#her sons are grown men who lived their lives as hunters

[certifiedwerewolf]

As I slog my way through season twelve I am finding that I Do Not Like Mary Winchester As A Person, and this is a problem because I am writing a fic wherein John Winchester is a nuanced and complex person and not a card-carrying mustache-twirling evil villain and quite apart from character demonization not being particularly interesting anyway, I do not think having a Mary who doesn't much like her kids and kind of wishes she'd never had them would make the vibe of the fic hit the way I want it to

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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TW: detailed description of: violence, scars. mentions of: domestic violence, overdose, infant death, family death. a man's way of thinking.

[Please read while listening to this.]

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Once, a horrible man, with breath tainted by the acrid stench of tobacco mixed with the remnants of a newly drained liquor bottle, said to Simon. Bloody ‘ell, the amount of shit that came out of that bastard’s mouth, acting like he was some kind of philosopher instead of a wife-beating alcoholic who made his sons’ lives a living hell.

Young Simon didn't understand what it meant; he couldn't think much other than that his father was telling him to burn himself alive. Something he would do, something he would find temporary pleasure in until he stole the next alcohol money his wife earned during her 12-hour nursing shift.

Entering his teenage years, he didn’t think much of those words anymore, thinking of them as just another addition to the incredible amount of shite that came outta that bastard’s mouth.

But it returned when he joined the military. He thought that's it—that “burn” his father spoke of was the passion to serve, to protect. To combat the injustices that had lingered since the dawn of time. He wanted to be the one to make at least one change, a difference. To be the best. It served him well, that fire, all through his rookie training.

Or was it fury?

That white-hot rage that burned his gut, driving him forward as the soil crumbled and leaked through the planks of his coffin. It was that very rage that kept him alive, even when he was condemned to suffocate in his own grave. The spark coursing through his red blood cells, filling his fingertips as he dug with someone else’s jawbone for thirteen hours.

It was his unbridled fury that had stayed steadfast by him when he pledged his vengeance for the blood of his family. It was fury that had carried him out of Roba's burning mansion—another one to add to his record of outwitting the Grim Reaper.

Simon went on with his life thinking that that was it—he needed to stay angry to survive in this world. Nothing else matters but getting out, getting vengeance for every cut, every drop of crimson on the dirty tile beneath his combat boots. He had nothing left to fight for—no family, no home to protect anymore. So, fury had to be the answer. Simon just had to stay an angry man.

And he grew rotten. A stray dog always baring his canines. Ill-suited for domestic life, dropping in only when he needed sustenance—something, anything to hold between his teeth to chew and tear.

Those fingers were corrosive—fluoroantimonic acid in human form, but he did his job even better than he had when he was Simon Riley. Perhaps it was his identity that held him back. Now that he was just an old soul in miraculously intact flesh, there was nothing chaining his feet.

Simon is given three primary roles: hunter, judge, executioner.

Meeting his towering figure means never going home again—any poor bastard who has crossed paths with him is presumed dead. For he has grown rotten; sometimes more corrosive than fluoroantimonic acid, even. He gets the job done, quick and clean.

Simon Riley walks through this world in fury. He is fully conscious, with a dying heart that still beats, filled with deep, deep envy for those who don't have to be angry all the time. Because as much as he needs to keep burning, this is not something he does willingly. It leaves more harm than good. But men like him never have a choice.

Because the pain reminded him that he was alive.

With every blow of the gunstock to the back of his head, he was reminded again and again. As his fist swung at the other guy and the knuckles beneath his gloves connected with a jaw, he was reminded again and again that he was alive.

Simon still hadn’t decided whether he was the luckiest or unluckiest bastard alive.

To be tortured, only to realize that he had survived worse—that he would survive this one and would have to live through the aftermath. And so on until it created a never-ending loop of hell that felt like some twisted form of divine retribution.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

It was just one of the many bollocks his father spouted. The old man probably wanted to leave some grand, motivational words—to leave a mark. But the truth is, he didn’t need to do that. He’d left enough on him. Like all the times Simon stood in front of the mirror, shaving cream around his jaw—almost scared the shit out of his own mum, thinking he was his father.

And he despised that—the fact that he would be reminded of that pathetic excuse for a father for the rest of his life. That even after years since his father left home to lie in the hospital, counting his days from that bloody cancer, his mother still had the same fear every time she saw his father in him.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

He needs to burn.

He needs to…

Burn.

The burning ember at the end of the cigar flares up as Price takes a deep drag of it, holding it in the cave of his mouth before exhaling the remaining smoke and mixing it with the alcoholic aroma of a London pub they visited to “celebrate” another successful mission.

As if this was anything close to a celebration. Though Gaz and Soap were indeed deep in their pints and laughing like a pair of drunken fools, the way the Captain and Kate Laswell bend close together tells him that they have already begun discussing some hints about the next op.

Simon massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the unfamiliar emptiness where his hard-plate mask would usually dig, but instead he found wire beneath the polypropylene. He tapped his fingers boredly on the aged wood, feeling the itch to hold a cold glass in his grasp but having decided not to order anything—there was no point; he wasn’t really planning on staying for too long anyway.

Instead, he tried to find a distraction by doing what he did best – people watching. He watched the bartender serve some fancy cocktail to two birds at the end of the bar, probably those fruity, overpriced drinks that made his throat sore.

Turning his gaze to the far corner, he saw a couple sitting in awkward silence. Looks like some first date gone wrong—judging from the bloke's fidgeting and the lass staring down at her drink, not saying a word. Bloody painful to watch.

Simon glances out the window, watching the steady stream of more people passing by. London is always busy, no matter the time of the day. A city of millions, with each person having their own life, their own stories—the things they wake up to and go to sleep to.

Often, he compares it to old, half-dead Manchester for familiarities, something that might help him blend in with this city. But it’s always the same ending—the differences far outweigh anything he recognizes. The bright lights, the bustling streets, the life—all of it foreign. Seems like the gritty, depressing streets of his youth still suit him after all.

For an hour, he sat there before feeling himself growing more and more restless. Finally, he pushed himself up, ready to make his escape. Soap and Gaz protested, which he ignored before he gave a nod to Price and Laswell, who didn't question him further, already knowing him well enough by now whenever he wasn't in the mood for socializing.

Simon made his way towards the door, stepping out into the soaked streets of London. The rain is coming down hard, and judging from the dark clouds hanging low, it's only going to get worse and more gloomy. Finally, something that reminded him of Manchester.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked beneath the raging sky, trying his best to stay under the awnings and overhangs whenever he could. Droplets of water began to wet his leather jacket, but he kept walking, deliberately letting the rain soak him to the bone.

Self-preservation kicked in as he turned the corner onto another block; Simon was about to try to flag down a cab. However, his eyes landed on a lone figure, almost blending into the shadows, standing under the awning of some shop, trying to stay dry.

Simon knows he wasn't a good man, sure as hell not a gentleman. So is this sudden surge of concern some sort of sympathy, or is it because of all the times he's played the hero—saving countries from missiles, taking down terrorists, all that stuff—that now he can’t turn it off? He walks, long strides stretched out without hesitation even when he knows he’s more likely to do her harm than good—as evidenced by the growing fear in her eyes, her whole body tensing up like a frightened rabbit.

“Nasty night.” He said, being first for the sake of a conversation. That's new.

“Uh, y-yes, quite a storm,” she stammers out, those big doe eyes of hers flickering up to meet his for just a moment before darting away again.

And bloody hell, if that doesn't just about do him in. The way she tried so hard to act innocent, as if she hadn’t just snuck a glance at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Sweet little thing. It’s enough to set his blood on fire.

“Subway, yeah?”

“Yes, the subway. Though it may be closed by now with the weather.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. The familiar burn and taste of nicotine soothed his nerves, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was so bloody on edge in the first place. He had planned to avoid any socializing tonight—that’s why he left the lads so quickly, trying to get back to his blessed silence.

And yet, here he was, in the middle of a storm, talking to a strange bird he didn't even know.

It wasn’t like he was looking for a quick fuck or anything like that—he really wasn’t in the mood for any of that tonight. So why? He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. Do you enjoy playing savior, Simon? To make sure she gets home safe and sound before a bad man comes?

And who’s to say he’s not the bad man in question?

“Subway's closed, like you said. No sense waiting in the wet.” He threw his cigarette butt into the gutter. “Come on then. Pub's the best place for now.”

The woman shook her head, managing a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I'll be right here. Best not to trouble you further on such a night.”

Smart girl, he admitted. Turning down offers from a sketchy-looking man like himself—she has a good head on her shoulders. But as he watched the rain pouring down and the wind howling louder, he couldn't help but wonder if her self-preservation only applied to men and not to the bloody storm and the fever she's definitely going to get if she keeps on insisting on staying here.

“Really, I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to force a laugh. “The rain can’t last forever.”

And he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at her refusal. But there was a crack in her answer—the way she wasn’t entirely sure, the uncertainty clear as day. He knew the kind like her, the ones who needed someone to turn their back on them and walk away to make them think they’d made the wrong choice.

It’s just how some humans operate, and he’s eager to test that theory.

“Suit yourself, love,” he said, watching her eyes widen slightly. "But you'll catch your death waiting in the rain."

Simon started to take a few steps away, counting the seconds in his head. One, two, three…

“Wait!”

When he heard it, he felt a victorious feeling swell up inside. Pausing like some considerate, concerned bloke, he turned to face her, waiting for her to speak.

And when she does, shame leaks from her voice. “I'm coming with you.”

On that stormy night, Simon ends up sitting opposite the skittish bird in a pub, her eyes sweeping around the room with a mixture of curiosity and unease. She looks like she doesn't belong here, probably the first time she's ever set foot in a place like this, judging from the way she keeps glancing at the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar.

The stranger ordered “something light,” and while he gives in and orders bourbon, his drink of choice for as long as he can remember—a therapist he once saw told him it’s some sort of control thing, the need to stick to the familiar, not the kind that appreciates changes.

As he took a sip of his bourbon, the woman started making small talk. She gave a name. Sweet girl asked about his job and apologized before getting an answer, saying she didn't mean to pry, that she was just making conversation.

Too sweet, he thought. Worrying about small things like that.. How do you manage to get any sleep at night?

Simon says he’s in the military, leaving out details about which part of the military he’s in. She feels obligated, then tells him she’s a ballerina—and he wonders if she sees the differences between them. The stark contrast between her delicate, graceful world and the dark, violent one he’s used to.

It's a shame that you have to cross paths with the likes of him – a man like Simon Riley, who's no better than a stray dog ​​with the need to hold something between his teeth.

Worse still, he's a sweet tooth, too.

And so, Simon managed to fuck you on the second meeting.

Fucking hell… His tongue flicked against your swollen clit, bringing you to climax, tasting your juices against his taste buds. But nothing could compare to when he was finally inside you—the tightest cunt he’d ever had the pleasure of defiling. A virgin – the thought of being the first to breach that delicate, untouched flesh—the faint crimson around his condom like lipstick stains—set his blood on fire.

Tears in her eyes as her nails dug   on his naked back. Pretty girl tried to play tough, trying to hide the searing pain as the head of his cock continues to press into you, walls fluttering in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. Lips parted in a cry that turned into a moan. Then, his name is uttered in the most vulgar way.

“Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon!”

