#wendigo love y’all

[trippin-chippin]

So I’ve seen this art trend on YouTube that people would choose what monster they’d be, and well…. ⬇️

I think I’d be a wendigo :)

If y’all wanna start a chain with what monsters y’all would be, you can! ^^

[rubyvhs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ dean winchester liking someone tough…

gn!reader, masterlist

dean winchester meeting you and he just can’t get through to you. sammy accepts dean’s love easily and the gestures and his sweet words (if he ever gives them), you don’t accept a cup of coffee unless you pay him back and it gets on his nerves. 

you hunt one time with them— total accident, and he just thinks, wow, most gorgeous person he’s ever see — and you’re asking sam if his brother has issues because he’s been staring & you don’t wanna bring it up.

sam kinda laughs, dean kinda wants to throw himself out on the highway. sam assures you his brother just likes you, you scoff and walk away— dean wishes he could burn his eyes out. being rejected is one thing, being treated like that? totally other thing he’s never dealt with and is not ready to deal with.

the rest of the case is fine and thankfully, you’re a research kind of hunter so you spend most of it with sam. he’d think with all that… whatever you’ve been doing, you’re more hands on. (whatever you’ve been doing being not flirting with him, what’s wrong with you?)

“sammy, they give you their number?” he asks when they get in the impala to head back to the bunker and his little asshole of a brother nods. nods like it’s so damn casual. it isn’t. you didn’t offer dean your number.

so he shrugs it off but he knows it’s not over. sam does too, unfortunately, but he can’t focus on his embarrassment for now. he heard you saying something about visiting a city when you’re done with the hunt so this man spends hours looking for cities that start with the letter ‘g’ that might be anywhere near the vicinity of pennsylvania. he finds a few, tosses a coin, does some research, and great, a couple of hearts went missing a few towns over from where you’re staying.

he rushes sam out of the bunker two weeks later and on the drive to god knows where with the werewolf problem, he stops at a motel.

“you— you need to stop? are you serious?”

“a man needs his rest, sam.”

“not you.” dean shrugs like he’s not shocking his brother to next week and they set up in a motel for the night. he finishes brushing his teeth before making a noise like he just had an idea. 

“sammy, remember the hunter from the wendigo case?”

“…yeah it’s only been two weeks dean. you remember their name.”

“sure. whatever. we should call them, right? we’re close by.”

“how would you know—”

“i just do—”

“dean just call them yourself, man. i have their number in my cell.”

“no no, they gave it to you.”

“yeah, ‘cause you were in the car. just call them—”

“fine! god, you’re annoying.” and he slams the bathroom door so sam doesn’t see the sweat running down his face. he’s not scared— okay maybe a little intimidated, but you’re so… put together and you know what you want and if you didn’t give dean your number then surely you meant to do it, right?

when he’s out of the bathroom he uses sam’s phone to call you. it’s an honest accident. in his hurry to not back out, he forgot to switch phones. “hello.” your voice comes through when the call connects and he’s thinking of— “sam? you there?”

“h—hey. yeah, no, not sam.” he clears his throat and he hears you laugh and he thinks his heart melts.

“dean? hey, how are you?”

“great, ‘m good. just, we were, y’know, workin’ on a case nearby—”

“near where?”

“where you are, and i thought i’d call, ask if you wanna join us.”

“sure. but where’s that again?”

“geneva.”

“dean, i’m not anywhere near geneva.”

“what? but you said—”

“i said genesee.” he shuts his eyes aggressively, panicking, trying to think of what to say. “but it’s— i didn’t know you listened.”

“yeah apparently i didn’t do it well enough.”

“‘s fine, i can be there in a few days if y’all are still having trouble with it.” he perks up, sighing in relief.

