#it'd be worse than supernatural

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

mark gatiss you have the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever

[pollsnatural]

By "accidentally" I mean that Sam had no intention to kill Cas in this scenario. For example, he was under someone's control or soulless, or he cast some spell that went wrong. Something like that.

[lightofraye]

Debunking Nonsense Against Jared

There's apparently some crap about Jared that is just absolute nonsense. Full of lies and bullshit.

It'd be one thing if people just didn't like him. It happens. Not everyone is likeable. You're not expected to like him. But don't pull up lies to explain why you don't like him. Especially when they've been debunked again and again and again.

1. The "racist" tattoo. Y'all, this is nonsense. It's been debunked over and over and over. It's not a racist tattoo. For one, it's lacking the logo of "Come and take it", which would make it a racist tattoo. But a lone star above a cannon does not a racist tattoo make.

Jared is a proud Texan. He also donates to many a charity and organization that help people, speaking out about them often. Not to mention, prior to pro-gun rights appropriating the symbol and logo, it stood for a proud history in Texas. Jared would've known.

So how about instead of focusing on a mere tattoo, come up with more proof that Jared is a racist? Hmm?

Besides, if you're mad at Jared's tattoo, are you then mad at Jensen's t-shirt, which did show the saying as well?

2. Fighting with fans online. Oh come on. Misha's done it. (Misha's done worse, in fact.) Danneel's done it. Jared doing it does not a bad person make. And I don't think he's done it in a long time.

And of course, people will go "Danneel was hitting back!" And? What's the difference? Jared was hitting back too. Danneel went a step farther most of the time, siccing her followers on them, threatening them with Clif, even ran crying to Clif because people were being "mean".

3. RE: Prequelgate. Give me a fucking break! Jared was right to be upset! He called and texted Jensen for hours before he gave up and responded to that tweet about The Winchesters announcement. Jensen also lied about not being allowed cellphones on The Boys set. When they weren't filming, they were allowed. (Of course they can't have their cellphones on their person during filming, unless it suited the scene!) Besides all that, Jared honestly didn't know about it! Kripke was even shocked when he learned Jared didn't know! Supernatural and its legacy is as much Jared's as it was Jensen's! The whole freakin' industry gave Jensen a massive side-eye for his unprofessional behavior. Kevin Smith, a man who has directed, written, and acted in the industry, thought it was uncool. Also, Jared wasn't drunk.

4. Supposed bully accusations. I'd need to see more of this to believe it, but outside of occasionally putting Misha in his bullshit place, I've never heard of Jared bullying anyone. Everyone he's worked with has sung his praises. The only one who hasn't is Misha and that's because Jared won't let Misha put him down. And in fact, has had to step in to stop Misha from torturing Jensen. So fuck off with your noise.

5. His fanbase. Is he now responsible for his fanbase? I never knew that. What about Misha's fanbase sending Jensen death threats for denouncing Destiel? Has Misha ever stopped that? What about AAs hoping for Jared to suicide after Walker was cancelled?

6. What about Genevieve? Oh come on! Do I like that Gen is featuring the kids a lot? Myself, no. But if Jared was truly bothered by it, I'm sure he would've spoken to Genevieve. And Gen isn't any different than many other mommy influencers. I'm not keen on exploiting the kids like that, but would you say the same about Danneel abruptly grabbing the kids at Wales Comic Con and dragging them out for a photo op? All because she had no one in line for her autographs and desperate for attention?

7. Jared's Hair. Apparently there are some claiming Jared had gotten hair plugs. My response to that is: So what? Misha's had plastic surgery (trust me, it's obvious--his eyes and clearly lip fillers). Danneel's had worse--her hair is fried, bad extensions, plastic surgery galore that has ruined her hair line because of facelifts, fillers, Botox, and breast implants (twice!). Jensen's likely had a bit of work too.

So. Fucking. What. About Jared's hair?

--

Come up with truthful reasons to hate Jared, hmm? Not bullshit.

[evanesdust]

"Did you seriously just quote Monty Python while you're lying here bleeding?"

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Alan Deaton Additional Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Mates, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Alpha Derek Hale, Injured Stiles Stilinski, Monster of the Week, Blood and Injury, POV Stiles Stilinski, Canon-Typical Violence, Fandom Trumps Hate 2024

Summary:

[excerpt] The sudden shift sent a prickle of unease running down Stiles's spine as he followed Derek's gaze, scanning the parking lot. The peaceful atmosphere had shifted. They were no longer alone. "What do you—" See, he wanted to ask, but Derek cut him off with a warning growl, pushing Stiles back. Stiles rolled his eyes. While he loved Derek's protectiveness, he also hated when Derek got all overprotective. It reminded him of the pool incident when they faced the Kanima, and Derek shoved him back, trying to keep him out of harm's way. But he could handle himself, dammit! He'd more than proved that over the years; however, before he could argue, a figure emerged from the shadows, stalking toward them, revealing an eerie mirror image of Derek. What the actual fuck? Stiles's mind reeled in disbelief at the sight of the doppelganger, struggling to comprehend what was happening. "Uh…please tell me you have a secret twin I didn't know about."

The sky was dark when they left the diner, the moon blocked by heavy clouds. A chill hung in the air, and Stiles smiled when a hand pressed on the small of his back, guiding him toward the parking lot. Even though they'd been together for ten years now, it was something he always did—like Derek needed that connection, no matter how small. The warmth of Derek's palm sent a tingle through Stiles's body, goosebumps rising on his skin.

"Did you want to head straight home?" Derek asked, his hand leaving Stiles's back to intertwine their fingers.

Stiles gave Derek's hand a gentle squeeze, savoring the familiar touch. "Yeah. I'm ready to crash after today."

It'd been a long day at the Sheriff's Department. A typical day included patrolling and responding to calls, but today had been busier than usual with four bank robberies. Four! What made it worse was that Stiles knew something supernatural was at play. Each bank claimed the person robbing them was an employee, but every suspect had an airtight alibi, including one who had been in the hospital for a planned surgery.

Stiles sighed, ready to go home and curl up on the couch with Derek. Unwind. He'd get a good night's sleep and start fresh tomorrow, researching to try and figure out what was happening. Derek would help, of course. He always did, no matter how strange or difficult the supernatural problem they faced. It was the life they chose when they decided to stay in Beacon Hills, with a Nemeton drawing in whatever monster of the week that caused mayhem and chaos in their little town.

But Stiles wouldn't trade it for anything. This was his home, and Derek (and the pack) was his family. Together, they would face whatever came their way, just as they always had.

With a content sigh, he leaned into Derek's side. The soft glow of the streetlamps cast a warm light over the path, and the gentle rustling of leaves was soothing.

So, naturally, that was when everything went to shit.

Derek tensed beside him, squeezing his hand as he pulled Stiles to a stop. His nostrils flared, as if he scented something in the air, and his eyes burned alpha red.

The sudden shift sent a prickle of unease running down Stiles's spine as he followed Derek's gaze, scanning the parking lot. The peaceful atmosphere had shifted. They were no longer alone.

"What do you—"

See, he wanted to ask, but Derek cut him off with a warning growl, pushing Stiles back.

Stiles rolled his eyes. While he loved Derek's protectiveness, he also hated when Derek got all overprotective. It reminded him of the pool incident when they faced the Kanima, and Derek shoved him back, trying to keep him out of harm's way. But he could handle himself, dammit! He'd more than proved that over the years; however, before he could argue, a figure emerged from the shadows, stalking toward them, revealing an eerie mirror image of Derek.

What the actual fuck? Stiles's mind reeled in disbelief at the sight of the doppelganger, struggling to comprehend what was happening.

"Uh…please tell me you have a secret twin I didn't know about." Honestly, it wouldn't surprise Stiles if that were the case. Hell, he didn't know about Cora until she'd shown up in Beacon Hills, so Stiles wouldn't put it past Derek to have a secret twin. But the feral growl rumbling from Derek's chest told him this was no long-lost sibling. This was a threat, and Derek was ready to protect him at all costs.

The figure stalked closer, its movements predatory and unnatural. Stiles's heart raced as he recognized the same intense alpha glow in the doppelganger's eyes. He could only hope that was where their similarities ended—that whatever this shapeshifting creature was, it didn't somehow possess the same strength, speed, and abilities as Derek.

Stiles swallowed hard, his mind racing for a way to help Derek. But before he could voice his plan, the doppelganger lunged forward, claws outstretched. Derek roared, shifting into his beta form as he met the creature's attack head-on—fangs bared, claws extended, eyes blazing with rage. The sound of their clashing filled the empty parking lot, and Stiles was determined to find a way to help Derek before one of them was seriously injured.

He sprinted toward Derek's Camaro, hand outstretched to open the trunk, where his trusty bat was stashed. But before he could reach it, a sharp pain shot through his side as the doppelganger's claws raked across his flesh. Stiles cried out, his urgency mounting as he stumbled and clutched the wound.

"Fuck!" Blood streamed through Stiles's fingers as he fell to his knees.

Derek's fury was palpable as he shifted into his full alpha form, fur rippling across his body, his clothes falling to tatters on the ground. He lunged at the doppelganger, now a hulking black wolf, and sank his teeth into its shoulder. It was like a scene straight out of a horror movie as the creature howled in pain, thrashing and clawing at Derek, but his grip was unyielding.

Of course, it was. The minute it had attacked Stiles, there was no way Derek would hold back—unleashing the full force of his alpha power. The creature didn't stand a chance.

Stiles watched in awe as Derek tore into the doppelganger until the creature's struggles grew weakerweakerweaker. Its bones cracked and popped, the sound sharp, until it finally went limp in Derek's hands. Its body morphed, claws falling away, hair receding from its face as it shifted back to what Stiles could only assume was its original form—a pale, sinewy alien-like creature with limbs just a bit too long, spindly fingers, sunken eyes, and sharp fangs.

Derek released it, chest heaving as he shifted back to his human form and rushed to Stiles, kneeling beside him. He gently examined Stiles's wound, his brow furrowed in worry, despite his own face and torso being streaked with blood. "Shit, this looks bad."

He pressed his hands against the deep gash on Stiles's side, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Tis but a scratch," Stiles said, the grimace on his face betraying the bravado in his voice. No one would blame him, considering the sharp and throbbing pain in his side. It distracted him enough that he couldn't even admire all the tan skin and muscles on display as he checked Derek over for injuries. But, naturally, all his wounds were already healing thanks to his supernatural abilities.

"Did you seriously just quote Monty Python while you're lying here bleeding?" Derek's eyes narrowed, his expression both concerned and exasperated, clearly not amused by Stiles's attempt at humor. "We need to get you to Deaton, now."

