#she is shiny hunting for roaring moon

[samicarabarbaru2137]

I saw this little trend started by @tadc-harlequin-au (the post) and I decided to join the fun! Is the first one really a chibi? Not sure..and before anyone ask, yes! The first one has a burger...somewhat, in pokemon there is such thing as a hamburger! As a sandwich ingredient...BUT IT COUNTS

And how does that cat eat borgor? The world may never know!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I'd like to request a ShinyHunter!Reader giving their epilogue friends Pokemon they caught during their adventure (can be traded or gifted), with handwritten notes carefully taped inside their Pokeballs kinda explaining the meaning behind them:

Carmine - Authentic Polteageist

"I came to Kitakami as a stranger but left as your friend. It's my hope that this Pokemon and your beloved Sinistcha can be good buddies just as we are now."

--

Kieran - Roaring Moon / Iron Valiant

"I wanted to give you something that's just as rare, powerful, and wonderful as you are. Just as you found yourself through the darkness during the excursion in Area Zero, so too did I find this Pokemon."

--

Arven - Arcanine

"I wanted you and Mabosstiff to have a loyal, strong companion by your side, someone who will be by your side no matter what happens in life."

--

Nemona - Whatever the reader's starter was

"I wanted you to carry a piece of me in your party, since you've been the first friend to support and encourage me on my adventure."

--

Penny - Either Espeon or Glaceon

"I know you love a certain type of Pokemon, and I hoped this one would find belonging with your team - just like you've found it with me, Team Star, and the others."

Ik we can't trade shinies but damn it if gamefreak won't let us,,,we writers WILL make it happen

........

Carmine

One of the first things she learned about you during your trip to Kitakami was your obsession with shiny-hunting. You've done it all your life, with your first ever starter pokemon being a shiny, too!

You literally spend hours at a time running around different places, looking for Pokémon that either have a darker/lighter hue to their colors or looked incredibly different.

Tbh wonders if this is some Paldea craze bc no way could she see herself wasting so much time...

Despite that, your team of shiny 'mons had great stats and kicked her team down pretty good.

For a while she thought you were being the biggest show-off.

But after everything that happened with Ogerpon, the Loyal Three, BB Academy, Kieran, Terapagos, Pecharunt, etc..Carmine becomes one of your closest friends, learning to accept and support your passions for shiny hunting.

When she decides to trade you a Poltchageist, you surprise her by trading back a Shiny Polteageist with the authentic stamp, having found it by sheer luck.

Inside its pokeball, she discovers a note carefully taped within, and you assure her she can read it in front of you.

"To Carmine: I arrived to Kitakami as a stranger, but left as your friend, and I'm glad our bond has grown stronger. It's my hope that this Authentic Polteageist and your Sinistcha can become good buddies just like we have -[Y/n]"

She was so close to tearing up until she reads the word "authentic" and wonders how tf you managed to find such a specific Pokémon (especially a shiny authentic Polteageist).

"Well I had to set up a camp near Alfornada and then-" You almost start infodumping your hunting strategies, but she stops you with a hug instead.

"I promise they'll become the best of friends, and if not....then I'll...I'll make them be friends!" She huffs, while you just smile and hug her back, glad she appreciated the note.

Kieran

In Kitakami, he was always fascinated by your team of shinies, and at dinner he gawked when you brought up tales of your harrowing adventures in trying to find them.

For instance, you nearly got beaten up by some Mankeys before finding a Shiny Primeape somewhere nearby--but talked about it so casually. Like it was just another normal day for you.

You're not only strong, but very brave too..and he admires those traits.

Although when you two meet again at BB, it's just more fuel added to his jealousy of you. And he even comments about whether you wasted more time shiny hunting or training.

In the underdepths, you found a Shiny Carbink, and he tries catching it first---only for it to break out of the pokeball, and he scowls when you capture it without much trouble.

But after reconciling with each other and resolving the whole mess with Pecharunt, Kieran decides to trade you an Applin (after hyping himself up to ask you ofc).

You considered trading him one as well...

But you thought of something even better that also held special meaning:

A Shiny Paradox Pokémon you found when you returned to Area Zero to capture the alpha 'raidon.

More specifically, it was [Roaring Moon/Iron Valiant], and he was absolutely stunned when the creature pops out and greets him, unable to believe his eyes.

"W-Wowzers, you're actually gonna let me have one of.....huh?" It presents him with a note, handwritten by you.

"To Kieran: I wanted to give you something that's just as rare, powerful, and wonderful as you are. Just like how you've found yourself through the darkness back in Area Zero, I too found this Paradox Pokémon waiting for me. May it be your guiding light to future victories -[Y/N]"

He doesn't realize he's crying at your touching message until he sees several teardrops staining the paper.

How did he get so lucky to have such a caring and forgiving person like you in his life?

Arven

He knew about your shiny hunting hobby, although at times he thinks you're nuts for willing to risk life and limb for a slightly differently colored Pokémon.

You have notes about how you found a Shiny Garganacl, Copperajah, Gabite, Houndstone, and even an Iron Bundle--all down in Area Zero.

You explain that sparkling sandwich recipes make them show up more often, and he tries it out and is stunned when he finds a Shiny later on.

Ofc you take a little pride in teaching him something new.

When he visits the League Club and decides to trade Pokémon with you, it wasn't that hard to figure out what to give him.

He's stunned when it's a Shiny Arcanine with a note taped within the pokeball, addressed to him.

"To Arven: I've helped you and Mabosstiff before, and I will do so again. So here's a Pokémon who will be forever loyal to you both. No matter what curveballs life may throw at you, Arcanine will never leave your side -[Y/N] (PS: I've been calling this one Mustard, but you can give it a new name if you wish).

He laughs a little at the end of the message, as it brought a huge smile to his face.

"Not a bad name, buddy! Thank you..truly. I think Mustard and Mabosstiff will get along just fine."

Nemona

She'll thrilled you've found your calling as a shiny hunter during your Pokemon journey, but always reminded you not to forget about being her "rival for life", too.

When all is said and done, you invited her to the clubroom at the BB Academy with an idea.

Since she was the first person in Paldea to give you the encouragement to start your Pokémon journey, you wanted to give her something extra special to show your thanks.

Although first you had to pull her away from Kieran (who was startled by her demand for a battle) and distract her by proposing a trade.

Turns out she planned to do that exact same thing when she arrived....but got caught up in meeting a fellow champion and totally forgot in her excitement.

Anyways, you finally did a trade and Nemona's amazed when you give her a shiny version of your starter Pokémon (meanwhile, your fully-leveled starter ace is standing beside you, looking proud).

She's so hyped to rush outside and train it that she doesn't even see the note you left in the pokeball until the shiny gives it to her.

"Huh?? Oh! How could I have missed this??" She gasps dramatically before sitting down to read it over.

"To Nemona: You've always supported and encouraged me since the start of my Pokémon journey, and I couldn't be more grateful. So as my first friend and rival here in Paldea, I wanted you to carry a piece of me in your party. May you both grow stronger together -[Y/N]"

Her heart is just full as she reads the sweet note, before jumping up to crush you in a hug.

This really meant a lot to her--more than you ever know considering you've been her #1 source of encouragement, too.

Penny

Tackling all the Team Star bases definitely gave you an excuse to do some shiny hunting on the side, and you soon come across an Eevee.

It had a lonely/timid nature when you caught it, feeling like a misfit despite being in your party of shinies.

You weren't sure which form to evolve it into, as it didn't seem interested in any stone or in becoming your friend.

After helping Team Star and Penny redeem themselves and resolve the mess with Pecharunt, you have a small chat in her dorm room about Shiny Eeveelutions--to which she remarks her attempts to collect them, yet is having terrible luck so far.

She's well aware that Flareon, Glaceon, and Leafeon shinies look painfully similar to their counterparts (having slightly different hues) and expresses her frustration in the fact she could have seen one but didn't realize...

Later, you find Shiny Eevee digging through your bag, and you wonder why until it pulls out an ice stone.....and it finally occurs to you that it heard your conversation with Penny.

Seems like it finally made its choice.

So when you invite her to the League Club, you trade her a Shiny Glaceon, to which she just gawks like "are you fr???? I can have this one????"

Then she sees the note meticulously taped inside and reads it to herself.

"To Penny: I know how much you love a certain type of Pokémon. So I entrust you with this Glaceon, a true Shiny. I hope it finds belonging in your team, just like you've found it in me, Team Star, and all the others -[Y/n]."

She can't help the smile growing on her face, taking off her glasses to wipe at her eyes, all while Shiny Glaceon smiles and comforts her--proving that it's ready to be her new companion.

[dvmm13]

“What the fuck is that thing?!” Teresa roared as her leg muscles were burning, sweat soaking, head frantically turning left and right to scan for the pursuing demon in a giant man’s guise filled with bloodlust and perverted sadism.

“The hell…would I know…” Bobbi’s panting showcased the limitation of her body caused by a large wound on her stomach from the lightning-fast claw attack courtesy of Victor Creed. The new stim shot developed by Richard Parker recently helps numb the pain and keep her going, but the loss of blood is slow but gradually catching up as the chase goes on.

“He’s too fast to be a human!” following her instinct, Teresa shot a valley of ICER rounds into the rustling bushes surrounding them, still having no clue about their destination.

There’s only a singular drive that matters at the moment.

Survive.

They run, and run, but the chance of survival receding significantly with the more Bobbi Morse keeps pushing her limits.

“Run, little rabbits! Make it more fun for me!” the giant man cackled from the woods, like a wraith of vengeance hunting them down. Sounds of trees being pounced upon and launched from chasing their tails like a shadow, deliberately stretching out the inevitable doom for entertainment.

She’s not an expert marksman or godly-accurate like Hawkeye or anything, but she could’ve sworn on her dead mother’s grave that she landed at least five shots of ICER rounds into the inhuman hunter after he almost disemboweled the blonde agent. According to the specs, that much dendrotoxin in someone’s system should introduce a cardiac arrest or even semi-permanent nerve damage already; yet the motherfucker’s still maniacally hunting them down like cattle effortlessly.

Maybe, just maybe, she can sacrifice Morse and get away from here. A slim chance of success, but it’s better than whatever the sadist giant had in mind.

That’s how she lived her life since…

Teresa suddenly stopped in her tracks and ducked down out of instinct, rolled out of the way, and quickly lined the barrel of her ICER at the blur of Victor Creed, aiming at the center of mass. Three consecutive shots rang out, colliding into the savage man’s chest and neck, resulting in his falling limp and careening into a nearby fell tree, the sound of the collision was identical to a speeding truck crashing into a pole. The light of hope is fleeting, as the mass of a furred man slowly rises from the exploded tree with splints of wood piercing into his flesh, yet the animalistic man doesn’t seem too bothered by it at all.

Under the moonlight, Teresa witnessed the most baffling sight she’d ever come across.

Victor Creed casually dislodged all of the splints from his body, even the big one that pierced through his diaphragm had been pulled out like plucking a chicken’s feather, the exposed skin shows the wounds he sustained a mere moment earlier mending themselves like reverse footage, accelerated beyond human comprehension.

His metallic and shiny grin of death illuminated by the cold and uncaring gleam of the moon sowed despair into her heart. Shaken with fear and desperation, Teresa lined the gun again at the slowly approaching monster in front of her and fired another set of shots into his broad chest.

