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frostedfaves · 3 years ago

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Naive (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You pick up on the lies in Wanda’s life and she decides to show you the truth.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, more hints at dom/sub because I’m a whore for demon!Wanda

A/N: I can’t believe that it’s been a month since I posted the last one 😭 I have some things planned for the next part and so on but I also kinda wanna take requests again??? idk we all know how I get overwhelmed easily with that so we’ll see what happens there. anyway tell me your thoughts on this please!

Previous part

Waking up feels like gasping for air after being trapped underwater. You aren’t sure how long you were asleep, but the mid afternoon traffic quickly alerts you of how much of the day has passed.

Despite your head feeling like it’s made of cement, you manage to stand up, slipping off thin pajamas as you walk into the bathroom and stop at the mirror. Your skin seems tender in places and you’re a little bit startled when there isn’t a single indication of the bite marks and scratches you feel, even after rubbing your eyes a few times and turning in every direction possible. Deciding to let it go for now, you reach for the shower stall to turn on the water, detouring to the bedroom instead when you hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t save my number, did you?”

“Wanda?” You pull the phone away long enough to quickly clear your throat. “I mean hey, Wanda! What makes you think I didn’t save your number?”

“You answered like you didn’t know who was going to be on the other end.”

“Okay, you caught me,” you admit after a moment of silence. “I promise I’ll save it as soon as we hang up. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Remember that pet adoption center you pointed out to me?” You acknowledge her with a hum. “I was thinking about getting a cat…Wanna tag along?”

“Absolutely! I was just about to shower though so I can be ready in an hour or so.”

“Perfect! I’ll text you when I’m outside.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and you keep your promise of saving her number, typing in her name and hesitating on the emoji keyboard. Realizing you’d spent far too much time contemplating this, you simply save what you have and hurry back to the bathroom, something in your brain urging you to not keep her waiting.

Within an hour, she sends you a text in all caps and a smiley face that tells you she’s arrived, and you can’t hide the fact that you’re surprised when you come outside and she’s waiting on the passenger side of the car.

“Hey! How are you?” she greets cheerily as she approaches you with a hug, and you shiver when her hand touches your lower back. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m okay.” You smile and thank her when she opens the door for you, attempting to collect yourself as she crosses to the driver’s side again. “I’m really happy to see you again.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you admit quietly as she pulls away from the curb. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, I just didn’t want to assume you were enjoying our time together as much as I was.”

She places her hand over yours while she glances at you, smiling as she squeezes your fingers and thigh lightly. You feel a rush of something traveling from the places she touched to your brain, only slightly aware of the fog settling in your mind.

“Well I didn’t want to be too enthusiastic about it and scare you away if all you wanted was friendship,” you clarify, meeting her eyes when she reaches a red light.

“I suppose you’re looking for more too, then.”

“I am now.”

The light turns green and she breaks eye contact, but the little smirk that follows tells you everything you need to know. At least, you hope it does.

“I think he’s the cutest one we’ve seen yet,” you comment about the kitten that hasn’t looked away from Wanda since you approached his area. “He seems really drawn to you, too.”

“How did he get the name ‘Baby Satan’?” Wanda inquires with an employee, who approaches you with a chuckle.

“It’s actually Baby Stan, because we used to have an adult cat named Stan as well and needed to tell the two apart. We were going to give him a new name but decided to leave that up to his new family.”

“It says ‘Baby Satan’ though,” you cosign with Wanda, gesturing to the extra A mixed in with the magnetic letters that spell the kitten’s name.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that got there,” the employee apologizes as she reaches over to fix the sign, and you watch her freeze as Wanda touches her arm.

“Don’t be sorry. Keep it; I want to adopt him.”

“Okay, right this way,” the employee mumbles as she turns awkwardly and stumbles over to a desk, and as the two of you follow her, you look back to see Baby Satan still staring at the woman beside you.

“What was that about?” you speak up finally once you’re in the car with her new furry friend, and Wanda frowns at you while fastening her seatbelt.

“What?”

“Why did that employee react to you like that? You touched her and she started acting really weird after.”

“Oh, Kim’s fine!” she assures you as she fixes her mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. “I actually asked her about that while you were looking at scratching posts and she said I’d overstepped her boundaries and made her uncomfortable. Don’t worry, I apologized and everything’s good again.”

“She told you her name?”

“She was wearing a name tag, babe.”

Babe...that’s new. Still, the sudden nickname doesn’t completely distract you from the fact that you’re certain there was no name tag on Kim’s uniform. You’re debating with yourself about bringing this up when you notice her heading toward Lane County.

“Are you taking me to your house?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” She glances at you and over her shoulder toward Baby Satan before turning back to the road. “I figured I could introduce both of my kittens to the place they’ll be spending a lot of time in.”

Her fingers brush over your knee as “my kittens” leaves her lips, and you’re almost embarrassed when your hips involuntarily buck slightly. Noticing the small change in your behavior, she takes advantage of your head turned toward your own window and allows her instincts to continue driving while she stares at you, placing her palm on your thigh and rubbing circles on the fabric covering it that brings her closer and closer to your core.

“Home, sweet home,” Wanda announces as she pulls her wandering hand away to park the car, jumping out a second later and grabbing her furry son from the backseat. “Hey there, Baby S.”

You step out of the car in a similar fashion of pulling yourself out of a swimming pool, taking in the fresh air and trying to relax yourself as you follow her into the apartment building. The hallways reflect the quiet and clean neighborhood as you make your way into the elevator and up to the 6th floor, suddenly entering the most empty apartment you’ve ever seen.

Of course there’s furniture: a couch with a TV mounted on the nearest wall, a dining table with a set of matching chairs, a few stools placed at the island and kitchen appliances that are shiny and new. But there isn’t any personal artwork, posters, books or even just a lamp that you could tell Wanda purchased herself with one glance.

“Are you staying in an AirBNB or something?” you ask as she carefully places Baby Satan’s carrier next to the couch, and she chuckles.

“I guess technically it was one before I moved in, but I’ve been here for two years.”

“Okay...so where are your pictures?”

“What?”

“Where are your pictures?” you repeat, maintaining a steady voice despite the expression she gives you as she faces you again. “Pictures of your family, friends, you as a child?”

“If you knew my family, you’d understand why you don’t see them here.” She startles you by practically growling her words but you press further.

“Okay but you also said you love plants and we’re the only living things in here.” You step back to put more space between you while quiet shuffling noises are heard inside the carrier. “What’s really going on here?”

You can easily spot the shift in Wanda’s emotions: going from defensive, arms crossed and eyes glaring to resigned with slightly sagging shoulders and a defeated sigh.

“Fine, you got me.” She bends over to pick up the carrier again and passes you on her way to the door, stopping a few feet away. “If you’re serious about pursuing a relationship with me, then I should probably show you my real home.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, love.” She comes just close enough to bring your hand into hers and a tingle spreads through your body, causing you to pull away but her grip only tightens. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, and this is the only time I’ve lied.”

You find yourself being drawn closer to her, and an almost familiar feeling washes over you when her thumb begins rubbing gentle circles into your jaw. The metal on her ring is so cold it almost burns upon contact, yet you nuzzle into her more with each pass along your skin.

“Don’t you want to be good for me without being forced to your knees first?”

If the fog surrounding your consciousness wasn’t so thick, you might’ve been shocked by this side of her, so calm yet demanding you serve her. But the hand on your jaw seemed to cover every inch of your body and sink into your nervous system, forcing you to fall into her and let her lead you back to the car with a simple arm around your waist. You’re buckled into the passenger seat again and a slightly blurry grin greets you from behind the wheel seconds later.

