#bestial serie

[ol-files]

[ol-files]

Boi got a bandair, with cat airs 🐱

@geekgirles EXCUSE ME????????

MY BOY

ITS MY BOY!!!

how did I not know about this

[warthogreporter]

A third look at the human fucker community on monster tumblr

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents.

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

Update: I seduced the hero's parents. Does anyone have advice for bonding with a human stepson?

(65,678 Notes)

💇HumanTamer-BloodRaven Follow

Here are some ways you can keep your human from escaping without outright locking them up. I'm including stuff most of you won't be able to use just for thoroughness and to give ideas, feel free to add to this post with your own contributions.

-Erect a magical barrier your human needs your permission to cross, be sure to ask local wizards and the like for help if you're not used to setting this sort of thing up.

-Use love potions and other methods to speed up the process of removing their desire to escape you or resist your advances.

-Let them try to escape a few times, but set it up so that they fail and are immediately caught. You only need it to work enough times for learned helplessness to set in, so it doesn't need to be sustainable, psychology will do the rest.

-Put the exit somewhere they can't reach without help. Like up high if you can fly, or deep underwater if you're aquatic.

-Get guards. If you're worried about them getting at your humans, pick ones who won't be interested. Like if you only have men, recruit some lesbians for guard duty or vice versa. Bisexuals, call upon the asexuals.

👑Mr.Demon-King Follow

Also in some areas, like my domain, check for publicly available resources. I've been doing a lot to make humans more accessible for monsters, like free human tamer consultations.

(947,237 Notes)

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

At the monastery telling the monks about my magic that enthralls monks while I'm in the process of using it on them (the monks). The monks are enthralled.

🧛Vampy-Vevito Follow

Aren't you the guy who thought humans could breathe underwater?

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

FUCK YOU!

(53,435 Notes)

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

Some of you will literally look up mpreg spells before acknowledging the existence of human women

🍆InkEbus Follow

It'd be sexist to only bring in a human woman for baby making when you really only care about the men, women should be with monsters who truly appreciate them

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

My way of appreciating human women is getting them pregnant 🤰🤰

🐉Dragevening Follow

I wish they could lay eggs instead.

👴Nah-Gilfa Follow

Anything is possible with enough praying and mantras, do it long enough and the gods have to give you what you want

⚡️Indra-official✅ Follow

I swear if one of you fuckers calls on me via prayer or mantra for some weird sex thing I'm begging Shiva to end the world.

🪞Tezcatlipoca-official✅ Follow

You didn't seem so mad when Kunti needed you to get her pregnant.

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

What happened to this post?

(405,345 Notes)

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

It's so disappointing when I meet a human into monsters but not centaurs. I know people have their preferences, but it's frustrating how some people will be eager to have octopus like monsters from the abyss wrap their tentacles around them, but fucking a centaur is too much like bestiality.

🔔Goylegar Follow

Don't worry OP, there are plenty of monsterfuckers out there, you'll find your human partner one day. Your frustration is valid too though. It took me centuries to meet my human partner, I hope you don't need to wait as long.

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

Thank you.

(200 Notes)

Read the first two entries here (part 1) and here (part2). May end the series here or at least put it on indefinite break, don't want to drag it out.

[thesiltverses]

If there’s a list of books or plays or movies or tv series that influenced Eskew/TSV what’d be the top 10?

Probably different every time someone asks! But today let's go with...

Kafka's Castle / Trial / Penal Colony / Metamorphosis, Ligotti's Kafka-inspired stories (e.g The Town Manager) and other semi-adjacent absurdists and brilliant weirdos (Daniil Kharms, David Lynch, Hans Henny Jahn, Kobo Abe, arguably Fernando Pessoa?) who like to deal with social performance, human reaction and the pretence of normality in the face of unbearable strangeness, monstrous impositions and nightmare logic

Beckett's Happy Days / Endgame / Not I / WfG / Malone trilogy for the tragically pointless but inescapable search for meaning and fulfilment in ourselves, in our memories, in other people, in this wasted landscape, etc

Junji Ito's Uzumaki / Gyo / Amigara Fault / other stuff for powerfully making the argument that ludicrous horrors are also terrifying and gross horrors are also hilarious

Works that explore the helpless terror and allure in being horribly transfigured into a final shape that makes sense of us (The Fly / Videodrome, Annihilation, Ovid's Metamorphoses, Society, Ito again) or relatedly the shameless joy of setting fire to our social and familial and societal environment and embracing the wild, devilish, bestial and profane (a lot of stuff, but I'm thinking of the works of Angela Carter and Leonora Carrington and also The Witch and Carrie, that one Clarice Lispector book where she eats a bug)

Dostoevsky's Devils, Crime and Punishment and Notes from Underground for his unsurpassed collection of asocial self-obsessives having an existentially bad time and handling that poorly

The 1973 double bill of The Wicker Man / Don't Look Now for exploring the tragedy and horror of how our search for meaning may entrap us into a dead end of meaningless horrors

All of LeGuin's fiction but particularly The Dispossessed and Omelas.

The Wire for its peerless portrayal of a cast of complicated and largely unheroic human beings all attempting to either reach or destroy one another but who are ultimately all adrift and alone in the modern supersystem. The Wire and The Lives of Others for affirming the worth of even futile and powerless to support others who are suffering within that supersystem.

Any and all shit about strange and awful environments which may possibly possess a malevolent will or which are perhaps merely beholden to their own natural laws and we are the ones drawn to destroy ourselves within them (The Stone Tapes and many of Nigel Kneale's other works, The Children of Green Noah, The Haunting of Hill House, Roadside Picnic / Stalker, The Terror, The Minpins, Annihilation again, The Island of Morel, I know House of Leaves is a perfect fit for this but personally I always found it a bit hacky)

Riddley Walker, A Canticle for Leibowitz, and other post-apocalyptic work - to some extent Mad Max and the better Fallout games apply - that find the value and humanity (while recognising the potential for self-destruction) in our absurd efforts to construct meaning and to tell meaningful stories from out of the ruin and chaos all around us.

There's other stuff - The Silt Verses steals a lot of its initial atmospherics from True Detective Season 1, both shows are inevitably in dialogue with the mechanics and themes of Lovecraftian cosmic horror even if I wouldn't call Lovecraft a positive influence - but that's a pretty good list, I think.

[room-surprise]

Real World Cultural and Linguistic Influences in Delicious in Dungeon (NON-FICTION)

It's here! It's finally here!