Her fingers kept pulling, her arms locked into a straight line, and her eyes glued to the occasional struggle of her killer.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Click…

Click…

“Damn…that’s annoying,” Victor Creed growled with a sadistic smile, tensing up his arms and extending his Adamantium claws from his fingers “Ya should’ve kept running, little rabbit,” his clawed hand raised above his head, prepped for a deathly swipe, but he went rigid and foaming at his mouth a moment later as a sling of electrode penetrated his side, sending a lethal dose of electric shock through his body.

Teresa’s eyes traced the line back to its origin and met with the pale face of Bobbi Morse leaning against a tree trunk with one of her escrima in hand, her pressing finger violently shaking from exhaustion.

“Get out of there!” the command came in like a dying plea, but it was enough to jumpstart her paralyzed brain. Rolling to the side and running again, Teresa approached her C.O. with confusion and gratitude. “The battery won’t hold much longer…we need to…” she whimpered, almost collapsing on the tree trunk if not for Teresa’s support.

Teresa, with quick thinking, took Bobbi’s gun into her hand and rained another magazine down on Victor Creed, purposefully grouping the shots at his head. “How many spares do you have?” the Chameleon gritted through the fear and reloaded one from her belt into the gun.

“A couple…” Bobbi groaned and leaned heavily on Teresa, her hand still clutching the escrima like a lifeline. “Fury said nothing…about this kind of…monster.” Morse coughs a froth of blood, her internal organs starting to break down.

The effect starts to lessen when the battery is running out of juice, evidently shown in how Victor Creed gets hold of the electrode cable with his massive hand and pulls; the hook tip dislodged forcefully from his side accompanied by a squirt of blood.

“Woah! That’s the stuff! Haven’t been shocked that good since Harbin, makes me kinda missing that fucker Shiro,” Sabretooth yapped on while evading another electrode with ease since he wasn’t caught off guard this time. “Ya got some bite, I’ll give y’all that.” He walked up to them, claws sprung, and metallic fang lined his grinning face. the halo of death formed around his head from the fading moonlight was to be the last sight they would see in this final moment. “But, sadly, bunnies; everything ends.”

[fierykitten2]

I had a thought - it’s theoretically possible if I got Pokémon HOME I could use that to fill my Pokédex in Scarlet and Violet (possibly also Let’s Go! Eevee) by catching another instance of each Paradox Pokémon up to and including Moon and Valiant (Mammoth, Fluff, Moss, Feather, Eagle, Punk and Luna stay in Scarlet; Wheel, Santa, Sumo, Techno, Flame, Sierra and Knight stay in Violet) which technically doesn’t need to include Flutter Mane or Iron Hands (and theoretically doesn’t need to include Scream Tail if they do a 7-star raid event or Iron Bundle if they rerun its 7-star raid event) but I feel the need to just get all seven of each set and send them over. As a bonus, I could also shiny-hunt those guys an extra time so Rose gets to see the shiny Future Paradox Pokémon (line them up in the order Treads, Moth, Hands, Thorns, Bundle, Jugulis, Valiant, I dare you) and Lavender gets to see the shiny Past Paradox Pokémon (I’ll be honest, she’s probably not missing much. Yesterday when I got bored of shiny-hunting Gallade with Fighting Sparkling Power I was initially hesitant to move on to shiny-hunting Paradox Pokémon because the first one that came to mind was Tusk. Then I realised I could shiny-hunt Wing instead) *screams in can’t even successfully shiny hunt Roaring Moon once and now I’m thinking about the possibility of making myself do it again followed by laughing bc so much for being the only (or one of the few) people to have both Scarlet and a shiny Iron Valiant that doesn’t have a shiny Iron Valiant in Scarlet*

As an extra bonus this could be a great way to free up some box space in Violet while avoiding having to release anyone

Also I think it would be cool if Ribbon Fox the Unrivaled, Rillaboom the Unrivaled, Hunter the Unrivaled, Shadow the Unrivaled, Eve the Unrivaled and Blade the Unrivaled (my Delphox, Rillaboom, Hisuian Decidueye, Hisuian Typhlosion, Eevee and Hisuian Samurott respectively, none of which have Scarlet counterparts and I’m worried Game Freak doesn’t feel like rerunning their events even though now is the perfect time to rerun the Kalos Starter Raids) plus my aces and I guess Astro (would also love a Dialga/Palkia rerun) could all take trips to the opposite versions before coming back (I do kinda hope that’s possible I’d love for Blueberry and Cherry to meet)

[ask-majoko-and-pals]

Galatea the Star ⭐

Lucibelle did a post with all her pokemon, so I figured it'd be fun to do something similar!

So starting off with the rare blue-hued beauty... Lumine, my shiny gardevoir!

I found Lumine when she was just a little ralts in Hoenn's tall grass. I didn't even know she was shiny, but I adored her from the beginning! She is easily the most elegant pokemon on my team.

Next up is the toughest pokemon on my team, the brawn to absolute beauty: Saturn, my toxicroak!

I've been told Saturn is rather large for a toxicroak, but I think that's just extra muscle from doing heavy lifting and athletics for Pokemon Contests. You'd be surprised how little toxicroak actually move around in pokemon battles. I've also taught Saturn how to beatbox, and while it's impressive, it always surprises toxtricity.

Of course brains follow beauty and brawn, so my next pokemon is clever Mercury, my eelektross!

Mercury was always fun in contest battles, because every time I pull her out, someone always tries to get points with earthquake. It's always such a grand blunder, with Mercury literally above it all! I believe the "levitate" ability Mercury has gives us a unique competitive edge not just available in battle.

Everyone knows a contest coordinator's team isn't complete without a cute and a cool pokemon, and this team's charm and charisma comes from Chibi the Sylveon and Comet the Salamence!

Chibi was a tiny little Eevee when I first caught her, and her adorable attitude immediately endeared me to her! Now it might seem cliche to have a pink lil' fairy type in the cuteness category, but it's a testament to skill when you can still do something unique with what people consider "standard."

The same goes for Comet. Nobody can deny the coolness of a dragon type flying faster than a speeding jet. Those blood moon crescent wings and that fierce roar are so iconic!

And last but not least... Jupiter, the real star of my squad, the ace and center, and my starter pokemon. My quaquaval.

Jupiter was there since the beginning of my Treasure Hunt, right when I enrolled in Uva. The two of us danced together, battled together, laughed together, cried together... And it's a little cliche, but I don't know where I'd be without him! He's my number one fan.

Go big bird, go!

[aviculor]

It's also a VERY bold claim that the AI professor fight was canonically the last and only time we went into Area Zero and it's been so long since then that the security system timed out. Rika yells as us for going in there unauthorized and it's like, okay....which time? When I was shiny hunting Roaring Moon or when I was shiny hunting Slither Wing or when I was trying to shiny hunt Girafarig...? I didn't realize "Professor Sada" requesting my assistance was some sort of under-the-table subterfuge. I just figured she had that kind of authority. If I don't have clearance, why am I able to come and go as I please? What is the story going to be when I unlock the sidequest for Raging Bolt and Gouging Fire? Why can I call a flying taxi there but not set up a picnic?

[qhazomb]

shiny pokemon i’ve gotten on scarlet so far:

sandygast

psyduck

honchkrow

orthworm

pawniard

sneasel

skuntank

two scream tail

mareep

tarountula

chewtle

toedscool

sandy shocks

slither wing

flutter mane

flittle

great tusk

three zweilous

rockruff

two maschiff

at least i’m prrrretty sure that’s all of them. the second scream tail and the other paradox shinies i hunted for my bestie who has violet (and thus can’t hunt them herself). i tried to hunt roaring moon for her, but good grief that’s an awful ‘mon to hunt XD; she’ll have to hopefully find one from somewhere else like she did her brute bonnet.

also you can probably guess hunting roaring moon is how i ended up with three shiny zweilous :B

two of those zweilous, the second maschiff, the psyduck (evolved into golduck) and the orthworm i surprise traded away as i didn’t need multiples or they were pokemon i was just kinda ‘eh’ about. actually pretty ‘eh’ about sandygast/palosand, but since she was my first shiny in gen 9, i kept her.

the sandygast, psyduck, honchkrow, rockruff, chewtle, and tarountula were all full-odds! the rest i either hunted/bred or randomly encountered after having gotten the shiny charm.

[meadow-brook]

FinClan Tales - Chapter 1 Moon 0 - Part 1/2

With the wind threatening to rip her fur off and the sun slowly starting to set, Olive scrambled for cover. The last thing she wanted was to get her book wet and be under threat of all its history running off the pages. Along the shore where she had been searching for the original territory, the large mass of an abandoned twoleg ship surfaced up ahead. It looked old, nothing like the small, shiny boats Olive would see in the lake outside her library, but wooden, and bigger than any twoleg nest she’d ever seen. A smaller boat was leaned against it, the bottom hollowed out and creating the entryway to a small den against the large ship, and another one upturned not far off, both wooden. Before she had much time to contemplate if this was good shelter, or if she should check it for danger, the crack of thunder sent her running for the ash-colored boat with the bottom hollowed out.

Inside, Olive quivered, letting her eyes adjust to the space as she crouched in the entrance. It was a reasonably sized space, and aside from a spider or two in the corner making their home, she was completely alone. As the harsh rain started to pour around her, she silently thanked whoever had guided her here, as she stayed completely dry. Slowly untangling herself from the twine that held her book to her like a satchel, she set it down to create a shallow dip in the sand. Once she was satisfied, she settled down for a rest with her chin on the book of, who she hoped, were her ancestors.

Olive opened her eyes to find herself in the vast depths of the universe. The ground below her was soft and smooth like sand, but had none of the same coarseness, and behind her, waves crashed on this strange shore, but instead of the expected colliding water, it was stars. As she tried to look farther out into this strange ocean, or farther up the shore, she felt her head swim as the territory spun around her. It was neither here nor there, up nor down, but existent all the same, and it made her head hurt trying to make sense of it.

“Best not to look too hard,” came a smooth voice beside her. “This place isn’t meant for the eyes of non-StarClan cats.”

Olive nearly jumped out of her fur, taking a few steps to her right as she gazed at the newcomer. He had shimmering dark ginger fur, and his heather blue eyes seemed to bore into her with a knowledge and sorrow she could not yet comprehend.

“Where am I?” Olive asked, fighting to keep the trembling from her voice. “Who are you?”

The tom tilted his head in amusement. “I thought you had read about StarClan, have you not? Were you not prepared to put a face to your ancestors?”

StarClan . . . Olive forced herself to think back to what she was doing in the waking world in the first place. “You-you’re a StarClan cat! You know about the Clans that used to live here! What happened to them? Why aren’t they here anymore? Could I truly come from them? Am I on the right path?” She couldn’t help the words tumbling out of her mouth, each question finding purchase in her throat as she practically shouted at the starry tom.

The tom’s expression went from mildly amused to unreadable, and he dipped his head. “There is only so much I can tell you, but if reviving the Clans is truly what you seek, you are on the right path. Our history is closer than you think . . .”

Olive’s vision spun again as the tom began to fade.

“Wait! I don’t even know your name! Why can’t you tell me more?”

Olive woke with a jolt, shaking her head to try to clear the roaring in her ears before realizing it was the ocean a couple foxlengths away from her makeshift den. She forced herself up with her paws and slid into an easy stretch, though her mind was set on the night before. Had she really been in StarClan’s hunting grounds?