“I can’t wait to make you mine.”

Your head falls against the car window as she drives to the edge of Lane County, and your altered vision picks up on businesses turning into isolated suburbs into grassy fields into forests. You travel along narrow, winding roads past the tallest of trees with very few spaces in between, and your hazy state of mind prevents you from panicking when Wanda turns onto a dirt path that doesn’t even seem to be safe for bicycles. The wheels bump along the forest floor until she comes to a stop just outside of a two foot dwelling, similar to a cave.

Once the two of you are out of the car again, she holds your hand with her free one until you reach the cave, instructing you to sit in front of it while she does the same. She places her palm on the door, and her rings seem to come alive as they interact with it for a few moments before it swings open and the three of you are sent flying through a tunnel. You land with a groan on the hard floor and dust yourself off as you carefully stand, any questions dying in your throat as you face Wanda again, now standing before you in her true form.

“Welcome home.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #frosty's dark!fics

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unityghost · 3 years ago

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Masquerade

Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.

Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:

Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.

I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Gabriel.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, you’re not coming to fight.”

“I heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed I’d lay low. Thing is, I don’t want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.”

Sam’s face softened. “You gave us all the information you could.”

He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldn’t accompany them.

Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Sam’s hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.

Even so:

“You really don’t know much about these sons of bitches,” Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. “And I’ve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.”

But Sam held firm. “You’ve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We don’t need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really aren’t ready for this. And I’m not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When you’re stronger, I won’t make you stay put. Promise.”

“In other words, I’d slow you guys down.” Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, “Fine. You’re hardly off the mark, so fine. I’ll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesn’t know what’s coming then you’ve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.”

Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadn’t told him this already. “Sure thing.”

“Did you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.”

“Dean and I both meditated.”

“Like I said: complex and contemplative. I’m not as worried about Dean.”

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. But while we’re gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be?”

Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.

Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.

Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: he’d dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.

Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchesters’ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.

“I’m not questioning whether you can take them on,” Gabriel had told them. “I’m just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than you’ve been able to read up on.”

“So tell us more,” Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“I told you all I know! It’s not like I’ve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But I’ve seen what they can do to humans, and …” Gabriel paused, remembering. “A couple of times I was able to chase them off.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And the other times?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want to admit that the “other times” had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. “I just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.”

“We’ve got everything we need,” Sam assured him from the passenger seat. “Plenty of options in the trunk.”

“I’m not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.”

“Then what’s the point of this trip anyway?” Dean demanded.

“See, Sam? Your brother gets what I’m trying to say.”

“As long as we can chase it off,” Sam reminded them both. “Look, Gabriel - I hear you. We don’t know how to kill it. So we’re going to immobilize it.”

“Right.” Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “With your fancy-pants spellwork.”

“Rowena told us - ”

“Rowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They can’t swim, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?”

Sam sighed. “You’re just gonna have to trust us. We’re doing the best we can.”

“I know. That’s why I insisted on tagging along.”

Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.

He began walking. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.

That’s how it works when there’s no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.

It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.

“Cool,” Gabriel said to the mountain air. “Because this won’t take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what we’re doing.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.

He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasn’t sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldn’t remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.

What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadn’t, was: “If it’s a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?”

How’s it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: I’ll let you know when we get rid of it.

That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasn’t a good assessor of others’ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out he’d tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldn’t have to deal with punishment.

Sam’s not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Sam’s hand had stimulated it.

Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get this done.

When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.

Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.

“Come on,” Gabriel called. “Eat me.”

All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.

The creature stared at him and smiled.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel told it. “You look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.”

The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.

When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:

“The blackness thickens,” it said. “No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. It’s a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps they’ll let you stay. Ask nicely and they’ll allow you to keep stealing from them.”

Gabriel’s skin crawled. “What are you doing, you mangy freak?”

“It has not been able to read your mind before,” the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that “it” meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. “You used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldn’t get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?”

“I’m here to - ”

“And yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that you’re a failure, and they’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.”

Gabriel stepped backward.

Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.

“The son of a bitch is not screwing with you,” the creature said. “Your memories - I smell them on your breath.” The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. “You fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.”

Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.

The creature gave its choking laugh again. “You see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.”

“Wrong.” Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t do this the way he used to. “No one knows better than yours truly.”

The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasn’t enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.

Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.

He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasn’t impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.

He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.

During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:

I know you’ll hate me and I don’t blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.

A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???

Almost to the motel.

What were you thinking???

Gabriel didn’t reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Don’t move.

I’m almost back; calm down.

He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.

Are you sure? Sam asked.

Yes. Chill. I’ll meet you there.

He didn’t check the messages after that.

Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Sam’s room several hours before.

Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“You didn’t even take a weapon?” Dean cried when the brothers returned. “You were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?”

Sam strode over to the bed. “Did you really - ”

“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.”

Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. “Did it do anything to you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t hurt you?”

“If it had, then my answer would’ve been yes. I’m fine, Sam. I’m good. And I knew you’d be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.”

“I’m not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.”

“Well, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? What’s done is done and we’re all still freakin’ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.”

He knew that Sam wasn’t yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.

Sam glanced at Dean.

“He’s an idiot,” Dean announced.

“Come on,” Sam snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither was going after a monster without telling us first.” Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.

“He’s worried, that’s all,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he’s all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.” Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. “I know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, I’d be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. I’m not sorry for that.”

“I …” Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. “I’m glad you managed to pull it off. Just don’t do it again.”

With an effort, Gabriel sat up. “I’m not interested in standing by anymore.”

“We’ve had this talk already: you don’t owe us anything.”

“Fine.” Gabriel flopped back down. He hadn’t removed his shoes. “I just knew what had to be done in this instance. It can’t be taken back now and I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Sam’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told him. “It’s only that - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “I knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didn’t run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.”

“I wouldn’t disown you. You know that. I’m not mad, and if I was - ”

“You are mad. But frankly, I figured you’d be a lot worse than this.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. “I trust you. You obviously don’t have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe let’s have this conversation tomorrow.”

“No need. Go clean yourself up.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Too tired. Not conscious.”

As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.

There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasn’t worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.

There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasn’t particularly concerned about Dean’s feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.

Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldn’t make a sound.

There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.

He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Dean’s place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.

“Okay back there?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded.

“Here - ” Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.

“I’m fine,” snapped Gabriel. “I can move on my own.”

He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldn’t leave him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam. “Hey, you’re all sweaty and shaky.”

“Tired from using up my grace. Think there’s probably none left.” Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.

He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.

“Gabe,” said Sam, “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Is that so?” He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Jesus, Sam, I’ll tell you if something’s wrong!”

“Okay!” Sam looked alarmed. “I just - okay.”

Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didn’t deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasn’t well.

He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.

“I just need a little rest,” he said. “That’s all it is. I’m on edge, all right? But I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

“All right.” Gabriel wasn’t sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back this time.

That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasn’t unable to eat, and mostly it wasn’t a necessity; usually, however, he didn’t have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.

If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didn’t say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.

Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.

Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.

Is this not proof of what you have become?

Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dean’s behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.

Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasn’t unusual for him - but he didn’t say anything.

If Jack had any suspicions about Gabriel’s newfound stoicism, he didn’t let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.

“Why are you looking at me like that, kid?” Gabriel asked him one evening.

Jack replied, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, and the subject didn’t come up again.

The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.

“Hey,” he said to the others. “You guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Every time I take a bite,” Gabriel elaborated, “At least one of you watches me like you think I’m going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but I’m starting to feel like there’s something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.”

“Your teeth look fine to me,” said Jack.