Something snapped inside his mind—but Simon didn’t have time to care, not when he was buried deep in your warm flesh, watching himself slide in and out of that wet hole like cinematography. Your smaller form flushed and glowing, hair spread in a halo above your head. He held back another growl as you pulsed around him, only to follow with a climax that burned through his entire body.

When it was over, he shouldn't even think about coming back. That's not how he operates; after all, he's the type to jump from one body to the next, never looking back, never a second time.

But the second time happens anyway.

Straight to London after deployment, driving his truck like he has an absolute purpose, like he doesn’t hate the city. He parks in front of a grand Neoclassical building and leans against the door, pulling out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket. He lights it up and waits. He doesn’t know your exact schedule, doesn’t know if you’re coming to work today, and doesn’t know anything about your life outside those two nights. But still, he waits.

As the minutes ticked by, his cigarette began to shorten, the smoke swirling around it. Something wet touched the back of his palm.

“Fuck.” He looked up at the sky, realizing it was starting to drizzle.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a rushing shadow. Simon turned around just in time to see you emerging from the building, coat wrapped tight around you as you sneezed. He saw you walking, so rushed, like you got somewhere to be. What's got you so worked up, sweetheart?

You walk fast, as if on a single-minded purpose, eyes ahead but mind elsewhere. And that’s when he sees it—a car barreling towards you at an alarming speed, and you still don’t realize it until the blinding headlights catch the corners of your eyes.

Without a second thought, Simon rushed forward, pulling you out of the road before the red image in the back of his head became a reality. The car blares its horn, and the driver shouts a string of curses before speeding off again. He felt the cold air seep into his airways too quickly, painting him dry inside yet his body wet with a mixture of sweat and rainwater.

“Christ, pay attention will ya?”

At the sound of his voice, you finally look up, snapping out of whatever nearly cost you your life. Simon watches your eyes widen like you’ve just seen a ghost—some sort of apparition that’s just materialized out of thin air.

Someone who shouldn’t be here, and he can’t help but think the same way.

In the second instance, Simon has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, his hands nomadic on your skin, feeling every rise and dip of your body. He groans as your warm, raw walls clamp down on his cock longingly. Once you’re both sated, he slings a wet towel around your inner thighs, and you return his gentleness with a bottle of bourbon you pour into two glasses.

Simon heads out in the morning, but not without letting you help him find his missing device. The damn thing was hiding in the cushions of your couch. He shoves it into the pocket of his jeans, and that nagging, controlling voice (the one that despises changes and relies on familiarity) keeps reminding him to leave no trace, just like he had done with every previous one-night stand.

Against the itch in his brain, he didn't even bother deleting his number from your log afterward. Instead, he let you save it in your contact list.

(The wandering stray dog ​​froze when the door of a house opened.)

“Will you at least call? Or text, if you can. You have my number now.” You say.

(Warm light seeps out from within, bathing his brown eyes in a goldish hue. That stray dog of his has stopped its roaming, has stopped its restless pacing. It loosens its jaw, saliva dripping down its chin. The tension in its body starts to mellow. Something delicious inside. He should have known better than to get carried away—the last time he did, someone kicked him in the shins and hung him by the ribs.

The last time he did, his house was transformed into a gruesome showcase of all he held dear, ending in a bloodbath. His olfactory receptors still remember the scent of iron. Little Joseph’s socks soaked in crimson.

You're just a rotten mongrel, Simon.

But-

That sweet, intoxicating scent spreads like pollen carried by anemo. And before he could stop himself, his legs moved towards that warmth—)

Simon ended promising a text, then disappeared behind your door.

(—like a moth to a flame.)

The pretty girl takes him to a family event—your cousin’s wedding in the picturesque countryside of England. He finds himself surrounded by happy people—people who don’t need to be angry to live. They simply love and are loved, their smiles, laughter, and kisses genuine, fueled by the bonds of affection and not by selfish pursuits.

You introduce him to your cousin—the bride—named Sabrina, then to your aunt, Joyce. For people you call a family, you look pretty wound up tight, sweetheart.

And then, just as he thinks that, your mother comes strolling into the conversation, all smiles and pleasantries. But, he doesn’t miss how the tension in your body skyrockets, your smile turning into something more forced.

Simon knew that. Because he’d been there himself, growing up with a father who was more interested in the bottom of a bottle than he was in his family; the father who taught him to laugh at a dead prostitute because he thought she deserved it—“She’s jus’ some dumb whore, a drug addict. She was hell-bent on a bad end.” Nothing good in that man, and nothing good in your mother either when you throw up everything you’ve eaten after a conversation with her.

Funny how he used to react the same way. Until something changed, that is. The fear and the shame morphed into something else. Fury. Rage.

“Ye need to burn to survive in this world,” and maybe for once in his detrimental, too-long life, the bastard was right. And as much as Simon despised staying angry, he stayed angry because it saved him.

When the big day arrived, Simon stood in front of the mirror and stared at a reflection he didn’t recognize. Dressed in that damn suit he hadn’t worn since God knows when, the jacket clinging to him like a skin that just didn’t fit right. He fidgeted with the cuffs, trying to loosen them a little.

It's like Tommy and Beth's wedding all over again, back when he was his brother's best man. Everything smells just as sweet and flowery as it did then, and it's making him sick to his stomach.

“All set then?”

Simon turns his head at your voice, watching you walk out of the bathroom, your hair styled and your makeup done in a dark and smoky way that suits you so well. Christ, the way it makes him feel.

You spot his tie on the bed, then pick it up and approach him, closing the distance between the two of you. As you stand in front of him, so near that he can feel your breath on his skin, something begins to creep up his chest. It settles beneath his ribs, burning, spreading like a wildfire. But, it's unlike the fury and rage he's familiar with. This one leaves a warmth, a pull towards you that makes him ache to touch you, to hold you.

Simon couldn't take his eyes off you, watching the way your fingers worked in and out to tighten the knot. The way you bit your lip in concentration.

When you ask him to lean down a little so you can reach the back of his neck, he’s made even more intoxicated—the mix of shampoo and soap you’re devoted to, the delicate yet familiar fragrance of your favorite perfume that always trails after you. Sweet, but the kind of sweet that leaves him wanting more, like a wild animal who's just discovered a gourmet feast.

It’s a hunger, a need, to plant kisses on the pillar of your neck and feel the thrumming pulse that lives beneath your soft and supple skin. The ache to hold you, to keep you within his orbit. Something grips his heart—and before Simon can register, he’s leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a fervent, greedy kiss. He guides you towards the bed, his bulky frame poised to envelop your smaller form.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Made to cry, his pretty girl, by the woman who brought her into the world.

In this world, there are many kinds of mothers. The ones like his, all smiles and kindness, baking good pies and forgiving, perhaps too forgiving. And then, there are the ones like yours—all faux smiles, pretending to be an angel of a mother when he knows full well she’s the reason you turned out the way you did.

Dependent, easy to manipulate, always trying to please everyone. You thought you could maintain a distance from others, but all it takes is a single act of kindness to dismantle them completely—the seemingly impenetrable walls were actually brittle.

A kitten masquerading as a lion, only to purr and melt at the slightest touch.

It annoyed him sometimes, because he knew you deserved better. But it’s also the reason he stayed, he thought. Because he loved playing the hero, especially to a woman who didn’t know any better.

(Something, anything to hold between his teeth for him to chew and tear.)

As you wait in the car, he hurriedly gathers the last of his things, shoving them carelessly into his duffel bag. The embers of anger still simmer within him, but Simon chooses to be the wiser—getting you out of here as soon as possible is a priority.

“I know men like you,” the devil behind him spits. “You think you’re protecting her—you think you’re saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you’ve grown bored.”

And Simon stops. It strikes a chord within him, punches him right in the gut.

Though, he doesn’t say anything. He wants to lash out, to defend himself and his intentions, but doesn’t. What’s the point? He thinks it would be a waste of time, and you’ve been waiting for him in the car for too long. It would just be a waste of breath.

Yet, another part of him knows the real reason.

That she might be right. That she might be right, and he did not like that.

It was always easy to turn away from reality. He pretended to be the wiser man, leaving pointless conversation for good reasons. But the voice in his tainted head always reminded him of what he was made of, what was left of him. He was a rotten man, selfish. Full of desire without the consistency to commit—

Pretending to stay when he knows he is nothing more than a stray dog who loves to wander.

Simon slashes, rips, and kills men as sport; feasting on the raw hearts of women like his own personal dinner, collecting their teardrops like diamonds on his crown. And yet, he has the bloody nerve to think he can keep something as soft as you in his calloused hands without laying a wound.

(A predator wearing the skin of a man.)

A voice in the back of his head began to whisper, telling him to let you go, to walk away before his teeth sank in too deep and caused you even more pain. Before he became too ensnared, too intertwined.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Not when you're sensually rolling your hips on top of him, your jaw slack as those pretty, plump lips make sounds that cause his cock to twitch in his boxers. The sight of your puffy eyes, the soft curve of your lashes, and the furrowed brows. He groans as you grip his thighs, anchoring yourself to him.

The moans you let out—oh, love, what is this? Why does it feel holy when they're sinning? Like some kind of ablution. He is reborn. He is being sent to heaven, and it is between the plush of your thighs—the divine liquid dripping down your folds.

You drag your fingers across the raised tissue of his skin, and he is blessed. He observes as your eyes glide over every part of his body, recognizing the differences between the scars he bears—guessing how they were created. Fire, knives, hooks.

And fuck, angel.

That sickening clench clutches his chest again as he gazes upon your tear-streaked face. This perfect creature is mourning his scarred flesh, once burned and healed, textured. Your lips quivering as you sob.

What are you grieving for, pretty?

Probably thought he was some sort of good guy who didn't deserve this. So consumed by her turmoil, she forgot that every cut and burn meant he survived; he won and survived. Can't say the same about the other guy, though. Not that Simon would—no.

He's too selfish to share your attention.

Because what if mentioning others who died in his hands makes you pity them instead? Something a sweet thing like you would do.

“Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” You ask, and Simon answers in his mind: Why wouldn’t they? “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

“Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,”

Simon was given three primary roles: hunter, judge, and executioner, but you didn’t know this. Nor did you know that the bastards who had caused these scars had long since died in the slowest and most gruesome way possible. That house fire he told you about didn’t spare them like it spared him.

All of this was evidence that he had hurt and killed—a mortal sin, darlin'. But you let another fat tear slip, thin red roots spreading across your sclera.

Oh.

There was always the other side of the moon that Simon never realized until now, until you did. His God—you—are all-forgiving and shed tears because the other side of the story is that he has been hurt and almost killed. So far, Simon has only seen himself in three main roles: hunter, judge, and executioner. Never the other way around: prey, defendant, and victim.

And oh—oh.

The “God” on his pelvis rocked her hips, taking him to many pleasant places—places a sinner would never have the luxury of visiting. The burn inside him twisted into something different—something warm that pulsed in the chambers of his heart and spread and crawled across his chest.

This wasn't the old fury. So, Simon convinced himself this was lust.

The conclusion must have been made in a hurry, or more like in desperation to see past the truth. He tried to bury it in the depths of his mind where he wouldn't have to acknowledge it. But Simon knew lust shouldn't last this long, nor should it leave him feeling invigorated simply because you had smiled at him.

This was—

“Gonna watch a ballet, LT.?”

Simon snaps out of his thoughts, blinking back to reality. Between his bare thumb and index finger is the special pass you gave him a week ago—the same piece of paper Soap was questioning just now. He turns in his chair to face his sergeant, greeted with that infuriating grin of his.

