        I know this might sound like I’m saying this just because she’s kind of taken over this blog in the past few months, but that’s honestly not the case. I’ve been writing Scarlett Ewing off and on for legit fifteen years now. That’s an entire decade and a half, wow. First of all, the show that she originates from will forever hold a special place in my heart. I love it so much, and I recommend everyone watch it sometime. Second, I’ve just done so much behind the scenes work with her that it’s honestly not even funny. If you all only knew how far she’s come ever since her MySpace days.

        I’ve watched her grow from an original character who should have been canon to actually having that particular dream come true with the reboot. She’s been through so many storylines with so many versions of so many characters that there’s enough history and headcanons to fill a book. Back to her show, there’s just so much material to draw from, and the cast is amazing. Like, don’t even get me started on the two who play her parents.

        This is already turning into a mini novel, but I’ve written Scarlett on so many different websites and with so many different and interesting people that how could she not be up there in the top on my list of all time favorite muses?

❀ What is your favorite thing about your current fandom or RP community?

        This is a multimuse, and the majority of the fandoms are legit super small. With that being said, I love that I’ve been able to meet some pretty awesome people in those tiny fandoms who like me are dedicated to keeping them alive, even if it’s only by a thread. I hope they never leave me, because then none of this would be anywhere near as much fun lol.

⚜ Have you ever met anyone from RP in real life?

        So, there’s this girl named Lexi, and we started writing together like a bunch of years ago. One day she told me she was coming to my state to visit some family, but since she’d started watching the DALLAS reboot thanks to Brenda Strong, she was also going to visit Southfork before returning home. That place is like my second home, so we both braved the June heat and met up there one afternoon. It was super fun, and we need to do it again soon. And that’s the condensed version of how I met one of my most nearest and dearest friends in real life who became the Ann to my Sue Ellen.

#x.| we'll probably have take three ( ooc ) #walkingintofirex

[thotyssey]

On Point With: Megami

If ComicCon and DragCon had a baby, she’d grow up to be this new queen! And in a modern queer pop culture where drag and genre cosplay are increasingly melding together, it will be goddesses like Brooklyn native Megami D.Vil (better known simply as Megami) who will be leading the freaky masses to a new horizon of performance entertainment.

Thotyssey: Hello Megami, seasons greetings! The heat just came on in my apartment today. This is great drag weather, isn't it?

Megami: It really is! Gür! I’m a Thicc Woman. I sweat walking to the train!

Oh me too, it's tragic! So, what were you more excited about these past few months: DragCon or ComicCon?

Ugh! That’s so hard! It’s like choosing between my children! Do I choose the pretty one, or the fun one!? I was really looking forward to both for different reasons. At DragCon, I got to see all my fav NY girls (from on Drag Race and off), buy their merch, feel beautiful! And this has been my 10th year going to NY ComicCon, so it’s been my yearly geek pilgrimage since I was 19.

I mean, for both Cons it’s so great to just be in a place where my weird hobbies and interests are celebrated; as both a Queen and a Geeky Cosplayer. Although, I did get to dress as Sailor Moon Darth Vader for NY ComicCon... so I suppose that edges out DragCon by a hair. Haha!

Understood! It actually feels like the worlds of drag and sci-fi fangeekery blend a little more each year, don't they?

They do! Crazy characters, stunning looks... they’re highly compatible. And I certainly try my best to make them blend as much as I can.

I started doing drag about two years ago when I won the Gay Geeks of New York cosplay lip sync show GeekSync (which I’m hosting at the West End Lounge for the second time this October), but I’ve always loved to do cosplay drag looks, even before I performed. 

It’s always been my goal to merge gay culture with geek culture as much as I can--to let all the queer geeks out there know, like, “Hey! It’s not weird at all to geek out about Star Wars and Game of Thrones as much as Drag Race, or...” ugh...I don’t know what gays like...”the gym!” Like the things you like with your full heart. Your geeky passions are what make you unique!

Werk! I was in the judge’s panel for Miss Nerd at Rockbar in June... your Bowie / Labyrinth look and number was a crowd pleaser!

Yeah. And I mean, I won Miss Fan favorite, so the crowd definitely responded to my geekery! I’m not much of a pageant girl, but I definitely already have some highly ambitious gags planned for next June. I’m coming for that crown! Haha!

You’ll be the queen to beat! “Megami,” by the way, is a video game reference, right?

Yes! Megami actually means “Goddess” in Japanese. I took [Japanese] for two years in college ‘cause I’m a super anime loving Otaku Weeaboo and thought I could learn enough to not need subtitles! (Spoiler: I did NOT. Japanese has three alphabets, and is one of the hardest languages in the world to learn).

But yeah, Megami D.Vil was inspired by the video game Shin Megami Tensei: Digital Devil Saga ‘cause I’m a Goddess and a Devil. I know. Incredibly convoluted. Nobody understands my name. I have to spell it out all the time. But like I say at all my shows: I’m a Puerto Rican man pretending to be a Japanese woman who acts like a white girl who thinks she’s a black girl... so eat your heart out Rachel Dolezal! Step your pussy up! 

And Megami is actually my old cat’s name. So every time I go visit my parents and someone calls “Megami!” It’s very confusing for the both of us.