She sat with her tail wrapped over her paws, dragging the book in front of her. She studied its soft rabbit-hide cover before leafing through its pages to find anything she could on StarClan. Olive hissed under her breath. Whoever the author was, they did a good job at overexplaining some things, and assuming the reader knew what they were talking about with others. StarClan was one of the assumed, and Olive had spent days in the library attic piecing together what bits of information she had about them: they were warrior ancestors sent to guide Clan cats, and as it seemed specifically the medicine cat, but nothing else more was said. Other than the Starstone, of course, which only had a rough image sketched in ink, and Olive only assumed it had to do with StarClan by name association. Maybe this cat was old and rambling, as Dewey said.

Olive’s stomach distracted her from any further thoughts. She sighed. Her hunt for knowledge would have to wait, as it wouldn’t fill her belly as much as a mouse, or perhaps a fish. She hesitated for a moment longer. She didn’t want to leave the book here, but she also knew she would be a lousy hunter with all that weight on her one side if she refastened it to herself. Quickly, she covered it with some sand, only to dig it out again, worrying that it would somehow damage the pages. Growing frustrated, she jammed it into the corner of the den and hoped no other cat would come by and steal it. What would a stray cat want with a book anyways?

Olive had little experience hunting for herself, but reasoned it wouldn’t be too hard. She thought she could check the large ship next to her den, likely teaming with mice and giving her a chance to explore if she had to stay here another night. Creeping out of her den, she couldn’t scent much outside of salt and fresh rainfall. Looking over at the twoleg ship, there were two possible entrances: a hole in the front of the ship, framed by large boulders, and a large plank that looked sturdy enough to carry her weight to the top of the ship, in which another large boulder was sticking out of the middle. Olive didn’t know what had caused this ship to be here, but it looked as if a giant cat threw it aside like a piece of crowfood on top of the boulders, instead of coming from the sea. She decided she’d try the lower entrance first: no reason to risk potential danger if there wasn’t any need.

Keeping her jaws parted for any scent of prey, Olive crept into the opening. It looked like a whole other den, bordered by stone if not by the wood of the destroyed ship. Straightening as she gazed around, she was amazed at how sturdy and dry the space was, with plenty of room for a couple cats, and so near the den she had slept in previously.

“There has to be a reason no one else has taken shelter here. This is too perfect!”

Just then, she heard the squeak of a mouse as it tried to run past her, startled by her mrow. With a hiss of frustration, she lept towards the little creature. It ran straight for the boulder to her right, and when she thought she had it cornered, it swerved out of the way, letting Olive crash head first into the large stone.

“Fox-dung!” she spat, rubbing her head with her paw. “Who thought this would be a good place for a giant, good-for-nothing rock . . .”

Olive’s voice trailed off as she stared at the boulder she crashed into. Its surface, otherwise smooth with erosion, was covered in claw marks, scoring all the way up to the top. Some were more washed away with time than others but many, especially the ones facing away from the ocean, were as clear as the whiskers on her face. This wasn’t just the markings of one cat, but many, and over a clear course of time. Olive’s pelt prickled with excitement.

Forgetting her hunger, she yowled, “I’ve read about this! I’ve found it! This is where one of the past Clans lived!”

[vallkary]

YIIPPPEEE

I’ll put em under the cut since there’s a lot-

Main Storyline

Quesadilla, Skeledirge, Starter

Aeries, Universe-hopping Vaporeon (I’d say don’t ask but I don’t mind if you do, I just love her and try to get her in every game I have)

Cherry, Armarouge, I just caught her to get her into the Pokédex, but I got attached and she never left

Panini, Grafaiai, I just remember that he’s how I learned that Grafaiai evolves from Shrewdle, a Pokémon I thought for sure was a bug despite the typing

Pelinot, Bombirdier, I totally thought she was a pelican at first, hence the name, and got attached to her instead of boxing her like my original plan

Sparkly, Shiny Palafin, my first shiny! Despite his amazing ability and stats I didn’t use him as much as I probably should’ve.

DLCs (and epilogue)

Dawn, shiny Alolan Ninetales, she took me a long while to hunt, and she was my first ever successful shiny egg hunt :D

Amaranth, Shiny Vaporeon, my silliest guy that is a massive tank,,,, my mom named him and I remember accidentally finding an influencer when looking up the flower

Pon, Ogrepon, always in fire form! I love her :3

Lady, Shiny Female Meowstic, found her from an Espurr outbreak along with Dude and their shiny baby, Baby

Dude, Shiny Male Meowstic, found him in an Espurr outbreak along with Lady and their shiny baby, Baby

N/A

Special guys

Bexillis, ride Koraidon. My silly guy that never gets time on the team <3

Lumiére, shiny Sylveon, my first ever shiny Eevee hunted! I wanted to make him a Ribbon master but I forgot

Mirror, shiny Espeon. I found her full odds in Area Zero! I was even using sandwiches to up the rates of dragon pokemon to hunt down Roaring Moon

Acorn, shiny Hydreigon, he and his daughter, Walnut the shiny Zweilous, are the results of my several failed attempts at hunting Roaring Moon shiny

Mecha Acorn, Iron Jugulus I got traded for the Pokédex :3

You may be able to tell what I did after beating the game- I love shiny hunting but most of my shinies don’t get much spotlight :0

ANYWAY-

If I started posting about Pokemon would you kill me

[airis-hunter]

I completed my pokedex today!!

And then I went off and caught 10 shinys some how😅

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1: Shiny Farigiraf

For my first shiny with the shiny charm I decided to make one of my main six pokemon, SpotShadow, shiny. With lvl 3 normal sandwich powers I went into area zero, and after 60 encounters (including Girafarig and Farigiraf) he popped up! He also just happened to have the Dawn Mark

2: shiny Dunsparce

With still quite a long ways to go on my lvl 3 normal sandwich powers I decide to try shiny Dunsparce, and just as my sandwich power was about to run out he spawned (sadly he didn't evolve into 3 segment form)

3: Shiny Orthworm

Ever since my friend and I started playing pokemon scarlet she has fallen in love with an Orthworm she named Yurmi, so for a christmas present I decided to get her a shiny Orthworm! After 58 encounters, and lvl 3 steel sandwich powers, he appeared. He also just happened to have the Uncommon Mark

4: Shiny Orthworm

With some more sandwich time left I decided to look for another Orthworm since I already have a shiny Revaroom. She also happen to have the Lunchtime Mark

5: Shiny Chansey

Will trying to level up shiny Dunsparce in the roaring moon cave with a lvl 2 normal encounter sandwich a shiny Chansey walked into the background of my screen while I was battling another Chansey

6: Shiny Klawf

The next shiny I decide to hunt was Klawf, as it is one of my new favorite shinys. After 178 encounters it literally jumped off a cliff at me! It was hilarious

7: Shiny Charcadet

A fellow pokemon friend of mine gave me some Malicious Armor so I could have my own Ceruledge and I decide to get a shiny Charcadet for it. After 412 encounters, and lvl 3 fire sandwich powers he popped up! His name is Volgo. (It comes form the words Violet and Blade in Esperanto) I now have the final six member of my scalret team of six!! He also, so happened to have the Calmness Mark

8: Shiny Charcadet

With only 10 or so minutes left on my lvl 3 fire sandwich power I decided to try and see if I could get another one, and I did! I now have an Armarouge named Lieutenant who is the true king of the Falink!

9: Shiny Chansey

While training up Volgo and SpotShadow, and a lvl 2 normal encounter sandwich a shiny Chansey pooped up on my screen lol

10: Shiny Chansey

Same as number 9 lmao what is my luck

Special shout out to these three amazing people @the-mfing-sauce @zeriphi and @piplupcola

Thx to these three I was able to complete my pokedex and have one of the best weekends of my life so thx you from the bottom of my heart!!!💙💙💙

[yanderenightmare]

Oh master, plez, DRAGON WARRIOR BAKUGO, my lord! I was thinking, if you please, a darling who is like clairvoyant, and that's why King bakugo needs her??? can you make it dark ;3 like like like whatever means necessary dark, like like like ill murder anyone who gets in my way, also also also it being really grotesque, I want merciless bakugo, BUT also kinda sweet when it comes to darling?? I don't know what exactly I want, but I know whatever you write I'll prob enjoy, Master Nightmare :3

DRAGON ! WARRIOR ! KING BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: abuse, violence, genocide, kidnapping, abduction, death, blood, murder, ableism, classism, anxiety, arson, narcissistic personality disorder, slavery, trauma, war

so, a little foreword, the darling in this story has a quirk (ik, I’m breaking my beliefs thinking Bakugo should have a quirkless reader! The insanity!) but it’s because in this au not it’s quite special to have a quirk. Quirks are achieved and not given so to say. So Katsuki has earned his quirk and reader has earned her quirk, and so has everyone else who has a quirk. Also the song is called “If I Had a Heart” by Fever Ray, it’s the theme song to vikings ironically haha.

PART TWO

MUTE AND NUDE

The King was in her village.

Word from the south spread quickly, like any wildfire would, especially when riding the wings of a dragon. The Kingdom’s seer was dead, and the almighty bruise-knuckled King required a new one. They called it misfortune, but give a child a toy, and the toy is destined to break. Some might say that that’s what they’re made for. The old toy had apparently done something so distasteful that it cost her own tongue. Unfortunately, or perhaps ironically the only thing she was useful for: on her knees, mouth open, worshipping her king.

She counted the smoke rising to the sky near the horizon. Hers would be the thirteenth village they came to, lest their quest was done. She thought she might have seen him in the cloud-coverage. Eerie shadows resembling what bats she found in the caves, but the sun was bright and could easily be mistaken for him, or the other way around, as she’s heard his coat is golden.

She heard the rumbling tumbling of hooves and paws and claws riding up the mountain-side. They were coming.

Their houses were made of rock, sturdy as they should be when placed on a mountain-top with constant winds howling at them, and handled the fire well. But people aren’t made of stone. The smell of burning flesh is awful, and though she had nothing to puke, she barfed nonetheless. People were screaming and she probably would have too if she could, she was most certainly crying and bleeding and heaving for breath like those unlucky others that were still left alive.

High mountains are a bleak habitat for animal life, partially why they lived up there: to be spared of being hunted, to escape fangs and claws. And now: people running for their lives, the aching in her ankles, a body not built for running, and a mind not used to being hunted. Yet, it was strange but, it wasn’t really foreign at all.

She’d been dreaming of things lately, and as death as well as dust and ash and blood settled and seeped into the mud around her, she couldn’t help but feel as though she’d seen it all before. In fact, there came a point in the middle of the fray she was certain she was dreaming as she stopped to eye the great golden mass in front of her. Scales sharp and silvery like mica on the mountainside, ruby-red eyes as though soaked with blood. Teeth long and sturdy like the jagged rocks of the tunnels, dripping not with water as they did in the caves but with blood and guts and torn clothes. And the talons, curved and shiny, black as night, digging into the gravel by his feet, treating the soil as though it were as thin as the air. But the wings… the wings are what had her falling to her knees, skin bitten by gravel. Greater then roofs, sweeping the sky as though he could pluck each and every star from the welkin, stud himself with them if he so wanted to, or swallow them if only to breath the light onto earth. He could shred trees with those wings, he could slice oceans apart, he could probably part the mountain, head in the heavens and roots with hell, the bridge that had stood for thousands of years, singlehandedly torn open by that great monster conquering both sky and earth as though they gave him life.