“Didn’t know you were the artsy type.” Soap added.

“You should’ve knocked, Sergeant.”

Soap laughed. “Aye, I did. But you were too busy starin’ at that ticket to notice.”

The lieutenant didn’t respond, just shoved the pass into his drawer, shutting it with a snap. Soap raised an eyebrow, a sign that he was still curious, but had no intention of voicing his questions, at least for now anyway.

“What’s this about?”

Soap's grin faded. “Ah right. The Captain’s askin’ for ye.”

Johnny watched those brown eyes flicker to the flip phone and then to the skull glove on the table as Simon considered something. Unfortunately for him, that was all—the damn balaclava prevented him from seeing the slightest glimpse of expression that might have been hidden behind it.

“I’ll be there,” Simon said, dismissing Soap with a wave of his hand.

The sergeant narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in that way he always did when he was trying to figure him out. Then, he walked toward the door, twisting the doorknob. Just when Simon thought he was finally gone, Soap stopped, pausing for a moment.

“Yer obsession is gettin’ worse, sir,” he commented.

At first, Simon didn't understand what he was referring to until he followed Soap’s gaze, and his own brown eyes landed on his duffel bag. Where the skeleton charm you bought him was hanging.

Simon didn't say anything. The door closed with a click.

The voice of his old therapist echoed in the back of his head, saying how he had this need to always be in control, that he hated feeling like he was losing it, like there was something out there that he couldn’t predict or manage. That’s why he clung to what he knew and hated changes.

But as he sat in his office, surrounded by the same four walls, the same desk, the same chair, the same bloody routine he had followed for years, he felt something twisted itself inside him, grafting itself into the tissue of his scars.

It triggered an itch in his skull.

Simon stood up from his chair, jaw clenched, as he strode over to where his duffel bag sat. That voice was louder, the words he had heard playing back like they were on a cassette tape—“there’s gonna be things in life that are out of your control. An’ that’s okay. You don’t have to be in charge of everythin’.”

“An’ when that happens, you just have to let it happen. You can’t avoid it forever, Lieutenant. Avoidin’ it doesn’t mean you’ve solved it—”

Clenching his fists, he tried to deafen himself, only to end up inviting another sickening voice. “Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world,” at that time, he didn’t understand what the hell his old man meant by that, searched the whole world for answers.

Now, after all this time—after mistaking it for passion, for fury, for lust—the answer stared back at him, daring him to face it. He let out a scoff, thinking how that was the most uncharacteristic word to ever come out of that man's mouth. Fuck.

“—it just means you’re signing yourself up for more pain—”

Simon yank the skeleton charm off his bag, the metal clinking against the zipper as he tears it free. He exhales, his chest empty after he’s done what he’s best known for.

“—an’ self-destruction.” The voice finishes.

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[missterious-figure]

Moon is... grumpy. He doesn't like to talk much and can be quite blunt. He has the natural ability to shape-shift. He hates humans, so instead of shape-shifting into one, he turns into an elf.

Sea angels are made by having a perfect pearl with no blemishes blessed in the full moon's rays. This transforms the pearl into a sort of "soul" and the body is formed around it. They are made as babies and need someone to care of them. Though any one could create a sea angel, most of the time, it's another sea angel who performs the ritual to gain a child.

Sea angels are hunted by greedy people for their black blood that can heal ailments, and is said to even bring the dead back to life. And if their tentacles are cut, pearls fall from the wound. A sea angel can only produce pearls the same color as their soul pearl.

When Moon was a baby he lived with his mother by the shore near an elf village. They were very nice and respectful towards him and his mother. This was because the elves made a deal with Moon's mother. In exchange for free food and a safety from poachers and monster hunters, his mother give them some of her healing blood and pearls.

But this little paradise didn't last. A group of humans, the servants of the Dark lord, were after a sea angel. These evil people were accompanied by a strange being, going by the name Eclipse. They found Moon and his mother playing in the waves together. And before Moon could understand what was happening he and his mother were netted and dragged to shore.

Moon's mother tried to defend her son and killed a few of the humans. But she was struck dead by Eclipse. There was such cold bitterness in his eyes as he told his men to take the body and Moon away with them. Moon was stuffed in the same bag as his dead mother, terrified of what was coming next. He was in the darkness for so long... he heard the evil humans talking about how "the blood needed to be fermented anyway for the spell" and "what to do with the little one?" Their cruel laughing etched it's way into Moon's mind forever.

The Dark lord's servants finally stopped at one of their hide outs. They pried Moon from his mother's corpse and tossed him into a cage. They left to go get some egg or something.

This is were Sun and Moon met. A few hours went by before the humans came back. They dumped Sun in cage right next to him. Luckily Sun was strong enough to help Moon break free and they escaped. After Moon and Sun discovered what happened to the poor golem's family, they decided to stay together. They swore they'd get revenge on this Dark lord guy... someday.

After along time passed and the two boys were alot more grown, they would frequently try and get as much information about the dark lord as the could from towns and whatnot. They would disguise themselves, of course. One day at a tavern in a small town they noticed someone else snooping around for information about the Dark lord. It was a human, but maybe... they could be useful...

[debleb]

FFXIVWrite Day 1: Steer

It was the killing of a favoured steer that drew Liolaeus to this unremarkable La Noscean farm today. A beautiful young creature, by all accounts, strong and already pulling a plough like an ox two years his senior. Some beast preying on livestock was hardly unusual, of course, but the scorches and gouges about the desecrated, half-devoured carcass were quite unlike the marks of anything known to live in the area, and made a violent, unsettling display. Straight away, the old farmer had gone from the pasture to seek the help of a good, strong adventurer who knew their beasts, and had come upon Liolaeus travelling on a mote of time between duties.

Looking at the scene, it was clear that the culprit was most likely some kind of fire-breather. Perhaps a coeurl’s levin or similar could be responsible, but they were rare in the sunny plains of Middle La Noscea. Some dinosaurs and scalekin might do such a thing, and would be more likely to see there... The idle thought that a dragon may be responsible came upon Lio’s mind- a stray few were known to live around Raincatcher’s Gully, after all, but that was unlikely, unheard of. The thought probably only crossed him thanks to all the draconic business he’d been in recently since stepping foot in Ishgard.

...Unlikely not meaning impossible, he remembered, when the heavy wingbeats and distinctive cry of a grown dragon takes him from his pondering He whips around; it is thorny-backed and red as the rose of summer, but striped in gold. Hovering before him, it silently stares him down, fulgurous eyes observing his every attribute. Eventually it lands, holding its great horn-crowned head proudly out above its body. Then it speaks in a voice smooth but for the subtlest undertone of scraping metal:

“I think you are the one who my siblings already sing of from afar, dragoon. Liolaeus, is the name that they sing to the broods to remember.”

It looked down expectantly, like it thought he should know something which he did not. Their eyes locked- like all dragons, its gaze was a little predatory, but not malicious; like a cat.

“Yes, and you would be...?”

The dragon made a noise- perhaps a dragon’s kind of laughter- like the rumble of the thunder in the shortest night of summer. It lay in the grass now, front limbs crossed like some sort of lion.

“But of course! Friend of dragons though you may be, you are after all a man; young even when you are old... I should have thought my name did not carry through the tales your kind tells. I am Neeh Thah, daughter of Ratatoskr. A traveller of the star. I have been curious to meet you for a little while now, hero.”

Now the purpose of his being here came back to mind, and he felt a bit ridiculous with the presumed culprit giving him introductions, when he had expected a wild beast for the culling.

“Was it you who slew this steer, Neeh Thah?” he asks, slightly sternly, gesturing at the bovine viscera that still lay on the ground behind him. A wisp of smoke and a kind of huff came from the mouth of the dragon. He hoped he had not angered her.

“You say that as though scolding a dragonet. Once my name was held in great honour, son of man!... I had forgotten how you men are with beasts, it having been such a while since last I associated much with you. I do not think it possible to say you own a living animal, unless you keep it in fetters and lock it away. All that roams on the land and water is the food of hunters.”

A little hint of a smile came upon Lio’s face. He had come out here with a spear and a pack full of potions, and now he was arguing with the cattle-killer. His loyal war chocobo, ever first at his side in danger, had not even looked up from where he was harassing innocent rabbits in their warrens.

“But would you not consider humouring us? There is now peace between man and dragon once more. There must be cooperation if we are to keep it.”

“And what benefit is it to me? Your kind let the livestock out alone where anything could feast upon it and tell me I cannot. If I continue, will you slay me for it, and so break the peace?”

“...You said you wanted to meet me? Was there a reason?”

“Hmm...” There was a mischievous look in her face now, and her head leaned a little forward, almost even with his own now. It seemed she enjoyed this, like a game, every word the moving of a piece.

“Like my mother before me and my siblings about me, I wish to put to song the tales of heroes, men or dragons... But I would not regurgitate what another has said. No, it will only do if I hear the story from the mouth of its protagonist. Yet few men have done aught of note enough for me lately, and dragons have grown lazy or else petty. You, dearest drahorh, are among the few living bearing stories I have not yet sung, and I should think you have many more to make. I would have you tell them to me.”

“...I will tell them.” She puffed up a little at that, bringing her neck back up into its stately curve. “Under the condition that you swear not to take livestock as long as you live.”

There was that laugh like thunder again, and fire was in her eyes. Her wings flared out for a moment.

“Very well then, I am beaten! As long as I live is a great deal of time indeed for we who live nigh forever. But if I cannot have your tales, then I will rue this decision for longer than I live. Let us begin right away! I would hear it all!”

And so they sat in the grass together, as he told his tales and she began, already, to spin them into song, some of the finest he had ever heard, ‘till the sun set that day. Through the coming years they met often, even in the oddest corners of the world, and indeed even long after Liolaeus had set his spear down for the last time, as good friends. The old farmer’s cattle were never killed so again.

[rosemariad]

Supernatural Season 12

only 3 more seasons after this...aw...

so mom's back grk mm the dead...okay...Mary's returned from '83 - boy is she in for a shock. her baby boy Dean is a grown man pushing 40 😱

wild how Dean recounted his parents' love story from their first meeting to their elopement! how did Dean get John to spill the beans on that I wonder...

Sam was taken by the bitch ass Men of Letters, and here lies the beginning of the misfortune that is the MoL arc, ugh! I'm going to like this as Much as I did Metatron 🙄

Sam's a fucking trooper, I know he was tortured by the devil personally but still, taking a blow torch to the foot...damn

Mary is naturally feeling out of place and Dean's just dancing around that like it's a problem to be solved on its own...oh Dean.

Castiel reunites with Dean after Mary points a gun at the handsome angelic stranger in the bunker 😆

Dean's tender smile when Cas grabbed him🥺 the way Mary cocked her head when they hugged 🤣

Mary was down to hunt - interesting considering how hard she supposedly tried to avoid it. now the show insinuates she wasn't wholly retired????