He scooped Stiles into his arms as if he weighed nothing—something that both irked and turned Stiles on. It reminded Stiles of the FBI raid from so long ago when he'd been injured and Derek had carried him to safety. It had been the catalyst for their relationship.

Usually, Stiles would put up a mild protest, which was more fond than anything, but not this time. Not when the movement jostled his side, making him wince. The adrenaline from the encounter was wearing off, leaving him drained. Or maybe that was the blood loss.

Either way, he leaned into Derek's embrace.

"Home. I wanna go home," Stiles murmured. All he wanted was their bed. To be surrounded by the comforts of home.

"But—" Derek started, but Stiles cut him off.

"Please, Derek. I just want to go home." Stiles's voice was soft, laced with exhaustion. He knew Deaton needed to check his wound, but the idea of their bed and the safety of their home was all he could focus on.

Derek hesitated for a moment, then sighed. As much as Stiles wanted to make a quip about having Derek wrapped around his little finger, it probably wasn't the best time, so he stayed silent.

"Fine," Derek said, shifting Stiles in his arms and hurrying toward the Camaro, "but I'm calling Deaton to meet us there."

Stiles sighed in relief, resting his head against Derek's chest until they reached the car. Derek gently placed him in the passenger seat, ensuring he was secure before rushing around the hood to the driver's side. The engine roared to life as Derek called Deaton, and he sped toward the preserve—toward home—his grip on the steering wheel tight with worry.

"I'm alright, big guy," Stiles promised. This wasn't the first time he'd been injured, and considering their lives, it definitely wouldn't be the last. But he knew that didn't make it any easier, not for Derek.

When they pulled into the driveway, Deaton wasn't there yet. Derek carefully helped Stiles out of the car and carried him to the house. Once inside, he left the front door unlocked and took Stiles to the living room, lying him down on the couch without a care in the world for the mess they would leave behind.

Derek carefully ripped Stiles' shirt off with his claws. His brows were pulled down in a frown as he examined Stiles's wound, his touch feather-light. Stiles winced slightly but knew Derek was doing his best to be gentle.

"We need to call my dad and the pack." That…thing…was still out there, and they couldn't just leave it for some unsuspecting person to find, dead or not. The people in town weren't stupid; they knew Beacon Hills was special, that there were things that went bump in the night. But as the saying went, ignorance was bliss.

"I'll let them know," Derek said, phone already in his hand.

His voice was a low murmur, and his eyes never left Stiles's face as he spoke with the Sheriff, filling him in on what had happened and assuring him that Stiles was okay.

Stiles reached up, taking Derek's hand and gently squeezing it in reassurance. He hated seeing him so distressed. His life had already been hard enough—a veritable shit show of trauma and loss. Stiles knew Derek blamed himself for every injury Stiles or the pack sustained, even when it wasn't his fault. He wished he could take away Derek's guilt—ease the burden on his mate's shoulders.

"Yeah, here he is." Derek handed Stiles the phone and mouthed, 'I'll be right back,' before heading into the kitchen.

Stiles managed to suppress a groan as he put the phone on speaker, already anticipating his father's worried lecture.

"I'm okay," he said before his father could launch into a tirade.

A familiar sigh came through the line, one that spoke of years of worry and frustration, and Stiles could picture his dad pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "You're always 'okay,' kid. But Derek said you were injured. Bleeding. That doesn't sound so 'okay.'"

"He's exaggerating, Dad. You know how Derek is. I get a papercut and he freaks out," Stiles said, trying to downplay the severity of his injury. "It's just a scratch, really. I'm fine. Derek's just being overprotective, as usual."

Stiles winced as he shifted on the couch, the pain in his side flaring up. "Okay, maybe it's a little more than a scratch, but Deaton'll get me all patched up and I'll be good as new."

"Stop moving," Derek chided, stepping out of the kitchen with a washcloth and a large bowl filled with water. He kneeled beside the couch and began gently cleaning Stiles's wound. It was a gnarly-looking gash, but Derek's touch was gentle and soothing. Black tendrils snaked up Derek's arm as he took Stiles's pain, leaving Stiles a little woozy.

He leaned into Derek's touch, relishing the comfort it provided. His father's worried voice continued on the line, but Stiles barely heard it, focused instead on Derek's gentle ministrations.

"Hey, Sheriff?" Derek interrupted. "Deaton just pulled up. I'll call you later, okay?"

Derek ended the call and turned his attention back to Stiles.

"Wait," Stiles's voice came out sluggish, a side effect of Derek's werewolf mojo. "First, you should put some pants on." Because Derek was still naked, and Stiles could be a possessive bastard. He didn't want anyone but him to see his mate's bare skin. "Also, I forgot to tell Dad that the thing, whatever it was—" he took a deep breath, then let it out in a gust "—was the thing. The…thing…the banks."

Because that made total sense. God, Derek taking his pain was better than any painkiller Stiles had ever taken—a magic morphine that fogged his brain.

"You think the shapeshifter was behind the bank robberies," Derek stated. Either because he knew Stiles well enough to follow his line of thinking or because Derek had a bad habit of avoiding inflection when asking questions.

"Yeah, that." Stiles made an appreciative sound as Derek walked over to the laundry basket sitting in the corner and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

"I'll let your dad know. Right now, I just want to make sure you're taken care of." Derek kissed his forehead as Deaton walked in the front door.

"How's my favorite patient?" Deaton asked, setting his bag on the coffee table.

"Don't lie. Your favorite patients are puppies and kittens," Stiles replied, wincing slightly as Deaton examined his wound. "Derek's taking good care of me."

Deaton chuckled, his skilled fingers probing the injury. "I bet he is, Mr. Stilinski. This looks like it needs a few stitches, but it's not too deep. You're a lucky one."

Derek hovered anxiously, watching Deaton's every move. "What do you know about other kinds of shapeshifters?"

"Was that what did this?" Deaton asked, a brow raised.

Stiles nodded. Despite his best efforts, a sharp hiss of air escaped his lips when Deaton began stitching the wound. "Yeah, but not like one I've ever seen or heard of before."

Stiles hissed again, then sighed as Derek's hand found his, the pain easing. "It looked alien, but it could shift into people. It looked like Derek. And I'm pretty sure it's been impersonating people all over town."

Deaton nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked. "I've heard of such creatures, though they are quite rare. And dangerous, considering they can mimic any person they encounter. As you discovered."

"Will he turn?" Derek asked, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip.

That wasn't something Stiles had even considered, but now all he could think about were the different ways someone could be turned into a werewolf. One of which was being scratched. Not that Stiles had anything against being a werewolf, but he'd prefer it to be on his own terms.

Thankfully, Deaton shook his head. "No. For one, it's not deep enough. But even if it were, while the creature could transform and take a werewolf's beta form with claws and fangs, it's not an actual werewolf. The injury it inflicted will heal normally and without any supernatural effects."

Derek visibly relaxed at Deaton's reassurance.

Deaton finished stitching up the wound and applied a bandage. "There, all done. No showers or baths for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I'd suggest a careful sponge bath if needed. Just take it easy for the next few days and let that heal."

"I'll make sure he rests," Derek said, his hand gently squeezing Stiles's. He turned to Deaton, his expression serious. "The Sheriff will be bringing the body to your clinic so you can examine it."

"Excellent. I'll take a look as soon as it arrives," Deaton replied, gathering his supplies. Once he was packed, he headed for the door. "Call me if you have any other concerns."

With a final nod, he left the house, leaving Derek and Stiles alone once more.

Derek turned his attention back to Stiles, his gaze filled with concern.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Stiles's forehead.

Stiles leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as he savored the comfort it provided. "Better. I told you I was okay, though."

"Yeah, well, your version of okay is different than mine."

"Your version would have me wrapped in bubble wrap and kept in a padded room," Stiles teased, cracking one eye open to look at Derek. "But I appreciate your concern. I know you worry, especially after everything that's happened. Anyway, are you okay?"

Tonight wasn't the first time Derek had killed someone, but Stiles knew that taking a life, even in self-defense, weighed heavily on Derek.

"I'm alright. And I'm not that bad." Derek trailed his fingertips across Stiles's brow, down his nose, and over his cupid's bow. The delicate touch sent tingles down Stiles's spine. "I love you, Stiles. You mean everything to me, and I just want to keep you safe."

And what could Stiles say to that except, "I love you, too."

Derek cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks tenderly, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Stiles's lips, conveying the depth of his affection. "Don't fall asleep yet. Let's get you changed and into bed first."

"Think we can get the blood out?" Stiles asked, glancing at the couch as Derek helped him stand.

They probably could, but Stiles didn't really want to think about all that right now. He'd rather curl up beside Derek and sleep.

"I'll take care of it," Derek assured him, sweeping Stiles into his arms.

Now, Derek's strong arms cradled him as he carried Stiles to their bedroom and then into the ensuite bathroom, where he carefully undressed Stiles and cleaned him of any traces of blood with a washcloth. All Stiles had to do was stand there as Derek helped him into a soft T-shirt and sweatpants before guiding him to their bed.

"I'm going to clean myself up real quick," Derek whispered against his temple, taking a moment to inhale deeply, like he was breathing in Stiles's scent—something he always did. "Be right back."

Stiles sighed contentedly as Derek pulled the covers over him.

Derek was always so attentive and caring, definitely a change from the gruff and hardened exterior he used to project. A man who had once been a loner, now surrounded by a pack and a mate who loved him unconditionally.

Stiles snuggled deeper into the covers, the sheets soft and cool because Derek bought ridiculously expensive one hundred percent mulberry silk sheets with a momme weight of nineteen. He still wasn't sure what that meant.

His eyes drifted shut. "M'kay. I'll stay right here."

"You do that," Derek said with a chuckle, the sound fading as he walked into their ensuite bathroom. In the distance, the shower sputtered to life, and the soothing sound lulled Stiles into a light doze. But he woke when Derek returned, sliding into bed behind him and carefully pulling Stiles into his arms.

Stiles melted against Derek's warm, solid frame, feeling safe and content. He made a pleased sound and snuggled closer when Derek gently kissed the back of his head before breathing him in. "I love you."

The pain from his injury faded as Derek's warmth enveloped him, and Stiles smiled.

"And I love you," he breathed, letting the steady rhythm of Derek's heartbeat lull him into a peaceful sleep.

[jesncin]

Diane Meade doodles!

Upon learning that the police force on Earth is somehow so much worse than the manhunters on Mars, J'onn decides to become a private detective (and superhero) instead to help people wherever he can.

Diane Meade notices his almost supernatural intuition when investigating his cases, so she sometimes sneaks him into cases the police are struggling with. John and Diane have a tense friendship, since he admires her character but wishes she wasn't part of a corrupt system. She becomes one of the few people in Denver who finds out he's a martian.