“Look,” Gabriel went on, “I get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?”

Sam appeared taken aback. “Is that what we’re doing? I guess I was just …”

Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, he’d been able to get away with lighter fare.

The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.

“You were just what?” Gabriel asked when he’d swallowed.

“Uh …” Sam blinked. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You’re used to me being a swooning maiden,” Gabriel countered. “Right now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. “All right. Sorry, Gabriel. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: “Who knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Henson’s fever-dream, maybe I’m not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.”

Sam smiled, looking more at ease. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “You including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.”

“That’s true,” Castiel agreed. He hadn’t taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. “I’ve never seen the two of you get along so well.”

“Right?” Gabriel sat back. “So what do you have to complain about, Sam?”

“I’m not complaining, Gabriel, really.”

“Good. Because if you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when he’d dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.

Instead, he saw Sam further relax. “All right. I will.”

Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Sam’s eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.

After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. “C’mere a minute.”

Gabriel followed him into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Look, I’m not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and that’s even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. “Why are you harassing me about this?”

“Well, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing,” Gabriel told him. “All I know is it isn’t real.”

“Maybe Sam should be the one to decide that.”

“Oh please. What’s Sam got to do with anything?”

Dean remained stone-faced.

Gabriel hardened his voice. “No one’s bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem you’ve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?”

“No,” said Dean, “Because I’d never hear the end of it from this new version of you.”

“What ‘new version’ of me? I can’t figure out if I’m being insulted.”

“Look, all I know is people don’t change like this overnight. Not without a reason.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Gabriel snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe it’s none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isn’t right.”

“I - ” Gabriel faltered. “You don’t want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that there’s any - but if there were, if I was - look, no one’s asking Sam for anything, okay? There’s no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesn’t need to do anything. Poor sap’s done enough for every lifetime he’s been put through.”

“I think he’d wanna know.”

“What would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?”

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t’ve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.” He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. “Sam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldn’t tell him something, though.”

Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: “Are you sure you haven’t mentioned anything? About … about whatever you think you see?”

“No. Should I?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Look, Gabe,” said Dean, “He worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he could’ve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“I’ll see you later, Gabe,” Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.

With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.

He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.

Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.

It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.

Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldn’t be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as …

Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.

The hour has come to show that you’re a failure.

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.

They’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.

No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.

But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Sam’s, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldn’t make out the words, and then he realized he couldn’t fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.

Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didn’t even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.

“Gabriel.” Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?”

Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.

“Geez,” Sam told him. “Gabe, buddy, we couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldn’t make himself speak.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Sam told him, “And when I came in to check on you, you just …” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t move,” Castiel finished.

Gabriel leaned back against Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam pressed. “I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. “I’ve fainted plenty.”

“This is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - ” Sam paused. “We just didn’t know what was going on.”

“Tired,” Gabriel slurred.

“This goes beyond tired, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“My grace … it’s …”

“It’s what?” Sam prodded.

“Dunno. I …” Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. “Killing the monster, the satori - ”

Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabriel’s breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, “Maybe took some fight out of me.”

“This is why I told you not to come.” Sam didn’t sound angry - just worried, even afraid. “I know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. You’re not ready for something like that.”

“Through no fault of your own,” Castiel added.

Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked him. “Does anything hurt?”

“Why?” The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.

“What? Why what?”

“What good’re you gonna get out of knowing what’s the matter with me?”

Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Sam’s lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.

Castiel spoke up: “I suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that you’ve become an important part of his life, and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Gabriel …” Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabriel’s eyes. “I don’t understand. You seemed okay last night.”

“I’m still okay.”

“That’s obviously not true,” said Cas.

“Can you try and sit up?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a moment’s doubt about his own pride.

Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldn’t want to touch me either.

He closed his eyes.

“No,” Sam commanded. “Gabriel, don’t. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.”

When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.

Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?

He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldn’t imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.

That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Maybe …”

“Yes. Of course.” Gabriel felt his brother watching him. “If you need me, I’m nearby. Although I suspect you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel heard the door close.

“All right,” Sam said, “I know you don’t like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually I’d let up a little, but if you’re sick you need to tell me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what happened just now?”

“Beats me. But what do you expect?” Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. “I used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?”

“No, of course I don’t blame you. But I’m not talking about your grace. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? What do you think we’re discussing here, then?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked helpless. “You seemed fine yesterday, and now you’re - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... ”

“Am I not an open book to you anymore? Good.”

“What?”

“There’s no reason for you to be inside my head. There’s no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.”

Sam was silent.

“I see through your strategy, Sam,” Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. “I - when you’re quiet, you want me to talk.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“About what whole thing? About you trying to get well?”

“Pal, if that’s what you’re looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously I’m better. I haven’t cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I don’t see how that’s a questionable development.”

“No, I mean, it’s not, but - ”

“But what, Sam?”

“It’s not. Really, it isn’t.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Sam’s eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.

If there was a third option, Gabriel didn’t see it.

“I don’t want to give you a whole novel about this,” he said. “My head is killing me.”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: “When we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself if I hadn’t - if I wasn’t - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldn’t read my mind. I was an angel and it couldn’t get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?”

Sam looked blankly at him.

“Come on, Mr. Ivy League,” Gabriel pressed. “This is measurable proof that right now, at least, I’m more human than anything else. Plus, I’ve already got one monster in my head. I don’t need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but don’t you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Well, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.”

“Gabriel, if you didn’t have any power then you wouldn’t have been able to take that thing down in the first place.”

“And look at how that turned out. I can barely move.”

“That’s because you haven’t given yourself a chance to recover.”

“How was I even supposed to know I needed it? I’ve been fine this last week.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!”

"I sort of wasn’t talking about the satori.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. I’ve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.”

“Did you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I … should I have checked?”

The guilt in Sam’s voice made Gabriel wish he’d stayed unconscious. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said no, Sam.”

“You’re not well.” There was horror and distress on Sam’s face now. “I thought - ”

“Christ, Sam, relax.”

“Why didn’t you - ”

“Because this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And that’s almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?”

“Gabriel …”

“Answer the question. I’m serious. I can’t solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go without messing something up.”

Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. “I guess it depends.”

“No, see, that’s not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I don’t feel good. Why’s that? I don’t feel good when I’m alone; I don’t feel good about how I act when you step in. There’s no winning for me, and for you there’s just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. There’s a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I don’t know what to do. Just stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesn’t lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.”

Sam seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everything’s okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Well, I don’t know what I want; as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.”

“I don’t think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.”

“Sure, fine, but let’s not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.”

Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened with the satori?”

“Because then I would’ve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You would’ve been worried about me.”

“I’m worried about you anyway.”

“Yup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?”

“So you think - ”

Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. “Stop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!”

Sam looked aghast. “I’m not!”

“So what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - ” Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. “You know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not here for you to play with me, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Gabriel - ”

“Is this what you want?” Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. “You think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I don’t like myself like this! I don’t want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!”

“No, no - hey - ” Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. “I - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?”

“No!”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I!” Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. “So stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!”

“I know you do.” Sam’s voice shook. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I don’t know. But none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry if I messed up.”

“You didn’t! I did! I don’t know! Stop it!” Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.

“You said I was like him.” Sam sounded weak. “If I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.”

“You’re not like him; you - you’re trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I don’t know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!”

“I had no idea that’s what I was doing!”

“Because you’re - Sam, you’re - ” Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, “You’re not evil.”

That seemed to perplex Sam. “I hope not.”

“Of course you aren’t. But do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I … no, I guess I don’t.”

Gabriel didn’t know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.

No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend.

“I wasn’t like this before,” he said.