Sam & Mary hug when he returns to the bunker - is this technically their first real hug????? the last time would've been when Sam was a literal baby 🥺

But after 3 episodes, Mary just bails? really? the showrunners are giving her the Cas treatment - where she appears every so often. Why is she back then if she's not gonna stay with her sons? they're literally all she had left in the world. everyone else she would've known is long gone. they could've just brought back John (which I now they do in season 14 for 1 episode) to get John's reaction on how his sons have changed since 2006 when he died. they could've discussed Adam - that would've been fun 🤣🤣🤣

if they're gonna keep Mary around, the one whose death started the Brothers on their journey, keep her around! have the boys & their mom struggle to reconnect, get to know one another - let Mary see her sons as they are for better or worse and let them talk about it! let them talk about her and John and their parents' marriage, the good the bad and the family of if all. let them talk out their issues or try to Even if they fail! just cuz they talk doesn't mean they're able to solve and heal their trauma in 1 sitting. that shit takes time. it could take months, years. wasted opportunity.

back to Mary hunting, back in 1980 she saved a boy who grew up to be a hunter on his own, living his best life, being more Dean than Dean Winchester 🤣 until he was killed by his fellow hunter friend by accident (wow).

how dare Asa's mom bitch at Mary for Asa's grown ass man decisions? Please. nobody put a gun to his head! he made his choice and kept at it.

Dean got snippy at his mom cuz she left his ass - Dean she's been dead for 30+ years. her resurrection was your wildest dream/hope, Amara knew that, that's why she brought her back and the 1st thing she do that you don't like and you bitch at her?! ask her to stay then! beg her to stay, say anything and everything you need to so she sticks around! tell her about your drinking, about bow you're almost 40 with no kids or a domestic partner! about how little you Sleep and all the things that haunt you! Give her a reason to be needed!

when Mary says I am your mother, but I am not just your mom - that's 💯 percent facts right there, sorry folks! people are more than just 1 thing, but on the other hand, your sons need you, Mary! ironically, if she remained at her sons side, she wouldn't have suffered the way she does later this season 🤕

it's sad how east the MoL got to her, wearing her down. she's haunted and fucked up from being dead so long. this is why dialogue is important! she seemed to be opening up to Castiel since hers an angel instead of her sons - so be it, talk to the angel man, bare your soul, anything other than making shady deals and getting into bed with those British motherfuckers (see what I did there 🤣😅)

Gavin (imma call him Crowley jr.) got iced, sucks for Crowley I guess. good for Gavin though, stepping up to do the right thing for his girl, bittersweet.

I love that Cas & Dean are in regular contact with each other! too bad we don't get more scenes of their conversations!!! cmon showrunners - don't fear the emotional man on man scenes between men who aren't family, embrace the potential gayness!!! explore it!!!!

Cas & Mandy the waitress - interesting - too bad he's only interested in Dean, at least not anymore - that may be April the reaper's fault!

"devastatingly handsome" - you not low Dean!!! this is how you choose to address your angel bestie?!?! okay 🤣

later after Cas narrowly avoids death (again, thanks Crowley!) the look of relief on Dean's face

and awwww Cas said I love you! to Dean's whole family, how romantic 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 you not low Castiel!!!!

sadly now Dean truly believes that Castiel only loves him as a friend. This is why you don't call Castiel your brother Dean 🤦‍♀️😅🤣

The Alpha vamp died - so much for next season. considering his supposed age and power, shouldn't be impossibly fast? and Ramiel. you're telling me that he struggled fighting a couple of normal people when he pwned Crowley so easily when Crowley himself is a centuries old demon, aka king of hell, after beating Castiel an ancient celestial being?!?!??! but the very mortal Winchesters took him down...yeah sure okay 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

HOLD UP! HOLD THE PHONE! HOLD THE UNIVERSE, TIME AND SPACE, HOLD EVERYTHING!

Dean Winchester gave Castiel a mixtape

Dean GAVE CASTIEL A MIXTAPE!!!!

a mixtape? 😱😱😱 really?!?!?! that's one of THE romantic gestures to make in the 80s and 90s (before CDs came out) to declare your feelings for someone you wanted to be with, as more than a friend. that's not to say friends and family didn't but it was fairly recognized as a something to do for romance too! also it's a labor of love since you'd have to use the radio or get more cassettes to record & compile the music you wanted AND people like to record a personal message before the music starts in the tape they male. you can see it certain TV/movies like the Goldbergs as an example - Adam made such a thing for his school crush when he wanted to declare his feelings for her.

And it's not just that Dean made a mixtape for Cas - he specifically chose Led Zeppelin songs- the love language of his parents, the very union that led to Dean being born in the first place. And the little xx's - hmm wonder what those mean...

and we just gloss over that?!?!? the showrunners - y'all are NOT slick! ya can't stop the Destiel bandwagon cuz after all this times in the year of our Lord 2023 peeps keep shipping it precisely for moments like these.

while we're on 12x19 - when Cas FINALLY returns to the bunker, Dean gives him hell like only a bitchy girlfriend can while Sam was like OMG glad you're back but Dean was PISSED cuz how DARE Cas not just show up & return his phone calls (what about prayers? 👀) Dean kept saying "we" but let's be honest he's talking about himself - u not slick Dean. And this is AFTER Cas tried returning the mixtape cuz he feels he is no longer worthy of Dean's gift given how much he pissed Dean off 🥺

When Sam suggests siphoning out the grace from the nephilim due to be born Dean runs to his precious angel only to discover Cas is gone (again!) just as soon as he appeared.

The betrayal. the deceit, the DRAMA!!! Dean, you didn't put the Colt in the safe?! Rookie mistake, bro.

He kept talking about Castiels feathered ass but then didn't actually fight him, just slams him against the wall, standing very close & maintaining intense eye contact - classic Supernatural 😉 🤣 😀

I wonder what Kelly saw that makes her believe that her child is good because suicide isn't an easy choice but Kelly went through with her attempt out of fear of what her child was capable of given how many times everyone kept saying such things to her face. But it didn't matter cuz her child brought Kelly back from the dead anyway. That's terrifying TBH.

When Cas booked the brothers 🤣🤣🤣 did they really not see that coming? cmon Dean, he did that to Bobby when you first met.

***during Lucifer's mini arc this season I'm reminded of Misha's commentary on the acting advice he got from main devil actor Mark Pelligrino on portraying the infamous figure - he either wanted to kill/fuck the one he's talking to - it definitely seemed that way this season during Mark's scenes. ironic considering his previous work on Lost - anyone remember that show?

Thankfully the MoL are FINALLY dealt with after a rousing speech from Sam fucking Winchester who leads the charge to take those British tarts down, complete with exploding their makeshift headquarters! Dean meanwhile stayed behind to help his mom who's been completely brainwashed by the MoL - which is indicative of Dean's characters as a callback to season 1 - he just wanted his family together!

What Dean told his mom in her head is what he should've said from the very beginning- sure it would've hurt her feelings, possibly cause a mild heart attack but it needed to be said so Dean & Mary could heal as a family!

Thank God Ketch is as dead as the rest of the MoL he was such a creep!

Rowena got killed offscreen? Damn, that's cold. I know she's coming back though 😊

Kelly died 🥲

Crowley died - he was THAT determined to take the devil down. in the long run its not gonna work since Luci will be back eventually but there's something to be said about Crowley's arc considering this is the last we see of the cheeky little devil. I recall prior seasons where he seemed downtrodden in certain scenes, about the futility of his plays for power, his schemes going tits up often because of someone else. I think Mark Shepard said something about taking his character as far as he could or something like that.

Castiel died (again)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Mary disappeared into that AU with the devil and he is Piiiiiiiiiiiissssed 😱

Given what Kelly gave birth to, all those diapers Cas got were a waste of money...

season highlights

not many TBH I didn't like this season much cuz of the wasted potential with Mary and the brothers and the lack of Castiel. and Crowley for that matter. the season had a good start and it finished in a way that was interesting BUT

12x10 - Dean and Castiel fighting was HILARIOUS. They seriously should've gotten a spinoff even if they only ever remained as innocent platonic friends. it would've been so funny.

and awww...Dean is Castiel's human weaknesss - YEAH NO SHIT HONEY!!!!!

Dean is apparently a natural at riding - mechanical bulls included - did he ride it to completion??? lemme stop 🤣 I mean for the duration of the bull ride for however long - he never fell off? if so, kudos to him and his hips 🤣🤣

[agecfwonder]

*:·ﾟ✧ is that that soren mara , who is originally from branu , and living in valachia ? it’s nice to see the vampire hunter out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously irreverent, whilst also managing to be quite amiable . the forty-two year old was born dhampir, and hails from the kingdom of transvania. 

———   GENERAL

NAME  : soren mara TITLE : vampire hunter AGE :  forty-two SPECIES: dhampir  GENDER : cis man  PRONOUNS : he/him SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual BIRTHPLACE : branu RESIDENCE  : valachia

———   RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER : unknown vampire ( biological ) ; aman mara ( step - father ) MOTHER : quena mara   SIBLINGS : two younger sisters ( human )  ALLIES : tba  ENEMIES : tba

———   PERSONALITY

LABEL : the prodigal son TAROT : the tower ALIGNMENT : true neutral POSITIVE (+) : amiable — quickwitted — steadfast — honest — — diligent NEGATIVE (-) : cold — irreverent — aloof — dry — blunt

———   HISTORY

( TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of SA/r*pe ) soren was not brought into the world through any joyous union. there had been a quiet attack on the village in branu- vampires that had made it past transvania's borders that had used the cover of night to slip through open windows to drink their fill and leaving entire families dead in their beds. one of the windows that one of the faceless vampires had slipped through happened to belong to the woman who would be his mother and under the thrall of the vampire, he was created and his mother spared death. the vampires were found and slaughtered- the only way to deal with monsters-- and his mother went on to marry the man that would become his father before her stomach had begun to swell.

when it became clear that soren was not his father's son, most expected aman mara to disown him; thank the gods ( old and new ) that he didn't but there was always a distance between father and son that as a small child he couldn't understand. aman never disowned him but kept soren at arm's length, there always being this flicker of disgust at the vampire part of the boy.

his mother loved him all the more fiercely, as if she could make up for the hate in his father's eyes and raised him with a guilt neither of them should've been made to bear, instilling in him that the only way to assuage that guilt was penance, service to others; somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought if she could nurture the desire to help his fellow man, he could grow in that human spirit and atone for the monstrous part of him that he never asked for. she sent him to help with planting when the earth warmed and harvesting when the air grew cool and to chopping firewood when the snows piled high.

as it became more apparent what he was, there were few opportunities in which he could perform that service-- and more and more people who looked on him with that same hate he saw reflected in his father's eye. he learned too young the hate that can lie in mens hearts when faced with something Other and the one time he dared to fight back, he was punished severely by the man he called father. his mother soothed his bruised ego and aching body by telling him that he wasn't to raise a hand against any human-- his hand was only to raise in defense of mankind against the monsters from nyxen. she encouraged him to pray- to gods new and old- to guide him in humility and charity, propping him up as some sort of paladin; a defender of mankind.

a nice story for a boy to hold onto when faced with the ugly truth after his sisters were born- both beautiful and whole, blessedly human- and his father's disdain had grown all the more apparent when a teenaged soren had to carry him home from the tavern, celebrating the newest blessing to their house. it was the first time that anyone had outright told him the truth to his parentage-- told him what he was.

he had been angry- angry at his mother for not telling him that he was half of the monsters she had spent his entire life warning him of, angry at his father and those in the village for their hateful gaze when he had spent that entire life doing everything he could to try and atone for a sin he was unaware he had committed-- a sin of being born as he was. the only one who had ever looked at him with pure, unselfish and unadulterated love had been the little sister that had first graced the house with her laughter and the newborn who didn't know how to hate anyone-- but they weren't enough to keep him there. in his mind he justified that they would grow up better- safer, more endeared- without him there.

