#i havent even watched supernatural or greys

[ninugh29]

The TV shows scene was eating in 2005

March 24 2005- premiere of The Office

March 27 2005- premiere of Grey's Anatomy

September 13 2005- premiere of Supernatural

September 19 2005- premiere of How I Met Your Mother

September 22 2005- premiere of Criminal Minds

[phoenixstark1708]

the daughter of an archangel

chapter 1

sooo..... this is my backstory in my marvel DR, major trigger warnings, this also crosses over into supernatural later, but i havent even written that yet.

trigger warnings: abuse, torture, blood, death, fucked up timeline, etc.

pairings: later will be sam/dean winchester, and even later will be bucky,

in this, endgame/inf war doesnt happen, i took plenty of creative liberties.

summary: (this is written in first-person) phoenix is a girl who was created by the nazi organization HYDRA, and she meets the winter soldier on a mission, i cant say much more without spoiling future chapters. will try to proofread but no promises.

word count: 2,654/10,649 - that ive written so far.

change of POV's will be indicated

“Get up you stupid pig!” the guard said, in a thick Russian accent, banging the cell door with his truncheon. He shone a flashlight in my eyes, making them burn from the lack of light for the past two days. I stretched out my sore muscles, wincing from the scabbed-over cuts all over my body. After days of no contact with anyone, just me and the cold, dark cell. Somehow being dragged away for training almost feels like a blessing. I stood and allowed him to cuff me. at this point, I know the drill. “so, Angel, how was your weekend?” He asked while holding my shoulder, guiding me out of the cell – the only place I’ve known as home for my whole life – literally. I was born in the damned bullpen. My mother died during birth, I guess having twins really had her beat.

On the way to the hell chamber – sorry, training room - I saw him, I saw Benjamin. For the first time in weeks, I saw my twin. He looked rough. Probably just had a sparring sesh with one of the winter soldiers. he’s always been smaller than me, But there was something different. he seemed especially weak. I haven’t eaten anything in what I assume has been around 4 days. He probably hasn’t either. They were always doing this, trying to weed out the weaker members. Its grim, but I knew he would die soon. It was clear that I was stronger, and if it came down to it, I would kill him without a second thought. After all, that’s how I was trained. I was bred, raised, and trained to be ruthless. And that is the only reason that I am still alive. HYDRA has no room for error.

As I walked into the training room, I saw the winter soldier, long, brunette hair, with a metal arm. The only time ive ever seen him is in cryo-sleep, he looked so peaceful, so harmless. The man standing before me was soemthing different entirely. His eyes were blue as ice, and just as cold. He looked right through me, almost like a drone. “this is her first mission. You will be supervising her.” he hands the man with a metal arm a file containing four pictures of senator james martin, whos been a public neusence for hydra for a while. The winter soldier grabbed me by the arm and dragged me through the door.

It was a quiet drive on the Harley, at the moment, we were just n full assassin gear. My small arms were wrapped around his waist, making him clearly tense up. His metal arm was glinting in the moonlight as we pulled into a nearby parking garage, a birdseye view of the gathering senator martin. “I will stay up here while you go inside. As many casualties as possible. No survivors.” He said gruffly, setting up the rifle. “They won’t let me in. I’m wearing a costume.” I said, my voice gravelly from days of no use. He glanced down at me for the first time, and gazed at me for a moment, before pulling out a T-shirt that had the senators face on it, and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Change into these, keep your weapons concealed until my signal.” I quickly stripped. he turned away, giving me privacy. I was more then used to being watched, so this was surprising. I fixed the too-large clothes, and looked harmless. Instead of looking like an eight-year-old assassin, I looked like a normal kid.

There was something in the winter soldier’s eyes that I didn’t recognise, almost like affection. I walked down the stairs of the parking garage, feeling his eyes on me the whole way. Slowly, I crossed the street, nearly getting hit by a truck that I didn’t know to look for. As I made my way to the entrance of the granite building, I noticed trucks outside, like the kind I saw at my home, - armoured trucks. I, of course thought this was normal. “Careful, there are hostiles in the building. Captain America and the black widow are protecting the target.” His voice came through my earpiece. “I don’t know who they are” I whispered back. “You will. They won’t want to hurt you, use that to your advantage.” And with that, he went radio silent.

As I walked barefoot through the large doors, I spotted a woman in a similar outfit to what I wear, only without the red skull. She spotted me immediately, and I tried to disappear through the crowd. I was unsuccessful. A man in a red, white, and blue uniform grabbed my arm gently, holding a shield in his other hand. “Who are you kid?” He peered down at me “I’m here to see my daddy.” I said, feigning panic. I pulled my arm out of his grasp and ran toward a random man, tugging on his shirt. Shield guy turned away before he could see the man push me away. I stayed by him, trying to convince the people that he was my father. I got a little turned around, when a perverted looking man grabbed my wrist “hey sweetheart. You’re gonna come with me now.” He said, his voice just as weird as him. The man in the jumpsuit put his hand on his shoulder “why dontcha leave the girl alone pal.” He dragged him away.

Just then, his signal came, by shooting the senator in the gut, taking him down. The panic set in immediately. People running around screaming like headless chickens. The man with the metal arm burst through the door, sealing off the only accesable exit. I grabbed the first person I saw, they just happened to be the senators daughter. She couldn’t have been more then seventeen; I snapped her neck. I unfurled my wings and tripped some old man with them. I stabbed him in his corroded artery, a fatal blow. Killing got easier the more I did it.

The fight went on like this for a while, until the red-haired woman pushed me to the ground “stay down kid.” seeing me pinned down, the man i was on the mission with began to make his way over to me. I waved my hand, and the woman went flying, hitting the wall with a thud. Oh yea, something I forgot to mention; I'm not a normal person. In addition to having my DNA spliced with the peregrine falcon, giving me wings, and the ability to fly, I was also experimented on with energy from the soul stone, one of the six infinity stones. Ergo, I had ‘powers’. The winter soldier stared at me, shocked, his brief moment of distraction caused him to get a wooden chair to the head. He shot the dude that hit him.

The man in the flag costume, and the woman ran. Smart. Tactical retreat. I ran to every person I saw, and killed as many as I could. Once we were sure that there were no more targets, the winter soldier grabbed me, and threw me on the motorcycle behind him.

We stopped at a motel that charged by the hour… if that tells you anything. “we will stay here for a while. You need to get clean, I know that the hoses hurt.” he said, a hint of compassion in his voice. Hes right. They used fire hoses to ‘clean up’ whenever any of us got dirty. I walked into the bathroom and stripped. I didn’t close the door, because I assumed I wasn’t allowed to. I didn’t know how to use the shower so I just sort of stared at it, waiting for it to turn on. The man walked in, turned the handle of the shower, and left. I jumped when water started to spurt out of the faucet. I stepped into the water slowly, gauging the temperature before completely immersing myself into it. My muscles involuntarily relaxed at the sensation of the warm water. I began rubbing the dirt off of my limbs when the winter soldier walked in.

He didn’t look at me, but made a damp washcloth and started cleaning his wounds. They were worse then I assumed, and I coudnt help but observe him while washing the rest of the dirt off of my body. I only sustained minor cuts and bruises in the fight, but he had deep lacerations on his face, presumably from the chair. I stepped out of the shower and stood there, a towering three-foot-seven-inches, short for my age. He glanced at me and handed me a towel while dabbing his wounds “whats this for?” I asked “dry yourself. They will notice our absence if were not back soon.” so, I dried myself off, and put on my uniform, running my fingers over the red skull with tentacles, like a squid. I giggled, imaging it wiggling its tentacles.

Bucky

The little girl was looking at her uniform, giggling. For a moment I thought of two young girls in brooklyn. I was a teenager with sisters… what? No, I wasn’t. I am a weapon for hydra. Whats going on? I was steadily bleeding from the prick who hit me with a chair, we needed to get back to base. She suddenly looked up at me, concern evident in her sweet, blue eyes. “are- are you okay? You're bleeding,” she frowned. “Let me help you. I can make people feel better.” I skeptically sat on a bed near where she was standing. She slowly reached over to me; I shied away when her hand got close to my wound, remembering the various punishments I've had over the years. I am a wild animal. I need to be controlled. She looked into my eyes, the child-like glimmer long gone. It's unfair; all children should have that. No. She is not a child; she is a weapon. That’s it- like me. She gently laid her small hand on my head near the cut. All of the sudden her eyes started glowing, a certain gold color I'd never seen before. Her hands began glowing the same, and my head started tingling.

I immediately felt better. I can't explain it, but she somehow lodged herself into my memory, unintentionally. And I knew I would never forget her. She looked at me worried, noting the glazed look in my eyes. “are you alright? I'm sorry if I hurt yo-” I cut her off “My name is Bucky,” I blurted out; I had no idea where that came from. “You need to call me Winter, or ‘the winter soldier’, otherwise they’ll kill us both” she looked at me confused and alarmed “okay… I will” “we need to go back.” so I took her small hand, gently, and led her to the HYDRA-issued motorcycle we came here on. The drive back to base was cold. I could feel it in my bones. I couldn’t help but wish I could help her warm up. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but I knew HYDRA wouldn’t like it. I am a machine. Not a man.

I rode up to the gate “солдат?” soldier? “миссия ус��ешна. приветствую г��дру.” mission successful. hail hydra. The gate opened, and we rode into the garage. She was immediately ripped off the back of the bike and dragged away. “you are late. The camera in your suit shows you made a ‘pit stop’. She had an effect on you. You will both be heavily punished for this.” no. I practically jumped off the bike. I grabbed the mans neck and snapped it before being sedated. The last thing I heard before I got knocked out was “well, after we make them watch, we’ll have to wipe him again.” I woke up strapped to a modified autopsy table. Modified so I was reclined enough so that I had a clear view of the girl. And she had a clear view of me. One of the doctors walked in with an array of surgical instruments “doctor- sorry- creator! Thank goodness! I was scared we were taken by the bad people!” the little girls face lit up with relief. The doctor sighed and placed his kit on a surgical tray, the knives clattering against the cold steel. “child, птичий урод.” bird-freak “you have been very bad. And you know what happens to bad children.” he put on surgical gloves, and picked up a Sickle Probe, the device that dentists use. He walked toward her slowly “creator, im sorry! It was a mistake! Please. Im sorry” she cried out. however, she didn’t struggle against the restraints. “it is too late to apologise freak. You will be punished.” “yes sir.” she slumped against the autopsy table, keeping her fear-filled eyes on the doctor. He walked up to her small body, and turned off the magnetic cuff, allowing her arm to fall. The monster grabbed her arm, and stuck the hook of the sickle probe into the inside of her elbow. She began silently crying from the pain, blood slowly dribbling from the wound. He slowly dragged the hook down her arm, toward her wrist, tearing her skin. The blood was flowing heavily now, and he was trying to stifle her cries. After reaching her wrist, he put the probe down and picked up a rusty razorblade.

He moved to her chest, and drug the blade down her sternum, and to her lower stomache. She was crying freely now. “heal yourself.” she did as she was told, her eyes glowing gold, and the wounds shimmering as they healed instantly. He grabbed a klein tool – essentially a broader pliers. He walked to her bare feet, and clamped down on her small toe. He bent it to a sickening angle, causing the bone to snap with a disturbing CRACK. She screamed. He used the wire-clipping part of the klein tool to cut off a patch or skin on her foot. He grabbed a knife, and made slow, deep, and deliberate cuts all over her body. After nearly an hour, he decided hed had enough of that. he only reason she was still alive was because she wasn’t fully human – she couldn’t have been. “heal. Now. Not your foot though. You will deal with that.” she did as she was told. She was exhausted. She collapsed against the table before he shocked her with a set of jumper cables rigged up to a car battery. While watching this, I struggled against the restraints so much, my wrist began to bleed. Every time I screamed for them to let her go, my restraints would get an electrical charge. I was muzzled like a dog. Reminding me that I am no better then one. I am one. She screamed every time he cut her, shocked her, stabbed her, or tore the skin off her flesh. When she screamed, the building would shake. Not figuratively either.

