#this was nightmare to answer on mobile

[amoneki-ramblings]

and if you have time 002 Kaneki :) (I am asking everyone)

Let's go !!

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How i feel about this character: Ironically I cannot verbalize my thoughts about Kaneki coherently whatsoever. I need him dead. I need to hit him over the head with several hammers. I need him to let himself just relax and drink some coffee and read a good book. He sucks I hate him /affectionate he’s also so fucking cringe Jesus. For every coherent and analytical thought I have about the other characters I have none for Kaneki he simply. Is. He’s Kaneki he’s That Guy he brings me immense pain and he’s so self-destructive and he tries so hard and it Sucks /pos I need to stuff him into a blender

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Hmm oh boy I sure do wonder…Well, aside from the obvious I think Shuuneki could be very interesting when done right, and while I’m not as inclined towards their relationship romantically Hidekane definitely hurts my soul, especially thinking of them before everything went to shit for our poor protagonist

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I love his relationship with Hinami so much he’s such a good big bro :(( Even when he’s out trying to hunt down people and change the world he still sets aside time for her, but even then she’s so concerned for his wellbeing because she can tell how he’s Changed and how he’s pushing himself she just wants him to be happy and take a break :((

My unpopular opinion about this character: Hmmm not sure if I have any at the moment?? I’d agree with anything as long as it’s accurate to his character. Whether you love or despise this guy I will nod my head, I guess just don’t say he’s flawless, person/moral-wise, there’s a lot of good argument for why he can suck actually, but I feel like most people know that.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I remember seeing in the original storyboards for Root A that Shironeki and Kuroneki actually interact more. While I like how it was saved until the end in the original series (when they hugged) I wouldn’t have minded seeing more of it beforehand. Kuroneki is Shironeki’s doubts voiced back to himself, the more uncertain version of himself that he locks away, and Shironeki simply calls that part of him weak. It makes me miserable. I love it

my OTP: *whistles, looks away*

my cross over ship: Don’t think I have any

a headcanon fact: This is gonna be so random (read: projection) but Kaneki probably bites a lot of things. He bites pencils, he chews straws, he’s especially guilty of biting/chewing his hands/fingers and when he was a human it used to leave marks all over his hands. The hand biting problem gets even worse after the torture. If you put your hand in front of his face he’ll probably bite your fingers. Like a weirdo. He needs to be stopped (I say, fully supporting this behavior; let him be weird and a little unnatural :thumbsup:)

[todayisafridaynight]

‘The worst thing she can say is no’ and its the proposal scene from LAD8

[clingylilhoneybee]

#6 please! Something you're currently obsessed with/interested in 🥰

Sorry for the super long winded answer

[johnbly]

you already Know i'm inquiring after hornblower and the dragon 👁️

I know you're here for Justinian so here is a snippet with him

Bush steps in, ready for his watch over the egg. His wooden leg makes a slightly louder than usual thump at the suddenness of his stop, having seen that said egg no longer needs watching.

"Bonjour," Justinian greets, perfectly politely, but Bush's brows furrow all the same at the sudden French.

"Mr. Bush doesn't speak French," Hornblower says, though even his first lieutenant will have known that particular word.

"Oh. Hello, then."

Seeing Bush struggle with how to speak to the young dragon validates Hornblower’s earlier struggles – not that he’ll ever admit to having had them, of course. 

[noxexistant]

Dang it did my asks get eaten again? I sent a couple about Tommy Boy (who is 5 in our show, it is ADORABLE) and about Race and Crutchie's complicated relationship :(

oh my gosh, baby tommy boy!!!

i think i remember seeing those, so they must’ve just gotten buried maybe!! i’ll go digging!!

[amalgamatedmuses]

"Maybe you should tell me what's bothering you?" ( for Morpheus! )

@fellandfeathers || Concerned Sentences

Theres a long, long moment of deliberation. Morpheus considers how easy it would be to dismiss the concern, to turn away with a dramatic flap of it's cloak and leave the angel wondering. But he has changed a lot during his imprisonment, and the thought of isolation is far less appealing than it once was.

Catching the hem of his robe in his hands the Dream Lord fiddles with it, fingers twisting over the dark material- such a human action, but then again he was made from the minds of men. It's shoulders droop and he sits.

"I- am struggling," Comes the stammered admittance. Another moment of pause, and then a sigh before he continues, "The Dreaming must be rebuilt but I find myself stunted in my abilities, even with my ruby's power restored to me. I am unused to feeling powerless."

[ace-of-arthropods]

∞?

Fire burning up

Fight back, I've had enough

Ashes, dust to dust

Ready to give are you ready to die in the

Fire burning up

Fight back, I've had enough

Ashes, dust to dust

Ready to give are you ready to die

[lukeslywalkers]

I forgot if I left this message already (😂) but thank you for the kind words on my selfies! ❤️❤️

Ahhh you did but I’m glad you did because this message is the one that gave me a notification 😂 But you are so very welcome beautiful!!! 💕💕

[vinnymauro]

16, 19 and 23 for the writer ask thing :)

thank you so much!!

16. favorite place to write?

i prefer to write at like my desk area. but the oddest yet best place to write is at work on my phone. i always have to double edit and edit heavy bc my fingers move slower but i can write and walk around at the same time. work is very slow bc people don’t uhhhh shop in stores for pet food anymore.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style most?

i’m going to be really honest, my style is basically going from 10 years of roleplaying to fanfic so it’s pretty action and dialogue heavy. lately i’ve been reading a lot of fantasy books (currently rereading the grishaverse books) that i’m hoping will get me to start describing things more. places, clothing, small details to make it more immersive. if that makes sense. though a lot of things that i read and watch end up getting plugged in with little hints. i think about how in six of crows there’s a like about bottling a laugh and getting drunk on it and i’ve played around with that depending on what works for characters. (this is on my mind bc i read soc not that long ago read that line and felt myself snap again)

23. how do you deal with writer’s block?

ha! i don’t deal with it well. i’ve been blocked for a while about how to finish don’t, don’t, don’t throw it away. i think it’s why i’ve been reading a lot more, trying to find inspiration in other writing. my next trick is going to be rereading the whole fic and seeing how i wanna finish it. otherwise dealing with writer’s block means taking some time and doing other stuff. i’ve been mostly off my computer for a few weeks, playing assassin’s creed valhalla or reading so i’m hoping somewhere i’ll get inspired. the point, i find, is to not force it. it’ll only make you more critical and you won’t like what you’re producing.

send me a number from this ask for writers

[olliesaurus-rex]

yeah on desktop they added a bell feature for the holidays and playing them (numbers 1-8 on the keyboard or just scrolling over them with your mouse) would also activate snow on the dashboard

Oh man I'm so mad I missed it! If you got to play it I hope you had fun with it!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Wendigo | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean's a dick but so is the reader

Word Count: 8817

A/N: Happy Saturday! Enjoy the next chapter!! Taglist/Requests are open!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You were curled up against the backseat of the Impala writing in your journal and humming along to Dean’s Foreigner cassette tape when Sam jerked awake in the front seat. You jerked up as well, concerned.

Dean shot his brother a worried look. “You okay?”

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Bull. Nightmare?” you asked.

The younger brother just cleared his throat in response. 

“You wanna drive for a while?” Dean asked.

You and Sam gave him an incredulous look. 

“Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that,” he laughed.

“Just thought you might want to. Never mind.” He rolled his eyes and returned them to the road. 

“Look, man, you’re worried about me,” Sam sighed. “I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay.”