he was sixteen when he ran away from home, traveling from the small village in branu with no real destination in mind, resorting to stealing when what little coin he had left with dwindled, sleeping in stables and barns. he'd been traveling for the better part of the year when he finally met another dhampir-- a vampire hunter. soren had watched from the crack in the wooden stable wall as the man clashed against the vampire, fighting like two demons until one stood, drenched in the vampire's blood. he followed the man as he left the village, thinking himself quite stealthy until about 5 miles outside of the town when the dhampir called back if he was going to join him or not. and with an offer like that, who was he to say no?

he trained for years under the dhampir's tutelage, learning how to fight and kill the vampires that dared to cross the border into transvania. during his travels with the dhampir, he met others like him- those who had been brought into this world monstrous who were using that power to protect the humanity that would never accept them. it took several years to break the mentality that it was something to atone for-- and admittedly, there are times when those thoughts and that old guilt still creep up on him.

soren wouldn't return home until the baby that had been barely born when he left was nearing adulthood; part of him wanted to go back to see if he had been right in leaving, if it really would've given them a leg up in the world-- and maybe, hoping that his absence would've caused some level of pain for the family, if only to know that he was missed. when his mother's face stared at him as if he were a stranger, telling him plainly- near forcefully- that her son had died years ago and that he was not welcome had been as painful as a stake to the heart.

after that attempted homecoming, soren returned to the nomadic life of a vampire hunter and never looked back. he's linked up with several groups of hunters over the years, traveling with them for a time before moving on, never staying long enough to get too incredibly attached to any one person. in the back of his mind, the motivation is still that of the young boy who played paladin- protector of the people and weapon of god-- but in the forefront is just a man staying in business, searching for some sort of peace and not knowing where to find it.

———   QUICK FACTS ( TLDR; )

soren is a dhampir and vampire hunter

has two younger human sisters he has not seen since he was a teenager ( potential wanted connections )

not here for a long time or to make friends ( grumpy/snarky asshole needs some reluctant found family im begging )

grew up hella religious and tends to be publicly dismissive of any show of devoutness but also doesn't take his chances and will pay whatever tribute is proper

heavy character inspo taken from roland deschain ( the dark tower series ) he has not forgotten the face of his father

[nightmares-pen]

The lost boy

Let me tell you this story, it was given into our generations from our dads and their dads to them and you know the following. 

-” Son, I have to warn you from this witch in the woods, the one that captured many mens and tortured them for days. We sometimes even hear their screams here and then while hunting.

DO NOT APPROACH HER AT ANY MEAN!!!” 

as for one boy went into these woods and saw the “witch” , a small girl who looked as innocent as your 5 year old daughter.

with her wide smile she invited the boy to her house for him to rest as the night was quickly coming in. The boy accepted the offer and seemed dumb. as he entered a scent he could not describe entered his nose and he asked the girl about it she just responded laughing that it was the fire.

After some hours each seemed more and more strange. It came to the conclusion, the house was not normal. He still went to sleep seeing the girl’s smile and genuine affection.

He got to sleep, kinda scared. maybe for good will you tell me. only god knows. 

after the night passed.

he wakes up drenched in sweat, and something he does not seem to get the hang out of also is here. as the sweet girls arrive she looks at him without saying a word and just points to the mirror as he looks into it he sees no more. Blinded by everything. He just hears the girl whispering “he is ready.” as his mind drifts off.

Woken up by a bucket of cold water he gasps for air in an empty room. his hands and feets freed he is alone in the dark.

As he understands where he is, he understands.

never was god kind to him. and now he’s in hell itself.

It's been days and that boy is still walking. He saw someone that killed himself and that man so hungry that even the laws of human won’t affect him he starts to eat the cadaver raw. as the muscles tenses up the flesh is torn off as one of a rabbit. as the bones are thrown away smashing against the floor. He understood, he just ate someone. another human being. The boy throws up having a mental breakdown on what happened.

The boy stood himself up, finding a “light” as he walked again and again aimlessly. this place is infinite itself.

as he saw another body. He did not resist eating it. feeling less and less guilt about it. even though he thought to himself what if I did that to someone still alive. He walked up to that person sleeping peacefully and started to smash his head with the bones of the previous one. His head became a mush. The boy did it, he killed the man. He smiled, legs gave out. He laughed. 

It has been years since he last slept. He is seeing things everywhere. Illusions and that boy become a grown man. Time is not a question here but who knows what is becoming earth. 

Our boy who has become a hunter, monster, every abomination you could think about is him. The sweet girl, her body was there. He looked at it and did like everyone else. smash the head, eat, and continue to run for the next one.

The boy never died; he lived forever as long as hell was there.

But did the boy die? Or is it still alive ?

END

[krovspromo]

RAPHAEL DE LUCA WOULD LIKE HIS SON TO JOIN KROVS!

FC: Taylor Zakhar Perez

Species: Siren

Biography:

Raphael met his son’s mother, Ava, after hearing her enchanting voice coming from the Mediterranean Sea. He’d only been an incubus for a few centuries and charmed the hell out of Ava with his good looks and flirtatious personality. He called her his “sirenetta.” The two of them struck up an on and off affair over the next few years and eventually Mateo was conceived. 

Raphael eventually grew tried of sticking around in one place and left Ava before she could tell him the news of her pregnancy. He never knew about his son since she never told him, thinking she’d never see him again. Mateo’s mother migrated with the rest of their pod of merfolk and chose to raise her siren son on her own.

Mateo would have grown up in ancient Mesoamerica near the ocean with his mother. He never met his father yet his mother shared plenty of stories about him and who he was. He wouldn’t ever say that he “missed” having Raphael as a father in his life since the pod treated him like family with more men stepping in as his paternal figures to teach him those things his mother couldn’t. However, that curiosity to meet the man he was biologically related to always quietly remained in the back of his mind even if it was never acted upon. After all, he had no idea where to start with finding him. 

He was raised like the rest of the men in his pod – trained to be a warrior, hunter, and gatherer. As he reached his adult years, he looked more and more like his father, his mother noted. She adored her son who seemed to have inherited his father’s high levels of confidence with good looks. There was also no question that Mateo was half demon considering who and what his father was, which no one minded. Their pod was made up of a few sirens who also taught Mateo how to feed on life energy for the proper nourishment he desired. 

During the Second War, their pod willingly joined the faerie’s army to fight against the vampires. The battles were nothing like Mateo had ever seen before, all the gruesome and long-drawn fights and bloodshed. The war raged on and Mateo watched as friends and family – his mother included – were struck down. Their pod numbers dwindled down to single digits and Mateo disappeared into hiding to grieve while the vampires flaunted their victory and enacted their newest laws with slave castles. 

What he’s up to and where he’s gone for the next two hundred years can be up to players. His views have likely changed so that he’s allied himself with the vampires given that he’s half demon and would prefer not to wind up enslaved. He also would have acquired enough wealth and influence to live an upper class lifestyle. One option I could see was that he went into the slave hunting business for the profit and using his charms to gather slaves (up to player if they have another idea). 

At some point in the last 200 years, he would have discovered his father, Raphael De Luca, is still alive and the councilman of Italy. Feeling alone without his mother and the family he made in his pod, Mateo would have done his research on him before seeking him out. This would explain why Mateo’s come to Krovs as a staff member or villager to meet his father for the first time and potentially try to find a new family. 

General Character Note: Mateo is a lot like his father – devilishly handsome and charming and knows exactly how to wield those aspects to get his way. He possesses quite the silver tongue in seducing men and women. As skilled of a fighter as he is, he much prefers being a lover. 

Important Notes: Please do not ask about incest between Raphael and Mateo. That is a hard no for both Raph and myself. 

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ABOUT KROVS CASTLE RPG

Krovs Castle is a mature 18+ fantasy-themed supernatural male-only m/s rpg where vampires are the reigning species. Our group has been established since 2015 and recently revamped with all new species lore and information as of January 2023. We have a little bit of everything for everyone – fun, horror, action, mystery, romance, angst, and drama! Acceptances occur every Monday and Thursday at 9pm EST. Featuring 11 main species and 29 different hybrids!

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[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Reasons I hated the ending;

Inconsistent ooc writing. I don't know who the f was on my screen but that wasn't the Sam or Dean we've grown with for fifteen years.

Plot holes; the vampire mimes??? Where did they come from?? Because John thought Vampires were extinct until Dead Man's Blood and then he's you know dead so when did he have this supposed hunt with these pathetic excuses for a typical monster of the week villain let alone the last ever one?

Jenny. She wasn't even named in her first episode. Not once in fifteen years did one viewer go "I wonder what happened to her". Nostalgia? Most people didn't recognize her. She's only notable for being part of the first wlw and same-sex kiss on the show which was nonconsensual because the other girl forced herself on Jenny and only did it for the amusement of the men watching. There's also interesting points regarding to the show's vilification of queer people in the early seasons as majority of the first queer characters were what the show deemed monsters and were portrayed as predatory or destructive (they literally had Lily accidentally kill her girlfriend by touching her) and if they were "human" they were used as the punchline until Charlie when we actually got good rep and she was eventually butchered. Most queer characters ended up dead, or at least dead from some time. Only four queer characters are even hinted to be alive at the end (we don't know nothing about Charlie 2.0's fate), Kaia and Claire who's reunion and overall ending is left open to interpretation (hinted they're alive as Donna texted Sam which hints the wayward sisters are ok), Max who as far as we are aware is still condemned to go to Hell when he dies and Chuck one of if not the only canon bisexual males in the show was vilified to such a significant degree it doesn't matter that he's still alive. To have Jenny be the character they bring back while ignoring the show's integral queer characters like Charlie or Crowley or Claire or Cas etc is something else when the nonconsensual kiss was what turned her into a vampire.

Of the three female characters we see in the finale none have any connections to the viewers. Jenny the only character we've seen before is killed immediately. Blurry wife literally only exists to provide the womb for Sam to have a son to name after Dean so it doesn't look like he kidnapped a random kid, she's not deemed important enough to be even seen properly. "Sam could've ended up with anymore it's open to interpretation" bullshit because that's clearly a white woman which erases so many interpretations and it is so clearly a cop out. The third is a woman who literally gets silenced at the start of the episode, she gets her tongue cut out. The most we get is a text from Donna and a line about Mary.

Cas' ending. You pulled Chekhov's gun out. The gun had to go off but instead of acknowledging his confession, they refused to allow Dean to voice his feelings, refused to even give Cas a concrete ending. We don't know for an absolute fact if he's in heaven, all we're told is Cas helped. His death is literally bury your gays, an example of out of the closet and into the fire. He deserved better as a main character of twelve years.

Dean's death is problematic as fuck. His death is implied to be a suicide. It's said to be a good thing, him dying, him dying that way. This still fucks me up. He deserved to live. He deserved so much, I see him having some sort of roadhouse like Ellen taking care of wayward children and hunters alike, and having some sort of auto shop like Bobby did. I see him aged and happy. I see Cas beside him as he should be.

Sam's ending is bullshit. It erases fifteen years of character development, of relationships and it makes it all pointless. Sam is forced to lead the life he would've lived had Dean not showed up at his dorm in the pilot. What was the point of any of it? Was Dean just a fifteen year interruption of his brother's real life? His character arc was leading towards a completely different route and they did a full 180 and regressed his character so much. Sam should've become the next Bobby, teaching and helping a new generation of hunters and he should've gotten to keep/use his powers. He should've gotten to pass on Rowena's knowledge to a new generation of witches too and I'll die on both those hills.