She was clearly more powerful than she could see. She could easily kill him, she could kill everyone in this god forsaken building. HYDRA had control over her mind. But not in the same way as they had mine. They beat her down, made her feel powerless, made her think wrong is right, and right is wrong. I have to get her out of here. The doctor made his way over to me “judging by your reaction, she made an imprint on you. Well, time to forget her!” he said, laughing malevolently. “no! You cant-” I was cut off by a blow to my temple. They dragged me to the Memory Suppressing Machine. A white hot pain ripped through me. I couldn’t remember the mission, but I could remember a girl. A sweet, young girl. I knew I should protect her. As far as they're concerned, I don’t remember a thing. “Желание. Семнадцать. Ржавый. Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный. Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон” my trigger words.

let me know if you wanna be tagged in pt2

[comeinwiththerainbow]

I have no right to clown on people watching Spn when I'm here watching the new episode of Grey's Anatomy

[chocolatecakecas]

I was tagged by @thecwsniper a while ago and by @agentplant moments ago, which reminded me i was tagged before ahaha thank you guys for the tag💖(i hope these are the same questions, i did not double check)

Answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are now obligated to get to know better :)

1. Name/Nickname: Rebecca, Bec

2. Gender: female, she/her

3. Zodiac: taurus

4. Height: 5′6

5. Time: 6:02 am

6. Birthday: May 9th

7. Favorite bands/groups: ohh um Queen, One Direction, Led Zeppelin, Blondie, Fleetwood Mac, Green Day, Earth, Wind & Fire, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, and more that I’m currently forgetting aha

8. Favorite solo artist: ummm Billy Joel, Harry Styles, Elton John, Bruce Springsteen, Lizzo, Dolly Parton, and again more i’m forgetting

9. Song stuck in my head: Olivia (One Direction)

10. Last Movie: uhh I think it was Mamma Mia Here We Go Again 

11. Last Show: *sigh* I just watched an episode of Supernatural (12x03 its for my amv i’m trying to remember key things about s12)

12. When did I create this blog: I made this blog in 2014 I think? after i deleted my first one 

13. What do I post: destiel, supernatural in general, cockles and a bunch of incomprehensible paragraphs

14. Last thing I Googled: “Rowena MacLeod list of episodes” (again for the. amv I’m looking for a specific clip ahasdghs)

15. Other blogs: no i can barely handle this one so only my post limit @vanillacakecas

16. Do I get asks: yes!!! and i LOVE please feel free to come and chat whenever! (im always on mobile so the notif gets eaten but i WILL see it and i WILL answer)

17. Why I chose my URL: when i made this blog, like everyone had like cutesy blog names, and i wanted the alliteration so here we are like eight years later

18. Following: 623

19. Followers: waaaay more than i deserve i love you all and im sorry you’re perceiving me <3333

20. Average hours of sleep: im doing a 30 questions ask game at 6:03am, i havent slept and i have class at 8....so how many do you think?

21. Lucky number: 2

22. Instruments: i can play like warm ups on the piano, but umm i can sing does that count?

23. What am I wearing: a young frankenstein the musical hoodie from a production i was in, grey sweat pants and fuzzy blue socks

24. Dream job: hmm a public policy analyst, or a political analyst in general but hey its 5am so we’re dreaming big here, and i’d maybe want to run for office on day (you guys have to promise not to expose my blog)

25. Dream trip: honestly anywhere out of the US, I’ve always wanted to go to like Italy or Greece? Or even just like a cross country road trip with my two best friends

26. Favorite food: mint chocolate chip ice cream

27. Nationality: american

28. Favorite song: oh god i’ll go with, Scenes from an Italian Restaurant by Billy Joel

29. Last book I read: i’m reading slaughter house five for my lit class (how dean kin of me)

30. Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: umm idk i guess harry potter (but not HER🤮 harry potter, like the secret good HP that lives on tumblr), SPN just so i could hug Cas, and perceive Dean with my own two deankin eyes (even tho I’d definitely be killed immediately), and idk any like musical universe were you spontaneously burst into song

Tagging: @wormstacheangel @shelikestv @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @chaoticdean @jellydeans @evermorecastiel @archervale @avaarts @casbelieves and whoever else wants to do it!!!! (No pressure tags of course💛)

[your-iron-lung]

No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross 10

aka ‘The House That Dripped Blood’; available to read on AO3 HERE

Story Synopsis:  Some weird low-key occult parties start popping up that Steve can’t in good conscience ignore and takes it upon himself to investigate. Billy gets caught up in the consequences of his meddling, and isn’t it funny? For all the strange things the Upside Down has thrown his way, it’s werewolves that Steve has trouble accepting exist.

Chapter Word Count: 7927

Pairings: Eventual Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington

Genre: Supernatural/Drama/Horror-ish

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Next Chapter: 11

Notes: if you follow me you may have noticed i havent posted in a while- this is bc i spend all my time playing ffxiv instead of setting aside determined amounts of time to spend on writing/drawing and i have a bunch of artist alleys coming up that im ill prepared for and im terrible at budgeting UH YEP bad excuse but WHAT CAN YA DO here we are

(ive also set up a ko-fi account if you want to give drop me some tippy tips if u enjoy the word things i do) ((no pressure tho))

"Bigfoot."

Hopper leaned back in his chair; let it creak and groan under his weight until he knew it was at its limit, and then pushed it a little more. He studied the no-nonsense expression on the hunter before him, and intrinsically knew that the man was speaking truth.

"Bigfoot," the old man said again, speaking a little sterner than he had before once he recognized Hopper's amiable expression of disbelief. "I seen't him out in the woods just the other day."

The aging man had lumbered into the police station almost immediately after Hopper came in, bundled in some worn hunting gear that looked almost as old as he was. The deputies had offered to speak with him after hearing his initial claim, but they'd been refused when Callahan couldn't stop smirking. The old hunter had insisted on speaking with Hopper, who leaned forward now, taking the stress off of his chair to take a sip of the coffee Florence had brought in for him. He didn't look at the old man as he drank.

"So let me get this straight," Hopper began, setting his coffee aside to rub at his forehead, "you came in first thing in the morning worried about a missing friend of yours, but now you're telling me you're worried about Bigfoot."

"You know me, Jim," the hunter said, a slight hint of pleading desperation edging out of his voice. "You know I ain't some crazy old coot. I ain't seen Lamm in a long while, and yessir I'm worried 'bout him, but when I went out to his cabin to check on him I seen it: I seen Bigfoot!"

As incredulous as the claim was, Hopper believed him- not about it being Bigfoot, exactly, but he believed that the man had seen something out there in the woods, and it had the possibility of being that something he'd spent the last two weeks fruitlessly searching for.

Regardless, he didn't want to let the old hunter know he was taking him seriously. The last thing he needed was for his community to think he believed in this sort of nonsense, but people in town were going missing, and people he knew were getting hurt: if his only lead should turn up in the form of an old man believing he'd caught sight of an urban legend, then so be it. He'd follow it through, but he'd be subtle about it.

"You sure it wasn't just a trick of the light or something, Wes? You know your eyes aren't what they used to be," Hopper remarked casually, softening his voice to let him down easy. "And this isn't the first time Lamm's gone missing; you know he's one of those types of shut ins. Remember those weeks he was gone hunting 'vampires'? He's the kind of guy who lives in his own head more than he lives out here, he'll turn up again on his own time."

The hunter's lips twitched into a frown. "Alright, maybe Lamm is a little off kilter," he relented, averting his eyes for a second, "and maybe it weren't Bigfoot, but the tracks it left were huge 'n mighty, by God, and I ain't seen nothin' else like it before. If it weren't Bigfoot, then at the very least it had big feet, Jim, and I ain't never seen feet quite like 'em."

Interest piqued, Hopper became more attentive. "How's that?"

"Well, they was stretched out lookin', for one." The hunter paused, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall the details of what he'd seen out in the woods. He held his hands up, spaced apart in an approximation of how long the prints he'd found had been. "Human lookin', almost, which is what had me thinkin' it coulda been Bigfoot. They weren't the tracks of somethin' native 'round here, and I only caught but the barest glimpse of it, but it was tall, Jim; taller'n you or I."

That sounded right; the prints he'd found and unsuccessfully tracked were, as the hunter said, 'huge 'n mighty' and matched the description of what he'd just been told. It didn't take an expert's opinion (though he had consulted one) to discern that the markings just weren't natural. Hopper set his mug of coffee aside and pulled out a notepad from one of his desk drawers. He uncapped a pen and held it to the page for a moment before writing down a few preliminary notes for himself on the top line.

The hunter cocked his head and leaned forward to look at what he was writing and said, "That don't look official."

"Because it's not; this one's just gonna be between us, alright?" Hopper said, looking up to meet Wesley's blue, watery eyes. He held the stare long enough to get his point across, waiting for a sign of affirmation before looking back to the notepad and pressing the tip of the pen to the paper. "Tell me where and when exactly you saw this 'Bigfoot' of yours."

The day was cold and grey at its start, with harsh, biting winds ushering in thick clouds that blocked out any hope of the sun ever making an appearance. Steve eyed the sky apprehensively as he made his way back to his car, wary of the way the clouds looked as though they might start dropping hail on him at a moment's notice. Billy feigned disinterest as Steve opened the rear passenger door and leaned in to shove the box of things he'd bought at the Hunting & Camping store into the backseat. Even with his vision obscured in part by the sunglasses he'd elected to wear, he didn't miss the strong look of annoyance that graced Steve's features when he came around to the driver's seat and entered the car with a pout.

"That guy give you a hard time or something?" Billy asked as Steve buckled in and put the BMW into reverse, turning in his seat to hastily jerk the car out of the parking lot. "Why do you look like someone shit in your cereal?"

Steve clicked his tongue. "He just kept asking what a 'kid like me' needed with a bunch of chains and rope and shit. My god, he just would not let it go, like he thought I was trying to build my own sex dungeon or something. Fucking annoying."

"You mean that's not what we're doing?" Billy asked, grinning a bit at the way Steve's face pinched up in disgust. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth; said it was to tie up a werewolf. 'It's a full moon tonight, y'know? Gotta tie 'em down or they go all crazy on you', I said to him, and you know what he said to me then?" Steve asked, speeding out of the little downtown shopping area Hawkins played host to and sounding every bit as gossipy as Carol did when she caught wind of a scandal.

"How the fuck would I?" Billy drawled, turning away from the conversation to watch the scenery pass by disinterestedly.

"He said, 'Damn fool kids will never learn'," Steve said, ignoring him. "'Damn fool kids will never learn', like, what the hell does that mean?"

Billy shrugged. "Who knows? As long as he accepted daddy's plastic then what does it matter?"

Steve clicked his tongue again in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fuck you."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Billy declined to retort. They rode on in silence, the chains in the box Steve had bought clinking together softly in the backseat before the radio was finally turned on to mask the sound.

Regardless of whether or not Steve actually believed something was going to happen to Billy that night, he couldn't deny that the whole day leading up to that evening just felt… off. From meeting up with Billy earlier that afternoon to go by the camping store, to grabbing lunch together before heading over to the Henderson's house, it all felt wrong.