His brother just hummed in response.

“I’ll take you up on that driving offer, though,” you chimed in.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I told you I wasn’t listening.”

“Dick.”

Dean just scoffed in response. 

Sam’s unfolding of a map brought the conversation back on track. “All right, where are we?”

“Just outside of Grand Junction,” you answered. You leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the spot labeled “Grand Junction” and drew a trail with your finger over to a spot labeled with the coordinates Dean had found in John’s journal. 

Sam hesitated before speaking again. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—”

“We gotta find Dad first,” Sam finished.

“Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence.”

“Wait, showing up again?” you asked. Even after poking around at Stanford, this was the first you’d heard of a previous encounter with the creature.

“I thought Sam would’ve told you,” Dean said.

“Told me what?”

Sam turned to face you. “You remember what I said about my mom dying? She died the same way Jess did.”

You nodded in solemn understanding. 

The car went quiet again; the silence only broken by the older brother. “Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do.”

Sam scanned the map again. “It's weird, man. These coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge.”

“What about it?” you asked, putting your chin on Sam’s shoulder to look at the map.

“There's nothing there. It's just woods.” He put down the map, looking past your head at Dean. “Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?”

Dean just shrugged in response. 

The three of you found yourselves in a ranger’s station in Lost Creek National Forest just outside of Blackwater Ridge. You and Sam scanned a three-dimensional map of the forest atop a large table in the center of the room. 

“So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” The brunet tapped his finger against the ridge’s label on the map. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

However, his brother’s attention could not be pulled away from a picture on the wall. “Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear.”

You walked over to him, and he was right. The thing was massive. The man standing behind its corpse looked like a dwarf in comparison. 

“There’s about a dozen or so grizzlies in the area,” you added. 

You and the boys were startled by a ranger’s voice coming from behind you. “You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

“Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper,” Sam assured him, laughing awkwardly.

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘I could hit him. Jackass.’

The ranger obviously did not believe him. “Bull.”

Your eyes flicked to Dean, who was unmoving. 

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger continued.

“Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger— Wilkinson.” Dean faltered only to read the ranger’s name tag.

“Well I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head. 

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will.” Dean paused only for a moment. “Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

“That is putting it mildly.”

You laughed. ‘I’m sure we’d get along great.’

“Actually,” Dean stopped the ranger from leaving the room. “You know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously, but still got him a copy of the permit. 

Dean laughed smugly as the three of you left the station, waving the paper around.

“What are you, five?” you asked him.

“Listen, sweetheart, I consider this a major success.” You quirked a brow at him, mildly annoyed he called you that stupid name again. “This eliminates a lot of the groundwork we normally have to do.”

“Fair point,” you shrugged. 

Sam broke the somewhat comfortable silence. “Are you cruising for a hookup or something?”

Considering the thought you’d just had, you were taken slightly aback. “What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam was more talking pointedly at Dean and not you. You came to a stop on your respective sides of the Impala.

You couldn’t quite see Dean over the top of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?”

You could practically feel the look Dean was giving Sam.

“What?” the brunet scoffed.

“Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?”

“Since now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the inside of your lip. “Really?’ you muttered, getting down into the car. 

***

Sam walked a little further up the walkway to the Collins house than you and Dean did. 

“Forty-five minutes in that copy room for this?” you inspected Dean’s small, fake park ranger ID.

“Can’t rush art, sweetheart.”

“Now you’re just working it into every sentence because you know it aggravates me.”

"Yup,” Dean chuckled. 

You smirked lopsidedly and Dean knocked on Haley Collins’s front door. A quite beautiful, dark-haired girl opened it moments later. 

“You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and (Y/N), we're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley hesitated. “Lemme see some ID.”

Dean held up the ID you’d previously been inspecting to the screen door. The girl looked between the ID and Dean. 

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.” 

The door swung open, allowing Haley to catch a glimpse of the Impala. “That yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice car.” She began leading the three of you into the home.

Dean looked back at Sam, mouthing something excitedly to him that you couldn’t quite make out. You rolled your eyes. You decided then and there you would push your attraction to him to the side for the rest of the time you were working with the brothers. To you, he was just an asshole playboy. 

Sam’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

You took in the sight of the table set for dinner and a young boy who looked to be about thirteen already picking at his plate of food. 

Haley entered the room with a bowl and placed it onto the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” you suggested.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

‘Well, there goes that theory.’

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean threw in.

The teenage boy clanked his fork against his plate, sharply stating, “He wouldn't do that.”

You eyed the boy, getting a read on him.

“Our parents are gone,” Haley said. “It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

You nodded in understanding. As much as you were trying to dislike her, it wasn’t working all that well.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked.

Haley pulled out her laptop to show Sam the folder of pictures and videos her brother had sent her. “That's Tommy.” You could hear the sadness in her voice.

She clicked through to the most recent video. 

A scruffy, presumably twenty-five year old man appeared onscreen. “Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

Something flickered past outside the young man’s tent. Your brows furrowed. 

“Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing,” Dean assured her.

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she answered. “Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel.”

Your eyes flicked over to Dean, growing angry at what you assumed to be an attempt at seducing the girl.

‘She’s mourning the potential loss of her brother, and you’re gonna try and charm her? Asshole.’

The younger Winchester once again broke you out of your thoughts. “Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?”

“Sure.” Haley clicked away on her laptop again.

*** 

You and the boys wound up at a bar. The table was covered in newspapers, John’s journal, and beer bottles; some full and some half empty. 

“So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.” 

You gestured to John’s journal, which Sam slid over to you. You began flipping through it. 

“Any before that?” Dean asked. 

Sam pulled out a newspaper to show his brother. “Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

You leaned across the table, squinting at the headline. You felt Dean’s eyes flick to your breasts that had subsequently been pushed up in your wife beater as you leaned over. 

You glared at him. “Stay focused, Winchester.”

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently unable to find his way to a witty response. You turned your attention back to the headline that read, “ GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS! UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA.”

Sam pulled out his laptop. “Before that, 1959 and 1936. Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork.”

“You have WiFi in here?” you questioned.

“Don’t need it. Just wanted to look at Haley’s video.” He pulled it up from a folder on his screen. 

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Can I see that?” You hopped off your stool to get between the two brothers. “Watch this.” You clicked through the three frames of the video containing the shadow you’d seen flash across the screen. “That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean reached across you to hit Sam’s shoulder. “Told you something weird was going on.”

Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop. “Yeah. I got one more thing.” He put a newspaper article between you and Dean. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

You skimmed the article briefly. “Is there a name?”

The only survivor of the attack in the article Sam showed you and Dean was a child at the time. He now lived a life of what appeared to be solitude. He drove a beat up truck that was parked haphazardly in his driveway and lived several miles out of the city. You took in the poor old man’s messy house as he led your trio into his living room.

“Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

Sam interrupted him. “Grizzly? That's what attacked them?”

Mr. Shaw lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, and nodded. 

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean’s tone was slightly pointed. “What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

The old man continued to take drags of his cigarette. He seemed almost scared to entertain any other explanation aside from a grizzly bear attack. 

Dean continued to pressure him. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.”

Mr. Shaw shook his head. “I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” He sat down in his recliner. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

Sam sat down opposite the old man. “Mr. Shaw, what did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like... no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?”

He nodded. 

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You tried to keep your face from conveying your intrigue and tinge of fear.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.” You could see Mr. Shaw becoming lost in his mind. 

“It killed them?” Sam continued.