EILEEN LEAHY DESERVED FUCKING BETTER. First you kill her by hellhounds. You kill a deaf woman with something she needs to be able to hear in order to have a chance at surviving. Second you bring her back, develop her and Sam's relationship and then you kill her again, don't give Sam a chance to even react to it and then leave her fate unknown and then throw in blurry wife to add insult to injury.

The pacing was so off. Like carry on wayward son plays back to back twice in a weird montage??

The party city wig. It's genuinely laughable. Like that's what the cw went broke over lmfao.

It's hilariously bad for your average monster of the week episode. As a final ever episode, it's like spitting and peeing into the fans drink and forcing them to drink it.

It wasn't for the fans. I know some fans liked it, I disagree with their opinions but respect them BUT it's clear that the episode was the way it was for people who ditched the show earlier on in it's run could tune in and not feel like they missed anything, which for a show with 15 seasons should never have been the case. It was a kick in the face for those who stuck it out from beginning to end

Amara's ending doesn't sit right with me. Like she's just absorbed into Jack? Jack at three is God? Amara should've been God and Jack should've gotten to be a kid on Earth.

Rusty. Nail. Andrew Dabb why did you hate Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles?

What about Cas' deal with Ruby? What about Rowena and the demons in Hell? What happened to Adam? Everyone Chuck snapped allegedly got brought back (no confirmation on Eileen, Charlie 2.0 or Stevie) but Michael got vaporized in Adam's body so what happened to Adam next? Forgotten again ffs. The vamp mimes are their own plot hole but how did they and Jenny team up? Like what connection did they even have? I could go on forever on forgotten plotlines and blatant plot holes.

John Winchester being in heaven.

Ruining carry on my wayward son. It's literally a jump scare at this point for me

Things I liked about the finale;

The dog

The party city wig for the memes only

[harryandmeghansussex]

Episode 2.

Talking about back in his Mum's day in being physical harassing, but now it's very online. It is basically the hunter versus the prey.

Mama Doria! Nervous but calm and confident. "The last five years have been challenging yeah." before stating she's ready to have her voice heard that's for sure, a little bit of her experience as Meghan's Mom with teary eyes I thought. Bless her, I genuinely can't imagine having to watch the person you love most in the World face relentless abuse and know that nothing you can do can stop it.

Meghan has her Mama's smile and warmth for sure.

"Like he was the one."

Love that they have shown how much Megan did pre Harry. She had a full, fulfilling life.

Meghan talking about her neighbours being paid to put live cameras showing her garden and things, and how insular her life got fast.

Meghan and her Mama going back to her school 🥺 her letter at 11 to her Principal.

The advert change! And a childhood friend featuring lol, she's always been such a girls girl.

Meghan talking to about being a minority but not being treated as such until she went to the UK.

"as a parent, in hindsight, absolutely I would like to go back and have that kind of real conversation about how the World sees you."

And Meghan admitting she genuinely didn't think about how race would play a part in it.

Harry talking about the family viewing it as they had also gone through it, it's almost a rite of passage and not seeing any difference. Say "no comment" and why should Meghan get protected when their wives wasn't. Offt, when it was different from day 1.

The statement, followed by the experts talking was such a good choice and talking about how white the British media is.

The section of Harry talking about with the travelling he had done, the people he met, that he thought he had an understanding of racism, on unconscious bias but hearing Meghan talk, has changed that. It's obvious in some ways both he and Meghan were naive, in very different ways.

"My children, my son and my daughter are mixed race and I’m really proud of that. When my kids grow up and they look back at this moment and they turn to me and say, ‘what did you do in this moment?’ I want to be able to give them an answer.”

Him talking about the responsibility of bringing a small person into the World and doing everything you can to make the World a better place for them 🥺

Meghan's poem about being a child of divorce, the emotion in her eyes. And talking about being a daddy's girl, which makes his betrayal and constant talking out so much worse in my opinion.

"she had a whole life before she met H." Say it louder for the people at the back Abigail.

"I said to the police in Toronto if any other woman said to you right now I have six grown men sleeping in their cars, following me and I feel scared, would you say it was stalking?" And she was told yes but there was nothing they could do because of who she was dating...

When the death threat came, that's when she got security. Hearing from her security guard that it was the worst he's ever dealt with is huge.

Meghan's friends asking her if Harry was worth it...

Lolololololol Meghan admitting her hugging Kate on their first meeting was probably jarring. "I didn't realise a lot of the formality on the outside carries on to the inside."

Granny was the first senior member of the family Meghan met, resharing the curtsey to people. And that being the moment she realised it was a big deal. Eugenie, Jack and Fergie telling her she did great.

Harry talking about his family first meeting her and being impressed, and being surprised by her before joking it was surprise a ginger could land such a beautiful woman, such an intelligent woman. He thinks her being an American actress is what clouded judgement at the beginning. "This won't last..."

I like how they've woven the love story, in between their childhoods, the historians, their friends etc. The balance feels good?

Talking about The Tig 🤍 showcasing her work on suits and her activism.

H's heart telling him that she was the one he would spend the rest of his life with. And believing she was perfect for the "role" as well.

The proposal! Him popping champagne before proposing kind of gave the game away lol and him saying Guy had already moved over so he could hold him hostage. The blurry shot, oh very sweet.

They had a mini engagement party before people knew and everyone dressed in animal onesies!! H&M were penguins, because they mate for life.

Lindsay saying Meghan felt like they could take on the World. Oh the optimism then.

The data and historian's talking about nationalism, Britain leaving the EU while welcoming a black American to the mix was perfect timing for a storm.

With Meghan talking about "believing what she was told" that things would pass, it would get better, it's just for right at the beginning. Almost a promise that once they were married/once they got used to her, it would get better.

"no matter how good I was, they were still going to find a way to destroy me" hurts.

[lunmelia]

I’m gonna rant for a bit, because after thinking about it for a solid 1 minute Supernatural had so much potential to make Sam and Dean’s relationship with Mary extremely strange, but in a “I just came back from the dead and to a world I don’t know, I cannot handle being a mom to 2 grown adults who are older than me so actually we’re siblings now” kind of way. Hear me out.

Just... imagine. You’re 29, you have 2 sons, one who’s 4-years-old and the other who is only 6 months. You die. 33 years later, you’re alive again but you’re still 29, and you’re faced with your 2 now adult sons, one who is now 8 years older than you, and the other 4 years older. Your sons are literally now older than you. They have experienced life for longer than you have. Your oldest has wrinkles and you don’t. How fucking weird is that!!

Just the... complexity that kind of relationship would have. I did love how they approached Mary in the show, how they had Dean confront her and how we later find out that Amara brought her back just so Dean could face reality and not paint his mum as a saint but like... it could’ve been so much more weird. That kind of situation just calls for weird. 

That scene where Mary ordered them dinner should have been so much more awkward and not as comfortable and light-hearted as it was. What if Mary just outright told them “I don’t cook” and they’re like “uh... okay, well, we could order?” and she perks up like “order?” and she’s thinking oh cool they’ll just call the nearest pizza place but no, her sons pull out a mobile phone and they try to teach her how to use the app but she just gets frustrated and doesn’t get it so they give up, Dean orders and they spend the time waiting teaching her how to use a phone. And okay kids are usually teaching their parents how to use technology but this is just weird because her sons are older than her. Then the food gets there and she’s like “why don’t I serve it?” because that’s what mothers do, right? But it feels weird and awkward and wrong because they’re grown men so she shouldn’t have to mother them, right? And they eat in silence and it’s so fucking awkward and all of them know it’s awkward and after a moment Mary goes “... Dean, do you uh... do you still like pie?” and he says yes and it’s a huge fucking relief but at the same time it’s fucking not because that’s all she knows!! that’s all she knows about her son and thank fuck he still likes pie but that’s all she knows.

And just- Mary having a full breakdown because she always wanted to be a mother, that’s all she wanted. She just wanted to drop the hunter life and be a mother and just live a normal fucking life for once and she can’t. She can’t. That life was ripped away from her and now her sons are adults and older than her and she didn’t raise them and they’re hunters and she’s a hunter again and she can’t be a mother. Her sons are hunters and she never wanted that and it makes her nauseous and makes her head hurt. And Sam and Dean find her sobbing in one of the bathrooms next to the toilet and they hold her close until she stops shaking. They comfort her because she can’t comfort them. She only knows how to be a mother to a 4-year-old and a baby, she can’t be a mother to them. 

And you know what? Sam and Dean are oddly okay with that. All they wanted growing up was a mother to care for them, to cook them food and be there to hold them when things got bad. But now that they have their mother in front of them? They realise that they don’t really... need her. Not Mary sepcifically, but just a mother. They’ve survived the past 33 years without a mother, and sure it was shitty but it happened and they’re used to it. They’re grown men, they don’t need a mother. Sure, it would’ve been nice but when Mary tried again the next day by making them scrambled eggs with a forced smile they just cringed. They don’t need a mother. It sucks, and they wish so bad that they had one growing up, maybe things would’ve been better, but they’ve dealt with this for the past 33 years and they’re good. 

So, okay, she’s not their mum. She is, but she’s not. Really, they’re just strangers trying to get to know each other. And so they do. They spend time together, so much they eventually become insperable. Not in a separation anxiety kind of way, but when Mary isn’t desperately trying to play the mother role the three just click and make a kickass team. They can’t call her “mom” in public because she obviously looks younger than them so when they’re out shopping or anywhere else they just call her Mary and introduce her as their sister. It works, it’s believable because they look related, they are, but no one blinks when they refer to her as a sister. 

And eventually they stop calling her “mom” and start just calling her Mary. And “mom” becomes a rare word, a word used in dark moments where one of them is frantically putting pressure on a wound that won’t stop bleeding, or when Mary finally breaks free of the British Men of Letters’ brainwashing. But one day Dean takes a sip from a beer, puts it down and is quiet for a moment before saying “... I think we’ve accidentally adopted our mom as our sister” and Sam just goes “yep” and cue John Mulaney ‘you know those days when you’re like “this might as well happen”? adult life is already so goddamn weird’ and it’s just. that just becomes their dynamic. 

She’s not their mum, they’re not her sons, so the relationship dynamic they adopt is siblings. And the concept is so fucking weird but it feels more normal to them than her being their mum. She’s just now their little sister and they’re her big brothers and it’s like “huh. okay. didn’t expect this to happen but okay” 

Like it’s STRANGE but I think their situation calls for it!! This is SUPERNATURAL!! Let it be fucking weird!! She’s their mum but no! Now she’s their little sister!! Imagine the humor opportunities! 