It was something Steve had difficulty pinpointing the origins of, but as they began work on clearing out enough space in the cellar for Billy to do whatever it was he thought he was going to do, he soon came to realize that the feeling of wrongness seemed to stem from Billy himself.

Few words could better describe Billy than 'annoying' or 'smart-mouthed', but he'd been uncharacteristically tight-lipped all day. He'd become a remarkably dull version of himself, and Steve wasn't sure quite how to handle that.

Usually one to argue and bite back at everything Steve said, when he'd begun dishing out instructions on how best to clear out some floor space in the cellar, Billy hadn't talked back to him a single time; merely lit a cigarette and blinked at him slowly, silently acknowledging what had been asked of him before getting on with it.

It was unsettling. Steve could almost say that he hated how submissive Billy was because of how used he'd gotten to the back-talk and smart-ass remarks Billy usually had ready for him, and though, yes, there were times he had wished for this kind of attitude from him, the silence and absolute subordination coupled with all of the other behavioral changes Billy was exhibiting were enough to set Steve on edge.

Billy kept tonguing the gaps in his teeth where they'd fallen out over the course of the week, and he never seemed to realize he wasn't alone. Sometimes he'd jump at the sound of Steve's voice, or shake his head and crease his brow in confusion when he turned around to see Steve moving stuff somewhere behind him, but arguably the worst part of it all was that he stank.

He'd tried to mask it with an overabundance of cologne that had nearly suffocated Steve when they began working in closer quarters, but buried beneath that was a hint of something that smelled awfully rotten. If he had to, Steve could liken it to the stench of the monster they'd encountered in the woods, but he chose not to, instead chalking it up to a severe case of nervous b.o. or something. The implications that the scents could be related bothered him too deeply to believe, and even then he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the source of the smell was.

The stench of decay emanating from Billy's person was worrisome enough on its own, but with so much to do in order to get ready before sunset, Steve had a hard time figuring out where to primarily apply his focus: there were simply too many things going on for him to worry about one thing more than another.

The giant hole in the wall that Dart made to tunnel out of the cellar was his immediate concern, but Dustin had done a good job of hiding it from his mother by placing a tall shelf in front of it, essentially blocking it off. That didn't mean it wasn't entirely inaccessible, but Steve wasn't sure what more he could do about it. In all honesty, he'd forgotten about it until he'd tried to move the shelf aside and then found himself peeking into the eerie tunnel. He'd knocked over several things in his haste to put the shelf back in place, but Billy hadn't seemed to notice it, and if he didn't, maybe he wouldn't think to use it if- or when- he lost himself to whatever supernatural effects he was experiencing.

"Big if, though," Steve muttered aloud to himself. Turning away from the shelf, he looked over to where Billy was inspecting some old power tools, turning a nail gun over in his hands before setting it back in the box he'd pulled it out of. "So, are we good or what? This baby-proofed enough for you?" Steve asked, startling Billy out of whatever ruminations he'd been lost to.

Billy looked at Steve blankly, face impassive and emotionless. He frowned, and then looked around himself as though he'd forgotten where he was. When he spoke, his voice was monotone and devoid of his usual arrogance as he said, "I don't know, Harrington; is it?"

"You tell me, man, this was your idea." Steve watched as Billy returned his focus on the box of tools he'd originally been rummaging through. Picking up a hammer, Billy balanced its weight in his hands before gripping the handle tightly. Steve distrusted the look in Billy's eye as he held it. "What are you, a child? Quit rifling through their shit, put it back," he said.

Billy didn't reply or even acknowledge that he'd heard him. Ignoring Steve's demand, he stepped up to the abandoned work bench to splay his left hand out over the wood and lifted the ballpeen up.

"What the fuck are you doing? Put it down," Steve said again, his voice rising slightly in pitch when he understood what Billy was doing. He started towards him in an effort to stop him, but halted when the hammer was brought crashing down.

It missed his hand, but the force of the impact splintered the wooden table's surface. Steve gaped as Billy turned around, a cocky little smile turning up his lips.

"Someone could get hurt real bad down here if they weren't careful, huh, Harrington?" he said, a fierceness that Steve hated to admit he'd missed charging his voice. "But we've been real careful cleaning this shithole out, haven't we, pally?"

"You sick piece of shit, give me that," Steve snapped, snatching the hammer away from Billy's pliant grip. "Fuck you, Hargrove; you could've just said you wanted to move this shit out of here."

"Had you pegged as being more of a visual learner," Billy sneered as Steve threw the hammer back into the box of tools. "Your concern was touching, though, really."

"You're the one who came asking me for help, fuckface. Begged me, almost, if I'm remembering right. 'Oh, Steve, help me, I'm so scared of fake movie monsters!'"

Steve hadn't meant to rise to the taunt, but Billy's insufferable attitude had him stooping to his level as he hoisted the hefty box of tools in his arms and lugged them over to the stairway. Billy laughed dryly at Steve's mocking tone.

"We both wish that fucking thing had been fake," he said as Steve placed the box on the ground at the foot of the stairs beside the box of supplies he'd bought earlier. They were both quiet for a moment, their attempt at a conversation dying as quickly as it had been brought on.

"Only one thing left to do then," Steve said morosely.

Billy blinked and turned to face the stairway, eyes rising slowly up to where the cellar doors were propped open wide. Steve felt the guilt of having to lock him in prematurely and had to remind himself that he wanted to be locked in.

"Better hop to it then, Harrington," Billy said lowly, lips curling back into a familiar grin, but without all his teeth in place to flesh it out, Steve found the display to be more unsettling than annoying. "Let's get this sex dungeon set up."

Steve grimaced. "Not even in your wildest dreams, Hargrove."

"Nothing's off the table in my dreams, pretty boy." Billy breathed out a small laugh at the disgusted look on Steve's face, but the grin he'd been displaying slowly fell away. "Is it getting dark yet?"

"Uh, kind of, but the sun hasn't set yet," Steve replied, stepping up into the stairwell to check the status of the sky. It was as dull and grey as it had been all day, the overcast weather acting as a harbinger for the snowfall the local meteorologist had foretold was coming. "If you took off those fucking sunglasses you'd be able to tell."

"These are for your benefit as much as mine," Billy snapped, frowning suddenly.

"Yeah, okay, whatever that means," Steve said dismissively as he began to fish out the cords of rope from the box, letting them spool out onto the ground before gathering them into his hands. "How do you uh, how do you want to do this?"

"Aw, is this kitten's first time tying someone up?" Billy purred, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the cellar, directly under the light. "Who knew 'King' Steve's favourite flavor was vanilla."

Steve rolled his eyes as he brought the ropes over, wrinkling his nose at the mixed smell of rot and cologne that got stronger with proximity. "I've dated girls kinkier than you'd know what to do with," he retorted as he gestured for Billy to hold out his hands.

"Oh please," Billy said with a snort, "there are no kinky girls in Hawkins or I would've found them by now."

"You're obviously not looking hard enough," Steve muttered in response, gesturing again for Billy to hold out his hands.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket and tossing it over the work table he'd splintered, Billy held his hands up obediently and watched stoically as Steve wound the rope around his wrists, binding his hands together roughly.

"What's should our safe word be?" Billy teased, smirking as Steve wound another, longer length of rope over the original knot.

"There is no safe word because this isn't a sex thing!" Steve insisted angrily.

Flustered, he sighed irritably as he wound the long part of the rope around Billy's waist, hating how close he had to get in order to make sure the rope was tight enough, though Billy seemed to be enjoying how close he'd gotten. He kept shifting his weight around, trying, it seemed, to get Steve into a more compromising position. Annoyed, but determined to finish, Steve did his best to ignore Billy's constant movement and the disgusting, rotten musk that was wafting off of his person to finish tying him up.

"Why do you fucking stink so goddamn badly?" Steve finally asked with a scowl, repressing the urge to gag as he tied the ropes off into a clumsy knot. He stumbled away from Billy, reaching up to pinch his nostrils shut so he wouldn't have to smell the rot anymore, but the rancid scent seemed to have lodged itself deep into his nose. "You smell like a dead Calvin Klein model or something, holy shit, did you use a whole fucking bottle?"

The amusement Billy had held while taunting Steve left his face. His smirk shrunk into an awkward grimace as he looked away in embarrassment.

"I don't know, alright?" he admitted bitterly. "It doesn't matter how much I bathe, and between that and my eyes I have no idea what the fuck's going on with me."

"What about your eyes?" Steve asked hesitantly, unsure if he really wanted to know the reasoning behind why Billy had insisted on wearing sunglasses all day.

Billy faltered for a moment, hesitating briefly before reaching up and plucking the sunglasses off his face. With both hands bound together, he awkwardly folded the legs against the lenses and tucked them into the collar of his button up. He turned his gaze to Steve, who couldn't help but suck in a slight breath of surprise.

His eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to start bleeding straight out of the sockets. There were hardly any whites left in the sclera to be seen as Billy winked at him, looking immensely uncomfortable at the way Steve was gaping openly at him.

"Do they- hurt? Or whatever?" Steve asked, unconsciously taking a few steps forward to get a better look. In the dim lighting of the basement, even the blues of Billy's eyes looked reddish.

"What's it to you if they do?" Billy snapped, suddenly irritable. He squared his jaw and looked away, unable to face the amount of concern Steve was showing him.

The worry Steve felt for the both of them in that moment grew stronger as he backed off, letting the matter of the changes in Billy's physicality drop, despite how alarming they were. "If I don't hear anything an hour after the sun goes down, I'll let you out," Steve said abruptly as he walked backwards towards the stairwell, grasping for the hand rail behind him blindly, unsure why he was so reluctant now to let Billy out of his sight. It was what they'd agreed upon earlier, and he said it meaning for it to sound reassuring, but the way Billy's lips twitched made it apparent he didn't interpret it that way.

Billy didn't respond.

"Well, uh, I guess that's it then," Steve said as he bent down, placing his box of chains atop the box of tools Billy had been messing around with before lifting them up together to carry them up and out of their man-made dungeon.

The cellar doors shrieked loudly as they were closed, a high pitched agony that erupted when the metal grinded against itself uncooperatively. Steve didn't mind that so much as he hated the sound the chains made as he wove them through the door handles, reminding him of what he was doing and who he was imprisoning as the steel rattled sharply against the doors. He winced at the commotion, but continued to loop them through the small door handles until no more could be fit between them. He tested their sturdiness by attempting to pull them open, and to his pleasure, they remained shut. The doors were secured; the cellar, as far as he was concerned, was now a suitable prison. All that was left of him now was to play the role of the jailor appropriately.

He stared down at his handiwork for a moment before the cold, blowing winds prompted him to seek shelter. Already a few snowflakes were fluttering out of the sky, flying into his cheeks as he turned away, re-gathering the box of tools in his arms and headed for the door Dustin promised he'd leave a key for.

Searching under the backdoor mat, Steve found the promised key, and true to the rest of Dustin's word, the entire home was empty, save for the cat that chirped a greeting for him from atop the kitchen counter. With a deep intake of breath Steve glanced at his watch, stepped inside, and shut the door behind him, wondering if he really was prepared for the worst. In the trunk of his car his bat waited for him, ready to be put to use just in case shit really did hit the fan, but he found himself questioning if he'd really be able to use it; bludgeoning monsters to death was one thing, but turning it on a boy he knew was only a monster figuratively was something else entirely.

For both his and Billy's sakes, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Shrugging out of his thick coat, Steve set it down beside him as he took a seat on the Henderson's couch. He glanced at his watch again, dismayed by the fact that time wasn't progressing as fast as he wished it was and sat in anxious worry about what the rest of the night might have in store.