I think it'd be cool if instead of being a redeemed cop character, Diane could be someone John tragically learns he can't change.

[anxietysslave]

What Alastor from Hazbin Hotel would call you if you were dating:

Okay, with the new episodes of Hazbin Hotel releasing and it being a roller coaster of emotions, I've had a thing for Alastor. I personally don't see him as ace, but that's just my opinion. Either way, enjoy!

Baby:

No. Just no- he's more old-timey, and I feel like to him this is not appropriate.

Doll:

Again no- Could you imagine Alastor calling his s/o doll?- I just cannot- It's more old timey sure but I just don't see it.

Darling:

I could see him saying this for sure. I feel like he's said it before to other people in the show, but I can't remember-

Sweetheart:

Yes. Just yes. He already calls people this in the show, so I know he'd definitely call you this. Although I feel like he'd call you this during sweet moments rather than just random moments.

Dear

This is another one he's already called other people, so I feel like this would be the most frequent one.

Honey

I personally hate this pet name due to *cough* pedos who have bothered me *cough*. But otherwise, yes. This is one he'd call you. Again it wouldn't be one for random times of the day and reserved for sweet moments.

Babygirl/Boy:

...Do I even have to answer this one? No. Just no. If you asked him to call you this he'd look at you with the most disgusted look-

Kitten:

Nope, no, and no. This one is even worse to him than the one above. He's an old-timer, so things like this that would be... More modern is already a no, and getting animals involved? No. Just no. Not his thing. He'd give you worse than a disgusted look. And not in a sexual way either-

Beloved:

This is a good one! He uses it more when he's introducing you to people, and maybe if he's speaking sarcastically because let's be honest, he's a lil shit-

Sweetie:

Another nickname I'm not fond of thanks to those same weirdos! Either way yes he'd definitely use this one. More for questions like "What do you want to eat, sweetie?"

Squeeze:

This is actually a slang pet name-? Either way no. He'd tilt his head and look both disappointed in you and confused if you even suggested he call you that-

Mistress:

Once again, no. I feel like he's the type to hate people having control over him, and this one just sounds like this. Also, it was common to call someone you were cheating with a mistress so bad rep for him.

Pet:

No. Just no. Sure he'll call people he's teasing a pet or people he has a contract with like Husker. But he doesn't see you as a pet so he's not going to call you one.

Amour:

This one is one he probably wouldn't hear of and didn't know even existed word-wise, but he'd like it. I feel like this is one of the only ones he'll add to his vocabulary because he likes it

Angel:

Nope- Reminds him too much of Angel Dust- And he also knows that if he were to call you Angel around Angel Dust, it'd give Angel a perfect opportunity to wait so no-

Sexpot:

Yes, this was actually something I found for like a compliment, or if you're trying to pick someone up- Alastor would give you the dirtiest, nastiest look you could imagine. If you're joking with him when there's no one else, he won't say anything but give you the dirtiest glare. If you're joking and you're with people, you're getting the silent treatment for a whole month. And if you're dead serious... No more relationship for you.

I've been bored, so here's this random head cannon. Alastor is living in my head rent-free right now so I hope you enjoyed this! Have a good day/night! Master list: https://www.tumblr.com/anxietysslave/708212002841083904/masterlist?source=share

If you're going to request something, please take a look here to make sure it's something I'm comfortable with:

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Starved Weak Whumpee

Warnings: starvation, malnourishment, torture

This takes place when Shadow, my OC, is still in Jackal captivity. They have been starving her to see how it affects her supernatural powers.

Shadow's head throbbed as the sound of a door opening reached her ears. She cracked her eyes open, peering up dizzily as her cell door was unlocked, and the usual two guards came in to retrieve her, while Sebastian watched on from right outside.

"Up, beast," one snapped.

Shadow tried to move and get her feet under her to stand up, but they kept slipping out from beneath her, and she couldn't get off the floor. Her whole body was wracked with pain, and even the slightest movement was almost practically unbearable.

She slumped back against the wall she'd been resting on, trying to catch her breath from even that small amount of exertion.

"I said up, freak!" The guard repeated angrily, and drew out his electric baton baton, switching it on threateningly so that the electricity crackled in the air.

Shadow eyed it warily, knowing how much it'd hurt, but it couldn't be worse than the pain she was already in.

"I... can't... idiot..." She slurred, still managing to keep the snarky defiance in her voice despite being only semi-conscious.

"You little--" the guard stepped forward and pointed his baton at her, when Sebastian suddenly walked into the cell and stopped him.

"That's enough," he said in his smooth, authoritative voice. Then he turned and crouched down in front of Shadow. "You really can't get up?"

Shadow could only muster a fiery glare at him, her silence speaking volumes. To her surprise, Sebastian looked genuinely worried at that, and reached out a hand as if to check her pulse. She growled, and with every last ounce of strength in her fever-wracked body, she swatted his hand away, defiant to the bitter end.

Sebastian sharply stood up, turning to the two guards who had come with him. "Go get some food and water for her. She needs it badly." His voice was filled with an uncharacteristic amount of urgency.

The two guards shared a confused look, before one of them spoke up. "But what about her transfer--"

"--Forget about today's experiments and training sessions! I'm calling them all off. Go get food and water. Now!" Sebastian interrupted, and the two men quickly sprung into action, walking briskly out of the room.

"You should have told me it was this bad," Sebastian growled under his breath.

"Didn't think you'd care," Shadow sneered, then winced at the pain it cost her. "After all, I'm disposable."

"No. You're not. You are currently the only live bird-person we have in any of our facilities. If you die, all of our weapon plans die. Everything I've worked for."

"Ah. Right. I'd almost forgotten that my entire purpose here was to be a futuristic war weapon test subject." Shadow let out a single dry laugh, letting her head loll back to clunk against the wall. Her whole body felt like it was on fire with a dangerously high fever. She'd run out of magic days ago.

"You can't control me," she slurred, her voice coming out more like a weak mumble.

"Not yet, but I will." The sheer confidence in Sebastian's words sent a cold chill down Shadow's spine, shaking her certainty that she could resist his experiments. He was clearly so sure he'd win in the end... what if he was right? What if he did find a way to weaponize Shadow's powers?

Soon enough, the sound of hurried bootsteps could be heard, a second before the two guards returned, one carrying a large plate of food, and the other some water.

Sebastian stepped aside so they could enter the cell and set the items next to Shadow within reach. All of them then retreated and the cell door was locked behind them.

Shadow craned her head down to look at the food, stomach rumbling. Exhausted, she barely had the energy to reach over and pick up one slab of fresh meat, and bring it to her mouth. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted to her famished body, sweeter than honey.

It took her time to eat it all, but once she had, she could finally feel the familiar comfort and reassuring presence of her magic trickling back, now that it had the fuel it needed. Her many injuries started healing, though the process was slow as she recovered. The pain lessened, and for the first time in the past week, she was able to truly rest as drowsiness took hold, her body shutting itself down to finish healing, and she drifted off into a deep sleep to recover.

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump @otterfrost @sausages-things

[yetanothergreyjedi]

Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Part 2 Part 3

Ao3 (includes additional notes)

Chapter 4

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you guys about time travel." Dean announces at breakfast. 

"Almost wrote yourself out of existence, didn't you?" Danny guesses. 

"Not exactly… but how? How could you possibly guess that ?"

"You have the look. It's awful. Arguably worse than fighting a potential future evil version of yourself."

Dean thinks about that. He compares this experience to the demon him from the dreamroot thing. "...yeah this was definitely weirder."

Danny shrugs.

"So... how did you end up in a time travel adventure last night? I think if the Trickster came back we'd see some more signs." Sam asks.

"Castiel dropped in, confirmed the apocalypse stuff."

"Then dropped you back in time?"

"Yeah... apparently Mom made a demon deal for Dad's life. It's why..." Dean stopped himself, he barely knew Danny, what was he thinking! 

"I know?" Danny offers, looking between Sam and him.

"Right..." Dean continues. He doesn't think Danny will go all Gordon Walker on them, but if he had all the details... Dean isn't giving all the details. "Castiel also said it was Lillith who broke the seal." 

"He's sure?" Sam asks at the same time Danny asks,

"Lilith is a demon right?"

"Yeah, she's a demon, and I don't think Castiel would tell us if he wasn't sure."

"Any problem if I kill her?" Danny asks. And the quick reaction makes Dean glad he didn't elaborate on Sammy's thing.

"We've been trying." Sam tells him. "If you get the chance, please."

Danny gives a thumbs up. And Dean feels sorry that he has to drop the mood even further. "They're trying to release Lucifer."

"What's a Lucifer?"

"Ha ha." Dean says, it would probably be funny if they had any plan for beating 'a Lucifer'. But Danny... he doesn't look like he's joking. Then Sammy's phone goes off and he leaves Dean to deal with this conversation himself. Traitor.

"Lucifer like, The Devil, Lucifer."

"Oh, a name, got it! You have beef with this guy or something? "

"He's going to try to end the world."

"Think he'll be better, or worse at it than The Pariah?"

"Who's the Pariah?"

"... guy who yoinked a small town off the face of the earth for a week? Has a skeleton army?"

"What?! Kid, are you sure you're not talking about a cartoon or something?!"

"It'd be hard to forget, was around the time Vortex did his thing. Actually a lot of stuff happened then, that year was wild."

"Lucifer will have an army of Demons." Dean said, because if he didn't stay focused he was going to end up following Danny’s rabbit trails till the world ended.

"Yeah, that's not ideal. Freeing a lot of possessed people is a lot harder than wack-a-mole skeleton edition."

"I'm not going to ask." Sam returns to the table. He probably came to the same conclusion about Danny's stories a few months ago. "That was Travis, he wants us to look into something."

"Now?" Danny asks.

"Yeah, there's this guy, Jack Montgomery, has something going on with him."

"Okay, 1 problem." Danny continues.

"What kind of problem?"

"Oh, not a problem for you, Dean. But I have a sister, who has this friend, see. And she spent all of yesterday warding off marked spirits, and he hasn't called her back after playing phone tag all day.

Sam swore. Fumbling to get his phone back out of his pocket. His brother had been a mess yesterday. He'd leave a voicemail, but be in a situation while she called back. He'd gotten a voicemail after the witnesses were released, he'd left a voice-mail then too. Apparently, the loverbirds hadn't actually spoken yet.

"Oooh, Sammy's in the doghouse, huh?"

"Not yet, I'm supposed to drag him home first."

Dean grinned, "Do I get to meet the lovely Lady?" 

"I think you'll have too, though seriously, she'll understand it if this is time sensitive. Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all, Sammy's a trouble magnet. He could use all the help he could get."

---

"Don't you love when this stuff mean spying on a man in his own home." Danny deadpans. He's not using the binoculars, holding them like they're personally offensive. 