Well, chapters 1-7, the first 98 pages (52,837 words) of the essay are done! This covers what the essay is about, my methodology, translation issues, the Dungeon Meshi world in general, and the names and cultural references relevant to all of the Tall-man characters. More will be coming soon. SUMMARY: Dungeon Meshi is full of vivid and complex world-building. When you take all the information in the manga as a whole, there are clear and consistent patterns in what real world cultures the author was inspired by, and how she arranges them on the Dungeon Meshi world map.

In this essay, I will catalog and explain every real world cultural reference I was able to identify in the manga, including character and location names, historical and mythological references, clothing, and of course food!

WARNING: This essay is full of spoilers for the entire Dungeon Meshi manga, all the extra materials, and the anime. Disturbing and violent moments that happen in the series are described, discussed and analyzed. The essay also discusses real-life world history and mythology, which contains sensitive subjects like war, death, slavery, abortion, child killing, sexual assault, incest, and bestiality. These topics are mentioned in an academic context, and not described. Please proceed with caution if this concerns you.

READ IT ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

[ol-files]

The model made

The référence

[obsessivevoidkitten]

I like to imagine the animal farm reader slowly morphing into a chimera of sorts themselves after so much time spent absorbing all that monster cum. The first of the changes being slowly getting more and more horny in a way that the daily breedings are desperately needed even though they try to hide it. They’re getting addicted to the cum and they don’t know why until animal features sprout in their sleep that they spend hours concealing any way they can so the farm doesn’t get any ideas. They try to avoid getting bred to slow the progress of the transformation but it doesn’t work, being a little too late for that and at the hybrid men’s mercy anyways. Transformation escalating to the point that they now experience heats like the cat men and getting railed once a day doesn’t do it anymore. Heck they might even be worse than the cat men now.

Always wondered what they’d do if they happened upon the reader outside naked, now mostly covered in fur with bestial ears, a tail and a toss up of other features like horns, wings, hooves, and claws, obviously in heat (the smell is STRONG) and sorta presenting to the farm but too hazy from their heat to talk.

When they try to ask questions that’s when they find out reader can mimic most of their more animalistic sounds very convincingly now. Hm a needy hole that sounds exactly like each of their species when interacted with, wonder how (fast) this could go wrong.

I really love this alternate series of events.

Reader would get bred so hard.

[astralnymphh]

im scared cus this is my first req buttttt.. ellie fucking u w a breeding strap but keep stopping to watch the fake cum ooze out and make her dirty comments 🫣

+bonus ugh it would be so hot if she made u suck it first then gave u a facial!!! or she gets carried away n it gets ALL OVER u (and in u lollll) like back thighs face UGH I NEED TO BE STOPPED

apologies for taking FOREVER but omg ELLIE GIVING YOU A FACIAL. lemme expand on this. MDNI. 𐙚

𐙚 ellie gives you a facial

"yeah–ha? too big for you?" she cooed in that conceited tone, the one she curls and swirls whensoever you can't take her in sheer size, hence now. a tone that ensues to badger you, inflame you, to thrust your throat faster. you bob your head, like all hell you bob with might– shaking fingertips pressing gently into her soft, pliable butt, inching her in further. her silicone cock, it's veiny shaft scrapes in tiny grooves along your gullet walls, puncturing the very depths with a brazen cockhead so feckly– you gag. a series of 'uuaghhs' and 'bhhhmms' that buzz like a bee on her dick ellie could only hope to phantom feel. cold, webby spit is all your taste buds could swill, a bland taste in frothy soaks. her cockhead presses against your inner–most gullet wall– uvula if you want terms, the bulbous mass getting you to gag once more, akin to thrusts and thrusts hence. you spit, detaching your pouty wet buds, "guuhh–ah, ack!" and tightropes of beady sap–like consistency leashes from your lips to your throat, laying like strings of spaghetti over the plush of your bottom lip. ellie giggles with smuggish pique, cooing at you more, "hehe– fuck babe, makin' me wanna fuck your pretty mouth.. ohh~" her brows pinch in rumination of that appealing enigma, to fuck your throat. you raise, throat clearing roughly, "I've been sucking it for minutes now, is it not go–" she cuts you off, large palm swinging around your head to tangle knuckles to knots in your locks, "scuse' me, m'not finished yet–" she slams your caving mouth over her cock, sheathing it wholly, "–that's why." she replies with wit staining that voice. goddess damn it. pump, pump, pump– the more your hair tousled, the harsher her pumps glide. those dauntingly sexy hips you cradle in two measly grasps fuck into your slobbering gob like there's no tomorrow. wetness amalgamates in bubbly drops in the pit of your lap, sweat cakes on your tense forehead, and your gags remain punted back by the force of her cocktip seeking a gushy release in harsh strokes. moans echo, they rattle your skull, flowing much like grunts of bestial nature– grizzling out of her lungs. "unhhh– yeahhh baby, take me in there, take me in– mghhh." it's ruthless, yet ruthlessly hot, not a big feat for ellie though– she has no qualms when it comes to being effortlessly hot. one tightly drawn squeal with grit, and she's cumming– everywhere. no use paying a cell of your mind to focus on the rivers of clear cum that trickle from her engorged pussy lips, because inversely, her stinging grip tugs your head off and slinks over to grab taut hold on her girth, oozing out all that delectable– pearly white serum all over your face. it saults beyond your brow ridge, groups of globs beelining for your chin. snail trails of sticky glue emissions paint you like an abstract canvas, dripping with strings onto your chest and your belly– and your thighs. ergo, everywhere. ellie continues to aim her cock in patterns, purposefully smothering you with her gloopy release– cause fuuck was it lewd to see you glossed like a glazed donut. a stifled, "cummin' all over that pretty face, yeah– take that." gusts through the tight gaps of her teeth, living as the only sound to overrun the squelching of her sleek bulging out of that cocks' tiny little hole. a final bead purls from the hole, diving straight for the tip of your nose. her grasp given, she loosens up, slinking a curved finger over to smear any leftover cum over her cock's size. giggling like a dork, in rasp, "oh god," fakely gasped, "she cum all over you? shit babe–" you scowl in feign at her, pursing brows, "you clearly intended to do that." you snap, to which she replies dumbly, muttering, "mh– noo, just lose control of 'er, fuckin' hot though right?" her thumb presses a dent in the rubbery thickness, slapping the cock down on your coiling lips. you giggle, "really fucking hot." with intentional foxiness pitching your words, thereafter flattening your tongue out for her to slap on– which she does, bouncing her pretty cock on your pretty tongue. ౨ৎ

ellie definitely enjoys this, too much.

will orbly write a fucking u w a breeding strap another day lol. gotta finish this fic!!