But at least he was comfortable and warm.

The cellar was not.

It wasn't the cold that Billy minded, so much as it was the anticipation: when would the transformation start? Exactly at sundown? A little before? A little after? Would he actually end up transforming? And why the fuck did the word 'transform' make him so damn uncomfortable? The unknown factors surrounding his circumstances were almost worse than any of the physical symptoms he'd been experiencing as of late, and he'd been experiencing a lot.

Anxiety wasn't something Billy had a lot of experience with, but it was the only thing he could think of that explained why his heart had been beating oddly all day. It was running at a notably higher rate, as though he'd been playing basketball or working out extraneously, and brought on palpitations he wasn't used to dealing with at the elevated speed.

In short he felt terrible. His whole body ached like it was going through puberty again. Both his arms and legs were sore in ways that mimicked the aches that came with growing pains when he'd had them, but he couldn't understand why he would begin to hurt in that way again. He hadn't had the energy to work out in two days despite eating practically anything he could get his hands on, so the soreness in his limbs was unwarranted. Either his body was preparing itself for the coming night, or he was having an incredibly drawn-out heart attack.

Standing at the foot of the stairwell, Billy felt the cold permeating in through the closed opening and moved away to find a better spot to wait. He wanted rub his arms to bring some warmth into them, but couldn't with the way they were bound. Already the ropes were beginning to dig into his wrists, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin as he realized he wasn't actually that cold anyway, despite the frigid weather; his body temperature had been on a steady incline leading up to now, leaving him with a rosy complexion and a near constant fever, the long-term effects of which left him feeling severely disoriented.

He could barely remember meeting up at Steve's house only a few hours ago to carpool to his kid friend's house, riding with the windows down in spite of the severe wind-chill as they went into town to get lunch and buy rope. Even though they'd ridden together, he couldn't remember now if they'd actually talked about anything or not. All he could remember were the low tones of the radio and the resonating throbs of the wind as it swooped in through the open windows, rushing to fill the audial space between them. It was as though his mind had been steeped in a fog, and he couldn't accurately think through it: everything was clouded over, incomprehensible, like waking up the morning after a bender and being unable to remember everything he'd done the night before, but knowing all the same that he'd taken part in some memorable shit.

Would there be pain, he wondered, and would it come on as suddenly as it had to the character in the movie he'd made Steve watch? Even though 'American Werewolf' was just a movie, stories like that had to spawn from some sort of truth, didn't they?

The dim little lightbulb that hung overhead flickered briefly, drawing Billy's attention to it as he took a seat at the work table's bench, wishing his eyes weren't a dry and sore as they were.

Coming from above, he could hear the muffled sounds of a TV show permeating through the cellar's ceiling. He couldn't help but think ill of Steve in that moment, but if their situations had been reversed, he probably would have been doing the same thing; he couldn't fault Harrington for finding a way to pass the time, though he wished he had something similar to do for himself. There was nothing interesting to hold his attention, and time passed at a dreadfully slow rate.

Stretching out on the bench, he laid himself down slowly, mindful of which parts of his back hurt the most, and gazed up at the cement overhead disinterestedly. He listened to the muffled sounds of the distant television, trying to conjure an image in his mind that corresponded with what little dialogue he could hear, but the rapid beating of his heart overpowered the noises coming from the TV. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing in an attempt to lower his heart rate, but it just kept going, pounding in a determined rhythm that seemed to be quickening with each passing minute. A bead of sweat trickled down from his scalp and over his ear as he wondered if the tingling he felt in the tips of his fingers was because of the cold or from the ropes being tied too tight.

He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his hands into a fist to try and bring sensation back into his fingertips, but to no avail. They remained numb, and the cause of which eluded him.

Frowning, Billy stiffly sat up and began to pinch at his skin, belatedly realizing that the numbness was spreading slowly down the lengths of his fingers, a sensation that sent a chill running down the length of his spine.

"Oh," he said. "Oh shit."

The pain, when he finally did begin to feel it, started in his feet. There were still thirty minutes before the sun went down.

Billy licked his lips nervously as he tried to get his boots off, his numb fingers and bound hands fumbling uselessly with the laces as the pain centralized in his toes and grew in sudden intensity. He was no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything he'd ever felt before: it was sharp and stabbing, with each throb of pain stemming from the bones in his toes, as though they were growing more pointed in an attempt to pierce their way through his skin as they elongated. He could feel them cracking; each joint slowly popping free of itself as the bones began to push themselves forward.

"Oh, shit," he repeated, and could hear the muffled sounds of a laugh track from whatever sitcom Steve had turned on upstairs roaring in delight as he struggled to finally pull his boots off.

The stabbing sensation didn't relent, even once his shoes lay discarded by his feet. He peeled away his socks with shaking hands and stared down at his toes.

They'd turned a bright, beet red and were bulging like they might burst apart, his skin bubbling up around toenails that were already starting to peel off. He couldn't help the whimper as he tentatively felt them, a pain like touching a freshly popped, skinless blister causing him to draw his fingers back.

It was real. It was happening.

Sweating freely now, he reached away from his feet to brush his dampened hair away from his forehead as sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He paused when he felt his hair pull free from his scalp, clinging to the back of his hand stubbornly. Billy stared at the loose, curly strands with a horrified expression and reached up with a shaking hand to grab more. When he pulled, a handful of his hair came away easily, eliciting another whimper from deep within his throat. Disgusted and frightened, he threw his hair away to the floor.

Breathing quickly, he hastily rubbed his hands free of the loose strands in a panic and tried to calm himself. His whole body trembled as he breathed in deeply through his nose, wondering if he should try to call out to Steve to alert him that the worst case scenario was indeed unfolding. Another laugh track from upstairs came through the ceiling as he felt a sharp, sudden stab of pain in his ribs, prompting him to gasp loudly and curl forward over himself. He could actually feel some part of his ribcage shifting inside his torso as he tucked his arms in to his sides. Any lingering thoughts of trying to remain calm left him as he transitioned from panic to full on fear.

He stood up not knowing what he was going to do, but regretted it instantly: as soon as he put weight on his foot, his ankle collapsed in on itself and brought him to the floor. A shout almost came out with his fall, but he managed to internalize the pain as he was used to doing and grit his teeth as his foot essentially broke itself in half.

The central part of his foot that arched snapped without warning. Billy swore loudly and reached for his foot instinctively, wanting to hold the break in place, but he couldn't bear the agony that came with the contact. Warm tears leaked from his eyes, and when his other lateral arch also split in half, he couldn't help but cry out.

From up above, the noises coming from the television ceased. Steve must have heard him and was listening for him now, trying to gauge whether or not he should intervene. Billy clenched his jaw tighter, determined to keep quiet, but gasped loudly when two of his molars gave out under the pressure, snapping to the side and coming loose of his gumline. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth as he spat the teeth out, shuddering uncontrollably when he felt the vertebrae in his spine begin to pop, one by one, pushing up against his skin that was quickly beginning to feel too tight.

Huffing in great breaths of air, he panted heavily as the bones of his tones finally pierced through his skin, causing most of the flesh surrounding them to burst open like little balloons. Blood splattered across the floor in gruesome, miniature arcs and Billy finally, finally became undone. He shrieked, unable to keep silent any longer as new appendages could be seen inside the flayed bits of bloody skin, slowly growing outward, already a part of him.

Warm tears of pain streaked down his face in thick lines as the skin of his feet continued to be ripped apart, making way for more muscle, new flesh. He wiped at his eyes helplessly and thought he could hear Steve's voice distantly calling out his name, asking if everything was alright.

He blinked, his vision blurred by the tears that would not clear away as he pulled himself over to the stairway.

Shaking wildly all over, Billy stretched out on the floor, realizing belatedly that the waistband of his jeans was growing tighter and tighter. Hissing sharply, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to undress himself as he hastily tried to undo his belt. A pain similar to the initial agony he'd felt in his toes was beginning to manifest itself in his fingers as both of his hands slowly began to turn red, swelling up under the bonds of the rope as he fumbled with the buckle, desperately trying to get it to come free.

"Fuck!" he shouted in frustration, his clothing growing ever tighter as his body continued to bloat. He felt like he was being pinched in half with his belt acting as an unneeded tourniquet. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"Hey! Talk to me Hargrove, what's going on?"

Steve's worried voice trilled down through the cellar doors as he continued vocalizing his frustrations. Billy felt an organ in his abdomen shift out of place before popping, prompting him to groan and curl in on himself before he threw up. His couldn't undo his belt as his vision began to darken.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouted, banging a fist against the steel door. "What the hell's going on? Talk to me!"

"Fuck you!" Billy screamed, unable to articulate anything else as he tried to rub the blackness out of his eyes, but the more he pressed his fingers to them, they more they began to hurt.

A pressure was building up behind them the more he rubbed, and as it increased, his vision grew ever darker. He kept blinking, over and over, feeling his eyes bulge out of their sockets and against his eyelids, trying now to keep his eyeballs in place. He was hyperventilating when he finally went blind, the pressure behind his eyes becoming intolerable eyes before it finally came too much, and his eyes popped free.

He felt them slide out onto over his checks and onto the floor, the slimy, blood-slick nerves leaving tracks of blood on his face as he became totally and completely blind.

"No," he whispered to himself, retching again on the floor as he scrambled across the cement, trying to find the stairs, unable to see. "No, no! This isn't real!"

Beyond the cellar doors, Steve had his ear pressed against the slight crack between the panels, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of the noises he was hearing, unable to determine if Billy was just trying to mess with him or if he was in actual distress.

"Hargrove," he said impatiently, turning his head to try and peak in through the crack to get a glimpse of what was going on, "you gotta start talking to me, man; what the hell's going on down there?"

"I'm fucking blind," he heard Billy shout, his voice rife with fear. "I can't see anything!"

His voice was shaking as he spoke, and Steve knew then that whatever was happening was legitimate; Billy wasn't one to openly show weakness.

"Okay, stay calm," Steve stammered, but he wasn't sure if that was actually sound advice or not. "It's- it's going to be okay, okay?"

Billy howled, and Steve understood that the pain that carried with his voice must have been terrible to get him to shriek like that. He licked his lips anxiously, not knowing what support he could possibly offer him. He continuously opened and shut his mouth, words of encouragement dying on his tongue before he could manage to speak them.

And then, all at once, the cacophony of agony ceased.

Steve couldn't hear anything over the rapid sound of his breathing for a moment before he finally spoke: "Hargrove? Is… are you okay?"

"Hurts." Billy's voice, quiet, strained, and barely audible over the sounds of things (flesh, fabric) slowly tearing, sounded disconcertingly like he was speaking with a throat full of water. It was gargling and grotesque; completely unlike the smooth, honeyed voice he'd become known for.

"Okay, what, uh, what… what hurts?" Steve whispered in response, fear quieting his previously urgent tone.

"Everything."

"Shit," Steve said to himself, backing away from the cellar door panels as the sounds of something large and heavy being knocked over made him jump. "Just, uh, stay calm," he said, though he wasn't sure if he was saying it to himself or Billy. From down below, he heard Billy groan loudly before going silent again.

Steve's heart was pounding as he hesitated, unsure of what to do. All the details of Billy's haphazardly concocted plan fled his mind as he tried to think back on what they'd agreed to do if something ended up happening, and his first instinct was to open the doors to go down and check on him. He looked at the chains wrapped tightly around the door handles and bit his lip before crouching down and pressing his eye to the crack.