Are you, like, a JPop and KPop fan, also?

Oh I love KPop and Jpop! Koda Kumi, Twice!, Girls Generation, of course Utada Hikaru... there’s not a single self-respecting weeb out there who doesn’t know every single word to Utada’s “Simple and Clean.” It’s the weeb anthem! And I’ve performed songs in Japanese and Korean before. And in Spanish too, while I’m at it.

I draw my inspirations from all aspects of my life. If it’s my own Latin culture or gay culture or geekery or music... I will never be shy about saying “Hey everyone! This is an awesome thing I love and that inspires me! Love it, too!”

Side Geek Question: lots of fans seem unhappy with the casting of Ruby Rose as a lesbian Batwoman... even LGBT fans. What are your thoughts?

Okay, real talk. I wasn’t gonna watch even if, I don’t know, Ellen was Batwoman. Haha ...Maybe if it was like... Meryl... or Gaga... or Cher... Cher Batwoman would be AMAZING! I have two X-Men / Dark Phoenix tattoos on my arm, so I’m staunchly on the Marvel side of the fence in these kinda fights. I’m more upset that the godawful-looking Dark Phoenix movie is getting released than about Ruby being Batwoman. Like, Sophie Turner apparently graduated from the Kristen Stewart school of Non-Acting, with all 2.5 facial expressions she’s capable of emoting. I really, really wanted Disney to give X-Men the MCU overhaul.

But at the end of the day, fans (LGBT or not) will always get their panties in a twist about EVERYTHING! EVERY SINGLE THING! (Hey, myself included, proven by my previous statements).  Across all fandoms, these stories and characters are sooo precious to us Geeks. They were our friends, and reasons to keep going on and be brave when the world told us we were too weird, or too weak, or too queer. We all have deep connections with our fandoms. So it’s hard sometimes when a story or character that’s precious and personal fells like they’re being mishandled by greedy corporations. Art is personal.

You’ve been hosting Thirsty Thursdays at Mom’s Kitchen & Bar in Hell’s Kitchen for a few months now. There are certainly no shortage of queens in that neighborhood, but your show seems to be a hit! What’s Thirsty’s winning formula, and how did you land that gig in the first place?

Well, landing the gig was partially luck, partially just impressing the right people. Mom’s was looking for a newer queen to spearhead a Thursday show. They’ve never done anything like this, so they wanted someone they could grow with and establish something fun in a relatively new establishment. So I stepped in with a game plan and a few good recommendations, and we’ve just gone from there.

I think the formula that works for me has been choosing a different theme every week to build each night around. It forces me to come up with fresh material and numbers consistently. I’ve done themes like “Geeks & Gaga” (for the week of NY ComicCon and the A Star is Born premiere), “Ladies of the 80s,” “Extra Divas,” “Ladies Who Rock,” and many others. “Latina Night” and “Halloqween Spooktacular” are coming up very soon.

I think above all, I just like people. Aside from drag, I volunteer with the LGBT organization GGNY (Gay Geeks of NY) as their VP and Art Director. So I’m very used to talking to people, running events, and just letting my terrible personality shine! 

Well, it seems like you’re doing great work! And speaking of new gigs, tell us about The Creek & The Cave in Long Island City, where you will be premiering a new monthly drag revue, Gender Blender, on Sunday the 28th!

Yeah! The Creek and the Cave is a well-known comedy club that’s hosted a TON of the world’s best comedians. But they’ve been looking to expand and have different kinds of acts. So I’m bringing the Queer to Long Island City! I have a lineup of cosplayers and queens to kick of this monthly show with a geeky bang!

Wonderful! anything else to report as far as gigs or projects?

Well, on top of hosting Thirsty Thursday every Thursday at Mom’s Kitchen in Hell’s Kitchen from 9-11, I will be hosting GGNY’s Third Annual Geek Sync (the cosplay lip sync competition) Saturday, October 20th at the West End Lounge, from 6-8pm...

... premiering Gender Blender: A Monthly Drag Show, Sunday October 28th at Creek & the Cave, and in the near future doing a Miss Nerd 2018 Miss Fan Favorite show at Rockbar. And of course, whatever other little gigs I can wiggle my size 10 rainbows pumps into.

Excellent, have fun with everything! Last question: best video game ever?

This is a hard question!!! Again, cruelty to animals. I’m calling PETA!

Final Fantasy X. I have it on PS2/ PS3/ PS4 and soon the Switch. I’ve played through it a million times, and I still cry at the end every time. And the sequel X-2 is the SINGLE gayest piece of media that has ever existed. The Sailor Moon costume transformations, High Summoner Yuna becoming the Pop Star sensation, Leblanc the Drag Queen. Gay gay gay!

Though I do plan on getting married to my imaginary boyfriend on November 7th because of Mass Effect... so it’s Sophie’s Choice... or Shepard’s Choice, actually.

Play on, Megami! Thank you!

Megami hosts “Thirsty Thursdays” every week at Mom’s (8pm), and “Gender Blender” monthly last Sundays at  The Creek & The Cave (7pm). Check Thotyssey’s calendar for all her scheduled gigs, and follow Megami on Facebook and Instagram.

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