[kidasthings]

Kingdom has frankly made me feel crazy. I've seen the movie three times. Noa gives both "important" items to Mae. He doesn't choose between Soona and Mae when literally asked. He gives a bullshit "we were born together" answer (what does that mean, bro?) which literally sounds like he thinks of her as a sister. (Which checks out, bc that's the vibe they actually had lbr) He carries her. Rescues her on horseback. Bonds w/her through the whole damn movie. And all their tension? Not to mention Owen and Freya being the literal faces of the movie and all the promo. I just need to know if they have written the single most unintentional enemies to lovers story or if its all intentional and we aren't crazy.

Let me let you in on a little secret that might shed some light on what is going on, here.

Shhh... don't tell anyone. I don't think they could handle it!

The Planet of the Apes Franchise has had many, many examples of human-ape hookups and pairings before in the comics, and hints of this can be found on the big screen (Taylor and Zira kissing, the almost-was ape-human hybrid child).

Some examples of ape-human pairings in the franchise have been:

Malaguena (human woman) and the male chimp Grimaldi from "Terror on the Planet of the Apes"

Tonus, a human-hating gorilla, fell in love with a "chimp" named Valia who was really a human woman in disguise named Myndith. It more or less changed his stance on humans "Blood of the Apes" miniseries

Fauna, a blind chimp female fell in love with Pete Burke, a human man in an episode of the Planet of the Apes TV series

Various examples of human-ape hybrids, such as the mud people

Some examples of ape-on-ape mixes also occurred:

Minister Shiva was half chimp, half gorilla (Dark Horse comics)

The Chimerae were descended from gorillas, orangutan and chimp blood (Dark Horse, again)

Lieutenant Mungwort was part chimpanzee, part gorilla

You can find all of this detailed here for reference:

So, yeah, if they were hinting something between Noa and Mae, you can bet it would be on-point for the franchise to do that.

Intentionally.

Because, you know, the Planet of the Apes has this long history of mixing species, both on-screen and off.

I know some claim it's bestiality, or zoophilia, or whatever to ship Noa x Mae, and that's fine. Sing it to the rafters, you do you.

I still stand by the fact that if someone claims this and pays to watch the Planet of the Apes movies in the movie theater they are financially supporting their own claims of bestiality and zoophilia for a franchise that has always promoted ape-human pairings.

For the rest of us, it's just par for the course and a typical ship.

Hope that helps!

[alexanderwales]

I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

[witchywithwhiskey]

witchywithwhiskey's slasher summer writing challenge

i know what you did... THIS summer! you joined me in celebrating summerween with a slasher summer themed writing challenge!! i was inspired by some classic summer horror movies to create this challenge and have some fun, and i'm so excited to share it with you all!! let's have a summer we'll never forget!!

how it works:

select at least 1 prompt from the lists below and incorporate it into your fic

the challenge will start june 20 and end august 31 (at 11:59pm ET)

all works will be put into a masterlist to be published no later than september 1

you don't need to follow me to participate

tag me and #slashersummerwc in your entry so i can read/reblog your work!

the rules:

you must be 18+ to participate in this challenge!

chris evans, sebastian stan, henry cavill characters and marvel characters are welcome - but NO RPF (if you wanna write another fandom, just check with me first!)

works can be dark, fluff, smut and/or angst but make sure to use appropriate warnings. works don't need to be horror

no grooming, underage, watersports/scat, incest, necrophilia or bestiality

dubcon, noncon and monsterfucking are ok!

reader-inserts only, and all works should be inclusive. works with poc, gender neutral, plus size/curvy readers are encouraged!

there are no word limits but please use a read more after 300 words

works can be part of an existing series but must be able to stand on their own

have fun!!

if you have any questions, please send me an ask or DM. otherwise, prompts are below the cut!

locations

carnival/county fair

roller rink

shopping mall

drive-in movie theater

motel

summer camp

trailer park

cabin in the woods

lake house

small town

road trip

campsite

local video store

kinks & tropes

knife kink/gun kink

dacryphilia

enemies to lovers

forced proximity

chase kink

sex in the woods

fuck or die

mask kink

blindfolds/gags

sex pollen

gangbang

stalker

kidnapping

quotes

You're not gonna leave me here, are you?

It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too.

Meet me at the waterfront after the social.

It's summer! We're supposed to be having fun!

You know how girls love to scream.

You think that's blood?

Things get messy when you make a deal with the devil.

I never liked camp.

Honestly, if you ever become an actor, don't ever do a slasher flick.

You did a lot of things last summer.

It's just not what I was expecting. Where are the cabins and canoes?

I know how much you guys like games.

I used to hate the water…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Law-Related Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 4/4)

Ambulatory - capable of being altered

Attainder - the termination of the civil rights of a person upon a sentence of death or outlawry for treason or a felony

Bestiality - the crime of engaging in sexual relations with an animal

Blasphemy - the crime of insulting or showing contempt or lack of reverence for God or a religion and its doctrines and writings and especially God as perceived by Christianity and Christian doctrines and writings

Brownfield - a tract of land that has been developed for industrial purposes, polluted, and then abandoned

Clemency - willingness or ability to moderate the severity of a punishment (as a sentence); an act or instance of mercy, compassion, or forgiveness

Cold blood - a state of mind marked by premeditation and deliberateness—usually used in the phrase in cold blood

Concubinage - the relationship between persons who are cohabiting without the benefit of marriage

Days of grace - period of time beyond a scheduled date during which a required action (as payment of an obligation) may be taken without incurring the ordinarily resulting adverse consequences (as penalty or cancellation); also called "grace period"

Donation mortis causa - a donation that is to take effect on the donor's death and that is revocable

Ex maleficio - arising from wrongdoing; created by law in response to a wrongdoing

Exonerate - to relieve especially of a charge, obligation, or hardship; to clear from accusation or blame

Express malice - the knowledge that defamatory statements especially regarding a public figure are false

Extreme cruelty - behavior toward a spouse that involves physical violence or threats thereof, acts calculated to destroy the peace of mind or health of the spouse, or acts destructive of the purpose of the marriage

Floodgate - something serving to restrain an outburst (as of litigation)—usually used in pl.