Her arm was bleeding. It had dentures, no… puncture wounds it seemed the more she looked. A pretty crescent moon of red marking deep into the soft tissue of her meager muscles, dripping onto the dirt, creating streaks in the mud caking her bare feet. She looked up to see a wolf turn into a man, a large man with spikes for hair, red but not the same red she’d seen earlier in those eyes, red like poppies far away from the red flowing in her veins, from what was leaking out of her arm.

She looked forward and saw bodies… no, not bodies… mangled mockeries of the human form strewn about her as though they were trampled wildflowers on a field. She looked to her side and saw her reflection in the faces of those she’d grown up with but never truly knew. She looked behind her, not spotting what abomination of life she’d seen earlier, the one painting the sky, the one eclipsing the sun.

Every young, pretty thing was lined up on a row that stretched about ten meters long as they weren’t that many in her village, and she was surprised to be one of them. The auditions began in the early left side of the fray, boys and girl shaking on unsteady knees, holding onto broken arms and gushing wounds. Her bitemark was begging for a fist around it too, but she had not the focus to indulge the wish as her eyes caught sight of a blot of gold contrasting the otherwise grey figures, it being clear who he was despite having altered form. Although not the tallest in stature, one could see it as clear as day, he towered over the rest of the flock.

The tones ripped from their throats were scratchy, untuned; garbage. It would seem none of the kids in the village were gifted, but if the Gods were of mercy they would grant them the vocal cords to survive the night. She couldn’t blame them for allowing their fear to taint their song. Seeing how the drapes in which the hooded figures dressed were soaked in blood from past failures. Knowing well how their weapons would breach flesh and bone were they not of any use to them.

If she had a voice she would use it for speaking and not for singing. This would probably be her last night.

They rushed through the girls and boys rather quickly. Swiftly; as if they had done it countless times before, as if they could decide by the first utterance of their very first tone, that they were a disappointment, that they were as good as dead.

Caught in the middle of the small gathering; her turn came along. The man, standing in front, had purple hair and a nasty scar on his face, adorned with bladed eyes like a cat. Another blade, a steel blade, was held at her throat. Unnecessary, as the brutal scarring of his arms was intimidating enough for her to understand she could survive nothing compared to what he had already lived through. “Sing.” He commanded abruptly, an atmosphere of force settled on the word, as though compelling her, quite like how the wind shakes the trees in command to dance for them.

She did her hand gestures as smooth as she could under the pressure, lips remaining closed.

He threw his eyebrows up, scar shifting in its place like a serpent, the message had clearly gotten across. A condescending smile, a most sinister snicker and an unfortunate scoff was all the sympathy he allowed her. “No voice?” It wasn’t a question. “What a meaningless life.” He stated in a mutter, before moving onto the next girl.

The golden figure, who had followed discreetly, didn’t continue on with the scarred boy, he instead planted his clawedfeet in front of the girl, threatening to crush her barefooted toes, sinking into the red clay of the town square. “Sing.” His voice was fuller, and because of it she didn’t dare look up.

The scarred boy came to a halt, looking back to watch the girl repeat the hand gestures once again, she thinking that maybe the scarred boy had blocked the view the first time.

“No excuses.” His foot shifted in the mud, talons somehow growing longer as they impaled the ground, indicated he leant in closer. “Sing.” He said again, the sharpness of the demand sending a shiver to travel down her spine as it was accompanied with a growl too much like the sound of thunder to be called human. The girl furrowed her brows and looked up, her bottom lip visible quaking. Yet, what looked at her was no dragon, no… it was a man, a boy. And his skin was not golden like the rarity found in the mountain halls, but tan like sand, and his hair was only a shade lighter, nothing alike the mane of the sun. But those eyes had her quaking, those sharp slitted eyes that seemed to hold her soul in a chokehold, full of cultivated knowledge, merciless, red like wine, red like blood, red like hell. What’s a fate worse than death? She wondered and swallowed at the thought, her breathing picking up its pace. “Sing!” Spit flew to her face like venom with the roar, the tone reverberating through the ground, shaking in her knees.

She felt the itch in her throat, and she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been feeling it more and more lately, the feeling of dead born words somehow washing away. Her whimpers, absent of anything except for breathiness before, now carrying a somewhat lilt of tone. She stared a little deeper into those blood-soaked orbs of the man that looked like the onset of death before her.

“If I had heart.”

The wind roared as if it were as surprised as she was, or perhaps it rejoiced, or perhaps it mourned.

She was silent, the wind crashing and flailing, whipping the rags of her dress, letting the ripped fabric lick her dirty and bruised legs, pulling the disheveled locks of hair out from her face. Eyes; terror-wide, looking into a pair of sharp ones, who seemed to be looking beyond her disheveled state, into something far more divine than she had ever seen, ever known. “Continue.” The red-eyed boy commanded firmly, a detectable form of lust in his voice.

Startled, feeling the gravel dig into her soles. “I would love you... if I had a voice, I would sing.” The people on either side of her looked to be even more distressed now, crying and screaming, looking like wraiths in those charcoaled rags they wore, hands covering their ears as though to protect themselves, terrified as they looked to the sky expecting it to come falling down upon them.

However, their insolence and disrespect wasn’t what angered him, he could allow them that much before he took their lives. But the conflict found in her voice, that’s what truly boiled beneath his skin. He reached out his hand, quick like a viper, the pressure in his fingertips simmering on her skin, sizzling with heat, only for him to dig his fingernails into her throat as well. “Forget everything you know, except for that your life is in the palm of my hand.” He said, securing her gaze, lifting her up to her tippy-toes, though still nowhere near leveling his height.

Awakened by his words and frightened to her bones by the searing look of his eyes, she did as she was told and forgot who she was, forgot what she was and gave into simply doing exactly what needed to be done to keep her alive, to keep what beast in front of her subdued, or perhaps also to satiate what fire seemed to have burst to life inside of her, screaming to be heard. “After the night, when I wake up, I’ll see what tomorrow brings.” Eyes glazed over by some infernal light. She roared, a howl of some sorts, and the trees seemed to shiver and shake in the outmost reverence. “More, give me more, give me more.”

Somehow the leaves stopped rustling at the sound of her abrupt finish. Overwhelmed; all she could do was breath, all she could to was quake, the wind making the tears ever present on her face, the blood of her arm drying and awakened again as new blood came gushing out of her wounds.

The swirling dramatics in his eyes died down into a calm yet eerie content look. “Found you.” He stated, taking his time for the awakening to soak in, bask in the glorious feeling of triumph, before breaking focus from her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Burn the village.” The statement left her blood turning cold. “There’s nothing left for us here. Dispose of the disappointments.” He was quick with his words as though they had been said many times before, and the actions performed by the ones in grey were just as swift, just as merciless. Humans turning into monsters murdering humans.

“No!” She wasn’t aware the voice belonged to her, so many years gone by without being able to voice anything; an opinion; nothing more than a foreigner, let alone an objection.

The people beside her dropped to the floor like rag dolls nonetheless, her voice just as insignificant as if she was still voiceless, drowning in their own bloodied throats. Her throat didn’t match theirs, but had strong, calloused fingers wrapped around it instead, coated with blood, the stench of it becoming so familiar yet far from friendly.

“Forget them, they don’t matter.” His voice still sheer, despite the screams around them both, overwhelming in fact. She felt her mind slip away from her then, as though her sentience was squeezed out from her by the deadlock fist wrapped around her neck, a conquering drowsiness following, seeping into her like the crawling of darkness when the sun settles on the horizon, her vision blurring everything except for those red, red eyes, who; from this point until her death, would never leave her.

PART TWO

[apomaro-mellow]

From the Deep

Read on AO3

He wouldn't have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. There, among the crashing waves, a mer beast. A creature from the depths that meant to do him harm. Poe had been minding his work, retrieving the nets he had cast when something bumped his boat. He stumbled a bit, but figured it wasn't anything to be worried about. Probably just a bigger fish that had been trying to take advantage of his catch before he pulled it out.

But he was bumped, much harder and then the waves suddenly turned choppy. The clouds above had begun to darken when they had just been clear and bright. Then Poe saw it rise from the water.

Skin white as the moon. Hair black as the the deep from where it came.

With a raspy roar, it commanded the oceans and toppled Poe's boat, knocking him into the water. While he struggled to find his bearings, he felt something sharp sink into his arm. He didn't know if it was claws or teeth but he fought it off anyway. He was at a disadvantage here but he had been in scraps before. He tried to wait for the right moment. Poe let the monster sink in even deeper to his flesh and pretended to lie limp, letting the creature gets its guard down so that he could get a better idea of their shape.

The thrashing stopped and Poe was sure now that those were teeth. With all the strength afforded to him, he raised a fist and landed a blow. Given that he was drowning and underwater, it wasn't as powerful as it could've been. But it was still enough to stun the mer beast. To make certain, Poe took out the knife attached to his leg and swung again. He didn't know what he hit but now there was even more blood in the water.

He was smacked by a dark red tail that retreated and Poe was left there, trying to figure out which way was up. He broke the surface with a choked gasp and looked around for his boat. It had been capsized and a little beaten but wasn't destroyed. The seas returned to their previous calm and the sun broke through the clouds.

The only thing Poe had as proof of his encounter was the bite mark on his bicep.

A year after and Poe was still on the hunt for that beast. Since then, a few had caught glimpses of it, but only Poe had the displeasure of coming so close to it. He swore he'd never let that thing hurt anyone ever again. Poe knew he was lucky. Had the tides turned just a bit, he'd be dead. It was another one of those days, Poe alone on his boat, the waters calm.

He was armed with a spear, ready to take down the mer beast the moment it showed itself. And today was the day. He knew it the moment the clouds turned back and rumbled. Poe grabbed his weapon, ready this time.

Or so he thought.

The waves got choppy again just as before, but they soon turned even more turbulent. The creature rose and this time even higher as a water spout lifted them into the air. It gave Poe a menacing look and a hiss and Poe felt an itch at his back. He turned and saw a giant wave bearing down on him. Before it could take him out, he turned back and thrust his spear at the beast. Poe watched as it sunk into the beast's chest and then his vision was blocked by the deluge of water.

He was falling, or maybe he was spiraling to the side. He could even be rising. Poe had no idea which direction he was going. Only that he was in fact moving. Poe was a strong swimmer but even the best couldn't move against an act of nature. But he'd done it. He had killed the monster. If he drowned now, at least he had that accomplishment.

All of the air had left his lungs and he couldn't stop the initial suction of water. He tried keeping his lips tightly sealed down but that wasn't all he had to worry about. If he could get his brain to stop swirling for a moment, he could figure out where he needed to go. If he could stop his vision from darkening...If he could...

Poe choked, unable to hold his breathe anymore. It got even darker. The something was pulling him. No, it was holding and carrying him. Poe felt something thick wrap around his waist. Did octopi eat people?

Whatever it was, it felt gentle. And the water was cold but this was warm. Poe closed his eyes, thinking this might not be such a bad way to go.

And then he was choking up water, coarse sand under him and the setting sun at his feet. But he didn't see any of that. What he saw was the face of a gorgeous angel. Poe tried to talk but his throat was still raw from choking up salt water.

He wanted to thank them, to ask where he was, how long he'd been out, where was his boat?

"What's your name?", he asked instead, the moment his throat was cleared.