“Dragged them off into the night.” The old man shook his head as if to shake away the memories. “Why it left me alive... been asking myself that ever since.” He took a brief pause before reaching to the collar of his wife beater. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled it down to reveal three long, deep claw mark scars. Through morbid curiosity, you were tempted to run your fingers over the jagged edges of the scarring. You couldn’t imagine how painful and angry the marks must have been when the poor man first got them. 

“There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. We’re sorry about your parents,” you told him, turning away. “Have a good night, sir.” 

Mr. Shaw seemed too caught up in his own head to respond with more than a wave, letting a cloud of smoke slither out of his mouth. 

*** Later that night, you and the boys had just booked a room in yet another crappy motel.

‘One of these days I’ll treat myself to a stay in a halfway decent hotel.’ 

Before the three of you would be turning in for the night, you were headed to Dean’s car to pack your bags for the early morning you were about to have. 

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors.” Dean broke your train of thought. “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal,” Sam said.

“Corporeal? Look at you, smartass,” you laughed.

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves…” Dean trailed off. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.” 

“True,” you started. “But how are you gonna know what to bring to kill it with if we have no idea what it is?”

“Just trust me on this one,” Dean replied. “There’s not much a gun won’t be able to take care of.” He let the door to the motel almost completely swing shut behind him; nearly hitting you in the face. 

You caught it just in time. “Right, right. Just like you ‘took care’ of Constance by shooting her.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Dean raised a brow at you, just barely turning over his shoulder to give you his response. He started busying himself in the weapons box in the back of his car.

“I mean, just barely. Nearly caught me in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”

“Hey!” You shoved his shoulder with yours. 

He glared at you in response. 

Sam, who had been quiet the last few minutes, spoke up. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

His brother was rummaging through the weapons box; haphazardly throwing guns into his duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

You found a shotgun that was slightly smaller than the rest, giving it a once over before moving to put it in a duffel bag of your own. Before you could fully get it settled in the bag, Dean took it from you.

You went to protest, but Sam cut you off by saying, “Yeah,” as if it was obvious. 

Dean turned his attention away from you and your shotgun long enough for you to steal it back. 

“Her brother's missing, Sam,” he tried to reason. “She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” 

Dean seemed to notice you had taken the gun back and glared at you. He picked up his own duffel, and you closed the weapons cavity. 

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam countered while you closed the trunk. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

You and Dean gave Sam a look.

“What?” he snapped.

You shook your head. 

“Nothing,” Dean replied. He threw the duffel bag at him and walked off. 

***

You yawned and pulled yourself into a tighter ball on the backseat of Dean’s Impala. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart, we’re here,” Dean told you.

“Fuck.” You grabbed yours and Dean’s duffel bags off the seat next to you and got out of the car to feel loose gravel grating against your boots. 

A man who looked to be in his late fifties was up ahead of you next to a Jeep with Haley and the teenager you recognized as Haley’s younger brother. You approached the other three from behind Sam and Dean.

“You guys got room for three more?” the older brother asked.

Haley crossed her arms. “Wait, you want to come with us?”

“Who are these guys?” The older man pointed at your group.

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue.”

Sam headed past everyone, and you followed.

You assumed the middle-aged man was the guide Haley had talked about hiring the previous day. He was very skeptical of the three of you. “You're rangers?”

Dean’s confidence never wavered. “That's right.”

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley was apparently skeptical, too. 

“Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.”

‘That’s what he calls me.’ You couldn’t quite understand the pang that went through your chest when he used that nickname for her. You pushed the thought aside once again, reminding yourself that you weren’t special in Dean’s eyes. To you, he was becoming more of a playboy asshole with each passing moment. You hoped your attraction to his beautiful green eyes and sharp jawline would soon turn to disdain. 

Speaking of which, he appeared next to you as the guide spoke once more. “What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

You turned around, trying to explain Dean’s attitude away. “He knows that. He just has a funny way of showing it.” You hoped Dean didn’t miss the bite in your tone. And from the way you could feel his glare burning a hole through your skull, you were sure it wasn’t lost on him.

The guide shook his head, brushing past you and the brothers. He headed into the forest, and you followed a few paces behind. You would never admit it, but the woods had always unsettled you just a bit. You tightened your grip on your bag and pushed forward. 

Dean had apparently learned the guide’s name from Haley while you were lost in your own anxiety. “Roy, you said you did a little hunting.” He quickened his step to pass you and get up next to Roy. 

“Yeah, more than a little.” The response came gruff and disinterested. 

“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

You could feel where this was going. ‘Don’t fucking provoke him, Winchester.’

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear.” The disinterest was ever present in Roy’s tone as he continued to scan the treeline in front of him. 

Dean passed him up, doing that obnoxiously confident backwards walk again. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?” 

Suddenly, Roy grabbed Dean’s jacket roughly. You nearly flinched.

“Whatcha doing, Roy?” Dean’s tone had hardened.

Roy grabbed a stick, and peering around Dean you could see the jaws of a bear trap close around it inches from Dean’s boot. 

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.” 

‘Damn.’

Roy dropped the stick and took the lead once more.

Dean turned around to the rest of the group. “It's a bear trap.”

You scoffed. 

You could hear Haley’s quickened step crunching leaves as she passed you to catch up to Dean. “You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers.” She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. “So who the hell are you?”

The teenage boy passed his sister and Dean. You and Sam hesitated behind Haley, shooting Dean a quizzical look. Dean jerked his head for the two of you to go on. You followed Sam forward, but hung back close enough that you could hear Dean and Haley’s conversation. 

“Sam and I are brothers, and we're looking for our father. (Y/N) is—” you were interested in this explanation, “—a friend of ours.” 

‘Oh, so we’re friends now.’

“He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?”

“I'm telling you now. 'sides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman. ...ever. So, we okay?” 

‘Wonder how many times he’s used that line.’ You caught that same squeeze happening in your chest happening again. You desperately wished to get ahold of yourself and snap out of it. ‘He’s just pretty to look at. He’s a complete douche. Get it together, girl.’

You had missed Haley’s response to Dean’s “heartfelt” admission, but heard “And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?” You heard the rustling of a plastic bag behind you, and remembered the bag of peanut M&Ms he had bought at a gas station before coming here. You heard Dean start walking again, and you hurried ahead to catch up with Sam and not look like you were snooping. 

Dean had apparently noticed you were hanging back and chuckled to himself. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He walked up beside you. “Jealous?”

“What?” you turned to him, feigning disgust. “Fuck no.”

“So… you were just snooping because…?”

You wanted to smack the smug grin off his face. His amusement at your aggravation riled you up even more. “I was just curious what she thought of us. And to be frank, I don’t exactly trust your ability to explain things away. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” You knew he didn’t believe you. “That’s all.” 

You petulantly stole the bag of peanut M&Ms from him.

“Hey! (Y/N)!” 

You marched on.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced after what felt like hours of walking. Your anxiety around getting lost in the forest was only deepening. That was what it all boiled down to. You had a fear of not being in control, and the idea of a place where every “landmark” looked the same, wildlife ruled the terrain, and being alone in it was pretty much a death sentence, scared you pretty severely. Not to mention, the time you almost bled to death in the middle of the woods had another hunter not found you.

You had no means of identifying where you’d come back from. All the trees seemed the same to you. You had no idea how you were going to get back to the car at the end of the day; if you were even going to make it out of here by the end of the day. You had been walking for so long that you were sure you’d be sleeping out here tonight. The thought of that frightened you even more. 