Mary starts to date and she dates a hunter who isn’t aware of the situation and it’s like Sam and Dean act like protective older brothers and give the person the “you hurt her she’ll hurt you, good luck” talk but also

Hunter: so... ever thought of settling down and having kids? Mary, immediately panicking like should she tell them?? is this an appropriate topic to introduce on the third date? she can’t even wikihow this! she tried and nothing came up!: uhhhh

And also after Jack is born and I’m just gonna sprinkle some baby!jack AU in this, after Dean is like *points to Jack* this is my son and *points to Cas* this is my husband Mary’s like

Mary: damn... I’m a 30-year-old grandmother. I don’t wanna be a 30-year-old grandmother Sam: technically you’re 63 Mary: technically I died when I was 29, was dead for 33 years, got brought back to life and was still 29 so you can shut your face I’m a 30-year-old grandmother Dean: I thought we all agreed you’re more like our sister Mary: not when it comes to being a grandmother. I can’t handle being your mom but I can certainly handle being Jack’s grandma Cas: I’m confused... I thought you just said you don’t want to be a grandmother Mary, holding Jack up: I’m a grandma now

[christinesficrecs]

Hey! Do you know any new spark!stiles fics that are 10k or above? I'm craving some badass stiles

Sure! But also these fluffy faves here and here.

Anthracite by LupusScintilla (inkandblade) | 106.6K | Explicit

It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped.

Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

Tattoos & Triggers by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal | 22.6K | Explicit

Stiles left Beacon Hills years ago. After seven years of nothing, the Hale-McCall Pack is asked to help another pack rescue two captives from a group of hunters not far from their territory.

What they find is Stiles.

One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 22.2K

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

The Stilinski Pack by TheRealDanniX | 18.4K | Mature

The Hales didn't go far after the fire and they took Peter with them. Ten years later they come back to Beacon Hills and find a new pack. The Stilinski pack lead by their human Alpha.

Not the usual form of Payment by Anchanee | 98.9K | Explicit

John Stilinski has been brutally killed and Stiles Stilinski finds himself thrust to the head of the American branch of the Stilinski Clan at the age of eighteen. The mobster family that operates mainly in central Europe, but had branched out to America with one very talented Claudia Stilinski, who had secured the market of central California (San Francisco, Brentwood, San Jose). She was succeeded by her husband and now her son.

When his enforcer, Isaac, brings him Derek Hale as compensation for his family's debt, he’s not quite sure what to do. The Hales were a successful family who had worked with the Stilinskis quite successfully over the last decades. Now they are offering their son instead of money. Though Stiles is still learning the ropes of this mob business, he's pretty sure that THAT'S not normal!

Stiles ends up using Derek as a bodyguard which is probably not what you’re meant to do with a rival family’s son, but Stiles is making this up as he goes. And despite him being a mobster, he still has some dignity left.

How to be a Badass Without Trying By Stiles Stilinski by Anxiety_Baker02 | 40K | Mature

Five times Stiles was underestimated and one time he proved why he shouldn’t be.

Safe Place to Land by Green | 19.2K

The Hales have been tracking a group of hunters who've targeted small packs with the help of a magic user. When they finally attack the hunter compound, they aren't expecting to find Stiles, a Spark who's practically a slave, and his young werewolf son. Derek isn't expecting the Spark to be his mate, either.

The Hundred Mile Companion by Aceriee, PalenDrome (nerdherderette) | 35.1K | Explicit

Stiles is hallucinating.

He cracks open an eye. He's floating… no, not floating, because he's bouncing up and down, horizontal-like, the skyline above the trees growing closer, then more distant. There are hands holding him upright, cradling his upper back, his thighs. There's a face hovering above him, with a shock of black hair, and although Stiles is having problems focusing, the person looks good. Insanely, inhumanly good.

Stiles never wanted to be the recipient of the basilisk's venom, but now that it's coursing through him, he admits it's some top quality shit. Absolutely fucking primo.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds | 39.6K

When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest. Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives. Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

If You’re Going Through Hell (Keep Going) | 48.5K

Stiles thought everything leading up to Allison’s death was hell, but he was wrong. Spending senior year dealing with the pack’s dismissal of him while secretly training to be Deaton’s replacement was hell. Feeling guilty and hating himself for what the Nogitsune did was hell. Being in love with someone who would never love him back was hell. Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going.

[the-broken-truth]

Can you make a fic of Mother Miranda x Male reader? where they live such a nice life, and she wants to have children 👨, 🏹, 🛡. Note: Mother Miranda clingy, loving, sensitive and motherly.

Broken Truth: So, Mother Miranda with a Male Archer Defender? And she wants kids?! Oh, yes, this is going to be good. Let the words weave together.

[A Cabin In The Center Of The Peaceful Forest]

The Lead Priestess of the Romanian Village sat at the head of the redwood table with a warm cup of coffee in her hands, smiling at the smell of fresh almonds that came from the mist flowing from the surface liquid. She took a deep inhale with her eyes closed and held it for a moment before opening her eyes, her smile widening when they laid upon the strong back of the man who stood across from her, making breakfast on the stove as he hummed a delightful tune.

This man was [Y/N] [L/N] - A Great Archer/Hunter & The Lover of the High Priestess.

He came into her life as a stranger - an outsider that came to the village with nothing but a bow on his back. Miranda watched him for a while and when she learned of his skills and power - there was nothing she wouldn't do to take him for herself. He built a small cabin in the center of the forest where the 4 territories of the Four Lords met but didn't connect - it was neutral turf. Miranda would watch as he trained and the more she did - the more she wanted to see him. One day, she approached him as the leader of the village and he smiled at her, kissing her hand, and called her angelic; they began seeing each other more and more until a love blossomed between them.

[Y'N] asked to meet the Lords - knowing that they were important to Miranda made him want to be a part of their lives, even when they were grown-ass men and women. He met them at the next lord meeting but none of the other lords - except for Salvatore - seemed happy to have a man alongside their mother and village leader; mainly Alcina. [Y/N] understood where they were coming from but he wanted to be there for them, a friend maybe - or even a father figure.

He started with Alcina - he knew she would be the most difficult; he learned from Miranda that she had 3 daughters who were obsessed with killing & Alcina was fond of wine. He went to the Duke and asked him to bring a few things from the other world - some modern world weapons and a few bottles of vintage wines. Once he got them, he went to Castle Dimitrescu and gave them to Alcina and her girls; it didn't win them over right away but he would continue to go there until the girls screamed 'GRANDFATHER!' when he would enter the castle doors & Alcina would greet him with a 'Father' whenever she saw him.

Then, there was Donna Beneviento - she was Miranda's Adoptive Daughter and the most fragile one she had. He found out she was fond of making dolls and went to purchase some fine silks, cloth, and wool, along with some doll parts, and would create with her. He would visit her and the dolls whenever he found the time; upon learning about the Cadou scar, he made her an eyepatch that covered it so she didn't have to wear the veil all the time. She didn't wear it at first but when Angie hid her veil, she wore the patch to the next Lord Meeting and was given compliments. When asked where she got it from, she said 'Father made it for me.'; that sentence alone made [Y/N]'s day.

Sal was the easiest to have a relationship with - he was so lonely all the time made him grateful for having a father figure that wanted to be around him. [Y/N] found out Salvatore had a fondness for different types of cheese; this caused to father figure to approached the Duke again to go around the world to collect different types of cheese for his water-bound son. Sal and [Y/N] would go swimming together or just sitting around to enjoy the sounds of the water but [Y/N] wanted Salvatore to have a real home and spend an entire summer to build his son a proper house; they have father-son movie nights there every Wednesday.

And then there was Karl - he was not easy to trust, only caring about his work. [Y/N] went to the factory once and found the last lord dealing with a robot of some kind, for some reason, he couldn't get it to work. The man offered his knowledge and went to work; imagine Karl's surprise when the robot sprung to life. The two of them would spend hours making new robots, eventually, Karl did call him 'Father' but never told his father what he needed all these robots for.

Miranda was happy her lover was able to win over the hearts of her 'children' but as time went on, she couldn't stop thinking if she was doing all of this - trying to play God - all for nothing when the answer was right there in front of her.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the sound of the plate of food was placed before her and her lover placed a kiss on her forehead before taking the chair beside her own. Miranda and her lover at for a while before she cleared her throat.

"Darling, there is something I want to tell you." Miranda said as she looked at her man, who looked back at her.

"What is it, Miri?" He asked her.

"[Y/N], I want children." She said bluntly.

"Miri, dear, you already have children - the four lords." He chuckled.

"No. I want biological children and I want them with you." Miranda said as her blue eyes looked into her lover's wide eyes and his red face.

"You...You want to make babies with me? Are you sure?" He asked.

"More than anything - I've been wondering what it would be like to hold a baby in my womb again and...I want those whores in the village to know you are spoken for." Miranda hissed at the end.

"Whores? What whores?" The man asked.

"Those harlots that throw themselves at you! They think I don't see them but I know they just want you to impregnate them but that's not gonna happen! The only place your seed is going is inside of me!" Miranda yelled with a glare.

"Miri?" He chuckled, "Are you jealous?"

"No! I'm not jealous!" Miranda yelled.

"Are you sure? It seems like your jealous to me." He chuckled as he reached for his cup, only to drop it as his lover grabs his ear and pulls him out of his chair, to the bedroom. 'Well, I'm screwed.'

[End]

[grizzledyoungimpact]

Pairing: Jon Moxley/Angel Michaels Quote: If you recall, them clouds ain’t really clouds at all. Verse: Mafia TW/CW: Mentions of PTSD, mentions of war