"Finn."

"Finn", Poe repeated like a prayer, something precious. With a groan, he lifted himself a little on his forearms and turned his head away to look at where they were. He vaguely recognized these trees. This was an islet, not too far from home. If his boat didn't survive, he could make the swim, although it'd be quite the distance.

Then he turned back to Finn and smiled at his lovely face again. He noticed he was shirtless, which was a nice thing to notice. And then he noticed the scaly, bright blue tail below his waist, which would've been a nicer thing to notice first. Poe froze, unable to tear his eyes away from it. Partially out of shock but also the blue was so vivid and iridescent, he couldn't look away.

"That's a...that's a very um, pretty tail you have there. Nice and shiny."

"Thanks. It's for luring prey."

Poe knew he'd follow that tail in a second if he saw it. And how quickly the thought came to mind scared him.

"You're a...a mer beast? One of them?"

Finn frowned, but he didn't look angry. "We prefer to be called mer folk. At least in human tongue."

"Human tongue?"

"You wouldn't be able to pronounce it in our language." He paused for a moment. "I know you've already met one." He eyed the bite mark on Poe's arm. It had faded a bit but was beginning to look like something he'd carry for the rest of his life.

"I met a beast. A monster. He's one of you?"

"A mer, sure. But he's sold his soul for power. And he's using it against you humans."

Poe thought about how the waters moved to their will. How the sky got dark. As he was realizing just how strong this enemy was, a loud splash came from the water. Poe looked up while Finn looked away in embarrassment. A bright yellow tail rose from the water and slapped down, causing another big splash.

"I've...I've gotta go", Finn said. "Can you make it home alright?"

"I'm a man of the sea", Poe said confidently. "I'll manage."

Finn smiled and turned to roll himself back into the water. Poe couldn't help but grin at the sight. He was sure that Finn was much more graceful in the ocean. Once submerged, Finn gave Poe a wave and then swam off, presumably with another mer bea-mer folk, Poe reminded himself. Finn and the other one with him were mer folk.

The one who had attacked him was still a beast.

As they swam away, Finn ignored all of Rey's scolding. He was swimming in the clouds right now. And nothing could bring him down. Even Rey could see that. She rolled her eyes, giving up on lecturing him for now.

"So? What's that sailor's name anyway?"

Finn stopped short and Rey frowned, confused.

"...I didn't get his name."

Rey cackled so hard she was turning flips in the water. Imagine pining after someone for months and then not getting his name!

[city-of-spooks]

There is a Selkie in our bathtub.

A short story about casting off your skin, fishfingers and a dog called Dennis.

She’s quiet now, but usually, you can hear her moving about because the water splashes over the rim and Dad goes mad about the floor.

“Fish don’t pay the deposit,” he says.

“Miss McColl says seals are mammals, not fish,” I explain.

We had a lesson about animals and their families at the beginning of term and there was a whole bit on seals. They raise their pups on milk, like people do, and the mums look after them until they are ready to go out and swim on their own.

Dad does not find this helpful. His mouth goes all thin when he’s unhappy, like someone has pulled on the other side of his beard. A lot of it is grey, now.

The couple on the bottom floor has a big dog that always sniffs my pockets, with fur like silvery wire. It’s called Dennis. Sometimes he comes and watches me tie my laces in the morning, eyes like jawbreakers. He just sits there. And then the lady will whistle for him and he pads home, big paws slapping like welly boots.

•

I think Dennis might have been a person.

Sometimes I dream about things like that. My mouth opens and bubbles come out, floating towards the ceiling, and the blankets go soft and slippery. You can pull them over you like a cocoon. My bones go to jelly inside my skin - but it’s a good thing. It makes sense, somehow.

Then I wake up and I feel even weirder; like someone has bundled all of my left shoes into a bag and dumped them off the pier.

“I don’t know where you get all this shite from,’ says Dad.

I try not to talk too much when he gets back from work, so mornings are the best time to ask him things.

How big can the waves get? Big.

Why doesn’t Gilly sink? Good boats don’t sink.

Do you have to go? I needed this shift. The old woman said she’ll have you.

Hmm. What’s the weirdest fish you’ve ever fished? It wasn’t a fish.

•

Dad doesn’t like talk after work. He’s always quiet. Angry, I think. Always smells like fish and salt and the sticky seaweed that gathers under the pier. He used to get straight into the shower and stay in there for ages, coming out all red and scrubbed like a shiny lobster.

I don’t think flannel ‘once-overs’ are helping because he still stinks of Gilly.

Dad still goes straight into the bathroom, but he can’t use the tub because it’s got… her in it. Sometimes he goes in with a bucket full of glassy-eyed fishies.

It always comes out empty. No bones in the plughole.

I eat my tea in front of the TV, leaving four fish-fingers in the oven for Dad.

The volume has to be loud to drown out Mr Kinney’s radio upstairs - but sometimes I can hear him talking in the bathroom. It echoes. His voice is low, rumbly. There might be a splash, the taps running, buckets being filled and brought out onto the landing. I brush my teeth there and spit into the toilet next door.

When I’m feeling brave, I can hold my breath and push my ear to the wall.

Thump. Murmurs. Low. Dad. Thump. Quiet. Splash. Thump. Quiet. Dad again. Thump. Thump. Thump.

I’m there for ages. A lot longer than I thought, because I’m getting sleepy and my toes are going all stiff in the cold from under the door. Then... a click. It’s loud and I scramble into my bed, thinking it’s Dad turning the light switch.

It isn’t.

•

He doesn’t eat his dinner. He talks to the tiles all night.

I’m not supposed to tell anybody, but Dad says not to especially tell Granny about the Selkie.

She’s not my real Granny, she’s actually the old lady who owns the flats, but she’s been here for as long as I can remember. Her eyes are watery like milk and she smells like smoke, but she always stops to give me these little chewy toffees whenever I see her on the stairs.

Dad says I shouldn’t take sweets from strangers, even Mrs Keeley. He doesn’t like me calling her Granny. His nose wrinkles like he’s smelt something off.

Once she came and hammered on the door really loudly when I was in bed, yelling about lots of things. Dad’s weird hours and the water pipes clanging when she’s trying to watch the news. She’s always watching the news.

Sometimes she braids my hair when I stay over. Her fingers curl where they shouldn’t, but they still manage to brush out the tangles Dad can’t get when we’re rushing for the bus.

“You’re really good at that,” I say. My mouth is full of peppermint chew.

I don’t take my shoes off, sitting with my school bag tucked between my legs. I want to curl around it like seaweed.

“My Lorna was always head sore.”

Mrs Keeley sounds like she’s smiling.

“I had to get her hair done quick or it wouldn’t get done at all.”

She ties off my plait with a bow. Blue ribbon. Her fingers hold onto the ends of it like she doesn’t know when to stop - and the jelly-bones feeling comes back, just for a moment.

“You never lose it.”

•

When I go back upstairs to our flat, Dad still isn’t home.

If this happens I’m meant to go back to Mrs Keeley and stay with her a bit longer, even though her rooms are always a bit too warm, like she’s trying to heat the entire place up from top to bottom.

Our bit is quiet. And cold.

I want to show Dad my hair and how pretty it is - it looks like how Shauna’s Mum does hers. Sometimes I stare at it when I’m in science.

The tap drips. Once, twice, three times.

I’m supposed to be in bed, but if I’m hungry the fridge has those leftover fish-fingers from the other night. But I’m not hungry. My stomach is full of peppermint chews.

When I pass the bathroom, my foot catches the spot where the carpet has rolled up. The floor is squeakiest there - and it groans when I go to catch myself from falling. My hand loudly slaps the landing wall. Ouch.

Water hits the tiles on the other side of the wall, a huge spray clattering against the old shampoo bottles and soaking the shower-curtain. I can almost feel it under my stinging palm, and just know that Dad’s going to be really angry about the floor this time.

But I don’t care. I want to see her. Selkie.

My voice comes out all wobbly.

“It’s me...”

I don’t want to scare her, even though I sound a lot different than Dad.

She still hasn’t seen me yet - but knows I exist. My name gets passed around the taps during those late-night chats. I think that’s enough.

•

Dad was in a rush that morning. He went to bed angry and woke up groggy, nearly putting his foot in the sink-that’s-actually-a-bucket. I think everyone had weird dreams, even if we didn’t dream the same thing.

I dreamt that the bedroom was full of water again. Fish swam in shoals through the wardrobe, picking at Dad’s thick mariner’s socks and hiding in the blankets. My shoes floated past me, hitting our bobbly ceiling with a thunk.

I looked down at the bed, the pillows billowing like jellyfish, mattress lifting from rusty springs.

Something is there, right at the edge-

•

I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door. It’s cold, smelling of fish and the underbelly of the pier. Buckets are everywhere - some full of water, some with half-eaten fish guts sloshed up the sides. I feel a bit sick.

Now, our bath is pretty deep. It’s very old, the kind that takes up the whole boiler if you let it, so we have to top it off with pans heated on the stove if it runs short. I can’t peer into it from the doorway, but I can see long, browning lines painted on the tiles. We have those markers on my classroom wall, groups of five scrunched together in a weird pattern.

I think they’re called tally-

A CLICK sounds from the bottom of the tub, the noise loud and sharp.

I drop my bag.

The oily blanket stuffed at the bottom tumbles out of it, along with my sandwich crusts, landing by one of the buckets with a thump. I’d go to reach it, but my feet won’t move.

Jelly-bones again. The world has gone quiet. All I can hear is my heart thumping loudly and the grumble-rumble of Mr Kinney’s radio. Dennis is barking from the bottom flat. Someone is yelling outside.

The tap isn’t dripping anymore.

I step closer to the tub and my mouth flops open, like one of Dad’s biggest catches.

Dead fish. Hook-in-lip.

Stoppered in the spout is a toe, with silvery webbing connected between each one. There’s a long foot, leading up to a shaky knee crisscrossed with streaks of pearly white. It’s hard to make out over the mottled brown patches blooming across her skin, but it’s a very pretty pattern. Like Mrs Keeley’s swirly carpet and-

“Coira.”

•••

Author’s note: I could have ended it there, but I am a slut for the poetic and always over-egg my stuff - especially when I’m stressed. So here’s a Director’s Cut finish.

There’s nothing else to know.

I’m older - and yet younger than I’ve ever been.

My home is spread over miles of water, mountainous waves and my stomach is full of fish.

I have siblings now. A whole colony, rookery and herd of family. We go by many things.

Sometimes the men in the boats call us a ‘Bob.’

It’s a name that hurts the back of my head but the memory always slips away before too long, for I am coated in an oil-slick. Soft and sleek. Quick.

We spend our days playing in the long weeds, hunting, playing, nudging - sometimes we even stretch out onto the beaches and soak up the sun. Children come to watch us, their sticky fingers reaching to pull at our coats but the parents always steer them away.

They never let on to what they really know.

On a handful of nights, when the moon is full and bright, we walk on the shore. My skin is bundled up and always kept within my sight, tucked behind a stump of the old pier.

It’s been years since I’ve seen myself like this. Longer legs, thick thighs and stomach to keep warm in the winter currents. The brown and white mottles running up and down my skin are less graceful on me, more abstract.

I think of a painting made with fingers - maybe mine? - from many years ago. It hung on the fridge for months, until it got swallowed by angry red letters.