“That’s because you weren’t trapped in Hell before.”

“You’ve been trapped in Hell! And you’re nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but you’re nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That thing knew,” Gabriel wailed. “That thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what I’m afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I can’t get into my head! I don’t have any control anymore, Sam - none.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That creature thought I was human, Sam,” Gabriel whispered. “Feeding on your kindness hasn’t done anything except squash me.”

Not one of them wants you.

“I know I can’t really understand what it’s like, exactly,” said Sam, “But what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you aren’t, and your grace always comes back - even it’s on the slower side.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not about the grace.” He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. “It’s about this.”

“About …”

Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know, and you’re just trying to get me to say it?”

“No! I’m not trying to make you say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. “Well, then it’s about - it’s about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, it’s for the better; you don’t want to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and I’d give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. I’m weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.”

“No.”

“At least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. He’d destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didn’t have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didn’t have to play at not being vulnerable. It’s not like that anymore, Sam.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“You’d expect so, wouldn’t you? Me too. I’ve lost track of what’s good and what’s bad. So it’s not my grace I’m worried about. Or - no, that’s not true. I do worry about my grace, because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be without it. It’s more like - it’s that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.”

Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.

Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldn’t relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I know I don’t make this easy for you.”

Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: “Can I tell you something?”

Gabriel froze. This wasn’t the first time he’d become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. “I just wanted to say that I don’t look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldn’t? And don’t say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "I’ve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long … there’s a lot you didn’t see.” Bitterness crept into Sam’s voice. “Anyway, you can’t help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.”

Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Sam’s voice hurt him.

Finally, he managed: “You set that up to sound so dramatic.”

Sam smiled. “Sorry.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.

Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. “You’re convincing, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“The way you just … slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didn’t seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you would’ve been scared of getting in trouble.”

“Hm.” Gabriel considered. “Well, I’ve said it before, Sam: I don’t know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; that’s all I can tell you.”

“And I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I don’t know, maybe I’m off, but that’s a decision you might not have made before.”

“It was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that would’ve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.”

“But you probably weren’t so sure about whether you would come out okay.” There was no accusation in Sam’s voice; he was merely making an observation.

“No,” Gabriel agreed, “I didn’t.”

Sam went on, “And it says something, doesn’t it, that you were able to put on such a good act? That’s an old talent that maybe you haven’t tapped into in a while.”

“It must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.”

Sam looked surprised. “When?”

“Last night he cornered me about how it isn’t standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.”

“Wow." Sam blinked. "I guess I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Well, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether that’s you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.”

“Oh geez, Gabriel …” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like that, buddy.”

“Of course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.” Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. “And when I wasn’t whatever I am now, the satori couldn’t get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t stay awake,” Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, you’re proving my point. “Can I rest a little bit?”

Sam hesitated. “Let me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure you’re not out cold again. Then, if you’re okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.”

“Fine.” Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadn’t the stamina to argue.

Sam helped adjust Gabriel’s position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabriel’s shoulders. He didn’t move to leave.

If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didn’t want to know.

#Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels #PASF #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Sabriel #Platonic #Friendship #Fanfic prompts #Do I regret my decision to forgo anonymity?#Sometimes #Too late now #Oh well #Gabriel #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Gabriel/Sam Winchester

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shadowywerewolfqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Pumpkin

“Cas, what the heck is that?” Dean exclaimed as he walked into his living room. He stared at his husband who was nestled on the couch holding some sort of black and white creature in his arms. “Did you buy a stuffed animal when you went grocery shopping?”

“No, Dean, it’s not a stuffed animal.” He turned the creature to face Dean. “This is Pumpkin the skunk,” Cas announced proudly.

Dean dropped his jacket to the floor. “You bought a freaking skunk into our house? Dude, do you know how bad those things smell?”

Cas glared at him. “Dean, Pumpkin is a captive bred skunk and had his scent glands removed when he was just a baby. The only thing he smells like is oatmeal from the bath I gave him when we got home.” Cas exaggerated the kiss he placed to the skunk’s head.

“Ok, besides the fact that the thing doesn’t smell, why do you even have it in the first place?” Dean grabbed his jacket off the floor and walked into the living room. He sat on the couch next to Cas and stared at the animal in his husband’s lap.

“There was an elderly couple who couldn’t take care of him anymore and were looking to find him a good home. They allowed me to have him with the condition that they could come visit every so often to see him.” Cas slid his hand softly down the skunk’s body. He smiled up at Dean. “Please, sweetheart, can we keep him. The couple said he’s well behaved and very sweet. I mean, can you really say no this face?”

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cas’ forehead. “You have a face I can’t say no to. You can keep him. A few rules though. He’s your responsibility to take care of, meaning you feed him, bathe him, take him for walks, clean up after him, and whatever else he needs. Anything you buy for him, toys, bowls, beds, whatever all needs to be kept in the spare bedroom. Also, he is not sleeping in the bed with us.”

Cas rolled his eyes even as he smiled. “Yes, dear, I promise to keep all of his stuff in the spare bedroom and no sleeping in the bed. Thank you for letting me keep him.” Cas pecked Dean on the lips. “Now, do you mind making a run to the pet store?”

A few weeks later, Dean crawled out of bed and walked towards the kitchen. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee. He took a sip and moaned as the hot liquid slid down his throat and heat spread throughout his body. He took a step back and winced as his foot landed on something hard.

He looked at the ground and muttered, “Dammit, Cas, you were supposed to pick his toys up.” Dean set the cup on the counter and started picking up the array of toys scattered around the kitchen floor. There were jingly balls, tiny mice, chew bones, and even a stuffed lamb laying haphazardly on the floor. He walked to Pumpkin’s room and threw the toys inside.

The skunk immediately jumped from his bed and ran over to greet Dean. Dean squatted down and patted the skunk on his head. “Morning, Pumpkin. Sorry we locked you in last night, but Cas and I needed a little bit of alone time. You hungry?”

Dean walked back to the kitchen, Pumpkin close on his heels. He opened the fridge and pulled out chicken breasts, boiled eggs, carrots, rice, and apples. As he cut everything up, he would hand little pieces down to Pumpkin who gobbled them up greedily. Once Pumpkin’s breakfast was ready, Dean set the bowl on the floor and watched with a grin as the skunk dug in. He grabbed the water bowl and filled it with fresh water before setting it back down. While Pumpkin ate, Dean happily sipped on his coffee.

After Pumpkin had finished eating, Dean put his harness on and took him for his morning walk around the block. As they strolled down the sidewalk, Dean’s neighbors waved and called out morning greetings. A couple kids even ran up and asked to pet Pumpkin who soaked up the extra attention.

Dean and Pumpkin returned home to find Cas still asleep. “How about we watch some Dr. Sexy, Pumpkin?” Dean asked the skunk as he settled on the couch. He patted the sofa cushion and Pumpkin crawled up next to him.

When Cas walked into the living room an hour alter, Dean was laying on the couch, Pumpkin curled up in his lap. Cas kissed both of them before looking at Dean with a smile. “It seems you made all those rules for nothing.”

“Nah, there’s one rule I still follow. I’m not cleaning his litter box.” Dean patted Pumpkin on the head. “I’ll admit though, I kind of missed waking up to him curled at my feet.”

Cas rolled his eyes as he kissed Dean again. “And you said you’d never let some furry creature in bed with you.”

Dean flashed a smirk in Cas’ direction. “I let you in bed with me, don’t I?”

“Just for that, you can give him his bath today,” Cas said with a grin as he started walking away.