The overhead light wasn't bright enough to reveal much, but at the base of the stairwell there was a small circle of illumination. Steve squinted, ignoring the cold of the steel as he pressed his face against the door, trying to see all that he could.

Blood stains. Torn bits of… something he couldn't quite make out. Dark masses on the stairwell; lots of evidence that pointed towards Billy transforming, but no trace of Billy himself.

"Hargrove," Steve whispered, and then shook his head to clear himself of his cowardice. "Hargrove," he said again, louder and with more emphasis, "dude, you have to talk me through what's happening down there."

He waited, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for a reply. It was steadily growing darker as the sun slowly sank, making it all the harder to see into the cellar from the tiny slit. Frowning and unable to see anything, Steve turned his head and pressed his ear against the door. From somewhere in the depths of the cellar he could hear something breathing heavily. It was moving, too; he could hear something shuffling, moving around the floor space cautiously.

When he turned his head again to see through the crack, he caught a glimpse of... something large and hulking cross under the light, tall enough to set the lightbulb swinging. He couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath of air, his lungs and throat burning with the sting of the cold weather. The thing- whatever Billy had become- halted just outside the rim of light. Entranced, Steve found he couldn't move as it emitted a low, threatening growl that sounded more like a man impersonating a dog than an actual beast.

From his limited viewpoint, he couldn't see the way the muscles in its legs were tightening, or how it had begun to crouch; he didn't have time to react as it sprang forward, jumping up the stairs in a single leap to ram itself against the doors.

The chains held the doors shut, but the sudden impact smashed the metal against Steve's nose and soon all he could smell was blood as it drained out of his nostrils. He fell backwards, holding his nose as the Billy-creature growled again. Horrified, Steve could only sit in the snow and watch as the doors lurched forward when Billy rammed against them again, trying to escape. The second impact loosened the restraints, and all Steve could do in that moment was watch as they rattled uselessly in place, beginning to slip through the handles as they hadn't been properly locked into place.

Cursing to himself, staggered to his feet and rushed to grab the chains, but as Billy threw his body against the doors again it soon became obvious that even if the doors stayed shut, they were about to pop free of their hinges entirely. Blood dripped down over his lips and onto the metal panels as he tried to think of what he could possibly do to counteract the damage Billy had done. In an act of desperation, he threw himself against the steel and hoped that his added bodyweight would be enough to keep them in place.

If it managed to do anything, he couldn't tell. Almost immediately Billy was throwing himself against the doors again, nearly bucking Steve off.

"Stop!" Steve cried out, grasping for the chains to hold them in place. His fingers scrabbled against the cold steel links even as Billy let out another deep, throaty growl. With the doors as loose as they were, Steve was almost certain the doors wouldn't survive another body-slam. "Give it up, Hargrove!" Steve said again, desperately. "Just- fuck, Billy, stop!"

He braced himself for another impact, but it never came. Eyes closed in anticipation, Steve blinked them open and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he let the chains go. Crystalized air puffed out in front of his face over and over as he rolled off the doors and stood up unsteadily, trying to wipe away the blood that had already frozen over and turned to crust on his upper lip. Somehow, miraculously, his pleading had worked, but before he could take comfort in that fact, other disturbing sounds began to creep back up to him from down below.

Things were being tossed around; the metallic clang of old paint cans being bounced off the floors and walls mixed with the hoarse, angry vocalizations of the creature Billy had become made his blood run colder than the air currently was. The noises Billy was making were at once both animalistic and human, deep and throaty and more akin to the bellows of a moose than a man or wolf.

Steve stood in front of the cellar doors not knowing what to do. Already their plan was falling apart, and he was quickly becoming aware of how vastly unprepared he was to handle the situation. He wanted the security of the bat in his trunk, but didn't trust himself to leave the doors unattended for the length of time it would take him to run back inside and grab his keys to get it, but he felt so weak without it.

Another loud, crashing noise came from within and Steve stilled, listening intently. Faintly, he could hear Billy snuffling about, and after the sun finally completely descended, all was quiet. His nose was throbbing as he stood attentively, but when nothing more could be heard, his stomach sank.

With trembling hands and his mind screaming at him to stop, he knelt by the doors and slowly unwound the chains from the handles. The fact that he couldn't hear anything coming from within didn't sit well with him; he had to make sure Billy was still down there.

He tried to shift the chains as quietly as possible, but with how nervous he was, he had a hard time keeping his hands steady. They rattled noisily against the door, grating on his already frazzled nerves as they slid free. Heart pounding madly, Steve carefully pulled the doors open and took the first step down into the cellar.

It was silent. He couldn't hear anything as he hesitantly took a second step, mentally berating himself over and over for being stupid enough to walk defenseless into the lion's mouth. He had no idea what Billy was capable of now, or if he'd even recognize him enough to (hopefully) have enough sense to not harm him. The lightbulb that dangled freely from the ceiling was swaying, throwing its light around erratically, showing him glimpses of the gore that lined the steps.

Eyes wide, Steve gagged at the sight of the flayed strips of bloodied skin that were splattered near everywhere. He had to avert his eyes as he took another step, making slow progress as he was careful not to step in any of the mess. At the bottom of the stairs he warily peered around the walls, hoping he'd only stuck his head into the lion's mouth figuratively. To his immediate relief, but long-term dismay, there was no trace of Billy to be seen in the space of the cellar.

Exhaling deeply, Steve tried to even out his breathing as he came to stand in the middle of the room, looking around to assess the damage. As the swinging lightbulb steadied, he turned towards where the shelf that was hiding the tunnel had been and found it on the ground, knocked to its side and several feet away from where it had originally been positioned. His shoulders drooped at the realization of Billy's escape.

He went and stood before the opening of the tunnel and felt all hope of remedying the situation vanish. A numbness overtook him as he recognized his responsibilities of keeping Billy captive had changed; he was the only one who knew about Billy's circumstances, and he was the only one who could do anything about it now. Distantly, and much further away then he would've liked, he could hear the muted, labored sounds of Billy's breathing as he escaped confinement through the underground system.

The burden of his responsibilities threatened to overwhelm him in that instant, but instead of letting himself be overtaken by despair, Steve took a deep, steadying breath and rolled his shoulders back. He hesitated for only a minute before he took charge and ran in after him, disregarding his urgent need to turn back and get his bat out of the car. There was no time, he thought; no time to get a weapon, no time to get a flashlight. If Billy was now as the werewolf in the woods was, then he was capable of speeds greater than Steve could muster, and every second mattered. If he lost his trail now, then it would be lost to him entirely. There was no time; he had to go now or he wouldn't go at all.

Alone and unarmed Steve ran, chasing after Billy into the dark, cold tunnel, hoping he would be able to catch him in time, and dreading the repercussions that would come if he couldn't.

[the--blackdahlia]

This Life Chapter 17

Title: This Life Chapter 17

Summary:  Dean Winchester is the Vice President of the motorcycle club The Hunters. After almost 7 years in prison, he's free. But things have changed and Dean has to figure out how to put things back together.

Warnings: Language

AN: Thank you love @sams-serialkiller-fetish . The song for this chapter is Summertime Blues by Joan Jett.

“What are we still doing here?” Ruby asked the morning after the funeral. They were all gathered back at the garage, trying to figure out what to do. “We buried Benny. We should be heading back to California.”

“That requires having to go near Horsemen territory. And we kinda just killed one of their members.” Andy told her. “We’re just gonna stay here for a little bit and figure things out.”

“That’s why I’ve called in some reinforcements.” Meg said.

“Who?” Cas asked. That’s when a yellow AMC Germlin pulled into the lot.

“A friend.” Meg said. “She’s a genius. She can help us keep track of the Horsemen.” A redhead got out of the car with a smile on her face.

“‘Sup bitches.” She laughed.

“Guys, this is Charlie.” Meg introduced her. “She can hack anything.”

“So can Ash.” Cas said, crossing his arms. “You’re just bringing another person into the crossfire.”

“I laugh in the face of danger.” Charlie said, smiling. Cas just rolled his eyes and headed over to where Caleb and Jim were. “Is he always this friendly?”

“Trust me, the Hunters aren’t exactly a warm and loving bunch.” Gabriel sighed.

“One of them was.” Ruby added.

“And Sam’s not too bad.” Lucifer said with a shrug.

“Sam is one of us. Not one of them.” Gabriel pointed out. “So of course he’s awesome.”

“Guys, let’s face it,” Andy said, looking at all of them, even Charlie. “Sam might be one of us, but his true home and family is here in Wolfpine.” He motioned over to where Sam was perched on a stool, watching Dean tune up Baby. “And I have a feeling, he won’t be going back to California with us.”

“So, do I get to meet this mysterious Sam?” Charlie asked.

“Of course sweetheart.” Meg said. “I’ll go introduce you to anyone and then we’ll get you set up.” She led Charlie away from the other Wayward Sons.

“I wonder what she’s supposed to be doing here?” Andy asked, looking at Ruby and the brothers. “I guess we’ll find out.” He said when no one answered him. He made his way over to where Meg was introducing Charlie to some of the Hunters, ready to find out.

****

Charlie was set up in the office by Ellen, typing a mile a minute and looking at reports. Ellen was impressed to say the least. Charlie was a woman on a mission obviously.

“You need a job?” Ellen asked. “I’ve got about fifteen years of files that need typed up and organized right. I’m no computer expert and Jo’s not that fast of a typer.” Charlie laughed some.

“Maybe when I settle down and decide I don’t want to be a grey hat anymore.” Charlie told her. She had a beautiful Blueberry iBook and a Wifi card. So Ellen assumed that she was doing something to make some money. “I heard someone say that they were sending me help?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” Ellen told her. “What do you need help with?”

“Nothing. That’s why I’m confused.” Charlie told her. That’s when a bright orange El Camino pulled into the lot, Lynyrd Skynyrd blaring from it. The engine was cut and music stopped as Ash climbed out of the car.

“Relax everyone, I’m here.” Ash said. Caleb laughed and Cas wenet over to talk to him. A few minutes later, Ash was walking into the office with Ellen and Charlie. “Who’s this?”

“Charlie.” Charlie said to him. “And I don’t need your help.”

“Tracking the Horsemen can be a tough challenge. And I did go to MIT.” Ash said, flipping his hair back.

“MIT? That’s cool. I went to Cornell.” Charlie told him. “And I think I can manage just fine.” Ash flopped down on the dirty old couch that set in the office and got his own laptop out.

“You might be able to handle it just fine, but I want to help anyway.” Ash said. Ellen laughed a little.

“I’m just gonna go find Bobby. It’s getting a little too crowded in here for me.” With that, Ellen left, leaving Ash and Charlie to stare each other down while typing away.

“Watchya lookin’ at over there?” Ash asked, glancing at Charlie.

“Things and stuff.” She said. “You?”

“Updating my stock portfolio.” He said with sarcasm seething.

“Well, if this a competition, may the best woman win.” Charlie said.

“Oh I intend to…” Ash realized what Charlie had said and glared and started in on his search. He was going to win.

****

“Why is Ash here?” Sam asked, looking to where they had set Charlie up. Dean looked over and shrugged, not sure why he was here.

“I called him.” Cas said. “I’d rather have someone from our team working on this. I just don’t trust some of those Wayward Sons.”

“I saw the way you’ve been looking at Meg.” Jim teased. Cas’s face turned red.

“I have not…” Cas said. Bobby laughed.

“Guess Cassie boy isn’t as much as monk as he wants us all to believe.” Caleb announced.

“You guys are all assholes.” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I wanted a backup in case this Charlie isn’t as good as Meg said she is. And I trust Ash more than I trust Charlie.” There was a motorcycle pulling into the lot. Gordon got off his bike and headed to them.