But we continue to dance. My eyes, which can see through shifting silt and roaring tides, do not search beyond the beach. I simply spin faster and the seagrass tied in my hair shimmers in the moonlight.

Sometimes I feel a person or two watching us.

One of my sisters laughs and it cracks through the silence like a bark, more voices rising with it until the calls of early morning gulls are drowned out.

It’s the darkest moment before dawn. In this light, the seagrass looks like a dark blue ribbon.

[adhd-demetri]

First things first, love the new url, it's super you. Second are you working on the story for your oc? I actually want to read more on it -Jane

Yep and after thinking about it, if you have a twilight oc, message me and I'll add them into the story :) but this is it so far. Consider this a free sample

~Breaking news~

Things are getting pretty wild in ohio near cowan lake campgrounds. Two coyotes and wolf have been spotted in the area roaming around together wrecking havoc and panic. Biologists are baffled by the sudden appearance of a wolf in ohio with what is supposed to be their enemy.

No one knows where the trio came from but police and wildlife officials are urging people to haze them away and for parents of pets and children alike to keep a sharp eye on them.

Witnesses say they have been seen near dumpsters and trash cans tearing open bags of uneaten food-

-Click-

Demi turned off his phone as he took a bite out of a sub he and his mate had dug out of the dumpster. He snickered at the thought of him, his little brother and his mate 'wrecking havoc' over simply digging in dumpsters for goodies people through out. Like phone chargers, towels, clothing, sleeping bags and even small one person tents with easy fixes.

People are so wasteful. Throwing away perfectly good treasures. Oh well, they were now theirs.

Casper walked up behind him and threw down a tent that he just patched up. It was a cheap green and beige 4 person tent that had a hole in the roof of it. It wasn't nothing special truthfully.

"What do you think? Nice patch work right?" He said looking very proud of his work. Demi turned around and ran his fingers over the the patch, inspecting the delicate stitching and the vinyl that protected them from wear-and-tear.

"Looks good Cas, can't imagine why someone would get rid of this for a easy fix!" He shrugged, oh well. It now belongs to his younger brother.

As he got up from the forest floor, he dusted off the leaves and dirt that clung to the back of his pants. Grabbing the tent, he headed to Caspers car that was parked by an abandoned entrance way that led to overgrown trails leading to their little hideout.

"Hey alex. Check it out, Cas fixed you a tent. Now you can go camping with us instead of sleeping in the car." He said giving his 10 year old little brother the now fixed up tent.

Alex was sitting in the back playing mario kart tour on his phone. He glanced down quickly and laid his phone down. He picked up the tent bag and looked at its contents. His baby blue eyes started to widen with excitement.

"Th-this is for me? My own tent? Wow this is so cool!" The little blond was practically jumping up and down in his spot with pure joy and happiness radiating off of him. He was so happy to have his own tent finally.

"Yup, tonight Cas and I can teach you how to put it up and when we leave, take it down. Sound good?"

"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!" He suddenly slammed into Demi with a tight hug. Demi patted his head and pulled the excited child off of himself.

Alex went back to playing his game. Demi went back and sat on the ground to join Casper in the small clearing while he was redoing the zipper work on one of the sleeping bags. Casper nearly had this one finished up and planned on giving it to Alex since it had Kion and other lion guard characters on it. Casper concentrated as he worked on stitching the zipper to the sleeping bag.

"Soooo Alex loved his tent. Thank you for fixing it up for him."

"No problem. Seemed better than sitting in the car ya know? Oh hey look I finally got it stitched. You know these zippers are so hard to fix now a days." He said zipping up the bag and admiring his work.

He looked up and noticed the sun was starting to paint the sky in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks mixed with some purples and blues. The air felt slightly cooler than it did before.

Demi rolled his eyes and simply smiled.

He knew it was time to get going and head back to the campgrounds.

Casper followed right behind him and started up his car. They headed back to Cowan Lake campgrounds tenting area.

"Hey alex! Buckle up bud!" He yelled getting back up and getting into the car to leave.

The ride there was quite relaxing as the trio was simply jamming out to some music on their way to the campgrounds. They didn't have a care in the world it seemed.

They finally made it back to their spot. Alex quickly hopped out along with his tent and claimed a spot right next to where Demi and Casper's tent was. He started to pull everything out of the make shift bag that he had stuffed it in previously.

Demi quickly got out and ran to him. He didnt want Alex to lose anything.

"Hey bud slow down, We still got to help you put it up. Cas you want to get the fire going? We can roast some shmellows and some hot dogs. I'm starved!" Demi quickly started unraveling the tent and pulling out the poles, laying them nice and neat.

While they did that, Casper started up the fire. It roared to life after a few moments of poking and prodding it with fiery paper. He grabbed all the goodies, the roasting sticks and a mini table from his car.

The sun sunk down below the trees as the beauty of the moon rose to the sky. She bathed the area in a soft ghostly white glow.

Meanwhile Alex and Demi finally got his tent all nice and set up. It looked a little worn down but it was definitely still usuable.

"Hey who wants shmellows? We got some dogs that need roasting too!" Cas called out to Demi and Alex. He laid out the marshmallows and chocolate along side the hotdogs, gram crackers and bread. Alex and Demi joined him by the cozy fire grabbing a few bits of food and wolfing them down like ravenous animals.

Demi shushed him real quick. He didn't want to disturb others and cause any unnecessary commotion. The last time that happened didn't end well .... for the other person that is.

Around them other campfires crackled and popped while kids and couples alike told stories and roasted foods. Some saying goodnight while others stayed out.

"So when the fire goes out, do you two want to go on a run? I'm pretty sure that stupid Cullen family is out hunting and I do NOT want him near our area." Demi asked Casper and Alex.

Casper thought about it for a moment and mouthed I dont care while shoving a hotdog in his mouth. Alex simply shook his head yes as he ate a burnt gooey marshmallow.

"Yeah it's a full moon tonight! And I haven't ran with you guys in forever!" Alex shouted a tad bit to loud grabbing the attention of a few nearby campers.

"Let's wait till 10. Most of the other campers will be asleep and in their tents by then. It would be the perfect time to slip out." Demi said leaning into his mate's embrace.

No one screams at his little brother for being excited.

"Yeah, it has been awhile hasn't it? It's about time we run and get a good idea of how big our territory is too if this is our permanent home." Casper said.

Demi nodded in agreement as he got up. He went to his and Casper's tent and stripped down to just his incredibly warm out pants. He didn't care if these pants got destroyed while shifting. They've been through so much and it was time to finally to get rid of them.

Casper got up from his spot and joined Demi in the tent. He wrapped his arms around Demi's midsection, pulling him into a warm hug.

"So when you want to head out love?" He whispered.

They both sat down on their makeshift bed. Minutes passed as they simply stayed still together.

A sense of euphoria enveloped him. What a lovely feeling it was.

He got up quickly, peeking out of the tent entrance way.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

His little brother crossed his mind. He left him out there by the fire by himself!

Hide and seek

Thankfully the fire was dying since no one was paying it any attention.

His brother was lying down on the grass. His headphones over his head and his hand tracing the stars as he sang a familiar song quietly. His head bobbing in sync to the beat.

Reason and rhyme

Grand and glorious

Living the dream

yours and mine

~ Euphoria!

As he sand the last part, his arm fell to his side. A smile was spreading across his face as he lost himself in his own little world of euphoria.

Demi felt his body shift quickly. Thankfully his pants were worn enough to not make hardly any noise. Brown, orange and white fur littered from his skin quickly.

The feeling of happiness and joy could be felt radiating from him once again.

Demi sighed to himself, grateful his brother was ok.

"Everything alright love?"

"Yeah, just got worried about Alex but he's fine. He's in his own little world right now."

"I can tell. I can feel it from here."

Demi went back and sat down. He searched for his phone to check the time.

9:57 PM

All of the other campers were asleep by now. The only ones awake at this point was the trio.

Casper's body morphed as well. Silvery gray fur with white swirls that resembled a starry galaxy painted his skin. His body shifted and the shorts he had were ripped quickly.

And just like that, a coyote that could blend in with the autumn themed environment stood before Casper.

The air swirled around Demi. With it, The smell of wet leaves and smoke with sugary delights. Demi inhaled the savory scents before making his way to the child that was still relaxed on the grass.

And just like that, a wolf stood above Demi in the 10 person tent.

Giving his mate a quick nuzzle, Demi slowly crept outside the tent. He didn't want to wake anyone or draw attention to himself. He still had to get Alex into their tent.

Demi nudges Alex with his snoot, urging him to get up. Alex realised it was time and ran to his brother's tent as there would be no room to shift in his own.

Soon after a small blondish white coyote pup came out. His ears and tail were probably the most unique feature both the wolf and coyote have ever seen.

Casper ran out of tent to give Alex some privacy.

'So Cas, did you hear what they said about us on the news? They think we are trouble makers!

Just were the ears attach to the head, Alex's fur was a shiny metallic gold color. His tail was the same way.

He jumped up into the air and started to run a tad bit. The excitment seemed to rub off on Demi. He too started to jump around with his little brother. Together their energy seemed to wile them up even more.

With a burst of energy, the trio took off onto the road. Demi and Alex yipped along the way down the road. Casper's tongue lulled out of his mouth while he ran.

Alex on the other paw didn't want to go digging like his older brother. He was more interested in the playground that was close by and the toys that had been abandoned there as well.

Ha! Can you believe that? Let's give them real trouble!'

Cas nodded in response. He started to slow down as they approached the dumpsters. The overwhelming smell of garbage that has been marinating all day under a scorching hot sun wafted around the trio.

Demi charged ahead of them. He loved digging in the trash, all kinds of goodies people would throw out for no reason was calling his name!

He chased after his brother though.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Taphophobia - Dean x Reader (One Shot)

A/N: Okay, this is going a little slow. But, seems to be going still. I have this edited piece, and then at least one drabble to post before I crash. As usual, feedback is always incredible. I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse. Phobias. Being buried alive. Reader death. Nothing but angst.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“What's your biggest fear?” The air chilled around you and Dean. Fogging up the breath you let out into the night. Sixteen years old, and too many cares in the world.

Hunting did that to a person. Aged them young. You both felt as if you were forty. Weighed down by the weight of others' lives.

“My biggest fear?” He passed over the whiskey, and leaned back against the tree behind him. Humming a bit as he thought. Looking up at the moon as you rolled up the sleeves to his jacket over your own arms. “I don't know...I guess...” The Winchester inhaled deeply, trying to settle on one as you took a swig. “I guess being alone.” His lips tightened as he dwelled on it for a moment. “Yeah, I think that's it. Sammy...he's already talkin' college. And being left with dad...”

“Being alone sounds less scary than being left alone with John,” You shuddered at the very idea. Thinking of the bruises that had been known to line Dean's body.

He told everyone it was monsters. Always had. Yet, you knew better. A drunk, angry John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with. Dean rarely came out on top. But, he took it so you and Sam never had to. Always had been, and always would be, your hero.

“At least he's familiar,” The green eyes turned towards you. Trying to see the positive.

However, he must not have been able to. They widened as he imagined life alone with his father. Silently asking that you didn't leave him to face the reality. Didn't force him to make the choice between facing the emptiness he was so scared of, and the harsh life he'd live with only John by his side.

“Yeah...I get that.” The words seemed to relax him a little more. Letting a deep, heavy sigh leave the boy that carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Your own parents had been killed six years prior. You'd just been a kid. So had Dean. The only reason John had allowed you to join the crew was so that Sam was never left on his own. Unfair? Perhaps, but that's how things were.