"There are worse parts of the job." Dean reminds him, Jack Montgomery is rummaging through his fridge. "This guy? I mean this guy's boring"

"I don't know, Dean. Travis seemed pretty sure."

"Did he give any indication of what we're supposed to be— oh."

Oh was correct. Dean watched Montgomery  just abandon the leftovers and start in on a pack of ground beef. Raw ground beef.

"I'd say that qualifies as weird." Sam notes. Like that needed to be said.

---

"Thanks for helping out an old man. I'm a little, uh, shorthanded." Travis lifts his cast covered atm and They laugh politely at the bad joke. Then he gets straight to the point, and Dean's glad they're done pretending to catch up. It's awkward with Danny lurking behind them. "You track down Montgomery?"

"Yeah, we found him at his home." Sam tells him.

"And?"

"Well, he had a hell of a case of the munchies, topped off with a burger he forgot to cook."

"That's him alright."

"What's him?"

"Boys, we got a rougarou on our hands."

"A rougarou?" Dean looks to Sam for a convenient monster summary(or movie title, that would work too.). Sam gives him nothing. "Is that made up? That sounds made up."

"They're mean, nasty little suckers. Rotted teeth, wormy skin, the works." Travis tells them.

"Well, that ain't this guy. I mean, he was wearing a cellphone on his belt."

"He'll turn ugly soon enough. They start out human, for all intents and purposes."

"So, what?" Sam asks, "They go through some kind of metamorphosis?"

"Yep, like a maggot turning into a bull fly."

"No need to be cruel." Danny chides. Travis pauses, looks at Danny with an expression thats not quite a sneer. Dean really hopes that's not gonna become a problem.

"They're hungry things.” Trevor continues, ignoring the kid's glare. “First for everything, until they get a taste for human flesh. Once they get a taste they transform. One bite's all it takes. Eyes, teeth, skin; all turns. No going back either. They feed once, they're a monster forever. And our man Jack's headed there on a bullet train."

"Well, how'd you find this guy if he's a walking, talking human?" Dean demands.

"Lets just say it runs in his family."

"You mean, uh..." Sam trails off.

"Killed his daddy back in '78. Son of a bitch mangled 8 bodies before I put him down. Guy used to be a dentist. Cadillac, trophy wife... Little did I know, pregnant trophy wife. She put the boy up for adoption. By the time I found out, he was long gone, lost in the system."

The air in the room changes, this time in a way that's familiar. The unspoken threat looms... 

"You mean to tell me you couldn't find someone?" Sam asks, undeterred. Sam doesn't feel it.

Travis sighs. "I'm not sure I wanted to. The idea of hunting down some poor kid... I don't think I'd have the heart. No. I wanted to wait, make damn sure I had the right man. Apparently, I do."

The air itself has teeth, and breathing takes effort. Travis doesn't notice either. He takes a swig of his beer.

---

Travis might not notice that Danny is friggen weird, but after the comment earlier he does notice that the kid is incredibly uncomfortable. He singles the kid out to prep the flame throwers, not letting him escape with Sam. 

Dean took a chance and elbowed the kid in his side, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to bruise. Made a face at him and the kid had quit messing with the room's... well, the room's vibes . 

Travis seemed under the impression that Danny was just new to this life, and Dean would prefer to keep it that way.

"So fire, huh?" They'd been subjected to a few stories of past hunts, and the kid had withdrawn more with each of them. Dean wants to change the subject but can't find a natural way to do so.  Better they stay focused on this.

"The only way I found to kill these bastards; deep-fry 'em."

"Well, that's gonna be..." He glanced at the kid. "horrible. Is that what you did to Jack's dad?"

"Uh-huh," Travis starts, and Dean realizes he's  being an idiot. That's just gonna get a more on topic gruesome story, but Sam, best baby brother in the world, saves them. 

He walks through the door with an accusation. "Not wasting any time, are you?" 

"None to waste." Travis informs them. "The guy hulks out, we won't be finding bodies, just remains."

Sam sits down next to the table in a controlled movement. He's forcing himself to act calm. "What if he doesn't hulk out? I did a little homework. Uh, I've been checking out the lore on rougarous."

Danny's head shoots up. It reminds Dean of caged animal seeing possible freedom.

"What? My 30 years of experience not good enough for you?" Travis demands.

"What? No. No, I-I- I just wanted to be prepared. I mean, not that you didn't..."

"Sam loves research. He does. He keeps it under his mattress right next to his KY. It's a sickness." He looks over at Sam, hiding the rescue with some teasing. "It is."

"Look, everything you said checked out, of course, but uh. I found a couple of interesting stories about people who have this rougarou gene or whatever. See, they start to turn, but they never take the final step."

"Really?"

"See, if they never eat human flesh, they don't fully transform." Well, no wonder their monster-adjacent friend is freaked. Maybe he's something similar,  hanging onto his humanity with everything he can? 

"So what? Go vegan, stay human?"

"Basically. Or in this case, eat a lot of raw meat, just not..."

"Right."

"Good on you for the due diligence, Sam." Travis gets up to pace the room. Its unnecessarily dramatic. "But those are fairy tales. Fact is, every rougarou I ever saw or heard of... took that bite."

"Okay, well, that doesn't mean that Jack will." Sam stands too. 

"So what do we do? Sit and hope and wait for a body count?"

"No, we talk to him. Explain what's happening. That way he can fight it."

"Fight it?" Travis laughs. "Are you kidding me? You ever been really hungry? I mean, haven't-eaten-in-days hungry?"

"Yeah." Dean answers, Danny nods too. 

"Yeah. Right then. So somebody slaps a big, juicy sirloin in front of you, you walking away?"

"No," Dean mutters, because he wouldn't.

"Depends.” Danny challenges.” You know what happens if you eat that big hearty meal? If you haven't eaten in days ?"

"Uh, no." Dean was never been allowed to eat what he wants after the few times he'd been starving. 

"You get sick." Sam answers. Ok, that was probably explained to him, he just remembers being hungry and grouchy about it. 

Danny nods, "If you haven't eaten in days, and you have the right information, you eat something small and light that seems unsatisfying until you've gotten it all down.  You don't risk tearing open your stomach lining. And besides! How would you know about rougarou's who don't turn?! People aren't going to announce their fantasies of eating people! They're could be generations who resist and they'd look just like everyone else!"

"And you don't know that they're are." He looks between the two of them. "I'm sorry. I'm sure he's a stand-up guy, but it's pure, base instinct. Everything in nature's gotta eat. You think he can stop himself 'cause he's nice?"

"Coconut milk." Danny declares, and Dean almost laughs. He lets the absurd statement sink in for a moment before he continues. "Coconut milk can be used as a substitute for blood. There are vampires who live off it. They get night jobs, and exist exactly like everyone else. You've had what, twenty years? You've just been waiting for this guy to crack, did you bother to look? Did you ask why a rougarou might crave human flesh? 

“Because when we crave salt, or red meat or whatever, it's usually because the body is lacking in the nutrients it needs! This all might get solved by giving him a vitamin supplement!"

"We try to help him." Sam declares. "And we're not gonna kill him unless he does something to get killed for." 

---

Danny didn't make jokes when talking to Jack Montgomery. The seriousness was almost as jarring as the conversation.

See Dean's plan had gone something like this: 

1.)Tell the guy what he is. 

2.)Convince him they aren't insane.

3.)Tell him not to eat people or they'd be back.

Repeat step 2 as needed.

Danny started similarly, steps 1 and 2 are the same, but step 3...

"You're not alone. There are people I can put you in contact if you want. They might not be the same species, but they'll have similar experiences. They might have other suggestions that will help."

Danny has a list of substitutes, advice, a food journal to track what works better or worse. That conversation leads into another and another of things that might alleviate that hunger. Then how they leave…

"I don't need to tell you why you shouldn't eat human flesh. You obviously already know. But I will warn you about the change. 'A taste' is what the stories say, and I don't know if that means a bite, or mearly a drop of blood, But if the change happens, it cannot be undone."

And Jack nods, solemn. He makes his promise, and he thanks them.

---

It's Mrs. Montgomery who finds them hours later. She finds them by asking the diner's patrons "Who owns that awful van?!"

And Danny, the only one in town with a van that awful, raises his hand. 

She's confused and frantic, but she knows her husband thought they could help with... it's unclear what Jack told her, whether half truth or blatant lie, but now everything has fallen apart. 

---

Travis' car is in the driveway.

They don't have to break into the house. Even if they hadn't had the keys, the back door is already broken in.  

It's not a surprise when they find a body.  It's a carved up corpse not a charcoaled one. 

"What happened?" Danny isn't asking them. 

---

"He's not a hunter, is he?" Dean asks his brother. They watch from a room away as Jack Montgomery and Danny Fenton speak in hushed urgent tones. When Jack had turned into the livingroom, Sam had flinched and Dean had curled his lip in disgust. Danny hadn't reactioned and Jack had noticed. So, now Danny was the only one worthy of whatever this conversation was.

"He calls himself an electrician that knows too much." Sam answers. 

"How much do you know about how he works?"

"...enough.”

"Sam... I don’t think he's human."

Sam looks at him, watches his face as he asks, "and if he's not?"

"I don't know, Sammy. I wouldn't say he's hurting anybody."

"Dean, I think there's some things we need to talk about..."

"What?"

"Not here, not now. " Sam gestured to the bloody mess on the ground and the still blood covered man in the kitchen. "When this is sorted, we need to talk about what happened while you were dead."

---

"He's going to clean himself up and pack." Danny tells them. "Then we're going to pick up his wife, see what she wants to do, then we’re going. I'll meet you at Jazz's."

"You're taking him to the Coconut Vampires." Dean predicted. 

"Yeah." Danny didn't elaborate further. 

"How does that work? What if one of 'em falls off the rails or something?"

"They deal with their own."

"Right... Sam, you still have Lenore's number?"

"Yeah,"

Dean nods to him, and steps back out of earshot. Lenore, the leader of the Cattle-Blood-Instead-of-Human-Blood Vampires, probably needed to be in touch with the Coconut Vampires. Dean never asked Sam where they went, didn't need to know. Dean knew then if he'd known where, he'd be compelled to check in person, and they didn't need him poking through all their business. Sam kept track of the missing persons numbers where they stayed, and they hadn't needed to follow up.

He doesn't have high hopes for Jack, not really, but those two do, and others do. Castiel was right, he doesn't have much faith, and the least he can do to avoid spreading his doubt all over the place. Maybe they'll prove him wrong.

He hopes they prove him wrong.

[me-and-my-3lovers]

A Helping Hand

Human! Jensen Ackles x Alpha! Male Reader Smut!

When a slip-up in a drinking game changes your life years later.