“That’s fine, but you can clean up the mess we’ll make,” Dean called. He chuckled when all he received was the middle finger thrown over Cas’ shoulder.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel

PSA: While skunks can make wonderful pets, they do require lots of care and very specific dietary restrictions. Before getting any pet, make sure you understand the responsibility and are ready to commit to the pet for their whole life.

#Destiel drabble #destiel #My writing #my OTP #my drabbles #husbands #cutest pets #skunks

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cbd-stories · 3 years ago

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CBD and Pets: What you need to Know

For many pet lovers out there, constantly looking for new ways to keep your kitty, or your pooch happy and healthy Is a huge priority. A recent study by the Department of Clinical Sciences at the Veterinary Teaching Hospital at Colorado State University might have uncovered some ground-breaking potential benefits of CBD treating idiopathic seizures in dogs. In this article, we will look at what exactly CBD is, what potential benefits it might hold for our furry friends, and how to make it part of your pet’s daily routine.

What Is CBD?

CBD, or cannabidiol, has recently been getting a lot of buzz in the pet industry. The main source of research in this area is the use of cannabis as a treatment for various types of illnesses and conditions including epilepsy, but CBD oil is a popular product for pets due to its lack of mind-altering properties. So, what is it? Cannabidiol is derived from cannabis Sativa, also known as marijuana, and is derived from a variety of other parts of the plant including root, seed, and stalk. It was never used as a drug and was previously thought to have no medicinal value. However, an extract of this substance is thought to have positive effects on several mental disorders for both humans and pets.

What Are The Benefits Of CBD?

CBD is one of a family of cannabinoids, which are also known as cannabinoids of industrial hemp. Though these compounds are commonly referred to as cannabis, the plant is a variety of hemp that has had its THC levels removed (meaning the cannabis plant itself is no longer a mind-altering substance). The cannabinoids found in the hemp plant, therefore, are devoid of the psychoactive component of THC. CBD has many potential uses for humans and animals. It is often used to treat anxiety, chronic pain, and depression. Recent studies show the benefits of CBD for dogs, and there is some evidence that it could help prevent epileptic seizures.

How To Use CBD For Pets

First and foremost, CBD is legal in all 50 U.S. states, for both medical and recreational use. It comes as a concentrated oil, which, when administered under the supervision of a veterinary professional, can be safely used by all animal species. I much prefer hemp CBD oils myself, because they tend to be greener and have a higher cannabinoid count, without being too hempy tasting. While I highly recommend treating your pets with CBD, it’s not for them all the time. If you have any other questions about pet CBD or need a recommendation for a particular type of CBD oil, I recommend checking the Elements of Green Website. They offer a wide range of pet-friendly CBD products.

Conclusion

Research has shown a lot of promise for the potential benefits of CBD. The technology that’s currently used in the clinical world isn’t able to produce enough THC-dominant extracts to achieve a true therapeutic effect in many situations. However, as more and more research is done, the lines are beginning to blur. Once this is overcome, then the results could be significant.

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the-ashen-gm · 5 years ago

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A Variant for the Awaken spell - for bards and druids who want a little more personality in their newly-intelligent friends

This is a loooong post so TL;DR - awaken should give the creatures it affects a new alignment, some personality traits, and the possibility of more varied mental ability scores just like humanoids have. And now, on with the post.

Awaken is one of those spells that I’ve always dreamt of casting but have never played a game at a high enough level to get to it. You basically get to magic an NPC into existence from nothing, and that NPC is either an animal companion (dope) or a goddamn sentient tree (also dope). From the point where this awakened creature becomes sentient, a whole new world opens up for them. They can attune to magic items with their newly-lengthened attention span, they can learn new languages, tool and weapon proficiencies, they could even (theoretically) become classed characters just like a PC (if your DM allows it with the right amount of training, of course. I, for one, would require several months at least of downtime to become a 1st level character from being level 0).

There was one issue I noticed, however. Awaken doesn’t give your furry/fir-y friend an alignment (which is a crucial part of being, like, a person in D&D) nor does it budge their Wisdom or Charisma. Lots of beasts have decent or above-average Wisdom, but their Charisma is usually pretty poor. Maybe you like that idea; maybe for you it is inevitable that an Awakened Beast (or Tree) would be socially awkward after spending the majority of its life unable to do much in the speaking department beyond growling or purring (if a Beast), repeating phrases (if a parrot or similar), or merely rustling in the wind (if a Plant). But I, for one, want to see the Urchin PC’s pet rat bangin’ out the tunes and giving out Bardic Inspiration from his keeper’s coat pocket.

(look at him go!)

So to fix what I see as a problem, I would like to propose three tweaks to the awaken spell: first, the spell sets the creature’s Intelligence to 10, but it also changes its Wisdom and Charisma to 10 as well. This represents it gaining the “mind of a person”, which is average in all respects. They lose their animal instincts to a certain degree (as shown by their probably-lowered Wisdom) but gain the ability to converse with humanoids and not make a total ass of themselves (assuming they weren’t an ass to begin with) doing it. At this point, the creature is assumed to be a bit like a baby that’s suddenly gained an adult’s intelligence: quite befuddled by the broadened scope of the world but also keen to figure out its place in it (or perhaps keen to return to its old life?).

Secondly, after the first 30 days that the creature spends not charmed by you (considering that they aren’t really themselves if they’re charmed by you 24/7) the DM decides on the creature’s personality that is going to be more-or-less permanent. The way I see it, the creature needs that first month to figure out who it is now that its mind has been so altered. It keeps all its memories and prior attachments (assuming it’s a beast), but now that it has a humanoid-level mind it must have a personality beyond mere instincts. To figure that out, the DM assigns the creature a new alignment, as it simply will not do for a walking, talking member of society to go around Unaligned like a mere beast! They also assign some personality traits, an ideal, a bond, and some flaws just like they would for any NPC. In theory, over the last month the creature will have undertaken actions that prove its essential character. An Awakened Giant Boar who betrays its keeper to join up with some mercenaries who promise it its favourite treat (them good mashed carrots) may be labelled Chaotic Neutral (or even Chaotic Evil) and given the ideal “I go wherever the eating’s good” and the flaw “I am disloyal and selfish, and will abandon anyone who does not attend to my needs”. Meanwhile, an Awakened Parrot who accidentally casts a spell by mimicking the party wizard’s vocal components and then begins dabbling in wizardry itself may have the bond “I cast my first spell quite by accident, and now I’m excited to see what more power I have hidden within me” and the flaw “I’m terrified that my lifespan as a parrot won’t be enough to reach my potential and so I overwork myself to compensate”. Such a beast may be labelled Neutral Good or Neutral Evil depending on its goals.

Lastly the DM chooses two of the three “mental” ability scores and raises one by 1d4 points and lowers another by 1d4 points. I think it would fun to have some variety in our awakened creatures and sort out which ones have the innate talent to learn new things (like a rat with high Charisma becoming a world-renowned musician, for example). Likewise, no one aside from the truly exceptional has decent stats across the board (as many animals have good Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution already) so I think we should lower one for the sake of balance and to show the creature’s personality more. Maybe the musical rat lost any and all animal instinct during the awakening ritual (thus now having a lower Wisdom score) and is now totally unable to relate to fellow rats as he drowns in the praise of humanoid fans. But do his fans truly understand him, or do they just love him for his music? Does anyone understand him? Can anyone understand him? What does it mean to have the mind and future of a humanoid but the body and past of a beast? Was the awakening ritual a gift… or was it a curse?

Idk. I’m just here to talk about D&D.