The Winchesters were all you had. If it came down to choosing John over nothing? You'd choose the abuse. As sad and lonely as it would be. Anything to be close to the memories of Sam and Dean.

“Now, what about you?” Dean's brow rose. Asking you to dig deep. You took another large swig in response. Letting the burn down your throat give you strength. “That bad?”

“It just freaks me out,” You shuddered, passing over the bottle for Dean to finish. Wincing a bit at the after taste. “You know I don't like small spaces?” An easy nod was his answer.

It was no secret. Hiding away, in the back of a closet was the first thing you were able to remember. Listening to the screams of your family. Hearing the roar of the wolf that had tore their beating hearts from their bodies. That kind of thing left scars.

Maybe even more than holding a baby brother while everything burned had impacted Dean. At least he hadn't been able to see Mary on the ceiling. You could see the flash of blood through the panel's cracks. See the bodies being thrown.

John had tossed you in a coat closet, once. His version of a fitting punishment. For simply grabbing his fist before it could hit the squared jaw of the oldest boy.

While you were in there, you could hear John raving. Words slurring as he tore Dean a new one verbally. Not even caring that Sam would be witness for once. Too deep in the drink and grief to care, anymore.

When Dean had opened up the door, the damage had been done. Eleven years old, and mentally broken. Tears trailed down your face as the heavy panting left your parted lips. Too trapped in the memories to move.

The older brother had to crawl in next to you. Drained and all, he'd helped you ground yourself enough to walk away. To plaster a smile on your face to tell the youngest that everything would be okay.

“Just small spaces?” His brow furrowed at that. Remembering it all. Wondering, not for the first time, just how damaged his father had left you.

“Almost,” You shrugged, tugging Dean's leather jacket closer around your body. Needing that sense of security as you faced what haunted your dreams. “Being buried alive.” His head tilted a bit as you explained. “There's the small space, for one. The lack of control that comes with it. You can't escape...it isn't slow, either. You have time to panic. To try and claw your way to safety...but, in the end? There's not a thing you can do.”

Every nightmare you'd ever had stared back at you. There wasn't a thing you hadn't imagined. The terror that came with it sank into your bones.

“Come here,” Dean tugged you closer, holding you under his strong grasp. His chin rested along your scalp. “Let's think about something more positive, alright? I'm kinda sick of all the doom and gloom.” Sick of seeing your unease. He wanted you happy. Safe.

As you nodded, his lips dropped to press against your temple. Telling you how much you meant to him without words. A gentle squeeze pulled some of the tension from your body. Trusting him to keep you secure. After all, he always had.

–

“Where is she?” Dean growled out, stalking forward with fury in his green eyes. The male witch was shoved backwards by his throat.

There was no fear present in his face. No remorse. Simply amusement. As if he got off on causing pain.

“You aren't going to make it in time,” The being bit out gleefully. Looking up at the hunter with a smug grin. It didn't fade when the solid fist slammed into his head. If anything, it only grew stronger despite the blood dripping down his chin. “She had six hours...if she's lucky.”

“You better hope you're wrong.” Magic stalling cuffs held him captive. Leaving Dean time to play. Time he didn't have.

Every minute ticked by faster and faster. Making the Winchester more desperate with each click from the clock. Torture was a trick he'd learned to keep under wraps. However, he had no problem placing each cut into the unmarred skin of the witch. Ensuring that his pain would be too much to bear. Sure enough, it worked. “She's buried,” The bloodied being hissed out, arching against his restraints. “But, that's all you're getting from me, Winchester.”

“You did what?” The hunter roared, grabbing the man by his collar. His stomach twisting at the thought. He could hear your voice from all those years ago. Echoing in his head as his fist slammed into the smug face. Over and over again. Not caring if the witch was dead, or just unconscious. It was only the thought of time running low that pulled him away. “Sammy?” Dean was on the move as he called his brother. “We need to get some shovels. Start looking for any disturbed ground.”

“Why?” The younger man's voice cracked in fear. He had reason to be terrified. There was only minutes left. If you were lucky.

“The bastard threw her in the dirt,” Dean bit out, already on the prowl. Needing to fix everything. To save you. “We've got two acres to cover. He figured six hours, Sam...”

“Dean...what if-”

“Don't say it.” The biting tone ended the thought before it could escape. Terror squeezed at his heart. It was if he was feeling what you were. Suddenly his lungs burned. “We're going to make it in time. We have to, Sammy.”

“I'll meet you around back,” Sam stated softly. Almost as though he felt it was hopeless. Dean ended the call with a slam. Refusing to buy into the negativity.

It would be okay. You would be fine. You had to be.

Ten minutes. Twenty. By thirty, Dean was coated in sweat. His heart raced as he desperately searched over the ground.

Then, he saw it. The disturbed dirt was nestled beside a tree. At the very end of the property.

“Sam!” He shouted, already on the move. By the time his brother made it to his side, the flannel had been discarded. A large dent in the top started.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, taking in the size of the hole. There was little mistaking what rested underneath the dirt.

Neither brother said a word from that point on. Too afraid to do more than shovel. And pray that everything would be fine. Miracles happened every day. If anyone was due for one, it was you. Holding onto that thought, the dug until their muscles ached.

They'd ripped open a million graves in their life time. But this time? They were digging up yours. And it made all of the difference. What would usually take hours, and breaks only took them a fraction of the time.

You were down to seconds as Dean threw the final layer of dirt out with his bare hands. Exposing the shiny coffin that had been reported missing eight hours before. The witch had planned on nabbing one of them. You'd just happened to be in the way.

“Y/N!” He yelled out, yanking it open. There was no sound outside of their harsh breathing. You didn't move- didn't react- as the light hit your face. The color was leeched from your skin. “Y/N?” The broken crack left Dean as he stared. Trying to see movement. Anything to tell him you were okay. There was no fluttering of your eyelashes. No twitch in your limbs. Not even the rise and fall of your chest. “No,” He whispered; his eyes filling with the water he'd been fighting so hard to repress. “No...god, please...no.” He was lunging at you, then. Checking for your pulse. Even knowing that there would be none. “Damn it, Y/N...” Dean bit out, moving his hands to yours to begin chest compressions. “You can't leave me, okay? Not like this.” You didn't answer as he slammed his hands over your sternum rapidly. He bent over, pinching your nose before breathing into your parted lips.

Sam watched as his brother lost it. The tears slipped down the dirt covered skin only to land on your body. Cracking filled the air as the force of his will broke your ribs. But, there was no in drawn breath.

Fifteen minutes passed before the younger brother couldn't take anymore, “Dean...” Yet, the older brother didn't stop. Begging you quietly through gritted teeth to open those E/C eyes inside that coffin. “I...I think she's gone.” Sam's voice cracked, watching the scene unfold helplessly.

“She can't be,” Dean hissed out, starting to slow. His arms burned. The breath leaving his lips was ragged. Sweat trailed lines across his grey t-shirt and dirt coated skin. But, none of that mattered. Not so long as your chest didn't rise on its own.

“Dean-”

“No!” He shouted back. Voice hard and filled with threats of violence if anything got between him and you. “She's alive, damn it. She has to be...I have...I have to save her.” But that time, his movements ceased. It was beginning to sink in. “I...” His words ended as he looked down at the blue tint to your skin. There was no coming back. Your nails were ripped to shreds. Hands raw and bloody from your attempts to dig the coffin open. The material above your head was shredded. You'd fought til the end, he was sure. “Y/N?” The finality of it sunk in when you didn't respond. He lost it in earnest, then. “I...I...I'm...I'm so...so s...sorry, sweetheart.” His fingers ran through your hair, gently. Shaking as a broken sob left him. Sam could only sit back and watch as his brother mourned the love of his life.

It was daylight by the time he managed to pull himself away to begin building a pyre. The younger brother had it over half done. Preparing to give you a hunter's funeral. It felt more right. You had never been scared of fire.

Dean carried your body to the pile; kissing the cold forehead as he'd set you up on the wooden stand. When he'd pulled away, he willed you to move. Anything to tell him it was all a bad dream. That he was making a mistake.

There was nothing. With a defeated sigh, he stepped back. A small crack sounded, making him jerk down to the noise. Your phone rested on the ground, underneath his boot.

You'd never felt the need for that kind of privacy a password offered. He swiped the screen. Preparing to shut it off. Only, the sight of a sending message caught his attention.

An audio file glared up at him. Daring him to listen. Slowly, he pressed play. Raising it to his ear.

“Dean...I don't know if I have much time left,” Your voice shook into the phone's speaker. Dean looked over to the pile your covered body rested in. Forcing himself to remember that he wasn't hearing you in that moment. “I shouldn't be talking... It uses the air faster...I...I know that.” The broken edge that followed let him know that you were crying. “But, I'm getting tired...” He swallowed tightly; his eyes beginning to water at the anguish he was hearing. Dean had thought he'd been out of tears. He'd never been more wrong. “And I'm scared...” He'd known you would have been. But, hearing the words tore through him even more. “So...so scared.” A sniffle followed, “It's okay, though...” You swallowed tightly, trying to compose yourself. “Because...I know...I know this means...means that you're safe. He didn't get to you, first.” A weak laugh left your lips. As if that made everything alright, again. “And I know you won't be alone.” A thud sounded as your elbow hit the lid. He could picture you trying to wipe away the tears. His heart squeezed at the message. “Sammy's home, now.” The shakiness as you fought to remain strong was apparent. Not for yourself. But, for him. “He'll stay with you...If...If he doesn't, I'll haunt him. Burned body be damned.” You coughed, then. The air thickening the more you talked. There must have been some fight left in you. The beating of your fists could be heard before another sob, and a broken cry escaped. He hated the sound of it, but clung to the fact that you hadn't been completely resigned to your fate. You had been strong. If only it had been enough. “I just...I love you, okay?” You came back to your senses, for a moment. Remembering your mission. “I know...I know I say it a lot...but, I needed you to hear it right...right now.” Another sniff left you as you repressed the tears for a moment longer. “This isn't your fault, Dean...this...I'm...I'm okay with...with this being it...if..if it is.” Your final, gasping words that he'd ever hear had him dropping to his knees, “You're not alone, Dean...You're not...not gonna be all alone. I promise...That's what matters, alright? You're...you're not alone.”

The message ended, then. Leaving him to realize that your biggest fear hadn't truly been being buried alive, after all. You'd been trapped in that coffin. Facing the thing that you had claimed to be the one thing you couldn't handle. But, in the end? It had been something much deeper.

Your biggest fear had been that Dean would be, or feel, all alone. And have to face what you'd both been terrified of with it. The thing that he hadn't realized? His biggest fear hadn't truly been being alone. It had simply been being without you...

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger

[coffee-n-some-cream]

The Witch

Agnes lived at the edge of the woods. She could step out her front door and within thirty seconds and a few decisive strides, she would be surrounded by trees. They were mossy and dense and often maple. Her dad had moved them out to the middle-of-nowhere Ohio to get away from the world. He only ever drove the family out into what could be called a town to go to Sunday Mass and visit his enormous Catholic family. They lived so far away from anything that Dad might call modern or secular that their roads were dirt and their neighbors were Amish. Dad said that was good - the world was bad and material and there, in nature, there would be no distractions or nosy neighbors.