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Background : Alphas, Betas, and Omegas are rare. Only about 10,000 of them are in the world, everyone else is a normal human. You have been on Supernatural since the beginning as Sam's twin brother, and now you’re on The Boys with Jensen too.

Word Count : 1.3k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, drinking, foreplay, oral sex, male fingering, male-on-male sex, knotting, scenting, polyamory kind of. That should be it, let me know if I need to add more. This is my first fic!

Masterlist

-- 2017 --

Filming is tiring and we finally hit a free weekend. No conventions, no shooting, and Jared, Jensen, and Misha decided to stay in Vancouver. We were in Jensen's apartment. Feeling nice and tingly when Jared suggested a drinking game, two truths, and a lie.

"So," Jared started, about 5 shots into our little drinking game "y/n, truth or dare?"

"That's not even the game we're playing!" Misha says, his third shot in his hand.

"Shhhhhhh." Jensen whispered, too far gone for discretion or grace, "Let it happen,"

Your head is pounding already, "Fine, I choose truth." You said, preparing yourself to take another shot.

"Out of the three of us here, who would you rather knot?" Jared asked, a smirk forming on his face.

You couldn't think straight. You realized too late that it'd have been better to just take the shot instead of answering. "Jensen, he smells the best."

Both Misha and Jared started wooing and cheering. Jensen took another sip of his beer while blushing.

"But why not me?" Jared asked, throwing you his puppy dog eyes.

"Because you're annoying," Misha answered before me.

"And you stink!" I added before taking another shot.

The entire night was a haze the next morning. Everyone was hungover and wanted to go back to bed. But Jensen remembered what you said about knotting him and he pondered what you meant by that for years.

-- 2023, The Boys season 2 set--

"You're close to your rut," Jensen says as he walks up behind you.

"How would you know, tracking it?" You asked sarcastically, grabbing a plate and a mini powdered doughnut.

"I talked to Misha, you've been irritable the whole day." Jensen follows suit and grabs a powdered doughnut.

"And why are you talking to Misha about my rut?" you asked between bites.

"Because he lives with you and because I know about your… arrangement." Jensen says as he takes his first bite.

"Cryptic. Now if you’re done here we have a fight scene to shoot." You dismiss the conversation, and walk away, leaving Jensen with his unfinished doughnut.

After filming for the day, Jensen comes up to you at your apartment.

"When I opened the door I thought you'd have more clothes on." You say as Jensen greeted you, only wearing his Soldier Boy robe.

"May I?" Jensen asks motioning to enter.

"Why not," You shrug, opening the door a little more to allow Jensen to walk in before closing it. Looking at him you wonder what he's here for.

"You need someone to help you with your rut. You’re too old to go through a rut yourself." Jensen says with the utmost sincerity. There it is.

"Old?! I'm four years younger than you! And what do you know about alphas and ruts? I've gone almost my whole life dealing with my rut myself," You cross your arms like a defiant five-year-old.

"I know that every time you’ve dealt with it alone you've come out the other end looking worse than shit." Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose, "I know it’s harder for you to deal with it yourself, so let me help you." Jensen grabbed your hand and squeezed it, "I talked to Danneel and Misha, they both agreed to let me help you. Don't be stubborn, please." Jensen kissed your knuckles and then stared into your eyes waiting for an answer.

"You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into." You caress his cheek with your other hand, "It's not a pleasant experience. I won't be me. I'm animalistic, borderline violent, during my rut…" You turn away, looking anywhere but his eyes.

"I'll be fine," As Jensen pulls you in for a hug, you take a deep inhale. He smells like firewood, vanilla, and sea water.

"Are you- did you- you couldn't have…" You press your bodies closer so you can smell it better, "You're wearing Omega perfume!"

"Since I came here." Jensen chuckles and starts petting your hair as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, "My little alpha,"

You back Jensen against the wall suddenly. "Careful Jen, you shouldn't say that unless you mean it." Your eyes were completely red, the rut hit you like a freight train after smelling the omega perfume. "It's dangerous."

"I like dangerous… Alpha."

You swiftly strip off Jensen's robe as well as your t-shirt before crashing your lips together. He tastes like mint and vanilla. Jensen quickly undoes your belt and pulls down your jeans before you flip him against the wall. You start kissing down Jensen's back painfully slow. Taking your time to kiss his shoulder blades, and his lats. God was he beautiful, and built like a brick shit house to boot. You made sure to run your tongue down his spine before reaching his magnificent ass. You took your time massaging each cheek before spreading them apart to get to your prize.

You licked his ass hole and he moaned like a wanton whore. It was primal and guttural like he'd been waiting for this. You let your hands squeeze his hips as you licked him again, and again, and again, until he started begging you to do more. You had the tip of your tongue pressed against his ass hole but not penetrating.

"Fuck me!" He sounded gruff and demanding.

You slowly pushed your tongue into his warm hole, circling as much area as you could. Jensen pushed his ass back into your face, wanting you to go deeper, explore more. Your tongue kept the same rhythm, in and out, in and out, getting him all nice and wet. When you pulled your tongue away, he started whimpering before you pushed a finger into him.

"God, want more, need more"

His hips started moving when you added a second finger. Spreading his ass open with both fingers, getting him prepped to take you. When you added a third finger his head rolled back and you felt his ass flutter around your fingers. He was ready.

You removed your fingers and got up from your knees. You flipped Jensen around so he was facing you. You grabbed the back of his thighs to lift him up and push his back against the concrete wall. Pinned between you and the wall, Jensen's ass was hovering over your dick.

"We can stop right now. We can forget this ever happened and go back to our normal lives." You whispered into his neck, still nuzzling where he put the perfume on.

"Alpha," That was all Jensen needed to say before you lowered him onto your dick. Jensen took a deep inhale once you were completely sheathed. "I never knew it would feel this good," Jensen panted. You growled and rested your forehead against his, giving both of you some time to adjust.

You kissed Jensen on the lips, then his cheek, then his neck, and then back up to his lips before you started thrusting. His ass felt like heaven and quenched the burning feeling in your body. Pulling out until only the tip was in before slowly thrusting back in. You kept that pace until Jensen wanted more.

"Faster, harder, I need more alpha!" God, that did something to you. You picked up the pace and you could feel your knot start to swell. Jensen was bouncing against the wall and you could feel his pre-cum leaking on your stomach. Both of your bodies burning hot and looking for release. "Right there, oh god, right there," Jensen moaned into your ear, and scratched down your back.

The pace was brutal and he was taking it beautifully. My Omega, my Omega, beautiful Omega, Omega, Omega, Omega. You bared your teeth against his neck.

"Alpha!" Jensen came and you could feel his cum against your chest. Jensen laid his head back against the wall, neck all exposed and sweaty as he was coming down from his high.

You barely refrained from claiming him as your knot popped and you came in him. Both of you coming down from your highs, you took him to your room and laid him onto your bed. Jensen closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. Both of you were exhausted and out of breath.

"Good night Jen," You kissed his forehead, "Thank you for this,"

" 's was amazing," Jensen grumbled back, cuddling into you, "love you."

"I love you too, now to to bed."

[yanban-san]

Obscurity - AU-Tober #1

Going to try to do the Au-tober thingy by @marchy-emmet. :) Here's the first one! Not beta read at all. 🥲

(Tags: implied x-reader, Submas, SFW)

Gear Station runs like finely tuned machinery. Like the perfect rhythm of a well wound clock, everything moves in pace to it's beat and purpose- Never too far, never late, never early, but precise and exact- Though the passengers and customers of the station and it's network may forever be in disarray, the station itself, and all of it's trains and rail lines, were never found in any state other than perfection, it seemed.

The trains ran all across Unova- Everywhere. Anywhere. Always bustling, almost always packed full of busy people and young pokemon trainers- Except a few lines.

The Battle lines.

The Battle Subway was a bit of a novelty, a tourist attraction. "But isn't that rather dangerous?" People would say, envisioning a harsh, intense pokemon battle taking place on a train-

And yet, that's what happened. Multiple times. And the Battle Subway was no more worse for wear.

"It was a fine experience," A trainer would remark. "That last battle was tough, though."

And the last battles were tough. Impossibly so.

"The last trainer…. was kind of strange, though." "Oh, the name? I can't remember that-" "It was just some guy, right?"

But the two who held the last battles of the Battle Subway were far from just 'some guys'.

They were the Subway Bosses.

Emmet hummed as he flipped through one of his social pages on pidget. No notifications, not that that bothered him. It was normal- In person, and online, he and his brother blurred into the background of existence it seemed- And no one paid them any heed to an almost alarming degree.

But still, he thought- And his hand hovered over an app on his X-transceiver. Applink. Applin-link. A dating app.

He hesitated, and clicked it open.

No messages.

Sighing heavily, he sat down at his desk and continued to write, hand combing through his thin, wiry silver hair. Was it too much to ask that he and his brother find someone? Surely there was someone out there who would find them charming, and, more importantly, remember them. Notice them.

Though they did have one further problem, Emmet continued to think on as he walked to the break room. It was lunch time- And he was at least looking forward to the sandwiches he and his brother had made this morning.

"Good afternoon!" He called out, entering the break room. None of the Depot Agents acknowledged him, many already chatting among each other or going to grab snacks and drinks from the vending machines or the large fridges-

Emmet sighed.

"They usually take notice of us when we're together, brother."

Emmet turned his head. Ingo. His fellow in suffering this stupid, stupid curse.

"…Good afternoon, Brother."

Ingo patted his younger twin on the shoulder, and the two of them grabbed their sandwiches, sat down, and waited. They weren't hidden- Sitting in the middle of the lunch room, and they certainly should have been noticed- Their coats were certainly noticeable- Their whole affect was striking…

But no one did.

No one ever did.

It really was like a supernatural curse, it seemed- Though it'd gone on as long as the two had been alive, it seemed.

Emmet's sandwich was gone quickly- As was Ingo's. They normally didn't socialize or particularly interact with the staff of Gear Station- They did their work, rode the train back to Anville Town, and-

Woke up for the next day.

No notifications on the X-Transceivers as they readied themselves, and headed down to the station.

"Good morning," Ingo greeted. The ticket master of the Anville stop yawned, turning to his coffee.

"Good Morning!" Ingo called out again, raising his voice. The poor worker jumped in his chair, before taking note of the two imposing men in front of him.

"O-Oh dear, uh… Good… Morning?" He blinked, looking at the two- Wearing Gear Station emblems on their hats-

"I am Emmet, and we need to get on the train."

"O-Oh right, the- Subway Bosses- Sorry Sir, didn't notice you there."

As always. "No worries." Ingo replied. No use admonishing the poor young man- He'd forget it by the following day, anyway.