#dnd #dnd5e #homebrew #spellcasting #bard spell #druid spell #neil banging out the tunes

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expresscbd · 4 months ago

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#cbdfordogs

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dougtfs · 6 years ago

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Check it out -- my first new book in four months is now available for pre-order! Order today and it’ll automatically download onto your phone, tablet, laptop or desktop when it’s released on February 18.

Get ready for more hairy muscle men transforming into primitive beasts! In the second installment of the Devolving Jocks series, a group of friends find themselves slipping down the evolutionary ladder after a hot sweaty three-way. Paul and Jack get sexy with their friend Terry, but the experience leaves them all with primitive bodies and dumbed-down minds. In hopes of transforming back to normal, they head over to a laboratory, picking up their friend Zach along the way -- and subjecting him to some changes as well! The devolution doesn't stop there, and soon there's a huge group of sweaty, horny men desperate for sex -- some changing into gorillas, others monkeys, and even a caveman. The smell of sweaty pits and an exchange of fluids only makes the alterations happen faster, whether or not the subject is willing or begging to retain some shred of humanity.

This is a 10,000-word adults-only story featuring hot male-male sex, dumbing down, jocks flexing and growing muscle, dudes getting furry, tails growing, sweaty smells, caveman talk, humiliation, and sexy scenes of erotic transformations.

Individuals pictured are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.

Here's an excerpt:

Liam grimaced as his body grew and he stretched his legs out in front of him to flex his toes. Fur prickled along the tops of his feet, and his toes lengthened like fingers. The soles of his feet got leathery and dark. “Ungh! Too much!” Liam’s eyes shot open and he stared down at his transforming body. “This is too much! I… I don’t wanna be a gorilla!” “Relax dude,” said Terry, putting a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “You look good.” “No, please,” Liam begged, turning to him. “Tell them to turn me back — I just wanna be a dude again! Ook!” Fur crept up from his hairy chest to cover his neck, then over his jaw and up his cheeks. His nose flattened and widened, and his ears stuck out from his head. “I feel like a freak!” “You’re a beast,” said Paul, clapping Liam on the back. “You gotta help me!" Liam exclaimed. "One bro to another, man — please, I just wanna go back to normal!” “This is normal,” said a voice from across the lab. A door opened and in walked a man in a white lab coat. “Normal for you. From now on.” “Doc! Please — turn me back!” Liam said. The man in the lab coat neared them. “That may be possible,” he said. “But you did sign a TF waiver. We’ll see what we can do. But no promises.” Liam lurched forward off of the exam table, landing with a heavy thud on all fours. He held up his hairy thick arms to inspect his changes, looked back at his fur-covered torso and his stumpy strong legs. “I … I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” he said. “You’ll get used to it,” said the researcher. “Most of our test subjects do. Now, I believe you had a friend come along in case you needed a ride home?” “Yeah, Ethan,” said Liam. “Coming, dude,” called a voice from the other side of the door. Another man walked in, in workout shorts and a tank top. He stopped short. “Liam?” “Ethan! Dude, look what they did to me!” Liam exclaimed, knuckle-walking over to his friend. Ethan backed up a few steps. “Oh no,” he said. “You’re a gorilla, bro!”

Devolving Jocks Book 2 is now available for pre-order! Order today and it’ll automatically download onto your phone, tablet, laptop or desktop when it’s released on February 18.

#ebook #amazon #monkey #ape #gorilla #tail #devolving #dumbing #fur #hair

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naturecraveketodiet · 5 years ago

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radishearts · 5 years ago

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Confession week: ladynoir july

Ao3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12,

day 4 still part 13 : sick day-

“Your getting married.”

“I’m sorry i must have heard, we’re underage, she’s like fourteen!”

“So? my ship must prevail.”

“Child no...i don’t like her like that, besides she has a thing for chat.”

“I do not.”

Viperon gave her ‘the eyebrows’.

“This is not on the table for discussion.” the akuma shouted

Suddenly the doors burst open, the seven heroes standing in instagram worthy poses.

“Sorry to be cliche, but this wedding can not commence!” chat said, smiling smugly to himself.

LB dropped everything and ran down the aisle.

“Your alive!” she whispered embracing him in a hug. “ I knew you would come, you took your pretty time.”

“Dramatic flair m’lady, remember theatrical are extremely important.”

“Of course they are.”

Chat pulled her away from the hug, gripping her shoulders.

“Are you ok, they didn’t hurt you?”

“The worst thing they did was put me in this gown.”

“Like I always say, you have impeccable taste in style, my lady.”

The akuma walked down the aisle, pulling them apart, eyeing chat down making him just slightly fearful for his life.

“Shall we get back to the ceremony ladybug.”

“Why do I have to get married.”

“Finish the story. The princess always marries the prince.”

It must of been a rare occasion because the dragoness spoke up for once at the injustice.

“May I remind you of merrida, mulan, elsa, not all problems can be solved by marriages.”

“You have a fair point, but this is my story I'm writing, and the princess shall marry her prince.”

“But he’s not MY prince.”

“Then what would you suggest then?.”

“Someone I actually know for starters, someone i have inside jokes with , someone i’ve trusted completely since day one, someone who knows me properly. No offense viperon!”

Vperon gave her a smile and fingerguns.

“And who would that be?” the akuma asked

“My favorite furry?”

“He’s no prince.”

“Actually he’s mine.” she paused looking at everyone's shocked expression. “As in he’s my prince, that's all….”

Literally everyone in the room gave her THAT look.

“Oh come one guys, you know what I meant.”

“Oh we know what you meant very well ladybug.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s your choice then, but by midnight i want a marriage.”

“By midnight?”

“Don’t question it. And do remember the ball is commencing quite soon.”

Ladybug bit her lip and looked up at chat, who gave her a sly grin and scooped her up, carrying her bridal style out of the hall.

“Chat-tton, put me down.”

“Princesses do not walk but are carried.”

“Chat i swear.”

“Swear what, that you love me?”

Ladybugs blue pupils grew wider at his suggestion.

“I don’t.”

“Sure you don’t!” the heroes chorused.

“It’s 7 to 1 m’lady, your out numbered.”

“I thought you said you would never fight against me.”

“Lover not a fighter?”

“Touche.”

“Ahem.” rena coughed” yeah sorry to interrupt you flirting but what exactly are we going to do? It’s not like you can just call in sick and leave your problems behind and just do netflix and chill.”

Chat and ladybug exchanged looks.

“Get married” the dragoness said, “ if she wants a marriage give her one.”

“You can’t marry someone you just met.”

“You cAN IF iT’s true loVe.” nino shouted making them burst into laughter.

Chat put ladybug down.

“Look, it’s gonna be fake anyway, but it’ll get the akuma off her tail with this marriage thing.”

“You're literally 14, you can’t get married!”

“You can if it was fake, besides it will just be like friends getting married, the marriage of friendship. I remember getting married to a friend of mine when I was in grade two by another friend, it was funny if you think about it.”

“So your going to fake getting married.”

“If this is anything like fake dating i’ve read enough fanfictions to know it will end up in you professing your undying love for each other.” rena joked

“Do shut up.” ladybug

“Who’s going to ‘marry’ you two then?” carapace asked.

“You, your the turtle.”

“I don’t know what the words for holy matrimony are?”

“Then go to the library and find a book, rena go with him.we’re going to try and make this as believable as possible.”

They nodded and headed off into the castle.

“Queen bee, roi singe, pegasus go find some flowers in the garden and you can just-uhh…”

“I don’t stand for this type of thing i’ll go find viperon.”

“Oh-kay?”

“What are we going to do m’lady?”

“We’re going to discuss the rest of the plan for defeating the akuma.”