What truly unsettled you was that the sounds you had been hearing up until you made it to Blackwater Ridge— crickets, leaves rustling, birds chirping— all of it had been silenced. 

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy announced.

The younger Winchester stopped him. “You shouldn't go off by yourself.”

Roy’s snark almost rivaled Dean’s. “That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around and pushed between the two brothers to head deeper into the forest. 

Dean turned to the rest of your group. “Alright, everybody stays together. Let's go.”

‘Great. More fucking woods.’ You marched forward, trying to put on a brave face.

Sam’s eyes softened when he caught sight of you. “You okay?”

Apparently, your “brave face” wasn’t as brave as you thought. “Yeah, why?”

“You look… kinda nervous.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m, uh, kinda scared of the forest, honestly.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Dean’s mocking tone interrupted your vulnerable moment. “You’re scared of a little woods?” He jutted out his bottom lip, feigning a pout. 

“Fuck off, Winchester. I’m fine.”

“Whoa, touchy. Relax.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Was just poking fun, that’s all.”

“Okay, well, it wasn’t funny. So, fuck off.” You rushed ahead, still white-knuckling the duffel bag on your shoulder. 

Before Dean could catch up to you or respond, Roy called out from quite a bit ahead. “Haley! Over here!”

Haley took off in the direction of Roy’s voice, closely followed by you. Haley froze at the sight in front of her. “Oh, my God.”

In the clearing Roy had found, bloodied, torn open tents surrounded mutilated camping supplies and backpacks. Deep gashes in the tent material and the surrounding trees were jagged and stained with blood around the edges. The sight wasn’t making your queasiness any better.

“Looks like a grizzly.”

‘No, it doesn’t, Roy,’ you thought. 

Haley’s backpack hit the ground next to you, and she tore through the campsite; screaming her brother’s name. 

Sam moved to quiet her down. She kept screaming. A much harsher “Shh!” passed Sam’s lips, finally getting the girl to settle down. 

“Why?” she questioned defensively. 

“Something might still be out there,” he answered. 

Dean called his brother’s name from the other end of the campsite. You followed Sam over to the sound of Dean’s voice.

You crouched down next to Sam. Dean snapped a stick and pointed to a set of drag marks on the ground. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird. I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog.”

The three of you stood and returned to the campsite to find Haley crying on the ground over her brother’s broken and bloodied phone. 

“Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean told her. She shot him a confused and slightly angry look. 

Out of nowhere, a scratchy male voice started gutturally calling, “Help! Help!”

Roy was quick to run to the shouter’s aid. However, you weren’t so sure it was a real person screaming like that. 

“Help! Somebody!” came again.

The brothers started off to follow Roy. 

“Wait, guys!” you called, not wanting to be left alone despite your hesitation. 

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” Sam called.

You dropped your duffel in your rush to follow Sam’s voice. When you found where the group had gathered, you could see the brothers searching the treeline. You licked your teeth, upset that your intuition was right. Your group had found no one.

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley said, confused.

“Everybody get back to camp,” you ordered.

You followed the path you were pretty sure would get you back to the mangled campsite. Thankfully, your sense of direction was right, but all of your supplies had been taken by the time you returned. 

“Our packs!” Haley exclaimed.

Roy grumbled, “So much for my GPS and my satellite phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” Haley was catching on. 

“It’s smart. It’s trying to isolate us so we can’t call for help. It knows we won’t last long without supplies,” you stated. 

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear.” The guide’s voice was hard and angry.

“I need to speak with you two. In private.” You pulled the brothers aside by their jackets. Dean shrugged your hand off him. 

“Can I see your dad’s journal?” you asked. Yours had been taken along with your duffel bag. 

“No, why?” Dean asked petulantly. 

“Please, dude, c’mon.” You were not in the mood.

“Give it to her, Dean,” Sam chimed in.

Dean rolled his eyes and handed it over. 

You flipped through until you found a page marked by a First Nations-style drawing of a tall figure with long claws labeled “Wendigo.” You looked up at the boys expectantly.

“Oh, come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west,” Dean responded.

“Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” you tried to reason. 

“Great.” He took his pistol out of his belt. “Well, then this is useless.”

“I told you guns don’t work on everything,” you quipped.

“Shut up.”

Sam took the journal from you and handed it back to his brother. “We gotta get these people to safety.” He led you and Dean back to the group. “All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed pissed. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry.” Roy’s tone was almost patronizing. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam countered. 

“One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.” Roy was now getting in Sam’s face.

“C’mon, Roy, chill out,” you told him, pressing a hand to Sam’s chest to keep him from stepping to Roy.

Sam let you keep your hand there, but still bit back at Roy. “We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you.”

“You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.” The guide was so close you could smell the chewing tobacco on his breath.

Sam still refused to back down. “Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed mockingly. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” 

Dean pushed you out the way and shoved his brother back. “Relax!”

Haley got between you, the boys, and Roy. “Stop. Stop it. Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

You considered for a moment the implications of what may happen if you allowed them to stay. 

Dean broke the silence. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley asked. 

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” you began. “We don’t really have the time for the ‘monsters under the bed are real’ talk. This thing is a Wendigo. I’m gonna start carving some symbols into the ground. No one crosses the circle once I’ve drawn it. Got it?”

Haley nodded at you. “What can I do?”

“Build a fire with— sorry, I never caught his name,” you gestured to the teenager next to her. 

“Ben,” Haley told you. 

“Ben. You two start gathering enough wood and tinder to keep a fire going. Don’t go too far, though, please.”

She and Ben nodded at you before setting off.

“Thank you,” you called after the Collins siblings. “Sam, Dean, help me with the Anasazi symbols.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. You were surprised at his compliance.

After a while of scuttling across the forest floor drawing a circle of Anasazi symbols around the campsite, the sun had set. Haley and Ben had long since returned and were tending the fire. As you finished the last symbol, you brushed the dirt off your hands on your jeans. 

Haley looked up at you from her place by the fire. “One more time, that's—”

“Anasazi symbols. It's for protection,” Dean explained. “The wendigo can't cross over them.”

Roy laughed, feeling the need to assert the fact he thought this was bullshit. 

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean told him, clearly fatigued of the man’s attitude.

Roy turned his attention back to the treeline with his gun over his shoulder. You followed Dean over to where Sam sat away from the group at the edge of the campsite. 

“You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?” Dean asked his brother.

“Dean—” the younger one began to protest. You sat down next to him.

“No, you're not fine.” Of course, he already knew what Sam was going to say.  “You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got enough of that attitude with just him, Sam.”

Dean nudged the tip of your boot with his harshly. You returned his glare petulantly. 

“Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?” Sam’s mind was clearly going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek.”

You decided to just sit back and listen for a moment before throwing your two cents in. 

“Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. 

“This is why.” Dean held out his dad’s journal to his brother. “This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Sam shook his head. “That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

Sam’s eyes began to well with tears. “Dean, no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about.”

“Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me.” Sam looked up at Dean. “You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”

Sam looked away again, still fighting the tears congealing in his water line. “How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?”

You let Dean take that question. “Well for one, them.” He gestured to Haley and Ben. “I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.”

You paused, looking down at the dirt and twigs below you before speaking. “It’s kind of the same for me. I don’t have a family anymore.” You felt Dean’s gaze on you, but kept the burning in your cheeks at bay. “This is really all I’ve ever known. I know I couldn’t go back to a normal life after all this. So, I do what I can to help everyone else’s lives feel a little more normal. Not everybody needs to know what’s really out there. It kinda brings me peace knowing I’m helping somebody else live their life relatively worry-free.”