At least in the confines of a subway cart they were more noticeable. It was difficult not to notice them there, given that the two of them standing side-by-side practically created a visual wall that couldn't be seen through. Something about them was particularly intimidating in this setting- Perhaps that was how they became bosses here, after all.

How did they, though? Ingo sometimes wondered- He couldn't quite remember himself, either. Perhaps an artifact of whatever caused them to be ignored, forgotten, and obscured was causing them to forget themselves. He couldn't remember how long he and Emmet had worked at Gear Station- Nor how they'd risen to the position that they'd found themselves in.

Were they ghosts? Ingo wondered- No, they seemed corporeal enough. There weren't any reports or news articles of two conductors dying either, that they could point to for evidence. Though the thought made his heart sink and his stomach grow cold. If ever he did find out what happened- Why they were like this- he hoped it wouldn't be something so… macabre. The thought made him quite melancholy.

It was in silent moments like this, riding to Gear Station, that Emmet usually found his voice- And his voice was often on the subject of their predicament, or, often enough, his pokemon- Battling took his mind off their problems, and strategizing was something he and his brother greatly enjoyed.

"Do you think Chandelure cursed us?"

Ingo scoffed. "Absolutely not. Chandelure is good, she wouldn't have done something like this-"

And Ingo's beloved companion let herself out of her pokeball, floating in front of the two.

"Maybe she did something on accident?"

The lantern-light shook itself, a sad look on it's face. Emmet felt a little guilty for his words- And apologized. The singing, glassy ghost pokemon floated in front of the two, swinging contentedly from side to side- If she could fix what ailed her trainer, she would, but she did not know- The fires of human souls were all the same to her, and Ingo and his brother looked no different to her than the multitudes of trainers she did battle against, or the commuters on the twin's beloved trains. There wasn't much to be done, it seemed- Perhaps this was just their fate.

Ingo sighed, and it wasn't long before the train pulled into Gear Station. The familiar sound of the announcer over the tanoy heralded the end of their ride, and the two stepped out and off, and to work that day.

Ignored, as always.

Luckily, the agents seemed to remember their existence, at least as their "bosses", when things needed to be done. And so, they rarely had trouble with getting their actual, bureaucratic work done for the day. Ingo couldn't complain- The office work they were used to was boring, yes, but the work of Gear Station made him and Emmet happy. That was one thing he could remember- He loved trains, and Emmet did too- But Emmet did love his pokemon and getting to battle with them every day.

Their existence at least, was peaceful, if lonely. Ingo remembered when the Gym Leader of Nimbasa had come to their line once upon a time- And they'd actually managed to hold a conversation with her. They even exchanged numbers, with the intent to train together on occasion.

She never answered- And Ingo was inclined now to think it a product of their curse, rather than her just ghosting them. He looked up from his work, feeling his neck crick as he did so. Ah, he'd been far too focused on the documents he'd been filling out and signing. Emmet groaned, and Ingo could see his leg bouncing in rapid annoyance at whatever he was focusing on.

"Emmet, why don't we take lunch early today?"

"I verrry much agree." He answered shortly, immediately standing up. Well then, there was his answer.

"I don't want to sit in the cafeteria today though. Depressing. Verry much so."

Ingo shrugged. They could eat in the common area, under the glass roof of the gallery off the atrium and amid the indoor garden of Gear Station. Yes, that sounded nice. Watch pokemon and their trainers pass by, enjoy their meals- They did do that on occasion, when the reality of sitting alone in the cafeteria, ignored by their own employees and coworkers hit a little too hard.

The two made their way over to the pretty side station- The glass roof letting in sunlight, sparkling and casting gridded shadows of the great iron beams holding the glass above them- Broken up only by the dappling of leaves of great bushes and trees. The seating wasn't too full, so the two went off to order their meals from one of the eateries in the market adjacent to Gear Station- That connected through this very gallery. The heavenly smell of stir fries and curries and grease and sweets was lesser over here, but the twins could still smell it, and the aroma only became more and more intense as they approached the market- Making both of their stomachs growl.

"I want curry." Emmet announced, and off he marched to go and acquire the food- Ingo following after him. The two moved around people, rather than anyone moving around them, in spite of their height and rather foreboding appearance. And soon they stood in line, though that did not stop someone behind them from bumping into them- "Oh sorry, I didn't quite… see you there," They would hastily answer, suddenly feeling strange they didn't notice the two striking individuals in front of them- Only for the same thing to happen again. And again. And a few more times for good measure.

Up until the twins got up to finally place their order- And waited. The staff were busy- Waiting for someone to come up to the counter to order at their stall within the market.

"Excuse me!" Ingo yelled, rather loudly. It was the only way to get anyone's attention, it seemed-

But this time, no one noticed.

"Excuse us," Emmet also attempted to grab the poor cashier's attention, but they still didn't notice- Focusing instead on fiddling with something under the counter, as if blind not only to the twins but to the few people waiting behind them as well.

And you were getting impatient yourself- The two in front of you were certainly… intimidating, you thought- But- Had they offended the cashier? Could the Cashier not hear them? You weren't one to normally intervene, but… Well, you were hungry yourself.

"Excuse me," You interjected.

The twins ignored you. "Ahem, Excuse me," You interjected a bit more forcefully, and tapped the shoulder of the one in black. The market was quite loud- Perhaps they just couldn't hear you. But the way the one in black jumped- The obstinate frown on his face made him looked downright horrified. You hadn't meant to frighten him-

"Are you talking to me?" He asked, almost incredulously. Your own face matched his- Confusion and a sharp frown. "Well, yes. Is there something the matter? I'd like to order my lunch."

The two looked at each other. The one in white, a pleasant smile on his face, answered you first. "That's what we're trying to do. You seem good at getting people's attention. Here. Speak to them, please."

Your curiosity stopped you from rebuking the request- This was certainly strange. You'd seen a few people run into the pair, but you'd chalked it up to people not paying attention in the bustle of the market and just getting pushed around- Which happened.

"Alright, what did you two want to order?" You asked, as the cashier cheerfully turned to you, smile on her face, and suddenly jumped in shock as you addressed the two men flanking you- And a minute later, you had three order tickets, and a few more minutes later, you had your lunch- And they had theirs. "Let us pay for you. It's the least we can do," The one in black offered- And before you could really utter out any objection, he offered you a bill of money that more than covered your meal.

"Glad I could uh, be of help-" I guess, you thought. What a strange pair- Twins, evidently, and to you, at least, they were the most striking pair in the entire market- And all of Gear Station. Well, no matter. You should really be getting home, and so you went to bid them farewell.

"Actually, would you- I'm terribly sorry to inconvenience you, but would you take your stop with us?" The one in black asked.

The one in white stood at your other side. "Yes! Please. We would like to talk to you, a little bit."

You considered it a moment. Their silver eyes sparkled at you, filled with a strange emotion- An almost hopeful look.

"Okay, sure. Who are you two, anyway? I feel like I've seen you… on the trains before. Aren't you two trainers?"

"I am Emmet, and this is my brother, Ingo."

Ingo bowed lightly. "We're quite glad to hear you've heard of us before, too."

"Yup! Verrry glad!"

It was going to be the first of many lunches shared with the strange bosses of Gear Station.

[yuseirra]

Let me just.. jot this down before I forget. IF THIS IS TRUE, IT'S REALLY INTERESTING. WE CAN GET A HAPPY ENDING.

Remember how in 140 Hikaru questions whether if he's doing the right thing or not, and in the following chapter, we find Ai stands up for his sake, telling his perpetrator that he's still an age where he's trying to figure out what's right and what's wrong? He started out very sweet and noble, but he was also very naive, and that made him prey to all the malice in the industry, he ended up heavily afflicted by it and became confused about whether what he'd been facing was really right or wrong.

If this boy is the embodiment/reincarnation of Sarutahiko, HE'S THE GOD WHO'S SUPPOSED TO GUIDE PEOPLE INTO THE RIGHT PATHS. AND HE'S BEEN TAINTED BEFORE HE WAS EVEN ABLE TO FIND THAT OUT. KNOWING WHAT'S "RIGHT" AND "GOOD" WAS ESSENTIAL FOR HIM ESPECIALLY, BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HIS POWERS ARE SUPPOSED TO DO. It got ruined because of the industry he was put in and the abuses he's faced from childhood. That's why everything around him is becoming twisted and worse, the adults around him caused him to be unaware of such aspects and broke him down. Maybe he awakened to his powers even more strongly after having reached adulthood. But by that time, he was already unable to function the way he should have, and Tsukuyomi must have been assigned to get rid of him before he caused even more catastrophic events. This is sad because he didn't want any of this. He could have become anything, something really beautiful, and got painfully distorted beyond saving. Ai wanted to save this guy because she knew her man's true nature. This guy was supposed to be good. Not just good, but REALLY GOOD. But perhaps it was like what Aqua had said in 159 when he went to meet him. It might have been "too late" to turn him back to the right paths, he may have lost himself upon having lost Ai.

Sarutahiko seems like a REALLY powerful god; I think.. out of all the gods that could be there in onk? The one that would be significantly stronger than him would be Amaterasu, who is Ruby, who ACTUALLY came to replace him as the next sun god. If Kamiki's been able to make all these strange turn of events a reality with his leaking powers or something..(the stuff that happens around this guy is INCREDIBLY WEIRD AND TOO MUCH TO BE DISMISSED AS PURE COINCIDENCE AT THIS RATE) RUBY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO SOMETHING. Several events indicate Ruby does have some sort of powers/is favored by the gods, she had things her way when she wanted it. She even mentions it herself that the gods may like her. If there's ANYONE in this series who's capable of causing supernatural events, I think it'd be Kamiki AND Ruby. Next in line would be Ai, I'm not sure about Aqua because he could not save himself when he needed it the most(deep sighs)

Theoretically, Ruby really is our hope. She's the STRONGEST out of all, and she is said to be able to save people. She's once mentioned through her own lips that they'll all be saved with her surpassing Ai(147), and Aqua was all about her "saving people through her songs if they hear it, if they just believe it"(160). If that's supposed to be some kind of foreshadowing, not just complimenting/pampering Ruby... RUBY SHOULD DO SOMETHING. I THINK SHE HAS SOME POWER WITHIN HER THAT CAN BRING SOME DIVINE INTERVENTION.

you see how Aqua said he could hear a song as he fell into the waters in 164?(Oh god I'm not reading that chapter again, it makes me distressed;;;) He heard RUBY'S SONG, DIDN'T HE. DOESN'T THAT MEAN HE CAN BE "SAVED"? Isn't that something that connects to what he's said himself in 160?? If Ruby's song's supposed to "save" people, the one person she'd WANT to save and SHOULD save should be her brother. And..oh god, I really hope they do save Kamiki too or just LET HIM MEET AI. what did he do so wrong, his life was utterly terrible. I still don't see him as the guy who'd have gone after Ai!! I think he just got distorted really bad afflicted by all the malice in the industry and that caused him to be a fallen god - with the last breaking point being Ai's death! He just let himself go after that and he must have spent all his life trying to get her back I think!! Give him a chance to be happy!!!! He never had it!!