She patted the bench seat next to her and he followed suit.

- “Carapace, what is taking you so long?”

“I can’t find any books on friendship matrimony.”

Rena cackled and clicked her tongue.

“Sometimes your such a dork, there aren’t any books on the marriage of friendship, because it’s not a thing!”

She grabbed a book from the shelf and hit him on the head with it lightly.

“That's only going to kill brain cells.” he joked

“This will do, now recite some lines, but do a little nino revamp to make it...interesting.”

- “Will roses do? Or will she prefer tulips?” chloe asked

“Honestly I don't think she cares.” roi singe said picking literally any flower he found.

“There’s a 90% chance ladybug will not be caring about the decorations as she’s probably more focused on her quote end quote ‘platonic friend’.”

“Aka ‘platonic friends with benefits’.”

“What do you mean?” chloe asked

“I’m saying she probably kisses him all the time.”

“I doubt it, the probability of that happening is low.”

“Like the nerd said, ladybug doesn't just go kissing him, she didn’t even consider him until this ‘confession week’ thingy began.”

- The group of them had assembled except for viperon and the dragoness.

It was just like a normal one .

Yet the weirdest thing any of them had experienced.

Queen bee walked up the path they had made throwing petals up in the air, it seemed she couldn’t be enthusiastic if her life depended on it.

Carapace stood behind the bench, a replacement for an alter gripping the book like is was the fate of the world.

Rena played a remix version of ‘here comes the bride’ on her flute as ladybug strolled down the aisle roi singe accompanying her.

Chat stood smugly in front of the turtle , doing the most over accentuated bow in history, to beat him ladybug did a spin and curtsy and to stop a full out civil war from occurring over a simple gesture of courtesy, carapace cleared his throat and began.

“Dearly beloved brethren, we are gathered here today to thank ladybug and chat noir for there services and saving our buts from absolute peril as we pull of yet another crazy scheme to beat another akuma, simultaneously saving Paris and the whole world.”

He took a deep breath.

“We are also gathered at this definitely not fake wedding to unite our otp, who after flirting with each other for months, have finally opted to declare their love and once again save our thirsty shipping souls from dying of second hand embarrassment over your banter.”

He continued.

“That was just a friendly reminder, that everyone here, in Paris and the world ships you two together and we are still WAITING on a certain cat to fulfill his promise on confession week.”

Chat smiled sheepishly,

“All good things come to those who wait.”

he continued.

“So my dudes, do you take each other to be married?”

“Yep.” ladybug said popping the p,

“The day came sooner then expected but yeah sure.”

“Well my dudes, that concludes this holy matrimony! YEET!” he threw the book across the courtyard, kim catching it like it was a football.

Yeah, this had to be THE weirdest thing they had done to defeat an akuma, and something told them it was only going to be weirder.

“Oh and you may now kiss zee bride.” carapace added slyly.

Ladybug blushed, but chat just took her hand and brushed her knuckles with a kiss, running after carapace.

That left ladybug stunned.

Why didn’t he take the opportunity to kiss her. Either he was being a gentleman or he was playing at something.

Right now she didn’t know which one.

@ladynoirjuly2019

#chat being dramatic #ladynoir #ladynoirjuly2019 #ladybug #chatnoir #queen bee #pegasus #viperon #carapace #rena #the dragoness #roi singe #when you realise the only way to solve your problems is to get married #every fairy tale ever #ladynoir banter #i've missed it

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mnemememory · 6 years ago

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like a drowned rat

The creature, Caleb assures her, is called a “cat”.

or; frumpkin looks too much like a rat for his own good.

There are a lot of big rats around this place, Yasha thinks as she moves through the Empire. So many different sizes and shapes and colours. It’s a wonder they haven’t all been eaten, yet.

The creature, Caleb assures her, is called a “cat”.

Yasha stares down at the furry thing dubiously. She hasn’t made much of an attempt to get close to it, but it’s always around, watching. Sometimes it goes up to Caleb or Nott or someone else, making sounds and stretching out its claws, but it never comes up to Yasha.

“Cat” sounds vaguely like “rat” to Yasha, and it certainly looks rat-like. Fur, ears – four legs and a tail. Fluffier than how she usually likes to eat them, but tasty enough. The first time she’d seen it, she’d mistaken it as a source of food. It wasn’t until Caleb had curled up around the thing like it was the only thing that existed that she started to think, maybe not.

It dies, because it’s small enough to be a rat, and almost as easy to kill. She thinks, oh no, looking to Caleb’s face – but he doesn’t mind. Mutters something about incense and money, and the next day it’s curled up around his neck like a fur coat. So. Maybe not a rat, after all.

The tavern where they’re staying is warm, and dry. Yasha appreciates that more than she thinks the others do. There’s a chill in her bones that won’t leave, no matter how close to the fire she gets, but it’s been there so long that it hardly bothers her anymore. She stays to the back, then, in the shadows. Yasha doesn’t feel like making the effort to socialise today, not on the back of three days travel with limited company, but she doesn’t mind observing.

Beau has her feet kicked back on the far table, chair tilted to a dangerous incline and beer sloshing heavily across her wrist. She’s laughing at something Jester says, who is seated with prim straightness on the edge of her seat, arms waving around manically. Yasha can hear, “and then his pants came off”, and grins into her flagon.

Fjord is near them, as he so often is. He’s slouched more comfortable – and less dangerously – than Beau, flagon still almost full. He doesn’t know whether to look amused or disparaging, so he’s pulled a face that has a little big of both. Every so often, he stalls them to say something along the lines of, “That’s illegal – no, no, we can’t do that, we’re here on official business, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, that’s illegal Jester –” but it doesn’t seem to get him too far. After a while, he just gives up and laughs at them.

Molly is next to her. Yasha appreciates his silent presence as much as she appreciates his loud one. There are two switches to Mollymauk, and she can never seem to figure either of them out, but she’s enjoying getting to try. At the moment, he’s relaxed and loose-limbed, watching with room with half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. It’s almost as though he’d planned out the whole thing, which he certainly hadn’t, because his idea of cheating their way into another cart had been roundly ignored in favour of outright stealing it. They will remember our faces if we do it like that, Jester had scolded, which was a good indication of how slapdash the plan had actually been.

Not my face, Molly said, snapping his fingers and turning into a buck-tooth human of indeterminable gender and red hair, thus wasting a spell on something they ultimately agreed wouldn’t work. He’d been rather sulky about it the last day and a half, but looking at him now, he’s mellowed out.

“I’m almost out of ale,” he says, swilling the last dregs out of and peering down into his empty cup mournfully.

“Oh, no,” Yasha says. “That’s terrible.”

Molly squints at her drunkenly.

“Yasha!” Jester calls, breaking away from her conversation with Beau and Fjord. “Hey, Yasha, come over here and tell Beau that –”

She’s cut off as Beau pulls her into a headlock, eyes wide. “Ignore her!” she yells, flipping Jester over the table. Jester whoops, and something large and vaguely round materialises in her hand.

“Oh, no,” Yasha says again, this time a bit differently, as Jester cracks the table in half with her spiritual weapon.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Molly says, hauling himself to his feet. “I need another drink.”

“Get me one too,” Yasha says, because there’s a good chance that none of them are going to actually be sleeping here tonight, and she needs to fortify herself against the bracing cold outside.

Beau is flung back a few paces, but recovers with admirable efficiency. Yasha can’t help but give a small laugh as she ducks under Jester’s outstretched arm and delivers three solid punches in quick succession just above her ribs. A crowd it gathering, drunken louts and tired workers suddenly rejuvenated by the promise of blood. It would have been impressive, if it hadn’t meant they were going to eb kicked out.