Flotsam - floating wreckage of a ship or its cargo

Flying squad - a usually small standby group of people ready to move or act quickly; especially: a police unit formed to respond quickly in an emergency; called also "flying squadron"

Fourth degree - a grade given to less serious forms of crimes

Freedom of the seas - the right of a merchant ship to travel any waters except territorial waters either in peace or war

Golden parachute - an agreement providing for generous compensation to an executive upon dismissal

Great bodily injury - physical injury suffered by the victim of a violent crime that causes a substantial risk of death, extended loss or impairment of a body part or function, or permanent disfigurement; physical injury that is more serious than that ordinarily suffered in a battery

Indemnify - to secure against hurt, loss, or damage

Messuage - a dwelling house with the adjacent buildings and curtilage and other adjoining lands used in connection with the household

Moiety - half of something

Moot - deprived of practical significance; made abstract or purely academic

Next friend - a person appearing in or appointed by a court to act on behalf of a person (as a child) lacking legal capacity

Nunc pro tunc - now for then—used in reference to a judicial or procedural act that corrects an omission in the record, has effect as of an earlier date, or takes place after a deadline has expired

Primogeniture - the state of being the firstborn of the children of the same parents; exclusive right of inheritance

Prurient - marked by or arousing an unwholesome sexual interest or desire

Putative - thought, assumed, or alleged to be such or to exist

Sedition - the crime of creating a revolt, disturbance, or violence against lawful civil authority with the intent to cause its overthrow or destruction

Seriatim - in a series; individually in a sequence

Strictissimi juris - according to the strictest interpretation of the law

Wrongful death - a death caused by the negligent, willful, or wrongful act, neglect, omission, or default of another

Wrongful life - a malpractice claim brought by or on behalf of a child born with a birth defect alleging that he or she would never have been born if not for the negligent advice or treatment provided to the parents by a physician or health-care provider (Note: Wrongful life claims have usually been rejected by the courts. The injury is not the birth defect, but the life itself, and courts are reluctant to declare life an injury. A specific calculation of damages for wrongful life would entail affixing a monetary value to the difference between life in an impaired state and nonexistence. There is no legally established right not to be born.)

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Law-Related Words ⚜ Word Lists

[artyandink]

amoralism | eleven

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning in itself), mention of murder, murder, Knights of Hell but they’re just murderous humans, making out, SA (I think) but it’s not real, nightmares, Jack Kline, Crowley and Rowena, choking and not in the sexy way

A/N - I might have cooked with this chapter, who knows :)

Song Inspo: Tattoo - Loreen

SERIES MASTERLIST

bestialism

You drove in silence, the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. The city lights blurred past you, each one a reminder of how everything had just shattered. The news had hit you like a freight train, leaving you numb, your thoughts spiraling in a thousand different directions. Dean Winchester, the man you trusted, the man you… No, you couldn’t even finish the thought. It was too painful, too raw.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white as you navigated through the familiar streets leading to your dad’s house. Rick had always been your rock, a steady presence through every storm. And now, as the world crumbled around you, he was the only place you could think to go. You needed something solid to hold onto, something that hadn’t been tainted by betrayal.

The car’s engine hummed softly as you pulled into the driveway. The porch light was on, casting a warm, welcoming glow over the front yard. You sat there for a moment, staring at the house where you’d grown up, trying to gather the strength to face your father. He’d always been able to read you like an open book, and tonight would be no different. But how could you explain this? How could you even begin to put it into words?

With a deep breath, you turned off the ignition and stepped out into the cool night air. The chill cut through your jacket, but you barely noticed. You walked up the steps slowly, each one feeling like a mile, and then you were at the door, hand raised to knock. But before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door swung open.

Rick stood there, his broad frame filling the doorway, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those familiar, steady eyes—held a softness, an understanding that broke something deep inside you. He didn’t say a word, just stepped aside to let you in. The warmth of the house enveloped you as you crossed the threshold, the familiar scents of home filling your senses. It was as if the very walls were trying to comfort you, to shield you from the harsh reality waiting outside.

You walked into the living room, your movements mechanical, and dropped your bag by the couch. Rick followed you, his footsteps quiet, careful. You turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat. How could you tell him? How could you say the words that would make all of this real?

But before you could speak, before you could even begin to form a coherent thought, Rick closed the distance between you and pulled you into his arms. The embrace was firm, solid, and you collapsed into it, all the strength you’d been clinging to evaporating in an instant. The tears came then, hot and relentless, as you buried your face against his chest. He held you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back, his presence a balm to the open wound inside you.

“Dad…” Your voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion, and you couldn’t find the words to continue.

Rick didn’t push, didn’t ask for explanations. He just held you, letting you cry, letting you pour out all the pain and confusion and betrayal. He knew. Somehow, he knew. Maybe it was the way you’d come straight here, or the look in your eyes when you walked through the door. Maybe he’d seen the signs before you had, pieces of a puzzle you’d been too close to see. Whatever it was, he understood without you needing to say a word.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you feeling hollow and exhausted, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Rick’s hands rested on your shoulders, grounding you, giving you the strength you so desperately needed.

“I just… I need a place to stay,” you said, your voice rough from crying.

Rick nodded, his expression gentle. “Of course. You know you’re always welcome here.”

You managed a small, shaky smile, grateful beyond words for his unconditional support. It was exactly what you needed right now—no questions, no judgment, just a safe place to fall apart.

“Cassie’s already in bed,” Rick added, his voice low and soothing. “But she’ll be happy to see you in the morning.”

The thought of your little sister, her innocent smile, brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You blinked them back, trying to hold yourself together. You didn’t want to break down again, not when you’d finally found a semblance of calm. But Rick noticed, of course he did. He always noticed.

“Hey,” he said softly, guiding you to the couch. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you something warm to drink.”

You nodded, letting him lead you to the couch. The cushions were soft, familiar, and you sank into them gratefully. As Rick moved toward the kitchen, you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the lingering chill that had settled in your bones.

The house was quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes as your dad prepared something in the kitchen. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on those simple, comforting noises instead of the storm raging inside you. Dean’s face flashed in your mind, the way he’d looked at you just that morning, his smile warm and genuine. How could he have hidden so much? How could he have deceived you so completely?

The betrayal cut deep, deeper than you’d thought possible. You’d trusted him, relied on him, and now… Now everything was in ruins. You’d have to face the consequences of this, both professionally and personally. But not tonight. Tonight, you just needed to survive.

Rick returned a few minutes later, a steaming mug in his hand. He handed it to you with a small, encouraging smile. “Chamomile,” he said. “It’ll help you sleep.”

You took the mug, the warmth seeping into your hands, and murmured a quiet thank you. The tea smelled faintly floral, a scent that reminded you of simpler times, when your biggest worry had been a school project or a crush. You took a sip, the hot liquid soothing your raw throat.

Rick sat down beside you, not too close, giving you space but still close enough to remind you that you weren’t alone. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and familiar, the way it always was with him. He didn’t push you to talk, didn’t ask for details. He just let you be, which was exactly what you needed.