Yup that's that~ RUBY. SHOULD DO SOMETHING. SHE'S THE ONE THAT'S BEING SAID TO BE ABLE TO SAVE PEOPLE. WE NEED IT. THE TIME IS NOW. IF SHE REALLY IS AMATERASU, WE NEED TO GET BACK TO THAT. SHE SHOULD CLIMB OUT FROM THAT CAVE SHE'S IN FOR ONCE AND SHINE AND BRING EVERYONE BACK TO LIFE, MAKE THEM HAPPY.

We actually haven't seen the video Ai's given HER. What if that gives her the power or some sort of drive to allow that to happen because if Ai IS Amenouzume, she's the one who's going to help Ruby out and make her shine when she's scared and depressed. What if Ruby watches her video that Ai's left for her sake and awakens HER power as a god to do something? Why isn't HER video shown yet?

I honestly think.. that'd be our last hope of getting some sort of happy ending, all this buildup about Ruby and her being hyped up in the story may indicate something. When all else fails, I think she's the one we could turn to. There must be a reason she's our other protagonist, but she's been very passive? in the story lately. If this whole idea of gods is relevant (and it seems like it to me because Kamiki is SO WEIRD. The stuff that happens around him, in my opinion, cannot be explained unless he IS Sarutahiko.) It's really going to be RUBY who'd shine as THE sun god. The most powerful god of all in Japanese Mythology, right? Yes. I JUST looked it up, it is the way I remember it. Amaterasu is the highest deity in Japanese mythology. Then she MUST be the one to save everyone. I'll root for her!! TURN BACK TIME OR SOMETHING, MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY. DO WHAT AMATERASU IS CAPABLE OF!!!

[rrcraft-and-lore]

Yeah, alright, no. No don't this. I'll do you a few fucking better and teach you right here and now how to do this: You game? Blurb and lesson time. Got you. First up, a SPOOC. This is one technique that can be expanded (gonna give you examples too). WRITING LESSONS AHOY:

SPOOC = Situation, protagonist, objective, obstacles/opponents, climax/cost. So, when Frodo Baggins (protagonist) inherits the Ring of Power (Situation), he must set out on a quest to destroy it (objective). But, will he succeed when the forces of sauron and saruman unite and

try to reclaim the one ring and use its power to destroy Middle Earth (climax - cost if failure). This specific example is taught by Jim Butcher so if you want some weight behind it. There you go. It works. Want to know how to do a blurb? Practice, but check it:

Who is it? What's going on?

Why should we care?

What happens if the hero fails?

If you can, end on a snappy one liner or question. You can open on one too or a question like it.

What do shadows darting across the walls, cryptic writing, black fog, and a little girl who can see ghosts have in common? Paranormal investigator and soul without a body, Vincent Graves, has forty-four hours to find out. To make matters worse, his years of body-hopping and monster-hunting are catching up with him. He's losing his mind. An old contact has shut him out. To top it all off, something's skulking through an asylum, killing patients. Three guesses who might be next, and the first two don't count. The writing on the wall is not so clear. But one thing is: if he doesn't figure this out he's a dead man--well, deader--and a strange young girl might follow. Vincent's got his back against a wall, and that wall's crumbling. Some days it's not worth it to wake up in someone else's body.

That's Grave Measures - book two in my urban fantasy detective series. Who is it - covered. What's going on? Why should we care (the stakes to the protagonist and more). The costs. And the above.

It's not rocket science, and doesn't have to be.

Here's one from book three:

Don't make deals with the paranormal. They're better at it than you, and they never play fair. Paranormal investigator and soul without a body, Vincent Graves, did just that—a deal made in desperation. Now it's coming back to bite him in the middle of a case. He has 57 hours to investigate a string of deaths involving people who've made some devilish bargains. Too bad devils don't deal in good faith. It'd be easy enough, if he didn't have to deal with things such as: - Being hunted through the streets of Queens by a dark elf with a motorcycle fetish. - Ending up the target of a supernatural hit. - An old acquaintance dragging him to a paranormal ball where he could end up on the menu. - And having one of his closest guarded secrets brought to light... Not great for a tight clock, because if he doesn't get to the bottom of this case in time, Vincent and company might just lose their souls. Dirty deals are never done dirt cheap. And the supernatural always collect—big!

Same formula. A lot of fiction uses it. You just might not realize it. You don't need a fucking AI. You need a few minutes every day of practice. You got that. You got this!

With SPOOC, you can outline a whole damn novel.

You get a snappy two-liner pitch to sell with. YOu can expand it into summaries for each book to make up LOTR in this case or your series.

Then you can reverse engineer and keep expanding each summary. It does it for you.

[ofnaivety]

jonah hauer king,  27,  cis man,  he/him   𐫱     ›   hey, isn’t that ( charlie jameson )? i’ve heard that they’ve lived in bearhold for ( their entire life ), and that they ( don’t ) know about bearhold’s supernatural presence. rumor has it that they can be rather ( naive ) and ( anxious ), but hey, that’s just in their nature as a ( the fragile butterfly ). they totally make up for it by being ( empathetic ) and ( caring ). if you’re looking for them, you can probably find them at their work as a(n) ( pianist ) at ( bearhold orchestra ).

child abuse tw, anxiety tw, depression tw

basics:

full name:  charlie jameson

nicknames:  char

gender:  non-binary

pronouns:  he/him

sexuality:  homosexual

aesthetics:  copious amounts of tea, fingers gracing keys of a piano, cheeks that are all too easy to blush, dimples that engrave into cheeks

age:  27

date of birth:  feb 20th

zodiac sign:  pisces

residence:  apartment with a best friend (open!)

occupation:  pianist/music teacher

species:  human (unaware of the supernatural)

appearance:

faceclaim:  jonah hauer king

height:  5'8

build:  slender

eyes:  blue

hair:  jet black

piercings:  none

tattoos:  none

style:  handknit cozy sweaters, bow ties, honestly dresses like a college professor

personality:

traits:  compassionate, endearing, awkward, insecure, anxious, talented, naive

mental health:  depression/anxiety/insomnia

likes:  hands running through his hair, cats, tea, playing piano when it's raining

dislikes  lying, hatred, bigotry, bullies

he's kind, caring, insecure, loyal and the kind of person who would do just about anything for those that he loves. doesn't tend to be judgmental, overtly trusting which often times gets him into trouble. has a tendency to believe the best in people which easily gets taken advantage of.

history: CHILD ABUSE, PANIC ATTACKS, TW

charlie was born after a series of miscarriages and years of trying to conceive. so the pressure was thrust upon him from a young age. his father had always wanted a son but it turned out that charlie would never be the son he wanted. his mother died shortly after giving birth to him and that's something his father would never forgive him for.

he was shy, timid and quiet from a young age which were the polar opposites from his father, an influential political figure and his mother was a well known actress. and to his father, his image was more important than anything else and having a weak son was jeopardizing toward his brand.

despite the fact that he rarely ever spoke, he was an insightful and curious kid who showed a gift for music at a young age. he was barely even two when chubby fingers plucked out chords and melodies on the piano. the only thing his father was ever impressed by were his music capabilities.

he was paraded around as a child prodigy from a young age and while crowds gave him social anxiety, charlie didn't really mind because he loved to play the piano and he loved to impress his father. he spent a majority of his life trying to win his father's approval that was never given to him. by the age of eight, he'd already played at carnegie hall twice.

while their relationship seemed perfect on paper, the family dynamic was a facade. eventually his father remarried to a woman who didn't care about charlie nor even his father. she was just attracted to their money. anytime charlie didn't want to perform or he'd suffer from one of his crippling panic attacks, his father would hit him (never where anyone could see though.) and the abuse unfortunately lasted from early childhood to his mid-twenties.

went to julliard for a year but realized he didn't love performing anymore and the panic attacks with playing in front of people seemed to get worse as he got older. it'd taken the joy out of the piano. so he moved back to forks and is now happy as a music teacher.

[yinora-evergreen]

Alssoooo a request 🤫 since you're feeding my gay delusions you're gonna be booked with my requests/j , crystal x fem!reader (she could be a supernatural or not doesn't matter you can pick what feels right 😝) with a scenario inspired by the fountain scene from atonement https://youtu.be/IkF3M_FE4MM?si=4SZNW9BQKAryJFDY

THIS where they could be at some lake for a case and someone drops SMTH in the water (it's not a high place that's for sure just to be safe 😭😭) and that scenario in the video happens thank uuu 🤫

I'll be a frequent reader atp so I'll be 🦋 anon xoxo

a/n: i'm happy to be feeding your gay delusions! i chose to keep it a little more to your own interpertation whether reader is supernatural or not, the only thing that's really clear is that she can hold her breath longer than regular people would, so she could either just be skilled or have some supernatural power that's connected to water, that is completely up to your imagination! and thank you for the link, it really helps a lot to actually SEE what you mean

thank you for requesting, 🦋 anon! i hope to see more of your requests in the future <3

ps: i am a little more busy with school currently, but i try to finish requests as soon as possible i.e. the same day, or atleast the same week :>

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

an older man (obviously a ghost) had come to the agency for help, because he lost his wife's pearl necklace at a fountain when he was alive, and he never truly found it again.

he said it upset his wife, and now that he's gone he really wants her to have it back, atleast as a sign that even though he's dead, he's okay.

at first, Edwin wanted to deny any help to the guy, saying that since he couldn't pay and that technically it's more for an alive person, therefore he should do it himself.

though you took pity on him, and said yes before Edwin could say no.

Edwin, being as petty as he is, told you that since you were so quick to answer, you could do this case on your own.

before you had the chance to reply, Crystal spoke up and said she'd join you, her excuse being 'so you wouldn't be all alone'.

though both you and her knew she only said that to finally have some alone time with you.

it's been hectic with all the cases you've all been busy to solve, so alone time wasn't really an option lately.

and it's been taking its toll on both you and Crystal.

barely any moment of privacy to sneak in kisses, no time for any type of cuddling, no time to really be girlfriends.

it isn't that you two didn't want to tell Charles, Edwin and Niko that you two are together.

its just that Edwin once made a comment about how it's unprofesional to date a co-worker, as when there's even the smallest argument it'd just be a bother to everyone else.

so you kept silent, though ofcourse you didn't miss the grin Niko has whenever she spots you two together doing litterly anything. and ofcourse Crystal notices the teasing smiles Charles shoots you two whenever Edwin isn't looking.

so now, you two were walking on the streets, quite early in the morning as you two didn't want to go searching for a necklace at a fountain when there were a lot of people.

it was rather cold, it wasn't quite winter yet but the weather was getting colder and the weather was getting worse.

what the older guy who comissioned you two for this case failed to mention, was how deep the fountain really was.

you two thought it'd be more like a wishing fountain, perhaps up to your knees, tops.

how wrong you were.

when you got there, you two were both shocked to see that it was so deep, you could probably take a swim in it.

before Crystal could say anything, you started taking off some layers of clothing.

your coat, shoes, socks, and sweater.

leaving you in your jeans and tank-top, Crystal tried not to stare.