“Hey guys.” He said.

“Hi Gordon.” Bobby said. “What can I do for you?”

“Bike’s making weird noises. Can you check it out for me?” He asked.

“On it.” Dean said, heading over to Gordon’s bike. Gordon looked at Sam and his eyes widened slightly before he plastered a smile on his face.

“Hey Sammy.” Gordon said. Sam frowned more than he already was.

“Hi Gordon.” He grumbled.

“Okay then. Uh, point me in the way of the bathroom?” Gordon asked. Sam motioned to where the bathrooms were and let Gordon on his way. Gordon made his way in and shut the door. He thought Azazel was going to kill the crown prince. Alastair had sent him there to scope out the situation. He noticed Benny wasn’t standing around with them like he used to. So that was one down.

He looked around the small bathroom, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He looked at the sink, ready to splash his face to get his head around everything, when he saw a bracelet laying there. A bracelet he had seen before. It belonged to Sam. An exchange gift when he gave Dean an amulet that was supposed to protect him on runs. Sam had lost it once when Gordon was over and he thought the kid was going to have a panic attack until they found it.

It was perfect.

Gordon pocketed the bracelet. He wasn’t sure why he did, but it seemed right. He gave himself another minute before he headed back out. Dean was wiping grease off his hands talking to Caleb. He looked up at Gordon.

“Just a couple loose wires.” Dean told him. Gordon nodded.

“Don’t have a job for me, do you?” Gordon asked.

“No man. Sorry.” Caleb said. Gordon nodded again and went back to his bike.

“Well, thanks for the fix.” Gordon said, starting up his bike and driving off. Dean looked at the others.

“Something doesn’t sit me right with him.” He said. Sam nodded in agreement. He looked around.

“Anyone seen my bracelet?” He asked.

“Sorry man, I haven’t.” Cas said. “It’ll show up though.”

****

Gordon made it out of Wolfpine and headed to New Mexico. He stopped close to the state line where Alastair was waiting for him. The Horsemen looked like he was ready to fight. Gordon just hoped it wasn’t with him.

“What did you find out?” Alastair asked.

“Everyone was there except for Benny Lafitte.” Gordon reported. “Even Sam.”

“Damn it.” Alastair sighed. “Azazel was a capable leader, but he let his emotions get the best of him.”

“I snagged this.” Gordon said, handing Alastair Sam’s bracelet. “It’s Sam’s. I don’t know if it will do any good or not…”

“I actually think I have a plan.” Alastair said, smirking. “Good job Gordon. You’re definitely a Horsemen.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @i-would-die-for-woodland-demars @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @flamencodiva @bella-ca

This Life Tags: @soulslaststand @jamielea81 @caplansteverogers @becs-bunker  @colie87

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @supernaturalwincestsblog @sams-serialkiller-fetish

[le-voidsyvoid]

// rules: always post the rules. answer 11 random questions posted for you. create 11 new ones and tag 11 people. let the person who tagged you know that you answered! //

  I was tagged by @artsaeda !!! Thank and sorry it took a while to do

__________________________________________________________

1) do you believe in superstitions/the supernatural? if so, what beliefs do you have? I’m generally kinda inbetween on most stuff but at the same time I’m also the person that wants to go look for cryptids to befriend so I’m a bit more enthusiastic at the idea of cryptid stuff kinda at least?

2) favorite song lyrics? I’m not really decisive but the lyrics from Can’t Make the Grade (Josh Conte) just has really nice lyrics in general to me but that might just be how they sound but the song This Is Home(Cavetown) that goes along with Cut My Hair probably has my favorite lyrics that I can think of at the moment?

The songs are here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YgmMJJ34k4&index=16&list=RDMMIDd43aRmHdE and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDd43aRmHdE )

3) would you rather be able to speak every language or be able to play every instrument? I’d rather be able to speak every language since that seems really helpful!!

4) who’s your favorite character?  Uhhh I don’t have one favorite but my favorites  Hero and Assok from the property of hate, Bill Potts and the 12th Doctor from Doctor Who, Darrel from Ok Ko, Cecil from Welcome To Night Vale, and I generally tend to like a lot of skeleton characters

5) do you have any ocs? if so, describe them and/or show what they look like!! (I love hearing abt ppls ocs okay) Yee, I forget how few I post but I know I’ve posted Quel and Axi and rambled about them on main ( https://le-voidartist.tumblr.com/post/167997517558/i-still-havent-posted-all-ofinktober-but-i ) and Leale and Jacky/Jay forever ago (https://le-voidartist.tumblr.com/post/164400204398/i-havent-named-them-yet-but-i-made-some ) I feel bad for making this too long and I ramble really easily but just to simplify things a lot of my ocs don’t have names right now so it’s a bit harder to describe and this kinda reminded me I should actually try to post them now soon since I tend to have character doodles sit around for months so///eh. If I could try to quickly summarize a few I like to show or doodle a lot there’s my basically weaboo moon Sakura (who I’ve posted for a sign on Instagram at least), her roommate who’s just aesthetic nerdy blogger, skeleton/ghost twin kids (one has memory issues and is kinda blissfully happy and the other one is just. sad dead boy basically asdfghjkl), short gambling demon that’s secretly basically a dad friend, forever upset™️ and her half sister that’s just. fire bean,, bitter revenge filled rose, and I have a lot I’m using for dnd as npcs so since my players follow me no spoiler for them oof

6) dream job when you were younger? has it changed? I really wanted to be a writer for a bit when I was younger or an artist since a young ageand since my mom really wanted me to I’ve done more art stuff so it’s not changed.

7) biggest pet peeve? Having to explain really basic things to people for them to just deny it repetitively (like once I had to try to explain to a popular guy in my science class that bugs have instincts and I just. boi this is a 10th grade class,, why,) 

8) thoughts on space? the ocean? what would you rather explore? SPACE is amazing and so interestingly infinite and neat to think about!! It has infinite possibilities and it’s so pretty?? I love it. But the ocean  scares me since while it’s also mysterious we know that everything has been evolving for forever now and they have organisms with so many amazingly possible things that it’s just kinda scary to me? Like we know but we don’t. Like I’d love to research animals from the ocean and it’s really beautiful but just so scary to me to actually see the deep parts of. And I’m highkey afraid of sharks to be honest

9)  what trait do you value the most in people? I don’t know if it’s really a trait but I just like people who are understanding or listen? Like people who actually listen to you even if it’s something dumb and try and understand how to help you

10) how would you describe your aesthetic? I honestly have no idea as I’m a forever going identity crisis with no aesthetic but I guess crystals for sure at least? I have two aesthetic blogs at this point for the aesthetics I kinda have so I’d have to say sometimes it’s more monochromatic like a lot of greys with purples and greens I think but sometimes its more vibrant blue/yellow/black. 

11) what’re you looking forward to right now? I’m looking forward to my friends birthdays at least!! (You know who you two are and s o o n ) 

s c r em I’m bad at these things but um 

1) Do you have a favorite myth/folklore story?

2) Amphibians/reptiles or birds?

4) What song have you been listening to the most lately?

5)What time of the year do you think is the best?

6)What’s your favorite field of study? (Like neurology, Ornithology, Geology and that kind of thing)

7) Whats your favorite cliche?

8)What’s best the stars, a planet, or the moon? (If a planet which one)

9) What’s your favorite ship and favorite crack ship?

10)What’s your favorite show at the moment?

Anyone can do it if you want to so feel free to but and if I tag you you don’t really have to but hey @agentunicrest , @stardustjester , @basilstorm @pinetreeparadoxx @fantabulousdonkalope @unknown-person-lol @doctaaaaaaaar @fridaatzin95 @flameofswords @madz-the-3rd

[payspersonal]

No One Will Probably Read This.

tagged by: @ediblesuga

rules: answer these 92 statements and tag 10 people ! if there are questions that are too personal or you don’t want to answer, skip them or make a new on

THE LAST (1-5):

drink: Water because I have nothing else in my fridge

phone call: I never call anyone 

text: My dad to say happy birthday

song you listened to: July by Kris Wu  (Because Ipraise that song, Idk why. But hey, it’s my fave Wu Yifan)

time you cried: I teared up watching Sirius die on Harry Potter, because who doesnt?, but actually cried 3 nights ago, I think?

HAVE YOU (6-11):

dated someone twice: Nope

kissed someone and regretted it: Nope

been cheated on: nope

lost someone special: Yeah

been depressed: I’ve got depression so mhm

gotten drunk and thrown up: I dont drink 

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS (12-14):

Black

Purple

Red

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU (15-21):

made new friends: Not in a long time, I’m seriously boring and never talk to anyone

fallen out of love: I’d actually have to lke someone first so, nope

laughed until you cried: Yes, because sometimes I’ll randomly start laughing and end up on the floor in tears.

found out someone was talking about you: Some of my old friends are gossipers so ya.

met someone who changed you: I’d have to actually get out of my house to meet someone.

found out who your friends are: akmrgiki Some of them, because most of my friends bond over our depression and help each other, so if we have problems with something, we confront each other about it.

kissed someone on your facebook list: Nope

GENERAL (22-34):

how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: There are like two guys I’m friends with but never talked too, but they’re only a year older than me, so those are like the only two.

do you have any pets: I’ve got 3 dogs, but my grandmother has 6 dogs and 1 cat and I help take care of them, so I call them my own

do you want to change your name: Yes, I dislike my first name

what did you do for your last birthday: I saw Johnnie Guilbert live and got clothes from Hot Topic

what time did you wake up: 11:13? Because my insomnia keeps me up all night and I get barely any sleep

what were you doing at midnight last night: Watching The Seven Deadly Sins on Netflix and reading Harry Potter one-shots

name something you can’t wait for: Christmas Break because I start school in 1 week :,)

when was the last time you saw your mom: Yesterday 

what’s one thing you wish you could change in your life: I’d get rid of my mental issues

what are you listening to right now: Bomb by Ravi because it’s bomb

have you ever talked to a person named tom: Don’t think so

most visited website: Wattpad, Tumblr, Spotify and Youtube

LOST QUESTIONS (35-64):

moles: Istg, I have some on my neck, chest, back, one on my calf, one on my eyelid, and some on my arms. I have so many.

marks: I’ve got a birthmark under my arm, scar on my chin, scar on my ankle, and scars on my arms

hair color: Dark brown

long hair or short: Long, but I should be getting it trimmed soon

do you have a crush on someone: There would  have to be someone I’d find attractive and personality attractive thats not from K-Pop

what do you like about yourself: Honestly, can’t think of anything

piercings: My ears used to be pierced but I hated earrings as a child, so now they are closed. I want a nose piercing.

blood type: I dont know

nickname: Pay Pay, Favorite Child from one of my friends. and Tall One from my short bestfriend

relationship status: Painfully single

zodiac: Capricorn

pronouns: she/her

favorite tv show: Supernatural or Greys Anatomy because I’ve watched like each season twice

tattoos: No but I’d really like one or a few

right or left hand: Right

surgery: Tonsels taken out, if that counts??

hair dyed in a different color:I’ve died parts of my hair purple, but that never came out, so when I died it red, it looked like pink and purple cotton candy, still does. I plan on dying it blue and purple soon

sport: I used to play softball

vacation: I’ve got another 7 days of Summer vacation before I go back to my own personal heel hole called school

pair of trainers: I hate tennis shoes, but I’ve got Converses and AirWalkers, which is like an older pair of Converses?