After a few more sips of tea, you set the mug down on the coffee table, your hands trembling slightly. The weight of everything pressed down on you again, but somehow, it felt more bearable here, in the safety of your father’s home.

“Dad…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Rick turned to you, his expression filled with quiet understanding. “You don’t have to deal with it all at once,” he said gently. “Just take it one step at a time. And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

His words were a lifeline, something solid to cling to in the midst of the chaos. You nodded, feeling a tiny bit of the weight lift off your shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind you that you could get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dad,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Rick smiled, reaching out to gently squeeze your hand. “You’ll never have to find out.”

The tears came again, softer this time, more manageable. You leaned into your father, resting your head on his shoulder, and let yourself find comfort in the one place that had always been safe. No matter what happened next, you knew you had your family to fall back on. And right now, that was all you needed.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a pale light over the walls covered in faded posters and memories. You hadn't slept much, the weight of yesterday's revelations pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. Your mind kept replaying the events, the shock, the betrayal, and the gnawing pain that refused to leave. Dean—your partner, the man you'd trusted, the man you'd loved—was the mole. The thought alone was enough to make your stomach churn.

But you were here, in the safety of your father's home, trying to make sense of it all. The familiar creak of the floorboards outside your door brought you back to the present. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to get up, to face whatever the day would bring. You knew your dad and Cassie were both awake, and the thought of their concerned faces made your heart ache even more. They’d been your rock through this, especially last night, when you felt like you might fall apart.

As you shuffled down the stairs, the smell of coffee hit you, a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. Your dad was at the kitchen table, a steaming mug in hand, and Cassie was perched on the counter, swinging her legs as she bit into a piece of toast. The moment they saw you, their faces softened with concern.

“Morning,” you murmured, forcing a small smile.

“Morning, sweetheart,” your dad replied, his voice gentle. “How’re you holding up?”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down again. Cassie slid off the counter and wrapped you in a hug, her warmth seeping into you, offering a brief moment of peace.

Before you could sink into the comfort of your family, there was a knock at the front door. Your dad exchanged a glance with you, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded, and he went to answer it.

When the door opened, you heard a familiar voice. Sam.

You felt your stomach drop. Of course, he would come. He was Dean’s brother, after all, and probably had questions of his own. Questions you weren’t sure you could answer. But as much as you wanted to hide away and pretend none of this was happening, you couldn’t avoid this conversation forever.

Sam walked into the kitchen, his tall frame taking up too much space in the small room. His face was drawn, concern etched into every line. When his eyes landed on you, they softened, but you could still see the turmoil behind them.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low.

“Hey,” you replied, wrapping your arms around yourself defensively.

“Mind if we talk?” he asked, glancing at your dad and Cassie, who both took the hint and quietly left the room.

Once they were gone, Sam turned back to you, his expression serious. “I’ve been going over everything that happened, and… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right about Dean being the mole.”

You stiffened, your defenses going up immediately. “Sam, I was there. He confessed. He told me how he manipulated me, how he used me to get information. And then… then he fought his way out of custody.” The memory was sharp, cutting deep, and you had to take a steadying breath before continuing. “He doesn’t want to be found.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he absorbed your words. But he didn’t back down. “I hear you. I do. But this doesn’t add up. Dean’s not the kind of guy who’d sell out his team, let alone his country. He’s been through hell and back, and he’s always done what’s right, no matter the cost. There has to be more to this.”

“Sam…” you started, shaking your head. “I know you want to believe that. I wanted to believe it too. But I saw the look in his eyes. He’s not the same person we thought he was.”

“He’s my brother,” Sam insisted, his voice rising slightly. “I know him better than anyone. There’s no way he’d do something like this without a damn good reason. And I’m not saying he didn’t do something, but maybe it’s not what it looks like. Maybe he’s being framed or forced into this.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Framed? Sam, he confessed. He admitted everything. How do you explain that?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I don’t know. But I can’t just sit back and accept that Dean’s suddenly a traitor. It doesn’t make sense. Think about it—he’s been risking his life for years, putting everything on the line. Why would he turn now? Something else has to be going on, and I need your help to figure it out.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him that he was grasping at straws, but deep down, a part of you didn’t want to believe it either. The Dean you knew, the one you’d fallen for, wouldn’t do this. But the evidence was damning, and you had to protect yourself from getting hurt even more.

“Even if you’re right,” you said quietly, “I can’t… I can’t go after him. Not after everything that’s happened. I need to distance myself from this, from him.”

Sam looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I get it. I do. But we’re running out of time. If Dean’s in trouble, we need to help him. And nobody can solve a Major Crimes case better than you can. You’re the best we have. You can see things others miss. Please, help me find out the truth.”

You hesitated, the conflict tearing you apart. You wanted to help Sam, to find out what really happened, but the thought of getting involved again, of possibly facing Dean after everything, was too much to bear.

Seeing your reluctance, Sam softened his tone. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. But you don’t have to do this alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll figure this out together.”

His words stirred something inside you, a small spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to the story. But that hope was dangerous, and you weren’t sure you could afford to cling to it. Still, you couldn’t deny the pull to uncover the truth, to understand why Dean had done what he’d done.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “If I agree to help, we do it my way. No half-cocked plans, no rushing in without a solid lead. We gather all the evidence first, and we do this by the book.”

Sam nodded, relief washing over his features. “Absolutely. We’ll do it right.”

“And if we find out that Dean really is guilty…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, but Sam understood.

“If he’s guilty, we’ll deal with it,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your decision settle over you. “Okay. I’ll help. But I need to know you’re ready for whatever we find.”

Sam met your gaze, his expression resolute. “I am. And thank you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, both of you absorbing the gravity of what lay ahead. You weren’t sure if you were making the right choice, but it was the only choice that felt even remotely right. Dean had been a part of your life for so long, and if there was a chance that he wasn’t the monster he seemed to be, you had to know. You owed that much to yourself, and maybe even to him.

After a few moments, you stood up, feeling a new resolve settle in your bones. “We should start by reviewing the evidence. Every report, every detail that led us to this point. If there’s something off, we’ll find it.”

Sam followed your lead, a determined look in his eyes. “Agreed. Let’s head to the office and get to work.”

As you grabbed your coat and prepared to leave, your dad appeared in the doorway, concern etched into his face. “You okay, kiddo?”

You forced a smile, trying to reassure him. “Yeah, Dad. I’m okay. I just… I need to look into something.”

Rick studied you for a moment, then nodded, trusting you to do what needed to be done. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you promised, and then you were out the door, Sam at your side.