Something walks over Yasha’s foot.

Yasha’s everything stalls, head jerking down as she peers underneath the table. After a few seconds of searching, the “cat” thing looks up at her, washing its paw with its tongue.

“Frumpkin”, Caleb had also called it. It seemed rather odd that he had given food a name, the first time Yasha had heard it, but now she’d gotten used to the odd emphasis placed on naming everything. It must be a cultural thing, if Nott’s insistence on naming the horses was any indication. Yasha had tried calling it “Frumpkin” in her head, but it’s an awkward fit at best. The creature seems to know it, too, because it avoids her whenever possible.

Except now, apparently.

“Oh, hello,” Yasha says, soft as anything. In the background, Jester slams her giant lollypop down onto Beau’s head. “What are you doing down there?”

The cat yawns, putting its full set of sharp teeth on display. Yasha hesitates, and then begins to reach down –

“WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING TO MY BAR?”

The cat disappears. Yasha glances around in time to see Caleb hustling Nott out of the door, creature set firmly on his shoulders. All the windows and doors of the room slam open, and rain starts to pour in from the outside, spattering across the window sills and along the tables. Fjord grabs onto Jester’s outstretched wrist and bolts, laughing helplessly. Beau, look around, sees that she’s been thoroughly abandoned and follows after them, yelling.

Looking into the angry eyes of the half-orc barkeep, Yasha realises that she should probably follow.

The next time Yasha almost touches the cat, it’s dark, and they’re camped out in the ruins of an old temple.

It makes Yasha uneasy, the crumbling walls and broken alter. She tries to keep it to herself, but from the way Jester keeps edging closer and Molly doesn’t leave her wide, she suspects she’s not very good at it.

The rain hasn’t stopped, not once. It howls out in the plains like a mad thing, wind blasting across the slimy rocks and cutting through the air. She huddles and tries to make herself small, but that’s never worked before, so she just mostly feels cold. Colder than usual, even, with a storm tattooed to her veins and salt pressed to her lips. She stares at the sky and thinks, Where do you want me to go, this time?

“I am going to try and get some sleep,” Jester says, hunching close to Beau. The cart is pulled up along where the entrance would once have been, so at least get shelter from all sides, but it’s a quick fix at best. “Who is going to take first watch?”

“I will,” Yasha hears herself saying. She doesn’t look away from the sky.,

Molly gives her a sharp look. “So will I.”

They settle down, as much as they can settle down amidst an open storm and no roof. As their breathing begins to even out, Yasha pulls herself higher, flexing her spine. She breathes in, and in, and in. Molly watches her and says nothing.

There’s a tug at her gut.

“I have to go,” Yasha says.

Molly’s smile is thin. “I know.”

They stay like that for a while, not moving, not talking. Yasha closes her eyes against the chill of the rain and can’t stop the rough grin that burns into the corners of her mouth.

The cat-creature is next to her. Yasha looks down at its wide, bright eyes. They refract the lightning, mirroring the vastness of the sky, and they’re both so wild. Yasha can’t imagine having ever wanting to eat it, not with it staring up at her with such feral, fey intelligence.

Slowly, so slowly, she starts to break open her joints. Fracturing them off of the stiff ice that’s built up around them, snapping her shoulders back higher. She breathes out, and out, and out.

“Be safe,” Molly says, leaning back languidly into the bare wall-face.

“I’d say the same for you,” Yasha says, cracking her jaw into a wide yawn. “But I don’t think you’ll listen to me.”

Molly pretends to look offended. It’s not a good look on him. “I always listen to you.”

Yasha doesn’t even dignify that lie with a response.

Lightning cracks, and thunder tumbles ominously amidst the bruised world. Yasha gets up, and things quieten for a few seconds, the wind dying down and the air going still as glass.

The cat makes a small sound. Yasha looks at it, and is startled at how close it is to her leg. It looks smaller in the rain, now that the lightning has cut out, less like a fey creature and more like a drowned rat. Yasha licks her lips subconsciously, and sends a brief, apologetic look to where Caleb is sleeping hunched by the far wall.

“I’ll be back,” she says, more to the cat than to Molly. Molly already knows that. No matter how far Yasha goes – and she’s gone so far, though maybe not in this direction – she always manages to find her way back.

The storm re-breaks itself onto the land, and the cat doesn’t reply.

“Yasha, will you hold this for me?”

Yasha freezes, eyes darting around without moving any part of her upper waist. The cat is on her shoulders. It’s small, and it’s warm, and its fur tickles her note and makes it itch, slightly, but not too much. It’s…nice.

Are you real? she wonders, trying to think of the right thing to say. Caleb is very smart, and Yasha finds herself tripping over words more often than not.

Caleb says, sounding unamused: “It’s a real cat”, and Yasha stares at him helplessly.

“I don’t want to make you upset,” she says, and it sounds like more of an admission than she would like. Or maybe less of one. Yasha can’t seem to make up her mind, how often she wants to confess to confusion. Sometimes it’s easy, like with Molly – who’s always confused about everything, anyway, and doesn’t mind finding answers for them both. But right now, Beau is watching her with bright eyes and sharp teeth, and Caleb is staring at her like he’s waiting to be offended, and the cat on her shoulders is very soft and very real-feeling. Yasha pats him on the head, just a little, and he rubs against her fingers

“Frumpkin,” Yasha tries slowly, when everyone but Molly is asleep.

They’re sharing watch again, this time tucked away in a small grove of trees just out of sight of the main road. There’s marsh around the edges, but the tree-roots seem to be holding everything together, for the most part. The fire’s burned down enough that Yasha can pick out the grey details in the far distance, eyes tracking automatically towards the road every few minutes. Molly is near her, but not next to her. He wants space tonight, too stuck in his own skin to endure the heavy weight of her presence. That’s fine. Sometimes, Yasha has trouble figuring out how to keep her own shoulders straight under it all.

The cat in front of her tilts his head, tail sweeping along the ground to curl around his paws. Yasha cautiously reaches down and scratches him along the cheek, keeping the touch light as possible. Her hands are large and calloused, and she’d hate to hurt him unintentionally. “Respectfully,” Caleb had counselled her, and Yasha tries very hard to be.

Frumpkin yawns, needle-like teeth flashing in the smouldering campfire. Yasha smiles – quick, relaxed. She checks along the perimeter again, and then scratches Frumpkin along his ears. He begins to purr, the vibrations running up Yasha’s fingers and into her veins.

“He seems rather taken with you,” Molly says from where he’s hunched next to a tree, running his fingers along the edge of his blade. Not enough to cut, of course, because Molly doe so hate to upset her – but soothingly, compulsively. Yasha can hear the phantom shing from where she sits. “I’m surprised. You’ve never seemed interested in our feline companion before.”

“I thought he was a rat,” Yasha admits, cringing when Frumpkin gives her a reapproving stare. She’s still not too sure how much he can understand her and has been erring on the side of caution because of it. “At first,” she hastily adds. Frumpkin considers this, and then goes back to running his face along her hand. Yasha takes this as a good sign.

Molly smiles. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It’s rare to see you so unguarded.”

Yasha shrugs. “I think I like him.”

“I think he likes you, too.”

Frumpkin juts sits there and purrs.

#critical role #critical role campaign 2 #yasha #frumpkin #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #beauregard #minor yasha x beau #romance is clearly not my forte #cat #and also rats #this probably isn't a very rat friendly story #fanfiction #my writing #series: breaking even #this one was fun hahahaha if a little rushed #edited by a sleep-deprived person

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