MORE GENERAL (57-73):

eating: I’ve got Salt n Vinegar chips, sour sweetarts, and a can of almonds I’ve been snacking on. 

drinking: Nothing because I finished my water bottle

i’m about to: start writing a draft I’ve been working on, or maybe something new, or work on one of my old works on Wattpad

waiting for: My mom to get back from where she’s living, because I might get to move in with her soon and switch to online school

want: to meet all my K-pop idols and actually write something worth reading.

get married: I want too when I’m older

career: I want to be a doctor, maybe a therapist, so I could help other people, and be like a fictional writer on the side.

WHICH IS BETTER (65-73):

hugs or kisses: Both because they can xpress how you feel about someone

lips or eyes: Eyes

shorter or taller: I’m like 5′3″ and I’ve always dreamt of hugging a guy who was taller than me.

older or younger: Older because I’m already a mother hen, and that’d make me want to coddle them more?

nice arms or nice stomach: Both

sensitive or loud: I’m really sensitive, but I can be really loud around my friends when I’m excited, so both

hook up or relationship: Relationship because I’ve got too many feels

troublemaker or hesitant: I’m really hesitant becaue I always overthink, but I tend to find troublemakers hot

HAVE YOU EVER (74-83):

kissed a stranger: Never

drank hard liquor: Never

lost glasses/contact lenses: I always lose my glasses, but I recently accidentally broke me

turned someone down: Yes, I turned this one guy down 7 times then he asked me if I could ask one of my friends out, so like wtf?

sex in the first date: Never have

broken someone’s heart: Probably on of my old best friends, but she was like a total bitch to me and hurt me a lot?

had your heart broken: Not that I can think of

been arrested: I stay in my house way too much to go out

fallen for a friend: Yes,me and him were best friends but now we never talk

DO YOU BELIEVE IN (84-89):

yourself: Haha, no

miracles: Sometimes?

love at first sight: Honestly. not really.

santa claus: Havent since I was like 6

kiss on the first date: Sure

angels: I believe in K-Pop, so yes.

OTHER (90-92):

favorite thing to do when you’re bored: Rea/write and listen to music or spend time with my little brother

do you wear socks to sleep: Nope, even tho I’m constantly cold in a hot state

favorite movies: Harry Potter, I can even dialogue it.

[enderon]

Tagged by @dontbesostrudel Tag 20 people if you decide to do this. (Didn’t make 20 but I got mor epeople than I expected) Tagging: @asthedaysgobythesun, @cartoonish-popplio, @og-athrodite, @abraca-mari, @glampyra, @cillpiines, @yuushanoah, @amberstargirl, @sneezys-flower-mom, @shadowreader2013, @jabletown, @jobhanamaru Nicknames: Sparky, Elby, Rain, End, Endi, Ron, (fukin) Jottom Zodiac sign: Capricorn (that’s all I know) Height: 5′4 Last thing you googled: Tibetan mastiff Favorite music artist: Billy Joel Song stuck in your head: Part of Your World (Why? I havent even listened to it recently) Last movie you watched: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets What are you wearing right now: Grey supernatural hoodie over a firefly t-shirt and a pair of baby blue pajama shorts with pockets Why did you choose your URL: Ron was a name I got from a friend in Middle School and has sort of been my internet for a while. EnderRon was my original Minecrfat name, cause of Ender, and then I realized i cold take out the second r and just make it one word. Hence, Enderon Do you have any other blogs: ....... Too many. @feverdream-7d @gogan-bizare @7d-ng @positive-ososan @choukei-appreciation What did your last relationship teach you: Never actually been in one Religious or Spiritual: I’m open minded in that I think anything could be the case Favorite color: Blue, any shade of blue, Average hours of sleep: Inconsistent, but consistent in that it’s not enough Lucky number: Iunno Favorite characters: Scanlan Shorthalt, Karamatsu Matsuno, Sneezy, Sleepy, Yami Bakura, Jayfeather, Hawkfrost How many blankets do you sleep with: 1, unless it’s really fuckin cold Dream job: Novelist, but also working in entertainment as a writer

[dreamin-of-somewhere-else]

The Secret [2]

Part 1

I got numerous requests to write a part 2 for this (which made me really happy), specifically for some Dean angst, and who am I to turn that down?

Characters: Winchester Brothers x sister!reader

Words: 2900 (I may have gotten a bit carried away, oops.)

[Angst, A bit of blood, Guilt] - But nothing too bad, I wouldn’t say.

Tags: @daughters-and-winsisters, @evyiione

A/N: Also, I just finished this, which might be a bit rushed, so sorry about any misspellings that I failed to notice. I just really wanted to get this up right now!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

Dean always knew Sam had a more complex way of seeing the world of monsters and supernatural creatures. Himself, Dean had adopted John’s more black and white way of thinking. It was just easier that way, because although he admired Sam for that sometimes, he could get annoyed too. It was just harder doing what they do if you chose to let the shades of grey in.

But, this situation was different. Because now it was personal. It was family. And that was the reason for Dean not doing anything about it. He was angry at himself for it, but he didn’t know what to do.

The door to the bunker opened with a creak, and then a heavy slam echoed through the building as it closed. The noise brought Dean out of his thoughts, and he instantly got off his bed to greet Sam, who was the only person it could be.

Even though Dean really liked the bunker, it had some disadvantages. One of them was that he couldn’t keep track of Sam as well as he used to. He had noticed that Sam was gone, but never when he left. Let’s just say it was a big change from the motel rooms.

Dean and Sam had moved into the bunker only days after they parted with you. And even though they moved, traces of you were everywhere. Your old pair of worn and dirty converse stood parked by the door, still, even though you never took them off there. Other stuff of yours — like books, sketch blocks, clothes, your old mp3 player — it was all left in a room you’d never been in. You never left it there. Sam and Dean brought them. Even though it had been over a month — they couldn’t cut you out of their lives. Not permanently. Not yet.

”Hey,” Dean acknowledged Sam as the younger walked down the stairs to the main, living room.

”Hi.”

That was a little stiff, maybe.

”So, what were you doing?” The blond Winchester then questioned, wondering what his little brother had been up to.

”Just… Just in town, checking it out.” Sam shrugged, walking past Dean through the large hall.

Dean did not believe that.

”Oh, come on, Sam. Where were you, really?”

”Why do you need to know?” Sam called out in response, while Dean started following him through the building.

”Why do you need to keep things from me?” Dean retorted, not giving in. He could sense when Sam wasn’t telling the whole truth after over two decades, closer to three, with the kid.

Sam didn’t answer.

”Is this about—” Dean had a hunch, and he decided to venture asking. ”—her? It is about (Y/N), isn’t it?”

Sam groaned as he came to a stop. Dean watched his shoulders rise and then lower down again, until Sam spun around to face his older brother.

”Might be.”

Dean groaned too now. ”Sam, she lied to us.” He still felt unbelievably betrayed, the single thought about it physically pained him.

”Yeah, and I understand her.” Sam spat, rocking an expression that screamed ’I’m freakin’ tired with your shit.’ The tired, disbelieving little smile shared similarities with the ’bitch face’, but this look was far more serious. ”You need to cut her some slack. It’s not her fault she isn’t like us.”

”But she pretended like nothing was wrong for years. She could’ve just told us from the beginning!” Dean defended himself, eyes round and accusingly staring at Sam.

”Sure, but what’s done is done. She’s the one who’s out there, alone!” Sam argued, his arms spreading out wide as he spoke, frustration with the situation showing through his body language.

”Sam, she’s a kitsune. We’re supposed to hunt those.” Dean tried to justify his actions, even though he wasn’t entirely happy with the way he had handled the situation.

”How long will it take for you to realize? Yes, she’s not human. Yes, she’s a supernatural creature. But Dean, for god’s sake, get over it!”

Dean blinked.

”Dean, we are hunters. Hunters are taught to hunt supernatural things, right?” He didn’t give his brother time to answer, because Dean already knew. ”Well, that means others are going to hunt her down sooner or later.”

Dean was taken back. He surely hadn’t thought of that. He had considered you being a danger, but not in danger.

”I’ve been out trying to find her, okay?” Sam continued. ”And I suggest you make up your mind if you want to see her again, before someone finds her and kills her. Because you know very well that it can happen.”

The oldest struggled to process the new piece of knowledge as guilt started to wash over him, even more than before. He shook his head to himself, running his hands through his hair. For you to get slaughtered by hunters was not what he wanted.

”Dean, it’s still her.” Sam now spoke in a softer voice. Dean already understood. ”The girl we know, the girl who lived with us, the girl in your memories. Since she didn’t tell us for years and she’s been a kitsune all that time — it proves that it doesn’t matter. She’s still herself, the same as she’s always been — we just know more about her. And you know how bad it’s out there. If we can hunt kitsunes without a problem, so can others.”

A moment of silence passed.

”I’ve screwed things up haven’t I?” Dean then muttered, both to Sam and to himself. ”I’ve just made it much worse that it has to be.”

”I understand, I felt betrayed too. Who would have thought (Y/N) was a supernatural creature. (Y/N), of all people.” Sam let out a humorless laugh. ”But, the world is complicated. There’s shades of grey everywhere. I know you see things the way Dad taught you, I do too at times, but we need to believe in what we see, not what he said. Supernatural doesn’t equal bad.”

Dean nodded. ”We need to fix this, Sam. I mean, I don’t know if we ever can fix things between us… B-but, we should keep her safe, at least. You’re right, and I’m with you.”

Dean hurried after the silhouette in front of him. It was one month later, and Dean could have sworn it was you. He and Sam had searched, what it felt like, every inch, and then you just appear out of nowhere. Well, if it was you, Dean wasn’t completely sure. But, he wasn’t letting go until he was.

The young woman in front of him shot a look over her shoulder, and Dean quickly hid himself against the closest wall, invisible in the darkness of the alley.

Then, she looked forward again and hurried on, and Dean followed. He knew now. It was you, he could tell by the hair, the clothes, the silhouette and the facial structure all together. It was just scraps and pieces, he couldn’t see well through the darkness of the alley. But, it was enough.

So, he picked up the tempo, to catch you before you exited the alley, disappearing around the corner, possibly gone forever. This might be Dean’s only shot and he wasn’t going to mess it up. Not like he messed it up the last time you saw each other.

Dean’s steps got louder, heavier, and you noticed it. You walked faster. Dean was running. You weren’t — you were too tired. Dean caught up with you, and placed his hand on your shoulder and spun you around.

He was in for a rollercoaster of emotions.

First he was felt indescribable relief. It was actually you, his hand was on your shoulder. At last, after days where Dean didn’t even think of anything else than that he might never see you again.

The next emotion was uneasiness, once he saw your eyes that stared back at him, open wide. They were still the same, beautiful color, but the pupils were different. They were outstretched, like a cat’s — or a fox’s. A lump formed in Dean’s stomach and it took everything he had not to flinch.

The uneasiness intensified and transformed into worry once he saw your hands. They were covered in dark crimson. Drying blood — everywhere. Dean found himself wishing badly that you hadn’t hurt anyone. Although it didn’t seem like you, Dean didn’t know for sure, this was new territory for him.

But the worry transformed into fear, after he intuitionally lifted your jacket — to reveal a huge bloodstain on your shirt. He immediately grabbed your upper arms with both hands, as if he was scared you would collapse any moment.

”(Y/N)?” He asked, voice trembling and his eyes pooling with concern. His eyes wandered off the bloodied shirt, and came to a stop by the gaping whole in the fabric over your chest. Underneath a nasty wound showed itself, digging deep into your ribcage.  

”Dean?” Your voice was filled with disbelief. You were more focused on Dean being back than your own state.