The drive to the office was quiet, both of you lost in thought. The gravity of the situation hung over you, but there was also a sense of purpose, a small sliver of hope that maybe things weren’t as black and white as they seemed. You clung to that hope, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

When you arrived at the office, it was eerily quiet, the usual buzz of activity muted. The case had shaken everyone, and the tension was palpable. You and Sam made your way to the records room, where every piece of evidence on Dean’s case was stored.

As you started sorting through the files, you found yourself slipping into work mode, the familiar routine bringing a strange sense of comfort. You knew how to do this, how to piece together a puzzle, even one as twisted as this.

Sam worked beside you, his focus intense. “We need to find the point where everything changed,” he said, more to himself than to you. “The moment Dean stopped being our guy and became… whatever this is.”

You nodded, flipping through reports, surveillance footage, anything that might give you a clue. But the deeper you dug, the more confusing it became. Dean’s actions were erratic, inconsistent. Some of his moves didn’t make sense if he was really working against the FBI. And yet, the evidence was there, staring you in the face.

Hours passed, the sun dipping lower in the sky, and still, nothing definitive emerged. Frustration gnawed at you, but you couldn’t give up. Not yet.

Sam suddenly paused, his eyes narrowing as he focused on a particular report. “Wait… look at this.”

You moved closer, peering over his shoulder. The report detailed a meeting Dean had with a known informant, one that had supposedly gone south, leading to his capture. But something about the timeline didn’t add up.

“This meeting,” Sam said, pointing to the date and time, “Dean was supposed to be on a surveillance run across town at the same time. I remember because I was covering his backup that day.”

You frowned, the pieces not fitting together. “But if he was on surveillance, how could he have been at this meeting?”

“That’s the thing,” Sam said, his voice tense. “He couldn’t have been. Which means this report was either faked, or someone was posing as Dean.”

The atmosphere in the Bureau was thick with tension, the kind that seeped into your bones and made your every nerve hum with anxiety. You and Sam had been working tirelessly to uncover the truth behind the mole and Dean’s involvement, piecing together fragments of a puzzle that seemed impossible to solve. Every lead, every scrap of information, led you deeper into a web of corruption that stretched far beyond anything you’d ever imagined.

The coffee in your cup had long gone cold, but you barely noticed, too engrossed in the case files sprawled out before you. Sam sat across from you, equally absorbed, his brow furrowed in concentration. The silence between you was comfortable, both of you working in sync, even as the world outside the Bureau continued to spin out of control.

The knock on the door was so quiet you almost missed it, but Sam looked up, and you followed his gaze to see a young agent standing in the doorway. Jack Kline. You recognized him immediately—one of the newer recruits, barely out of training but with a reputation for being sharp and dedicated. His eyes, usually bright with youthful energy, were clouded with something darker today. Determination. Grief.

“Agent Kline,” Sam greeted him, his tone neutral but curious. “What brings you here?”

Jack stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His movements were deliberate, almost hesitant, as if he was still gathering the courage to speak. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. “Both of you.”

You exchanged a glance with Sam, then gestured for Jack to take a seat. He did, folding his hands in his lap as if to keep them from shaking.

“What’s on your mind, Jack?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he had to say was important.

Jack took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the table between you. “I want to help with the case. The one involving Lucifer.”

The mention of Lucifer’s name made your stomach twist. Lucifer, the leader of the syndicate—the man who had been pulling the strings behind so much of the chaos you’d been dealing with. He was a ghost, a shadow, never directly involved but always there, lurking just out of reach.

“Jack,” Sam started, his voice cautious, “this case is dangerous. Lucifer’s not just some criminal mastermind; he’s a monster. We can’t ask you to get involved in this.”

“I know,” Jack interrupted, his voice firm. “But I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you I need to be involved. You see, he killed my mom. Kelly Kline. She was… everything to me. And he took her away.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you felt a pang of sympathy for him. Kelly Kline had been a respected agent, someone who had left a mark on the Bureau, and her death had been a devastating blow, especially for her son.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. “Jack, I get it. I really do. But this isn’t something you should take on alone. Lucifer is—”

“I’m not asking to do it alone,” Jack cut in again, his tone more urgent now. “I’m asking to work with you, with both of you. I have information, things I’ve been looking into on my own. I know I’m young, but I’m not a kid. I can handle this.”

You studied him, the resolve in his eyes clear. He wasn’t going to back down from this, and you couldn’t blame him. If someone had taken your mother away, you’d want justice too. But this wasn’t just about revenge; it was about stopping Lucifer before he could cause more harm.

“What kind of information?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound notebook. He flipped it open to a page marked with hastily scribbled notes. “I’ve been tracking some of Lucifer’s movements, cross-referencing data from various sources. He’s been meeting with some pretty powerful people, both in the criminal world and legitimate business. But the most interesting thing I found was about Crowley and Rowena.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” Sam echoed, surprise flickering in his eyes. The names were familiar—two influential CEOs who operated in both the legal and illegal worlds. They were known for their cunning and for always having their fingers in various pies, including dealings with the FBI.

“Yeah,” Jack confirmed. “They’re tied to Lucifer in ways that aren’t obvious at first. I think they’re working with him, but they’re also playing both sides, keeping ties with the Bureau to cover their tracks. If we can get to them, we might be able to find out what Lucifer’s planning next.”

You exchanged another glance with Sam, the implications of Jack’s findings sinking in. Crowley and Rowena were notoriously difficult to pin down, slippery as snakes, but if they had information on Lucifer’s next move, it was a lead you couldn’t afford to ignore.

“Alright,” Sam said after a moment, his voice steady. “We’ll bring you in on this. But you need to understand that this isn’t just about finding Lucifer. We need to be smart, and we need to protect you. If things get too dangerous, you pull back. No arguments.”

Jack nodded, relief washing over his features. “I understand. Thank you.”

You felt a surge of determination, the pieces of the puzzle starting to come together in your mind. If Crowley and Rowena were involved, you had a chance to get ahead of Lucifer, to stop whatever plan he was putting into motion before it could reach fruition. But it would take careful planning and a willingness to dive deep into the murky waters of crime and corruption.

“First things first,” you said, your tone all business. “We need to arrange a meeting with Crowley and Rowena. They’re not going to give us anything willingly, so we’ll have to convince them it’s in their best interest to cooperate.”

“I can set that up,” Sam offered, already reaching for his phone. “They owe me a favor or two.”

Jack watched you both, a fire of determination in his eyes. You could see the raw emotion behind his resolve, the need for justice that mirrored your own, and you knew you’d made the right decision in bringing him on board.

As Sam dialed, you turned to Jack. “This isn’t going to be easy. Crowley and Rowena are smart, and they’ll try to outmaneuver us. But if we stick together, we can do this.”