Life had become even more complex after the end of the war for Jon Moxley. Before the war, Jon had been nothing but a street tough. Jon had run with a group who called themselves The Switchblades. Jon’s brother Brandon and their mutual friend Sami Callihan had run the streets through fear and intimidation, wanting to get the respect that they felt had always been denied to them. As Jon had gotten older, he had found he wanted more. He wanted a chance to do something right, something good. When the war had started, Jon had thought that his something more was to join up. In a way, Jon had been right. He just hadn’t hit the nail on the head just yet. Jon had proven himself to be a capable soldier and, under the watchful eye of a man named Hunter Helmsley, Jon had been put in a covert team with two other men. Seth Rollins was a brainiac, though a bit religious, who was adept at codebreaking and espionage. The muscle of the team had been a silent but kind man named Leati Anoai. That was a name that Jon had known before the war, Anoai. The Anoai’s were one of the most feared crime families on his side of the seaboard. And Jon? Jon was a silent assassin, able to blend into the darkness around him with little effort. Together they had been called the S.H.I.E.L.D, dedicated to the rescue of those who needed it most. After the war had ended, Jon had made it home, though not without his scars. All three men had changed for their experiences. Seth had retreated into his religion even more, gathering a following of like-minded men who would do anything for him. Leati had been slighted by the government, and thus had retreated into the life of crime that he had so badly tried to escape. And Jon? Well, the term so many fancy doctors liked to throw around was shellshock. That was a fancy term for a list of things that he couldn’t control. Loud noises seemed to bring him to a state of near shut-down, seeming to bring him back to the horrors of his days in a trench. Those memories hit him again and again and again. It had stopped Jon from seeking out his brother and best friend, instead tending to stay to himself. Someone he had met since returning to the States had been a help, however. In fact, she had become so much more. Her name was Angel Michaels. Angel was a waitress at a small diner near the small apartment that Jon called his own. She was pretty, with long blonde hair usually pulled out of her soft blue eyes. Those eyes, however, betrayed her youth. Behind her eyes was darkness, proof that the woman knew more about the world around her than she let on. Jon had promised himself to find out what she hid, to make sure she didn’t bear that weight alone. Stops in the diner to see Angel had turned to dates. Dates had turned into meeting Angel’s daughter Brianna. Meeting Brianna had turned into Jon taking up as the father to a daughter he had never expected to be and as a husband he could never have dreamed he’d be. Angel had even shared the story of how she had become a single mother. Once in her life, Angel had been married to the son of a worthy oil tycoon, Ted DiBiase Jr. Ted had loved her in the beginning, but like many rich men who were not used to being told no, Ted had quickly grown bored and started to cheat. When Brianna had been born without the use of her legs, both DiBiase’s had quickly turned away from Angel and Brianna. Jon, in turn, had finally told someone else about his diagnosis. Jon found his confidant in his soulmate. He had assumed that was that, he and Angel would learn to live with their traumas. That was until Angel had come to him with an offer from a mentor of hers. William Regal was a well-to-do member of society who had two different sides. Most members of society knew William as an owner of a corner gym. The gym, known more widely as The Blackpool Combat Club, was a refuge for men who had served their countries and needed a place to express themselves. That, of course, was a front. In all actuality, The Blackpool Combat Club was an extension of the crime family that Regal fronted. The men who served The Club knew of these actions, but because of William’s acceptance of their pasts, the members were accepting of their positions. A circle of chairs had been set up in the gym, the members of the Club sitting together. There was the quiet, bearded Bryan Danielson who had lost one of his closest friends before losing one of his legs in the trenches. Claudio Castagnoli had left his neutral country to carry information as a multi-lingual spy, though he had since fallen in on himself. He had yet to confirm to the other members of the group why, but Jon recognized the look in his eyes. It finally felt like he had someone other than his Angel who would understand in these two men. “If you recall, them clouds ain’t really clouds at all,” Jon spoke up, clasping his hands to his knees as he spoke. “I saw ‘em in the battlefield. It…it’s mines. Can still hear ‘em when I’m sleepin’. I know I scare my kid sometimes. Can’t help that.” Angel placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Bri knows you would never hurt her. We both know…” “If I may, Angela,” William interrupted, “though young Mr. Moxley knows this, a part of himself will always be on edge. I was the same way with my Benjamin and my Anya. It cannot be helped.” Jon gave a soft nod, “His lordship is right. I-“ “It’s not shameful,” Bryan spoke up, his voice gruff, “Most men ain’t got the balls to admit what those places did t’ them. Me? You? Claudio? We’re different. We can look our pain in the eye, keep goin’.” Jon thumbed his nose, giving a sniff as if he could be moved to tears. He was stopped from speaking as two young men entered. Well, Jon was sure both were men. One was a little more feminine in the face, though in fashion they were masculine. Feeling Angel’s hand tighten on his shoulder, Jon could sense his wife’s feelings. These two were children, barely older than twenty at most. She had a need to protect, and Jon wondered if this was how Angel had once felt about him. “Jon…they…” “Is this Mr. Regal’s gym?” the baby-faced younger of the two figures spoke, “I…my brother Wheeler and I…” Jon stood, crossing over with a rough smirk, extending his hand. Angel’s thoughts had been his own and it hadn’t been until he joined this club that Jon had finally found what his duty in life was. His duty in life was to help others, to protect others. “You came to the right place. Welcome to the Blackpool Combat Club.”

[just-someone-who-likes-to-write]

...Story Imagine...

((Vampire AU with Loki))

It's the 18Th Century, (Y/n) and her family we attending a ball, which was held by her father's many associate. As many women of that Era it was frowned upon a woman who spoke her mind, didn't smile, don't act shy, and most importantly if they were not we'd by a certain young age, which (Y/n) had past, as she was soon entering her 20s. Her little sister, however, was finally entering her 14, making her one of the most eligible young women to marry off, which earned her their mother's complete attention. Their father was different, he didn't care much for the ideas of marriage his wife followed, he loved both his daughters, he was the one who taught (Y/n) to read and write when she asked for it, provided books to expand her knowledge, and when she said how the person asking for her hand was not to her liking he always put his foot down against her mother and rejected the man. Her mother always threw a tantrum on how it was inappropriate for her to be literate, read such "Masculine" books instead of learning broidery like women her age should.

Years oast she had grown older her mother ignored her and focused on her younger sister, who her mother made sure she wouldn't be "infected" like she had, and so her younger sister became the "Perfect" woman any man would want. While her mother was flaunting her younger sister completely ignoring her, she kept glancing around the ball in boredom, her father already drunk with other men laughing and having fun. As for her she was standing behind her mother and other women, who had nothing interesting to talk of, jus looking around and gossiping.

Until they grew quite when the door opened announcing a late arrivals to the party. (Y/n) didn't not look as she didn't care, but she could her the women talking about how these people were new nobles who moved from their country for a better life and profit, and how both sons were still single making the young girls in the group to giggle in excitement. And that made (Y/n) intrigued and she looked up, eyes widened slightly when she caught the small family of 4, they were far away and surrounded by people so it was difficult to have a clear look . One of the women who knew their story started to explain. The father with one eyes, used to lead soldiers when his country was at war, which earned him a title. No body knew a lot of the mother, but from her grace and beauty she was a high member of woman society, as with a single smile she could women anyone's heart. The elder son,who many women swooned over, wanted to follow his father's footsteps, as he trained every day since he was a child making him a one man army. The younger brother, followed his mother's footsteps of being one of the most influential members of society, with a few words he'd have anyone wrapped around his fingers.

Hearing all that, (Y/n)'s mother was determined to ensure her younger sister be part of that family. And so like many other women, she waited patiently for an opportunity to introduce herself. (Y/n) didn't want anything to do with her mother's pathetic plan and so she found herself a sofa, which thankfully wasn't preoccupied since many women rushed in to meet the sons of the soldier.

As (Y/n) was minding her own business, she didn't notice when a man came towards her and introduced himself. He asked for a dance, which she declined, then started conversation on various subject and that didn't matter to the you g lady, thinking he was showing his knowledge but it did catch (Y/n)'s Attention when he started asking for her thoughts in the matter, and seemed pleased when she spoke her mind. Having a better look at the stranger (Y/n) found him quite charming. Thier fun was short lived when her mother barged in on thier conversation, which wasn't knew since her mother made it a habit to come and make the gentlemen's attention om her sister, however, was did suprise her is when her mother started acting... Nice to her in front of the man, she still introduced her sister who stared daggers at her direction, but this time she acknowledged her.

As they talked, the gentlemen seemed put off by her mother who didn't seem to get the hint that he wasn't interested in dancing with her younger sister, instead he turned and asked (Y/n) for a dance, and it surprised her since all men always preferred her sister. But her mood was ruined by her mother's actions, she didn't want to be forced to dance and act nice because of her mother, she wanted to be acknowledged willingly, and so she declined. The gentlemen seemed to have understood her sudden shift of mood, and so he excused himself, not before saying how he hopes to meet (Y/n) again. When he left he mother wasted no time to berate her one everything she did, and she ignored it but when she started to accuse her for wanting to steal her sister's "Suitors" is when she started to talk back of how the man was the one who came to her and continued talking to her even when she didn't show interest. Later on she'd understand her mother's outburst for the man was none other than the youngest son of the foreigner couple and his name was Loki.

But (Y/n) didn't think much of it as they left the party and ignoring her mother's lecture of how her time was gone and that her sister was a priority.

On the next day, everyone was surprised when her father came declaring he invited the family dinner to their house last night, making thier house turn into chaos as her mother ran around and made the servants clean the house thoroughly and pampered her sister with dresses, praises and advices on how she should act in order to not only win one of the brother's but also the parents favor. (Y/n) was told to not ruin this for her sister who boosted on how she'd have thw siblings fighting over her. (Y/n) just rolled her eyes in disgust on how her sister turned out and how she was thinking. When the night came (Y/n)'s mother was at the door greeting them, her sister made a lot of effort to show herself off to the elder brother, who obviously felt awkward. When Loki came into view he had a look of displeasure as if he didn't want to be there, but when his eyes landed on her, his eyes brightened and he smiled as he greeted her personally, which earned a scowl from both mother and sister.

During the entire night Loki kept conversing with (Y/n), which encouraged his brother, Thor, and mother, Frigga, to do the same thing, both seemed delighted with how knowledgable and out spoken she was, and when Odin said something the (Y/n) disagreed on her mother stood immediately apologizing and saying how she wasn't "Right in the head" but Odin only replied with how she shouldn't apologize for something that was correct and how they were having a conversation and it's normal to have different opinion. When dinner was served Loki made sure to be across from (Y/n) to continue conversing, which Thor and frigga would join in, much to the displeasure of both her mother and sister but to her father's great delight.

From Loki's POV:

He and his family moved in to the new country because of Vampire hunters who filled thier previous home. Loki was understanding and believed this new beginning was good to them, but to find out how the humans acted made him quickly miss thier home. him and Thor, were surprised to learn of how women had basically no rights, that all of them were illiterate and if they did seek knowledge it would be wrong, but what almost a slap in the face to almost all of them is when they learned that families marry their daughters off at the age of 14 and that being older than 17 was a death sentence of a life alone. And so they had to endure such society for the time being until they found a better place to call home. It was a difficult to find people to eat since these people made sure to stay in thier homes. Thankfully, they met a a fellow vampire who taught them of the ways of this society and how act around them even provided them blood.

One night, the vampire insisted that they join in a ball to throw away suspicion from them since a lot seemed to ask about them. But the moment he entered he felt a sudden pull to someone in the room and he NEEDED to find out who. So using the women's attention to his brother Loki slipped away and made sure he stayed in the dark as he followed the sudden feeling he had, like a string pulling his heart. And that's when he saw her, he swore that he could feel his dead heart beat at her sight. He would have gave in to his instinct and just took her away from her so he could keep her from anyone's sight but his own. But remembering the rules given to him, Loki introduced himself to her. He at first tried to impress her with his vast knowledge and Silver tongue, when that didn't work her started to ask her questions which he has to supress a chuckle at how her eyes sparked with bit of excitement and so he continued to ask her opinion of various subjects, making him fall deeper with her if not delighted to learn that unlike the women he met so far, she was quiet knowledgeable. His time was ruined when her mother came in and started introducing herseas he mother, from the way his Lady was suprised he could tell that such act was non-existent. Then when she pressured him to ask her child for a dance he asked His dear lady instead, he was very disappointed when she rejected him, clearly displeased by her mother's behavior. Seeing that her mother won't leave them, he found it better to leave despite the beast in him snarling and demanding him to scare the mother away so he might be alone with his Lady again. Before he left he told her that he would like to see her again, which seemed to please her.

Back in his home, his father demanded where did he leave to, and when he explained himself to his family both parents seemed surprised and delighted as his mother took him a tight hug before explaining to them that the person Loki met was his fated mate. Thor congratulated him, and asked about the lady that's when he realized that he knew only her name, and ignored the mother completely when she introduced herself so he can't remember a last name. He wanted to explore town in hopes of finding his lady again but his father ordered him to postpone his search for tommorow they have to visist a nobleman's home, who insisted to host them.

Loki was voicing his displeasure the entire ride to the nobleman's home. He was planning to not interact with anyone that night. But when his eyes landed on her he wanted nothing to run and take her in his arms before burying his face in her neck to basking in her scene and presence but he forced himself back. He introduced her to his family who immediately understood by the sudden big smile on his face who was this woman.

Loki would decide the very next day to follow the custom and court (Y/n), much to her mother's delight, and her sister's dismay. There will be "Coincidence" meetings, and when her sister meets a strange man from church telling her that the man his sister with was a monster who'd suck her blood dry, how can she save her sister.

((Still working on the story line, expect updates))

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

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“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

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“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

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“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

-------------------------------------------------------

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”