”You bet.” Dean smiled just a little but it reached nowhere near his eyes. ”(Y/N), you’re hurt, I—”

”I-I know. It was a… close call.” You interrupted, panting. ”If it wasn’t for the fighting skills you taught me… I p-probably wouldn’t be standing here. So thanks for that.” Your voice wasn’t angry but it wasn’t happy either. It was lacking most traces of emotion.

”Can I do something—”

”No, it’ll heal… Just hurts right now.” You interrupted once again.

”Was… Was it hunters?” Dean was scared to ask. He hoped with all his heart that it wasn’t. That Sam wasn’t right about you being in constant, serious, danger.

”Three of them.” You spoke, looking at Dean with a blank expression.

Dean shook his head to himself, anger and guilt welling up inside. He felt a burning desire to find those sons of bitches and make them pay for this.

An awkward silence fell over you two, and you raised your eyebrows at how Dean still seemed unsure and uneasy. His glance was wobbly and hands slightly trembling.

”What?”

”Your eyes…” Dean murmured.

You instantly took your gaze away from him and stared down at the asphalt. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes, probably because the pain in your chest overtook everything.

”Why are you here?” You then asked. By the way he had acted the last time you saw each other, that night on the hunt, you had expected to never see him again.

He had told you that he killed those like you, and now, here he was wondering about the bloodstains on your shirt that those like him had caused.

”I’m so sorry.” He blurted out, his voice cracking. You lifted your gaze to look at him, and saw the pain radiating from his eyes. ”I’m so, so, sorry.”

Too surprised to speak, you remained quiet.

”I messed everything up.” Dean drew an unsteady breath. ”You’re our family. And it shouldn’t have taken me 2 months and Sam yelling at me to realize that.”

You nodded, lost for words, still.

”W-what you are… We can work around it. You’re still you. A-and I don’t want you out on your own, where hunters can get to you.”

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. ”Me neither.”

”I’m so sorry. I-I wish I could take it back, what I said.”

You nodded. It was quiet for a moment before you spoke up.

”You and Sam— You kinda… are my only family.” You fumbled with your words. ”Well — I don’t have any real family, but…”

”No, (Y/N), Sam and I are your real family. If you still want us to be.” Dean offered tentatively, although his eyes pleadingly screamed for you to please let them be your family.

You nodded. ”Yeah… I-I would like that.” The corners of your lips curled into a small smile.

”Thank you.”

”You don’t have to thank me.” You objected, slightly frowning.

”I do.” Dean assured you. ”This is all my fault, and I don’t deserve—”

”Hey, Dean!” You stopped him. ”Don’t guilt yourself to death, okay?”

Dean closed his mouth and nodded.

”I forgive you.”

”You do?” He asked in disbelief.

”I do. Now, where’s Sam?” You then questioned, changing the topic.

As on queue, Dean’s cellphone rang.

”Speaking of the devil.” He declared, with the trace of a smirk on his face. You felt a some of the weight on your shoulders lift when you saw it — it made Dean looked more like his usual self — something you didn’t even know you wanted to see. ”Hiya, Sammy.” Dean answered the phone.

You were quiet while Dean talked to Sam. You had good hearing, better than both of them knew, but you didn’t bother listening in on the conversation. Instead you just took in the moment.

It had gotten considerably darker since Dean found you, the last of the sunlight had settled below the horizon. It was pretty quiet, although you could hear a car somewhere in the distance. A couple talking as they walked down the street the alley you stood in eventually opened up to. You kept your eyes on the opening between the tall buildings as you waited for the two to walk into your view as you heard their voices growing louder. But instead — someone else stepped into the opening of the alley. Someone far better.

”Sam,” you whispered as your eyes met with his hazel ones. Meanwhile, he lowered the phone and hung up.

”(Y/N)!” He exclaimed as relief filled his eyes, although concern soon fought it off.

He started running towards you.

”Are you hurt?” Sam’s voice was stressed, trembling, as he stared at the blood.

”I’m going to be fine.” You smiled. You were so happy to see him — to see them both. The resentment you felt towards Dean when he showed up had melted off you. You were tired of being angry. Instead, you let the euphoria overtake you.

The relief returned to Sam’s eyes, and he became the representation of how you were feeling. He let out a laugh as he threw his arms around you, and clutched you tightly against his chest. You held in a groan as your wounds still hurt a bit, but you didn’t want him to let you go — not for the world.

Dean watched with admiration in his eyes. His brother and his sister, reunited. Two of the people Dean kept closest to his heart.

”I’m so sorry.” Sam spoke, and you felt his voice rumble through his chest. ”Oh god, I thought for sure someone had gotten to you…”

”Sam, it’s okay.” You reassured him. ”I forgive you, and even if someone tried — I can assure you that I’m not easy to kill. Promise.”

”Okay,” Sam nodded, and let out a deep breath. You felt his heartbeat slow down to a more normal, calm, rate. ”I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Then he let you go, and you looked over at Dean, who was watching over you with round, soulful green eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself, before you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his upper body.

After hugging him for a moment, you stepped back. ”I’m sorry I lied for years.”

”We’re sorry for what we said and leaving you.” Sam countered.

”What about we just forget it?” Dean offered, and both you and Sam nodded. ”Let’s go home, instead.”

You rose your eyebrows, the way Dean said home got you curious, as if there was something you had missed.

”We have something to show you.” Dean explained, anticipation in his eyes, and you smiled.

What could it be?

Arriving at the bunker, you felt the excitement grow inside of you. An actual home. Dean and Sam watched your reaction with smiles on their faces.

Now, you would have walked around and explored the building — if you weren’t exhausted. It had been a long day — heck, months — and the run in with the hunters that came after you had taken a toll on you. Sure, you were a kitsune, more powerful than any human, but your body had used up most of its energy healing itself. And now, you were ready to turn in for the night.

Sam and Dean saw this, and understood. So, Dean looped his arm through yours and began leading you towards his room. You would soon get your own room, of course, the bunker had a lot of space, but for now his and Sam’s were the only ones with made beds, so for the night, it would have to do.

Entering the room, you immediately crashed down onto the bed, and Dean gently pulled the covers  over you. You flipped over to your stomach and instinctively pulled the blankets over you head, snuggling into the bedding, just like you always did.

Just as Dean thought you were out, you spoke up. ”I love you, Dean.”

Dean felt how your words tugged at his heartstrings. ”I love you too, (Y/N).”

He smiled and ran a hand over your hair.

You shifted a bit, and snuggled in further under the covers. ”Tell Sammy I love him too.” You added, mumbling. Then, you nodded off into sleep.

Of course Dean would tell Sam that, because just like Dean, Sam probably needed to hear it again.

And even though Dean still kind of felt like he didn’t deserve it, he was beyond happy to hear you say it; that you loved him. Because, he loved you too.

[divineclecticism]

get to know my lame butt

               get to know me :D            

Another Tag

Tagged by: @whichwitchami

Rules: answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better.

Nicknames: Kait or Inwe

Star Sign: Pisces

Height: 5′3

Time right now: 5:22pm

Last thing I Googled: the sims 4 cheats because i forgot how to move objects on l0l

Favorite music artist: We Came As Romans/My Chemical Romance

Song stuck in my head: You Gotta Not by LittleMix because i’m currently listening to it

Last movie I watched: hmmm. my friend and i watched this chinese porn drama called sex and chopsticks and it was hilarious

Last TV show I watched: I’ve been watching Supernatural with my mom. And Ari and I have been watching this anime called vampire knight even though I dont usually like anime LOL

What am I wearing right now: YIKES. Some pink leggings and grey tank top cause I havent changed yet

When I created this blog: Halloween 2015 lol!

The kind of stuff I post: This is my witchcraft sideblog, so I post a lot of stuff about my craft; tarot, spirit work; divination; etc, and sometimes aesthetic

Why I chose my url: When i was first researching, I was looking into what kinds of witches there were, and didn’t find anything that fit besides eclectic, and I also am mostly a diviner. Boom

Gender: Female

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw (Same as @urbanspellcraft ;) )

Pokémon team: Team Mystic

Favorite Color: Aqua or light blue

Average hours of sleep: man I sleep a lot (thanks depression and mental illness) so, from anywhere between 8 and 12 hours

Lucky number: I’m fond of the numbers 2 and 13

Favorite character: Ahhhhh I can’t really think of any. let’s see..I like gandalf. or louise from bobs burgers. or april from parks and recreation because everyone identifies me with her. (well her and louise i am a combination)

Dream Job: makeup artist (which i am freelancing rn so!!)

Number of blankets I sleep with: I have two comforters and several plush/fleece blankets. I have essentially a very cozy nest.

Dream fictional character that you would want to be: UHhHHHhhHh I think being tauriel would be pretty badass

One Interesting Fact About You: man there isn’t anything interesting about me. hmm. im an avid gamer, and a makeup artist and i used to make videos for youtube. (still am thinking of continuing that pursuit.

PEOPLE I WANNA TAG:

even though I know all the things; @urbanspellcraft @sleepymarshmallowmagic @griffin-8 @hoodiecladknight and @magickalmenagerie and whoever wants to do it as well ;)

[voidmutt]

Rules: Tag followers you want to know better

i was tagged by the amazing @muttpunk ♥

Name: alloura

Nicknames: ali, mostly.

Gender: i have no fucking clue, honestly. just do not call me a fucking girl.

Starsign: gemini

Sexual orientation: fluid

Favourite color: black, mostly. red, other times... for some reason my eyes get really gooey over "salmon" colors too... .-.

Average hours of sleep: depends on the night, honestly. usually 4-6 hours though

Cat or dog person: dog, most definitely. i LOVE cats, but at the end of the day, i'd much rather cuddle up to a dog than a cat..

Favourite fictional character: idk.. im not as obsessed with fictional characters like i used to be... though i love junkrat from overwatch indefinitely

Band/Singers: movements is my favorite fucking band atm

Dream trip: literally anywhere with mountains and a view. and enough money to not have to eat fucking crumbs for 6 months after the trip

Dream job: animal behaviorist or something of the sort. i just wanna work with animals, man

When was this blog created: 2009. hahaha

Currant number of followers: idk. like 1.4k? ive been stagnant in the follower count for literally 3-4 years now. L A M E

When did this blog reach its peak: when i wrote that super shitty supernatural fanfic

Time right now: 16:40

Song stuck in my head: the grey by movements. specifically the spoken part at the end "i still believe in happiness and i want to find a way, but lately my whole world is being swallowed by the grey"

Last movie I watched: uh... gremlins i think?

Last tv show I watched: currently watching that trainwreck of a show "futureman" on hulu

What am I wearing right now: j's band's shirt, and sweatpants

What kind of stuff do I post: whatever my dash is consisting of that day. usually soft gore, love posts, random unfunny jokes, dogs, dog teeth, idk. my blog has no theme. never has.

Do I have any other blogs: technically i have like 4 others. 2 of them i havent used since high school (5-6 years ago), one is to reserve my old url bc i have an extreme attachment to it, and the last used to be a sort of "diary" blog, but the last time i posted in it was like 2013 or so

Do I get asks regularly: nope. i rarely ever get asks.. and when i do, its the same lil spineless anon (even though i'm 97% sure i know who it is) talking shit on me and trying to make me feel subhuman. 🖕

Why did I choose my url: i needed a new url bc i kept getting death threats bc i started dating j and someone didnt approve. hahahaha

Lucky number: 3, 4, 7, 13, 23

Following: 1.4k? its around the same as my follower count

i dont wanna tag anyone bc im so absent from tumblr nowadays that i have no idea to to tag anyway... soooo...

if youre reading this, consider yourself tagged