Jack nodded, his jaw set in determination. “I’m ready.”

The call was brief, Sam’s tone clipped and professional as he spoke to someone on the other end. When he hung up, he looked at both of you. “They’ll meet us, but they’re expecting us to bring something to the table. We need to make it clear that we’re not just fishing for information.”

“We’ll have to play our cards carefully,” you agreed. “Let’s gather what we know and make sure we’re prepared for whatever they throw at us.”

With a plan in motion, the three of you got to work, pooling your knowledge and resources. The minutes ticked by as you strategized, fine-tuning your approach to the meeting. Crowley and Rowena were unpredictable, and you knew that this would be as much a game of wits as it would be a negotiation.

When the time finally came to meet with them, you felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline in your veins. You, Sam, and Jack made your way to a sleek, upscale restaurant in the city—a place where deals were made behind closed doors and secrets were traded over expensive wine.

Crowley and Rowena were already there, seated in a private booth near the back, their expressions unreadable as you approached. Crowley was the first to stand, his smile sharp as a blade, while Rowena remained seated, her eyes assessing you with cool detachment.

“Agent,” Crowley greeted Sam with a nod, then turned to you. “Other Agent.”

You forced a polite smile, not missing the way his gaze flicked over to Jack, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “We’re hoping you might be able to shed some light on a situation we’re dealing with.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Rowena interjected smoothly, her voice lilting with a touch of amusement. “But we don’t give out information for free, darling. What’s in it for us?”

Sam didn’t miss a beat. “Protection. You help us, and we make sure the FBI’s spotlight stays off of you. We all know you’ve got your hands in more than a few pies, Rowena. It would be a shame if those activities came under scrutiny.”

Crowley chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. “Straight to the point, as always. But you’ve piqued our interest. What exactly are you after?”

“Lucifer,” you said bluntly, watching their reactions closely.

Crowley’s smile faltered ever so slightly, and Rowena’s eyes narrowed. “Lucifer’s not a man you want to cross,” Crowley warned. “Even we keep our distance from that one.”

“That may be,” Sam said, leaning forward slightly, “but we have reason to believe he’s planning something big, something that could destabilize more than just the Bureau. If you know anything—anything at all—it could help prevent a lot of bloodshed.”

There was a tense silence as Crowley and Rowena exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Rowena sighed, a gesture of reluctant agreement.

“Fine,” she said, her tone resigned but tinged with curiosity. “But if we do this, you’ll owe us. And believe me, we always collect.”

Crowley’s grin returned, and he leaned back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. “We’ve heard whispers, nothing concrete, but enough to suggest Lucifer’s gathering allies. Not just within the syndicate, but from outside forces as well. He’s planning a strike against the Bureau, a way to cripple your operations and take control of the city’s underground.”

Sam’s expression darkened, and you felt a cold chill run down your spine. This was worse than you’d thought. Lucifer wasn’t just after revenge or power—he wanted to dismantle the very foundation of law and order.

“We need specifics,” Sam pressed, his voice hard. “Names, locations, anything you can give us.”

Crowley shrugged, a lazy gesture that belied the gravity of the situation. “We’re working on that. But we’ll keep you in the loop—provided you keep your end of the bargain.”

You nodded, knowing there was no other choice. “We’ll be in touch.”

With that, you all stood, the meeting concluded, but the weight of what you’d learned settling heavily on your shoulders. As you left the restaurant, you knew the road ahead would be treacherous, but with Jack now part of your team, you had another valuable ally in the fight against Lucifer.

You only hoped it would be enough.

The night was still, and the room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside. The soft glow from the streetlights filtered through the blinds, casting gentle patterns on the walls. You were lying on the bed, your body relaxed against the cool sheets, but your mind was restless, thoughts spinning in a hundred different directions.

It had been a long day—too long, really. Everything was starting to blur together: the endless investigation, the shocking revelations, and the gnawing ache in your chest.

But then Dean was there, appearing in the doorway of the bedroom, his familiar silhouette a comforting sight. He didn’t say anything as he walked over, his expression soft, a small smile playing on his lips. The tension in your shoulders eased a little at the sight of him, and you found yourself smiling back, despite the weight on your heart.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice like a balm to your frazzled nerves.

“Hey,” you replied, shifting to make room for him on the bed.

He kicked off his boots and slid under the covers beside you, his warmth immediately seeping into your skin as he pulled you into his arms. You nestled closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and whiskey that clung to him, letting it ground you.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” you murmured, closing your eyes as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm that you could almost sync your own breath to.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But it’s over now. Just you and me.”

His hand found its way to your back, tracing soothing circles against your spine, and you sighed contentedly, feeling the last of the day’s tension start to melt away. With Dean beside you, it was easy to forget the troubles that weighed so heavily on your mind. He had always had that effect on you—this uncanny ability to make everything else disappear, if only for a little while.

You tilted your head up to look at him, catching the way his green eyes sparkled in the dim light. They were always so full of life, so full of mischief and warmth, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the man lying beside you.

“What?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth when he caught you staring.

“Nothing,” you said with a small smile, though your heart ached. “Just… I’m glad you’re here.”

Dean’s grin softened into something more tender, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

His lips moved down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you sighed, tilting your face up to meet him. The kiss was soft, a gentle meeting of lips that was more about comfort than passion, but it still sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into him, threading your fingers through his hair, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth against yours.

His kisses grew a little more insistent, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. You let yourself sink into the moment, focusing on the warmth of his body, the feel of his hand on your face, the way his lips tasted of bourbon. It was so easy to forget everything else when you were wrapped up in him like this, his presence a balm to the turmoil in your mind.

But then something shifted. His grip on your face tightened, just a fraction too much, and the kiss grew harder, more forceful. You hesitated, a flicker of unease sparking in your chest, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. He kept kissing you, his mouth pressing insistently against yours, and you felt your heart start to race—not with excitement, but with something darker.

“Dean,” you mumbled against his lips, pulling back slightly, but his other hand came up to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that hadn’t been there before. “Just relax.”

But you couldn’t relax. There was something off, something wrong, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You tried to pull back again, but he wouldn’t let you, his grip on your neck tightening to the point of pain.

“Dean,” you tried again, your voice trembling now, but he didn’t respond, his eyes darkening as he looked down at you.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, his tone almost threatening, and your stomach twisted with fear. This wasn’t right. Dean wasn’t like this. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—

But the hands on you weren’t Dean’s anymore. They were cold, clammy, and the grip was too strong, too cruel. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and what you saw made your blood run cold.