Dean continued. “I'll tell you what else helps.”

You looked back up at him. 

“Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.” 

You smiled at Dean genuinely for the first time. 

A twig snapped, breaking you and the boys out of the little bonding moment you’d just had. The same, slightly unhuman grainy voice screamed out again from somewhere in the trees. “Help me! Please!”

Dean stands with his gun. You thought about pointing out the fact that it was useless, but decided to keep it to yourself. 

“Help!” the strained sound came again.

Sam shined his flashlight through the tree line.

“He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put,” Dean told the group.

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy quipped.

“Shut up, would you?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Help! Help me!” The voice seemed to become more distant before a low growl emanated from just outside the circle.

Roy pointed his gun at the sound. “Okay, that's no grizzly.”

“Oh, now you believe us,” you quipped. 

“(Y/N),” Dean warned, still facing the outside of the circle. 

Something rushed past where Haley and Ben were standing. She let out a scream. 

“It's here,” the younger Winchester stated.

The guide shot at the rustling bushes, and then again. “I hit it!” He took off before you could protest.

“Roy, no!” you immediately ran after him.

You could hear Dean behind you addressing the Collinses, but barely registered it while trying to follow Roy. 

“Roy! Come back!” you called. 

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” the man called back.

Just as you reached him, something grabbed onto Roy’s shoulders and began pulling him up into the tree above.

“Roy!” you grabbed his ankles, doing your best to pull him back down to the ground. 

Roy was screaming above you, and the Wendigo’s strength was too much for you. Roy’s screaming was cut off sharply by a snapping sound. In that moment, you knew he was gone. You let Roy’s legs go and dropped back down to the ground. 

The Winchester brothers appeared at that second, rushing to your side.

“You okay?” Sam asked, helping you up. “Where’s Roy?”

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

You and the boys headed back to camp to find Haley and Ben huddled together. Haley was caught off-guard by your return, and nearly took you out with her makeshift torch-weapon. “Shit!” she yelped. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Easy, tiger.”

She threw her torch back into the fire. “Where’s Roy?”

Your smile faded. “I tried to help him. I’m sorry.”

She nodded somberly. A saddened, heavy air fell over your camp as the remaining five of you tried to go to sleep before your undoubtedly busy day tomorrow.

Haley and Ben settled down near the fire with tatters of backpacks and tent material as pillows and blankets respectively. You and Dean forced Sam to lay down and rest because it was evident via the bags under his eyes that he’d had none over the last several days. 

“I’ll take first watch,” you told Dean, settling your back against the stump of a tree near where Sam had started falling asleep.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling me that,” you snapped. “Second, it wasn’t a suggestion. I’m taking first watch. Go to sleep.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Why don’t you trust me?” you countered.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the last person to have seen my dad before he ‘mysteriously disappeared’?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting—” you scoffed, and Dean cut you off again.

“Maybe because I don’t even know you. Maybe because you so readily agreed to just hitch a ride with Sam and I the day Jessica died. Maybe those are some good reasons not to trust you.”

“Dean, I had nothing to do with your dad’s disappearance. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m on my own. Sorry that I was just excited to finally have someone willing to take me along with them. And I don’t give a shit about you, honestly. I do give a shit about Sam, though, and I’m not gonna leave while he’s in this headspace. And I wanna help you find your dad.”

“Why do you care so much?” he hissed in retaliation.

“Because I don’t have any family. I want to help reunite yours. Like you said earlier, it helps you feel a little better and sleep a little easier at night.” Your voice had softened considerably, and you turned your attention from Dean to your hands folded in your lap. 

“Fine, but after we find my dad, you’re gone,” he responded after a moment.

“Fine.” You turned away from him, hugging your knees to your chest. “I’m still taking first watch.” 

“Whatever, (Y/N).” You could hear Dean moving around behind you. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

All you got was a huff in response. 

At some point that night, Sam was actually the one to take over your watch. He’d woken up from a nightmare, and you knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. You did your best to get some sleep despite your heightened sense of awareness from your unsettling surroundings and the anger you still felt at Dean after your argument. 

When you did awaken, Sam was sitting against the tree next to you, Dean was talking to Haley about the origin of Wendigos, and Haley was grilling Dean about how he knows about monsters.

“Kind of runs in the family,” was all Dean answered her question with. 

You felt Sam push off the tree behind you. You still hadn’t rolled over from your sleeping position. 

“So we've got half a chance in the daylight,” Sam announced to the group. “And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” you heard Dean respond. 

“'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours',” Sam explained. 

You began stretching while Dean continued educating Haley and Ben. “They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asked.

“Well, it's always the same,” the older Winchester continued while you started to make your way over to them, brushing leaves out of your hair with your fingers. “During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party.” That was the first you’d ever heard Ben speak.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality,” Sam continued. 

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry,” Dean finished.

“So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Haley waited for the answer with baited breath.

“You're not gonna like it.”

“Tell me.” Haley steeled herself.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It—” Dean seemed to be searching for the right words, “—uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

You spoke up for the first time, holding an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a can of lighter fluid you’d found from near the camp. “Guns are useless, so, Molotov cocktail, baby.”

You could swear Dean cracked a smile at you, but you refused to acknowledge it. 

The sun had risen much higher since your crew had first started walking. You had passed multiple trees with bloodied claw marks on them. It was starting to unsettle you, quite honestly. You’d just passed the seventh or eighth claw-marked tree  when you decided to bring Sam’s attention to your thought process.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw marks are so clear and distinct. Not at all as jagged as they were on Mr. Shaw’s scar or the tree where the thing snatched Roy. They were almost too easy to follow.”

Almost as if on cue, a low growl rumbled from above and trees rustled. Haley looked up before jerking herself out of the way. And good thing she had, because Roy’s corpse soon landed where she’d stood. 

Dean inspected Roy’s corpse while Sam helped Haley up. “His neck's broke.”

The growling continued. 

Upon hearing the sound, Dean started to bark out, “Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!”

You immediately split. You were always quite a fast runner and light on your feet. You and Haley took the lead of the group and could hear the boys’ thundering footsteps behind you. 

Before you knew it, the growling had landed right in front of you. You and Haley were brought to a skidding halt before the creature. Haley yelped as the creature grabbed your legs and began dragging the two of you. You took the bag of peanut M&Ms you’d stolen from Dean out of your jacket’s inner pocket. You let the bag’s contents out slowly as sticks and rocks scraped up your dragging body. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain on the back of your head before you vision blacked out completely.

The next time you came to, the first thing you felt were your aching wrists and hands on either side of your face. You could faintly hear Dean calling your name, and your vision began to get less hazy as Dean’s voice became more clear. 

When Dean’s annoyingly beautiful, worried face finally came into focus, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper.”

You could hear Sam laughing behind Dean and Dean sighed. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded relieved. 

Sam reached above you to cut your wrists down. “You okay?”

Despite your aching joints, you said, “Yeah.”

Sam helped you over to one of the cave’s walls. “You sure you're alright?”

“Yeah. Yep,” you groaned. “Where is he?”

“He's gone for now.” 

“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, making Sam laugh a little. “Oh, sweet.” You noticed the stolen duffel bags next to you and started rummaging through yours. Haley let out a shriek, causing you to jerk your head in her direction. She’d found her brother, and thankfully, he was alive. 