"wait, no, [name]-!" Crystal tried to grab your arm before you could do anything, but alas, you were already in the water.

diving just deep enough to touch the bottom, you already saw the pearl necklace the ghost described to you two, but it was stuck under a brick.

Crystal waited patiently at first, untill she realized you've been under there for two minutes, and she was well aware of how dangerous that could be.

she was already taking off her coat before you resurfaced, necklace in hand.

as you got out, you were very clearly shivering as you held out the necklace to her, handing it to Crystal so you could put your socks, shoes, hoodie and coat back on. and you took her hand in yours to walk back.

when you got back, the old ghost thanked you two and gladly took the necklace, not seeming to mind the slight algea on some of the pearls.

"case closed" you mumble as you turn to Crystal, and despite Edwin being there, you kiss her cheek, both because you want to and because it's certainly an efficiënt way to tell the others of your relationship.

leaving the room, a gaping, surprised looking Edwin, a snickering Charles and a grinning Niko behind, you go to change out of your wet clothes.

"you're gonna catch a cold now, you know" Crystal says with a smile as she leans on the doorway.

"then why don't you come cuddle me warm again?"

[factorydefaultlu]

Don't Wanna Hurt No More

Supernatural Fic

1.1k words

Summary: Dean watches helplessly as John beats Sam for talking about his strange dreams.

TW: child abuse, alcoholism. Kinda wincest..

A/N: I wanted to rewrite that one scene from The Black Phone but insert the Winchester's. Idk bruv. Just take it. I plan on expanding this to have an aftermath where Dean cleans Sammy up and it's angsty feelings for both of them

Also on my AO3

The first thing Dean heard was Sam's shrill voice cracking as he yelled, then he heard their dad's gruff response followed by a thud.

Dean leapt from his place on he and Sam's shared bed, and rushed to get the door open. The hinges squeaked and the dingy door drug on the carpet as he tugged. The family had been staying here for about a month, renting this shitty trailer on the edge of town.

It had actually become decently peaceful, although that was because their dad was gone for about 3/4s of the stay. Dean knew it wouldn't last. It never does; He's used to it.

Sam however, fought with John tooth and nail over anything he could think of. For years the two have been like that, and Dean wondered if it would ever mellow out before they killed each other over a disagreement.

There was another loud thud and Dean could finally make out their words as he entered the main room.

“Don't you talk like that! Your dreams don't mean anything!” John barked and Sam scrunched his face up in anger. This was not a new topic they battled on, in fact it was a monthly debate.

“You don't know that! You won't even look into it!” Sammy stepped back as John took a step forward, he tried to keep from showing how scared he was, but Dean knew.

Their dad had clearly been drinking, and Dean could smell the whiskey on him even from across the room. He always smelled like booze these days.

“Dad.” Dean spoke just loud enough to be heard, trying to get John's attention, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I won't look into it because it's nothing. Nothing! Sam, your dreams are just dreams!” The words slur and John stumbled just a bit as he tried to get closer to Sam.

Sammy had his hands on the back of one of the dining chairs, placed between him and their dad. That must have been the first thud Dean heard; Sam grabbing something to shield himself from John.

“What if it has something to do with mom?” Sam prodded, this is an argument they've had before and it never ended pretty. Sam never relented on it though.

John's hands were flying to undo his belt buckle before Dean could even close the space between them. Sam flinched and gripped the chair tighter, prepared to use it if he had to.

“Dad!” Dean tried again, hesitantly lifting his hand as if to reach out and grab his dad's arm.

John didn't even look at him before speaking. “Dean, go back to bed, this has nothing to do with you.”

Sam tried to use the small distraction to make a break for the door. Unfortunately, their dad had quicker reflexes and managed to grab Sam by the shirt. Fabric tore as the boy was dragged back, then thrown to the floor. A loud crack struck the air, followed by a strangled cry as John's belt came down on Sam's side.

Dean knew better than to interfere hands on, it'd just make it worse on Sammy. He couldn't do a damn thing but stand there as his baby brother was beaten by their own father. It makes his blood boil. Dean wished he could take Sammy's place.

“I wouldn't have to do this if you'd just listen to me!” John had tears in his eyes and Dean had to bite his own tongue before he made things worse.

‘You're beating the shit out of your son and yet you're the one crying?’ The words hung in Dean's throat, he was choking like a dry pill; words he would never say aloud.

Sammy is a fighter though, and thank God for that. He managed to pick himself up off the floor between belt strikes and shoved the chair into John's knees. The wood scraped the yellow linoleum and nearly knocked John off his feet.

A slew of curses sprang from his mouth, and Sam rushed for the kitchen. He snatched the full bottle of whiskey off the counter and held it above his head as a warning.

“Quit hitting me! Quit hitting me or I'll drop it.” Sam's voice cracked from a mixture of puberty and all the screaming. Dean's heart broke at the sound, and all he wanted to do was hold his baby.

John turned to look Sam dead in the eye as he white knuckled the belt.

“Put the bottle down, son.” His voice was softer now, the threat of losing alcohol got his attention better than his son crying from the abuse.

“I should break it! This shit is poison to you. I hate the way it makes you act!” Hot tears stained Sam's cheeks. Even still, he had a look of determination in his eyes.

“Watch your fucking language!” John stepped forward and Sam's fist unclenched from the neck of the bottle.

All at once Dean heard glass shattering, John shouting, and more cracks of the leather belt on skin. Cursing and yelling followed, and Dean finally found his agency to help Sam.

“Dad quit!” Dean grabbed his brother and pulled him off the floor. The belt whipped Dean's arm and he yelped, but refused to let Sam get beaten anymore.

“Not until he says it!” John gestured to Sam, “Say it. Your dreams are just dreams.”

Sammy scrunched his nose in disdain, Dean knew that was the last thing his baby brother wanted to do. He stared at the back of Sam's head as he held his blistering shoulders, as if trying to telepathically beg him to say it.

‘Just say it. Please. You don't have to believe it. Just say it. For your safety.’ More words Dean would never say in front of John.

“My dreams are just dreams.” Sam mumbled, venom in his tone.

“I can't hear you.” John pressed; Dean wanted to punch him in the face.

“My dreams are just dreams.” Sam says louder.

“Again!” A look of satisfaction crossed John's face.

“My dreams are just dreams! There's nothing special about me! I'm normal!” Sam spat, trying to hold back another sob.

This seemed to satisfy their dad, he took a deep breath in and nodded while looping his belt back through his jeans. “Good. I don't want to have this conversation again. Ever.”

John grabbed his keys from the table and made his way to the front door. “I'm gonna get more whiskey.”

Before the door shut again, John turned and looked Dean in the eyes. “If you ever interfere with a punishment again, I'll make sure he feels it 10 times worse.”

That wasn't a threat, it was a promise, and Dean knew it.

The boys stood in the living room, frozen where they'd been left. It wasn't until they were absolutely sure their dad was gone that Sam finally broke down in Dean's arms.

[rcmclachlan]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @microcomets. Thanks, friendo!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

71 currently. I've orphaned a bunch, though.

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

526,242

3. What fandoms do you write for?

These days I write for whichever fandom strikes my fancy—it might be a new one, or it might be one that I fall back into every so often. My most recent fics have been a mix of new (Beyond Evil, Good Omens, Loki) and old (Cardcaptor Sakura).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Long Live The King (DBZ, bulma/vegeta)

Stopgap (Good Omens, crowley/aziraphale)

100 Zeni (DBZ, trunks/goten, bulma/vegeta)

Named (Supernatural, dean/castiel)

Solve for X (MCU, tony/loki)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I've gotten better at this! I now make sure to reply to every comment on my newer works (sometimes it's a bit overwhelming, but I think the effort is worth it).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Oneiori. Like, Cas gets a happy-ish ending, but it's not going to last. Womp womp.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

These days, I try to end all my fics on a happy note! The happiest that comes to mind is Heritage Site.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I think I've gotten hate maybe twice since I started posting to AO3 in 2010? That's statistically negligible, which is kind of amazing!

9. Do you write smut?

Not often. I don't mind writing it, but it really needs to serve a purpose to the story for me to make the effort.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you have written?

Nah, not really my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, but I've had a fic's summary stolen! That was a trip.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I'm floored people like my work enough to put that kind of time and effort into translating it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I tried, but it ultimately didn't work out (mostly due to writer's block and scheduling issues).

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

This is like asking me which of my children I love more. It'd take me a month to answer this question and I'd need someone at CERN to check my work.

I will say Kakashi/Iruka is my most enduring fave; I started reading them in 2005 and fall back into them every 3 or so years. I'm currently in a kakairu cycle (as if y'all couldn't tell).

15. What is a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Speaking of Kakashi/Iruka.... Hadopelagia. It was just far too big in scope for me to even think about finishing. I think I frightened myself out of it! For the best, though. I re-read it the other night and it's a MESS. This is why betas are so important, kids.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten a lot of comments about how I use metaphor effectively, as well as comedy. I don't think I'm particularly funny compared to other writers, but it always fills me with joy when someone mentions my dumb sense of humor.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Definitely smut. There's nothing worse than trying to keep track of where everyone's legs are.

Me: "I used the word 'cock' fourteen times in this paragraph......... well, maybe no one will notice."

18. Thoughts of writing dialogue in another language in fics?

I've done it! Named had a whole scene written in Spanish (I tried my hand at it and then had a native speaker edit it). I think when done well, it adds something really meaningful to a story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first fanfic I ever wrote was before I even knew what fanfiction was. It was an Animorphs self-insert fic and I wrote it on a legal pad at my grandparents' house in like 1997. The first fandom I officially posted fic for was Fruits Basket in 2003, followed by QAF in 2004.

20. Favorite fic you have written?

Probably A Twist of the Knife. I had an absolute blast writing Nie Huaisang, and I'm really proud of the story as a whole (which is rare for me).

Tagging: @sonatine, @lemonistas, @stitchyblogs, @dadvans, @ataraxetta, @nandalorian, and anyone else who wants to get in on the action. :-D