His eyes—those warm, green eyes you knew so well—were gone, replaced with something dark, something inhuman. His face twisted into a cruel smile, and your breath caught in your throat.

“No,” you whispered, trying to pull away, but he held you tight, his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

“Don’t be scared,” he crooned, his voice a horrible mockery of the man you loved. “It’ll all be over soon.”

You struggled against him, panic setting in as his grip tightened even more. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, your heart hammering in your chest as you fought to get away. But he was too strong, too powerful, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“Dean, please,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes, but he just laughed—a cold, heartless sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” he said, but the voice was wrong, distorted, like a cruel echo of the man you knew.

And then, without warning, he moved, his hand suddenly around your throat, squeezing tight. You gasped, clawing at his hand, trying to pry his fingers off, but it was no use. The pressure on your neck increased, and you could feel your airways closing, the panic turning into sheer terror.

“No!” you screamed, but it came out as a strangled gasp, your vision starting to blur around the edges as the world began to darken. “Please, Dean, don’t—”

But he wasn’t listening, his eyes dark and unfeeling as he squeezed harder, his smile widening as he watched you struggle. It felt like hours, an eternity of pain and terror, until finally—

You jerked awake, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps as you bolted upright in bed. The room was dark, the only sound the rapid thumping of your own heart in your ears. You reached up, clutching your throat, half-expecting to feel the crushing grip of Dean’s hand still there.

But there was nothing. Just your own skin, slick with cold sweat. The sheets were tangled around you, the pillow soaked with tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.

You were alone. Dean wasn’t there. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, and you doubled over, wrapping your arms around yourself as you struggled to calm down, to slow your racing heart.

It had been a dream—a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But it had felt so real, so vivid, that you could still feel the phantom pressure of Dean’s hands on your throat, could still hear his voice, twisted and wrong, echoing in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to banish the images from your mind, but they clung to you like a dark cloud, refusing to leave. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him again—his face twisted with cruelty, his eyes empty of the warmth you knew so well.

Your chest ached with a deep, hollow pain, the kind that felt like it would never go away. Dean had been your rock, your safe place, the one person you could always count on. And now… now you didn’t know what to believe. The man you loved was a stranger, and the thought of it made you feel like you were losing your mind.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled up in the darkness, before you finally found the strength to move. The clock on the bedside table told you it was still early, but you knew you wouldn’t be getting any more sleep tonight. Not with the images of that nightmare still fresh in your mind.

With a heavy sigh, you slid out of bed, your legs shaky as you stood. The room was cold, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to wash away the lingering dread.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the person staring back at you. Your eyes were red and puffy, your skin pale and clammy, and there was a hollowness in your expression that made you look like a ghost.

You turned away from the mirror, unable to bear the sight, and made your way back to the bedroom. The bed was uninviting, the sheets still twisted and damp with sweat, so you grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around yourself, sinking into the armchair by the window instead.

You sat there for what felt like hours, staring out at the city beyond the glass, your mind a jumbled mess of fear, confusion, and heartache. You couldn’t stop thinking about Dean, about the way he had looked at you in that dream, about the things he had said.

Even though you knew it was just a nightmare, it still left you shaken to your core. Because deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to it. If the Dean you knew, the man you loved, was really gone.

Or worse—if he had never existed in the first place.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

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@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

[ol-files]

[proshippers-against-censorship]

In response to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/proshippers-against-censorship/761143924342554624/let-me-guessif-sonic-the-hedgehog-is-considered?source=share

Hi, I'm a Sonic fan and I wanted to compile a list of things that have happened in the series that would probably be considered "problematic":

Basically everything Ken Penders ever did. (Seriously, it's a MESS)

A character named Mello Bee accidentally eats a chili dog that has been laced with LSD and dies from it. I couldn't tell you why they decided to do this. (Archie comics)

Knuckles the Echidna walks into an establishment, sees scantily clad women, blushes, and runs out while confused about a "strange feeling". (Sonic X)

Maria, a young and terminally ill girl, is murdered by the military during their pursuit of Shadow the Hedgehog. (Sonic Adventure 2)

In an internal document leak prior to Sonic 06's release, Blaze the Cat's character introduction sheet originally stated that she was self-conscious about her small chest.

Rouge the Bat was designed to be a secret agent/femme fatale character, which might be considered inappropriate because she's flirtatious and has big boobs, I guess?

In various media, characters have been depicted drinking alcohol. I cannot confirm whether Sonic characters carry ID or not.

Sonic murders the villain by trapping him in a magic lamp and then dropping it into lava. Sonic usually doesn't explicitly kill people, not even villains, so this action highlights the often-unexplored complexity of his character. (Sonic and the Secret Rings)

Princess Elise kisses Sonic's corpse to resurrect him. This particular scene has always been contentious, with people saying that it's necrophilia and bestiality - I personally don't think it's either of those things because 1) Elise's intention for kissing Sonic is solely to save his life and 2) Sonic is sapient and expresses some degree of interest in Elise throughout the game. (Sonic the Hedgehog 2006)

Rouge the Bat flirts with a human police officer named Topaz. This involves Rouge making a suggestive joke about handcuffs to which Topaz blushes in response. In one episode, they are seen sitting at a café table together which could be interpreted as a date. Despite them not getting along at first, Topaz cries when Rouge says goodbye and returns to her own world. (Sonic X)

Concept art shows that Sonic was planned to have a human love interest named Madonna. Also, as mentioned in the two points above, human/anthro relationships are somewhat explored in official media despite Madonna herself never making it past the concept stage, suggesting that SEGA is still open to the idea even if it's not blatant.

That's everything I could remember off the top of my head, but with Sonic being such a long-running franchise (ba-dum-tsh), I'm certain there's more. Maybe others can add to the list. :)

Insane.

[jmreynolds]

Shadespire: The Mirrored City is one of the books I'm fondest of, though it's a weird one - it's a Borgesian riff, filtered through Warhammer sensibilities. Things happen, because they've always happened and will continue to happen. Round and round we go.

I think they let me go nuts with this one because it genuinely didn't matter. It was a tie-in to a then-low man on the totem pole specialist game, and though they hemmed and hawed about a series, I knew better. So I threw it all into the first one, and did something enjoyable - for me, at least.

I threw in all sorts of wildness - predatory entities that even the Chaos Gods shied away from, time loops, crumbling Carcosan architecture, feral statuary, Piranesi references, Borges references, and Khornate sing-alongs.

Anyway, if you're interested in a tie-in novel about recursive time-loops, bestial architecture and a place where the dead can never die, check it out. E-books can still be had from most online retailers, including Black Library.