“Cut him down!” Haley ordered. Sam got to work. 

You found a flare gun in Dean’s duffel bag, saying, “Check it out.” to the rest of your group.

“Flare guns. Those'll work,” Sam responded, grinning.

You laughed, throwing one of the guns at Dean who caught it easily. He twirled it around his finger, smirking at you.

“Enough fooling around, let’s go,” Haley urged. She shouldered her brother, and with Ben’s help, started moving down the mine shaft.

You and Sam held up the rear of the group while Dean took the lead. Amidst the clunky shuffling of Tommy’s weakened body down the shaft, you could hear the same deep, low growling you’d heard in the forest. 

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” quipped Dean, scanning the corridor ahead of him.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley said.

Dean looked back at you and Sam. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam responded.

“I don’t,” you chimed in.

“You’ll catch on,” Dean shot back. “All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam and (Y/N). They’re gonna get you out of here.”

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asked the older Winchester. 

He winked at her, shooting her that same smile he’d shot you one of the first times you’d met him. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He started yelling moments later, walking away from you. “Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

‘I bet he does.’ You surprised yourself. ‘What? What the fuck? He’s an asshole.’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your head. “All right, come on! Hurry!”

Your group rushed down the tunnel. You stayed in the rear, and Sam headed up to the front. He began leading your group down to where you could faintly see a bit of daylight peeking through. 

And then, the growling again. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Get him outta here!” you instructed the Collinses. 

“(Y/N), no,” Haley told you.

“Go!” you urged her. 

She finally nodded and started pulling her brothers down the tunnel with her. You aimed your flare gun at the direction where the growling was coming from. 

“C’mon, motherfucker,” you grumbled, scanning the tunnel. 

“(Y/N)!” Sam called from behind you. 

You wheeled around to come face to face with the Wendigo. In your startle, you missed your shot with the flare gun. Your only other option was to take off after the three Collins siblings, closely followed by Sam.

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam ordered the group. “Get behind me.” Given Sam’s size, he was able to hide all three Collinses behind him. You knew your pistol was no use, but you still aimed it at the creature anyway. 

The Wendigo approached, taking its time in getting to you. 

“Hey!” you suddenly heard Dean from behind the Wendigo. It wheeled around, only for Dean to shoot it in the stomach. 

Flames curled up the Wendigo’s horribly disfigured body in twisted tendrils. The creature let out a howl before collapsing to the ground in a pile of burning embers. 

Dean was revealed behind where the Wendigo previously stood. “Not bad, huh?”

Despite yourself, you grinned. 

A quite chipper, clearly freshman EMT had patched you up upon your return to civilization. You had an uncomfortable laceration on your neck, a few scrapes above your eyebrow, and your wrists burned from where you had been tied up. You’d survive, it would just take you a few days to recover from. 

You watched from a short distance as Haley approached Dean, both of whom had been patched up. You scowled as Dean smirked lasciviously at Haley and couldn’t help the bile rising in your throat when Haley leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek. She said one final thing to Dean before walking toward the ambulance carrying Tommy with Ben. 

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” she called to you.

You waved at her with a lopsided smile. She returned your grin before hopping into the back of the ambulance. 

Sam motioned for you to come back over to Dean’s car. 

“Man, I hate camping,” said Dean as you approached.

“Me too,” you shivered.

“Still scared of the woods?” he asked you, his tone slightly patronizing.

You ignored his tone and answered earnestly. “Definitely. Probably more so, now.” You crossed your arms over your body and hugged yourself. 

A moment of silence passed before Dean addressed his brother. “Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean lolled his head to the side dramatically before tossing the keys to Sam. Recalling your fight with Dean at the campsite, you hesitated to get in the car when the brothers did. 

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Sam asked out of the driver’s side window. “Let’s go.” 

You nodded, conceding, and hopped into the backseat. You threw your legs up on the leather beside you and stared out the window. Out of the corner of your eye, you could swear Dean was staring at you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Through the Fire

Jason Todd x batmom!reader

Jason’s death broke you almost beyond repair, sending you into a dark pit that you struggled to claw yourself from. But what about your baby boy? What about what happened to him? And could you ever save him like you should have done years ago?

Warnings: ANGST, lots about Jason’s death, kidnapping, Jason needs a hug, references to Damian’s conception, I repeat shit tons of angst, reader wants to die for a while, swearing, descriptions of scars, insults thrown at reader, references to murder

WC: 1.7k

A/N: I realise I took this in a different direction than what the request actually was but I hope you still like it!

Minors DNI

You didn’t think being a mother was ever in your life plan, it wasn’t like you didn’t want children, you just never expected it to happen. Then, a little bird named Dick trotted into your life, bringing along with him a man who you knew was your soulmate. And a few years later, things got even better.

A boy, barely 11 years-old, tried to steal the tires off of the bat-mobile. And less than 24 hours later, he became a Wayne. Life was good, for a while. You did your best to provide your boys with as normal a life as possible given the circumstances and they seemed to flourish. That is until Jason was a month shy of his 14th birthday.

You remember that night in vivid detail like a horrible nightmare you couldn’t escape. Bruce had been silent on the coms after the explosion making a deep sense of unease settle in your gut. You remember little Jason’s bright yellow cape saturated with red, the fabric wrapped tightly around your son’s body, shielding you from the horror.

Bruce made eye-contact with you and you knew, you knew your little jay-bird had been ripped from you before his life could even really begin. The scream that echoed through the cave as you fell to your knees still haunts Alfred and Bruce to this day. The utter despair and rage of a mother who lost their baby rattling their bones.

For a long time, you blamed Bruce. Once Jason had been buried beneath his favourite tree on the grounds, you stopped speaking to your husband. You moved to the other side of the manor, refusing to eat or even sleep. You wanted so badly to be with your boy again and you wished every day that you had been the one who died, not him.

The appearance of Tim saved you. That smart little boy who wouldn’t take no for an answer wormed his way into your heart. He helped gather the pieces of your heart and stick them back together, even if there were a few shards that lay with your Jason.

Bruce welcomed you home with open arms and you both were finally able to grieve together. You became a united front once more, able to face any situation with the knowledge that you weren’t alone.

But nothing could have prepared you for this.

With a pained groan, your mind emerged from the darkness of unconsciousness. Your eyelids felt heavier than normal as you struggled to open them but eventually, you were successful. As far as you could tell from the dim light streaming through the windows, you were in an abandoned apartment. It stank of stale urine and cigarettes.

You huffed and glanced down to find that you had been tied to an old dining chair. Your gaze lifted to the door which was only a few feet in front of you. If you could bounce on the seat with enough force, you might be able to shatter the old wood and make a run for it.

“Don’t even fucking think about it.” The deep voice that spoke from the darkness further into the apartment startled you but you regained your composure quickly, after all this wasn’t your first rodeo.

“What do you want? Money? Leverage?” The man chuckled and you saw the shadow of his figure move. From what you could tell, he was huge.

“No, we just need to have a little conversation without Mr Wayne meddling.” Your stomach dropped. Who the fuck was this guy? But before you could retort, he stepped from the shadows.

The red of his helmet was what struck you first. The metal was smooth save for the white slits for his eyes, even to you who had faced the Joker head on, it was incredibly intimidating. Then emerged the maroon bat on his chest so like the symbol your husband sported. Then the two guns strapped to his thighs.

Anger rushed through your veins before you could stop it. “Red Hood.” You spat. 