“We can live the right way,” he told her as he carried her plastic tub of Barbies into her new room. “The way God intended.”

But Agnes lived at the edge of the woods.

If you’ve ever stepped into a forest you know what’s in there. You know how the flesh of tree and earth smell, you know how the air tastes over your tongue. You know there’s magic in there. If you’ve ever stepped into a forest at night you know what’s in there. It’s a fey word, the magic swirling, teeming in the dark, alive and out to play when the Sun’s away. 

That’s when Agnes went picking.

Picking? Yes, picking. Picking whatever the woods offered her that night, under the guidance of the moon. At first, she just picked things off the ground - leaves, dead beetles, rocks, twigs, moss - and put them into a muddy heap, which she would stir into a murky slop with her hands. “Potion, potion, feel the motion,” she would whisper because it rhymed, not because it meant anything. Then, she picked things for her Box of Treasures. Her Box of Treasures was a gift from her Auntie Sybil. It was ancient and wooden and creaked like a haunted house, yet it was lined with velvet and had a latch that Agnes swore was made of pure gold. In her Box of Treasures were many a woodland picking. A mossy pinecone, a fossil of a worm, a shiny obsidian arrowhead, and on one special midnight excursion, a tiny skull with sharp teeth. She had found it just before dawn and rushed it back home, cradling it to her chest before daylight could touch it.

She brought it straight to her big brother Sebastian, who never ever tattled on her about anything, but knew a lot of things. He examined it in the soft light of his reading lamp and said they were the remains of a baby possum. Agnes poked at the skull and whispered “sharp teeth” like it was a secret.

“Yeah,” Sebastian whispered back. “Just a baby, but still. Sharp teeth.”

That skull was the centerpiece of her Box of Treasures.

The Box of Treasures stayed safe under her bed until her Aunt Sybil came to visit. Agnes asked if Auntie Syb could tuck her into bed, please, then slid the little box out and showed her all the treasures - the pinecones and arrowheads and little dead things. Aunt Sybil cooed and marvelled at them all, holding them carefully with her long, dark nails. “You don’t think they’re gross? You don’t think it’s gross that I pick them?”

Aunt Sybil chucked. “Oh, sweet pea. You’re only doing what’s natural.” Then she said, “I have a present for you,” and gave her a little book. She kissed Agnes’s forehead and forgot to have her say her prayers.

When Agnes turned 10 her treasure box swelled full, and she started picking plants. She knew what was poison ivy and what wasn’t - leaves of three, and all that. She knew some plants could hurt you. But she also knew that some plants could help you. It said so in Aunt Sybil’s book. She wandered out into the springtime woods after her parents had fallen asleep, dropping from her bedroom window like a cat, and picked yarrow, burdock, vervain. Aunt Sybil’s book called them Seven Year’s Love, Beggar’s Buttons, and Enchanter’s Plant. She picked tree leaves and tree bark along with them and bore piles of them home in her pockets. Then she climbed on top of the counter so she could reach the fridge, stole the bottle of vodka, and shoved everything together in jars. She hid them away somewhere dark and cool and only took them out every few weeks to shake them.

Neither of Agnes’s parents had ever known about her nightly pickings, had never even touched one of her treasures. But her mother was bound to open up the linen closet at some point, and when she was greeted by a column of plant-filled jars instead of spare blankets, she called Agnes from her room and asked her what they were.

“Tinctures,” Agnes answered mildly. “I make them. They’re good for you. Just don’t drink them.”

“Where’d you find all these plants…?”

“The woods gave them to me.”

Her mom gave her a funny look and pulled a dandelion tincture down from the shelf to examine it. “Tinctures. Alright. Where’d you learn this stuff?”

Agnes fetched Aunt Sybil’s book. “It says they’re good for stress and inflammation and aches and sleep and all kinds of things.” She didn’t tell her mom that she’d been picking long before she had the book. She certainly didn’t tell her that those plants were all swimming in stolen vodka.

Mom just eyed the book, then the jars, then shrugged, bemused. “I guess it’s just like what Grandma does with her pickles and berries, huh?”

“It’s different.” Agnes’s dad had been listening to their conversation from the kitchen table.

Mom just shrugged again, put the jar back, and ruffled Agnes’s hair. But when Agnes looked at him, her father watched her over his morning cereal with something hard and dangerous in his eyes.

Agnes is still 10 when her dad moves them to Montana. They arrive on Good Friday, crossing the state line to be greeted by a hilltop adorned by three, dead, lonely trees, standing all in a row. The tree in the middle was the tallest. 

“Oh, look! It looks like the crucifixion!” Mom plants her hand against the window with a happy little gasp.

“That’s a good sign,” Dad responds.

Those were the last trees they saw for another half hour. When they finally arrived at their quaint 2-bedroom house, Agnes went hunting for trees. They had a lot of land, just like last time. But this land was all plains, miles upon miles of tall grass and howling wind. Agnes realized it was called “Big Sky Country” for a reason. Nothing grows strong enough to blot out the sun here, she thought, and hated it. She hated Montana. She hated her dad a little bit too.

Her dad had transplanted them to the middle-of-nowhere Montana. Their neighbors were so far away Agnes never met them. The only sign they existed was the occasional cow that made its way onto their land. Dad said that was good. They were away from the world, away from neighbors and even family. This was the way he wanted them to live.

“Isn’t it lonely out here?” Agnes asked him, soft and unsure as she carried her Box of Treasures to her new room.

“Nope.” He squinted down at her box, but didn’t say anything about it. “We can live the right way out here. The way God intended.”

Agnes stared out her window at the hollow sky and the endless yellow grass and felt smaller than she ever had. She didn’t go picking anymore. There was nothing to pick, she was sure, no forest to offer her treasures or plants or even those mud potions. She would go for walks out back with her brother, bearing the unobstructed heat of the sun. The sky was bigger than it had ever been, and the earth was at its mercy. She felt something in her soul shrivel and fold up and become so small and dead that she wanted to pluck it out of her and store it in her Box of Treasures. 

Sebastian and Agnes started school a month later, and for the first time, they went to the same one. It was small enough that the elementary, middle, and high school were all together in one building. That meant they rode the bus together. They stood at the end of their winding, gravel driveway and watched as the roaring yellow monster came barrelling toward them, kicking up dust as it went. Agnes tugged on Sebastian’s sleeve and said, in a quiet voice, “Can I sit with you?”

Sebastian put his arm on her shoulder and nodded, then guided her onto the bus when it came to a screeching stop in front of them. He was the only one who knew where Agnes used to go at night, so he was the only one who noticed when she stopped. He was the only one who noticed how she slept a lot more than she needed to, and how she hated to open the blinds.

It was on the big, ugly, smelly, noisy Huntley School bus that they met Joseph Akins. Nobody liked Joseph Akins. Agnes could tell by the tired looks on everyone’s faces when he started talking, which he did often. Within a few days of experiencing Joseph Akins, Agnes knew why. Joseph was mean. He said and did things nobody should do. He sat behind Agnes and Sebastian and talked to his friends about things that had Sebastian fishing out his headphones and putting them over Agnes’s ears. He tripped kids as they got on the bus regularly. Not the same kids every time, random kids. And Joseph Akins decided that Sebastian was going to be his anger dump. An anger dump is a person upon which another person dumps their anger.

Joseph called Sebastian things that made his ears go red. He poured milk on his sandwich when he found him in the cafeteria. He tried to trip him every day, and when he couldn’t he would shove him. He shoved him when he got on the bus, when he got off the bus, when he saw him in the hallway. One time, Agnes stayed home sick and Sebastian came home with a completely red face and tears in his eyes. He told her Joseph had sat next to him, held him down, and spat a giant loogie in his ear. Agnes hated Joseph Akins. She hated Joseph Akins for years and years, through elementary and middle school.

Then, when he hit 9th grade, Sebastian got asked to the Winter Formal by the only openly gay kid in his class and, in a moment that made Agnes’s stomach go cold, smiled and looked like he wanted to say yes. It had happened right in front of the bus at the end of the school day, and everyone with ears and eyes knew about it. Agnes shook when she saw the look on Joseph Akin’s face. There was something hard and dangerous in his eyes. That was the day Joseph called Sebastian a fag, his voice heavy and vicious. He kicked Sebastian in the ass when he and Agnes stood to off the bus.

Agnes gripped his sleeve as they walked down the driveway toward home and said, “If you don’t want mom and dad to see you cry, cry now. Before we get to the house.” And Sebastian did. But he was still crying by the time they got to the front door, so Agnes sat on the porch with him and held his hand until he quieted down.

She hated this place. She hated everything about it. She hated the unfettered sun and the big sky and the mean boys. She hated driving half an hour to go to Sunday Mass. She hated that there were no treasures. She hated that there were no trees. Back in Ohio, Agnes was surrounded by trees - it was good and sweet, and so was she. Here in Montana, barren, wide open Montana, she was not sweet. She was bitter and dry and coarse as the sun-beaten earth.

She let her brother rest his tear-streaked cheek against her shoulder and gazed around her. The plantlife there was not as varied and ripe for picking as in Ohio. It was shriveled and folded, angry and tough, but maybe that was what she needed. She knew some plants could help you. But she also knew that some plants could hurt you. It said so in Aunt Sybil’s book. She decided to poison Joseph Akins.

Agnes convinced her mom to take the family on a hike through the nearest forest, which was a forty-minute drive away. It was beautiful and lush and sweet, but Agnes had no heart for it. Halfway through the hike, when her mom pulled out sandwiches and brought everyone to a stop, Agnes lied.

“I need to pee.” She turned to wander into the forest. The branches and twigs and leaves and all the air in between greeted her like an old friend, and she patted the bark of a tree as she passed. “I know it’s been a while,” she said, almost like an apology. “It wasn’t up to me.” She stood still, breathed, and waited for the woods to offer her something. Offer one of her potions, her treasures, her tinctures.

She cast her eyes around and they landed on a berry bush by an old sycamore tree. She went to it and started shoving the leaves and berries into her pockets. She smiled with a forgotten, childish glee when she saw what it was. Belladonna was the proper name. It could be used to make medicine. Aunt Sybil’s book called it Death’s Herb. Agnes knew how to turn it into something awful. Just awful.

Sebastian was pale and shaking the day Joseph got sent to the hospital over lunch. Joseph had stood up, face slack and dark, and started puking his guts out onto the cafeteria table. His shaking fingers clutched at his neck, chest, stomach as he tried to breathe through all the vomit. The vomit was an odd color. It had red chunks in it. By the time an ambulance came, Joseph was unconscious and his girlfriend was sobbing. 

“It was awful, Aggie.” Sebastian whispered. “He looked awful.”

Agnes shrugged. “God was bound to get him for all his bullshit someday.” Sebastian just frowned at her cursing.

No one ever knew that Agnes had poured Death’s Herb in his juice. No one except Aunt Sybil, who she called one night in a fit of guilt. “Oh, sweet pea,” Aunt Sybil’s smooth, soothing voice said from the phone speaker, “you did only did what was natural.”

Agnes never poisoned anyone again. She never told Sebastian that she poisoned Joseph Akins for him, though sometimes when it was brought up Sebastian looked at her kind of funny. But she did move back to Ohio when she graduated college. And she did visit her Aunt Sybil every other week. And she did find a cute little place at the edge of the woods. And yes, she did wander into the woods and night and go picking. She only did what was natural.