“Very good!” He replied sarcastically. “I’m glad I made an impression.” He walked casually over to you, his goliath body towering over you. The old floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved with the grace of a man who had spent his whole life being a soldier.

Your face remained stern as he approached, not showing even a lick of emotion. Your husband’s words echoed through your mind. “Do not show your fear, give them nothing.”

“You’ve already killed more than 20 people in Gotham, I don’t think that’s a great impression to give.” 

“20 people that you know of.” He snarked, a thick Gothomite accent slipping through his carefully crafted facade. “It isn’t like your beloved husband is doing much to clean up the streets.”

He walked casually behind where you were bound and tugged on your restraints. You flinched as the rope dug into your plush stomach. “I mean he couldn’t even kill the son of a bitch that murdered your precious ‘baby bird’.” He hissed, voice full of raw hatred.

Ice ran through your veins. You couldn’t answer him, too shocked that he knew of Bruce’s double life. “I mean what kind of a man replaces his son less than a year after he was beaten to death with a crowbar! And you know what makes it even worse?” His face was now right beside yours, his mask pressed against your ear as he whispered his next words. “You let him.”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about!” You crumbled, you couldn’t help it. The pain of Jason’s death was all-too-present in your lives. “I died the same day he did.” 

“And yet you’re still breathing.” He moved away, turning his back to you. “And I know why, it’s because you weren’t really his mother. You just took him in as a little pet project because you were a bored housewife with no one to nag since your Brucie was out fucking other women. If you were really my mother, you would have killed yourself a long time ago.”

A gloved hand reached up and undid the hidden clasp in his helmet. The metal fell away easily, revealing a mop of pitch black hair that covered the back of his pale neck. “Poor Mrs Wayne, stuck in that big house all alone with so much love to give but no one to give it to. Jesus Christ, no wonder Dick left, you are so stifling.”

He huffed through his nose as if this whole thing was one big cosmic joke before Red Hood finally turned to face you once more. “Well mommy, how does it feel to know that your jay-bird is a murderer?” 

“Oh god.” You whimpered as you took him in. Jason’s face was covered with the silvery lines of old scars, including a large one that curled up from the corner of his lip all the way up his cheek, giving him a snarled smile. His eyes were no longer the soft hazel that they once were but now an almost supernatural green. A slash of white cut through his dark hair.

He was so different but he was still Jason. “My baby.” Tears quickly rolled down your full cheeks. “You’re alive.” You didn’t fight against your bonds anymore, you couldn’t. It felt like your body was shutting down as shock set it. 

Jason scoffed at your tears. “Oh so now you wanna start crying? Fucking pathetic.” He rolled his eyes.

“My boy, my boy.” You cried. He was alive, all this time he was alive and you hadn’t found him. Guilt settled heavily in your gut and suddenly it was like it was 5 years ago. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re just sorry that now you have to face the consequences of your actions.” You shook your head. “Or are you sorry that you weren’t a better mommy?” He asked mockingly. 

“I’m so sorry Jason. I’m sorry. I love you so much.” You were in near hysterics now. “I love you.”

But evidently, that was the wrong thing to say because with an explosive amount of power, Jason threw his helmet at the far wall. The metal dented upon impact, shattering the cheap drywall. “No you don’t! You never did!” He blazed with an anger you had never seen before.

“I do. You were the best thing to happen to me Jason. You’re my baby. I’ll love you forever.” And for a split second, you saw the rage melt away and what was left was that scared little kid who just needed a guiding hand.

“Fuck you! You’re just a fucking trophy wife who can’t even keep her husband in her own bed!” He screamed into your face but you did not flinch.

“I love you.” You repeated, your tone unwavering.

“You aren’t even my real mother!” His face was red with emotion, just the same way it used to when he was upset or frustrated.

“I love you.”

“I don’t love you!” He shouted back but his eyes could no longer meet yours and his hands were shaking.

“I love you.” Your voice was soft now, just barely a whisper but you knew he heard you. He shot forward, slipping a knife from some hidden pocket into his palm. The ropes that held you fell away just as he collapsed into your arms.

You did not hesitate, you wrapped him up as tightly as you could, Jason’s head falling to the crook of your neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you my Jason.” Tears soaked through your shirt as he sobbed, his huge chest heaving with his pain.

“I was so scared. I just wanted you and you weren’t there. There was so much fire and blood.” Thick arms wound around your waist, squeezing you harshly. “I wanted my mommy.”

“I’m here now. I’m never letting you go again, never.”

He nuzzled further into you and you almost didn’t catch his quiet “I love you momma.” 

“I love you more.”

And that’s where Dick found you hours later, kneeling on the dirty floor of a condemned building, Red Hood asleep in your arms as you sang him a lullaby.

Anon request: 3.The boys did something wrong and she punish them by (whatever you want to do) and one of the replies, “you’re not My Mom!”

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[thewebcomicsreview]

I'm hardly the first person to notice this, but good god webcomics are the least time-efficient possible way of telling a story, aren't they?

I've been trying to figure out a better method of telling a story so that I could finish it before I die of old age (or, perhaps more relevantly, before everyone loses interest). It seems like no one really wants to read prose on the internet, but also people don't really like a comic that takes a year to go anywhere.

The main bottleneck is dialogue. You can only get 2-3 lines in a standard comic panel, so even a short conversation of character texture can take several pages. It makes me wonder if the Single Panel With Text Beneath It style (like ForEach) isn't just the Objectively Correct™ way to tell a comic on the internet. It's very efficient on the art, you can include narration if that's your jam, and it's very easy to make it work on mobile. (Also the art being separate is a boon if you want to make marketing materials). But everyone will correctly call you a Homestuck rip off.

Though the other thing Homestuck did was make these sprites of the characters that could be used to crank out a bunch of panels for scenes where nothing visually interesting was happening. You don't really see that copied as much

Not openly, anyway. There's a stigma. I've thought about rebooting Legend of the Hare as a visual novel, where that kind of thing is arbitrarily more accepted, but it does start raising the question of why you're bothering with the visuals at all. I don't think the kind of person who makes webcomics is usually looking for an excuse to get out of drawing, even if it lets them increase their page output dramatically. Making sprites that don't look like absolute ass is also really hard. Homestuck sprites have a really specific janky charm to them that I've never really seen any other comic pull off.

And, yeah, you could always just use a simpler art style, like Order of the Stick does, but it's super hard to get anyone to read a webcomic with great art, let alone simple art designed to maintain a high page output. And, again, why are you making a comic if you don't want to draw, unless you just naturally happen to draw that way and be really fucking good at it like Rich Burlew is?

It seems like the only really good way to tell a story in a reasonable amount of time as a webcomic artist is to make enough money off it that you can work full time, and, um, that's not really feasible either.

I don't have an answer I like. I guess just kill yourself in the content mines working webcomics as a second job that doesn't pay you anything.

I don't have a conclusion, capitalism is a nightmare.

[effloradox]

Hikaru doesn’t like having his sleep disturbed. He’s a heavy sleeper so it takes a lot to wake him, and there better be a good reason for someone to disturb him. Even his twin is on thin ice if he wakes him up in the night, god have mercy on anyone else who dares to disturb him.

So, when his ringtone wakes him up at almost 3 in the morning, he’s furious in a sleep-deprived way. In hindsight, it’s his own fault for leaving the damn thing on volume, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. What matters is that someone has made the very bad decision to wake him up and there will be consequences. The caller ID comes up with your name, and it’s with a frustrated sigh that Hikaru picks up the call.

“This better be important.”

“H-Hikaru?” His heart stops at your tone. You’re crying, he can hear it in your voice, and he immediately feels awful for the way he answered the phone.

“(Y/N)?” He’s fully awake now, mobile phone pressed close to his ear so he can hear you. “Are you okay?” He can vaguely make out the shifting form of Kaoru next to him, who he’s definitely woken up, but right now most of his focus is on you. He hears you take a few shaky breaths down the phone, like you’re trying to steady yourself.

“I-I’m sorry I woke you. I had a nightmare and I didn’t know who else to call.” Hikaru feels Kaoru place his head on his left shoulder and he shifts the mobile phone so his twin can hear you as well. He knows you won’t mind, you would’ve known they were together when you called. He doesn’t even have to look at his twin to voice the question he knows they’re both thinking.

“Do you want us to come over?” Your home isn’t close per se, but they could get someone to drive them there relatively quickly if you wanted them with you.

“No, no, I’ll be fine, I just-” You take another shaky breath before continuing, “Will you stay on the phone? Just until I fall asleep again?”

“Of course.” The two of them settle back down, this time with the phone placed on the pillow between their heads. You’re on speaker now, but they’re not worried about waking anyone up. One of the many perks about living in a mansion is that most of the bedrooms are far away from each other. Kaoru’s eyes are full of concern for you, and Hikaru doesn’t doubt that his eyes are the same. They exchange a look before Kaoru breaks the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kaoru speaks softly, like he’s scared to startle you. You’re quiet as you think about the question, the only sound is your still uneasy breaths.

“Not really. Maybe when it’s not as raw.”

“That’s okay.”

“We’ll be here for as long as you need.”

[ninyard]

how do you think andrew and aaron’s relationship changes after the trial?

(i’m so annoyed i wrote a really long detailed answer for this and then stupid tumblr mobile got rid of it so lemme try again)

i think that after the trial andrew and aaron’s relationship changes for the worse, for a while, until both of them are in a place to make it better.

aaron disappears for a while after the trial - he goes away with katelyn, maybe staying with her parents or in some hotel in a state far away from south carolina. they spend some refreshing time together without the crushing weight of the trial haunting their every second. he cries a lot, that week or two, every now and again hit with the relief of freedom and the guilt of knowing he did kill someone, at the end of the day. he may not be guilty, he may be free, but a man died by his hand. it’s so fresh as well, everything having been recounted over the past week and a bit. but it’s the first thing they do when he gets home after they receive his not guilty judgement; they leave, and he doesn’t talk to anyone other than her for however long they go for.

before that, during the trial, aaron breaks down after andrew’s testimony. he knew it would be hard but hearing it out loud, so detailed, so monotone. andrew doesn’t fuck around with the lawyers. he says it like it is, he states the facts. aaron was expecting him to be a nightmare on the stand, but no, he’s perfect, he’s telling them everything, oh god he’s telling them everything. it destroys aaron. he’s wrecked with guilt, thinking about how much andrew has done for him in his life, how little he feels he’s given him in return. and he can’t stop thinking about everything all at once; remember the way andrew sleeps? with his back to the wall and a knife under his pillow? how he can’t stand those certain words, how he can’t be touched? how he was when you met him for that first time? how he was when you started living together?

it reframes his entire relationship with andrew, his entire view of him as a person, and it kills him to think about how his brother actually went through this. he’s not lying because he thinks it’s funny, he’s telling the truth. after andrew testifies, until the end of the trial, aaron is a numb emotionless mess. every second of his days are spent thinking about andrew andrew andrew. the guilt he feels over causing this, causing andrew to talk about his past, the past he kept well hidden for an obviously good reason. he can’t look andrew in the eye, not because he necessarily views him differently, but because it hurts him so badly to remember the words that left his lips on the stand.

andrew is the same, in some ways. he already isolated himself for a week before the trial, staying in wymack’s place, not talking to anyone for fear the sickening feeling in his stomach would escape. he takes to the stand, and he’s shaking, but he can’t look at anyone other than the lawyer. he can’t look at aaron, who sits with his mouth ajar beneath a hand that covers it in shock. he can’t look at neil, on the right side of the room, trying his hardest not to react to the excruciating details. he can’t look at cass, on the left side of the room, her husbands hands intertwined in hers, a tissue in her free hand blotting the leaky eyes she’s had since day one. he can’t look at the jury, judging him for his criminal record, for his mental health, for his sexuality and his past.

when he leaves, he doesn’t even talk to neil. he gets in his car, he drops them all off at fox tower, and he immediately drives to reddin. he doesn’t say anything to betsy, either, but he sits next to the window in her office and smokes his way through a packet of cigarettes for an hour or two before he’s able to bring himself to leave. he still goes to the rest of the trial for aaron’s sake, but every time he hears a whimper from cass on the other side of the room, he feels sick. everytime he hears drakes name, he hears the lawyers trying to pin a murder charge on his brother, it twists him up inside. he has as much anxiety about the verdict as aaron does. he feels guilty about what he has caused, too, fearing aaron going to prison because he was protecting him. because he killed the man andrew had been dreaming of killing for years.

the trial ends, and andrew stays with wymack for another few days until he’s ready to return, and he speaks to betsy in some manner every day for a week or two, whether it be via a phone call or an emergency session.

when aaron comes back, they avoid each other unintentionally. mostly unintentionally, anyway, but neither have anything to say. there’s no words that’ll be enough. aaron cancels their next few sessions with bee, and andrew doesn’t seek him out at all. i think for a while after the trial neither of them can stomach looking the other in the eye, and it’s not just because of andrew’s testimony, either, it’s everything altogether that causes this terrible drift they’d been working hard to repair.

the first time they talk to each other again is six weeks later in bees office, where andrew finally looks at aaron and says, i’d do it again to keep you here. and aaron loses it. he sobs, apologising and melting down, and andrew hates it, but bee steps in to stop him from stopping aaron. it’s not enough, it never will be, nuts it’s the first step on a looooooooong road they have together. but they understand each other that little bit more, and in the end i think it makes them closer. it just takes a very, very long time to get there.

[howtofightwrite]

For archery, is it easier to hit a moving target while standing still or hit a still target while moving?

This one's a little more complicated than it sounds. There's basically two parts to this. Tracking and leading a target moving at a consistent speed isn't too bad, but if it's moving erratically, hitting it can become an absolute nightmare.

Generally speaking, it's easier to hit a stationary target while moving, though, again, if your movement is erratic, and you don't control it (for example, if you're on some vehicle, like a wagon, or pickup truck, and someone else is driving), that's not as easy. If you have control over your movement, then you'd need to split your attention between driving, or riding, and aiming), which is harder than you'd expect. Even just walking with a drawn bow requires splitting your attention in awkward ways. It's not impossible, but it does require more, “mental bandwidth,” than you'd expect. In contrast, keeping a bead on a stationary target while walking with a crossbow (or gun) is pretty easy. It's the bow itself that makes this more difficult. Just to be clear, I have a lot of respect for mounted archers, it sounds simple enough, but there's a lot more going on there than you might expect.

Pausing movement to fire on a stationary target, and then resuming movement is about as easy as it ever gets. In a lot of cases, when you have moving archers, this is what will actually happen. They'll stop moving (or at least, severely slow), aim, fire, and then resume motion. But, technically this is out of scope for your question, so as an answer, it's kinda cheating, but if it's an option, it is the best one for your mobile archers, including if they're mounted.

-Starke

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