“yeah, yeah, that sounds good, we’re on our way so it could take us a day or so.” and when you promise him you’ll call in a few days he can’t help but hang up with a smile on his face. and a middle finger thrown to the grinning sam in the corner.

he tells sam that he wants the day off when he wakes up and sam’s thisclose to calling everyone he knows to ask where the real dean is. but he already gets it. dean likes you, he doesn’t want to finish the hunt early in hopes that you’ll join them again and honestly sam looked at the facts and the werewolf is as much of a threat as a vacuum cleaner.

seeing as he’s frickin locked up in jail like any normal murderer. not that they know he’s not normal— the point is, sam saw that and gaped at dean like he was crazy. he drove them six hours (there still four more to go) for a werewolf that’s already locked up and if he hasn’t escaped yet then it’s because he’s stupid enough to stay locked. they don’t need to go kill him.

but dean insists and sam kind of doesn’t mind the vacation from the stuffy bunker. dean enjoys the day, eats, looks around, makes sure they’re not needed and they spend another night before heading out. when you meet up with them another day later sam notices dean’s shaved two days early and he combed his hair. his brother, dean winchester, combed his hair.

“hey,” dean greets you with a wave and you move in to hug sam first then him. deans surprised, not taking you for the type, but it seems he’s been very misinformed about you.

“so, what’s up? i didn’t actually get to read anything on my way here.”

“oh, it’s—” sam’s about to tell you it’s nothing, the guys locked up but dean cuts him off.

“we should get breakfast first, we’ll talk about it then?” you nod, ready to get back in your car when dean speaks up, “we could drive you. it’d be easier if we’re all in one car.”

when you decline his offer, saying you can’t go anywhere without your girl, he thinks he just fell in love. he’s blushing out of both embarrassment at the rejection and the adoring look he knows is painting his face at hearing how much you care about your car.

at the diner you’re about to order before dean groans, slamming his hand on his thigh and tsk’ing, making you frown across from him. “they locked him up. the guys locked up, looks like he wasn’t much of a threat.”

sam barely holds his laugh in. that’s why he didn’t want him telling you? he’s lying his way to a date with you? sam can’t wait to see it go down.

“oh. that sucks, we came all the way here for nothing. i can take care of it, i know you guys have been on the road longer, lebanons a long way from here.”

dean shakes his head quickly. “nah, we’ll go, you just got here today.” you tilt your head in confusion.

“you’ve been here for more than a day? and you didn’t find out he’s been arrested?”

dean’s eyes narrow like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. he’s about to ask for clarification before the waitress comes and he thanks the heavens above. strictly looks at his menu while speaking to her so she doesn’t get the wrong idea like he eh us usually do, and ignores sam the entire time he’s asking you about anything and everything.

halfway through you notice you’re mostly talking and ask sam some things, he happily replies through gritted teeth since dean is kicking him under the table.

after breakfast you thank them and you’re about to get back in your car, since there’s clearly no case here, before you turn around. “dean?”

he hums in response, and sam takes it as his cue to scream into the impala, you walk over to dean, both hands on his biceps, “how about next time you just ask me out? you didn’t need to drive all this way.”

dean blushing is the understatement of the century as you slap his chest twice and walk away. he memorized your plates.

idk what this is but yay! it’s done! hopefully it pulls me out of my block because i can’t write anything good for the life of me.

also guys ugh i wish i could describe it better and if you have any ideas tell me but the narrowing his eyes thing was me trying to describe the look he gave jody when she was talking about sex and ‘wha’ face SO CUTE

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[tokuvivor]

Okay, so I guess it’s my turn to provide some Movie Night highlights. So let’s get the ball rolling…

On Ice

Super early Donald design (a la The Wise Little Hen)

Donald being a dick

Give Pluto a break

Donald fanservice

“Use the perfect cast!”

Last Christmas!

Launchpad and the lights

Webby’s decorating skills

Christmas being a sore subject for Scrooge (I’m not a Scranta guy but go off y’all)

“Bah humbug!” “He said it!”

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Jiminy Cricket as Past

Present sounding like Patrick Star (Bill Fagerbakke voiced him)

The ghosts confusing Ebenezer Scrooge and Scrooge McDuck

“Young me.” “Old me.”

Bradford hate train

Beakley with the moves (and being into Future)

Scroldie moment

Scrooge vs. Past

The moment we’ve all been waiting for…

“Some weird emo kid?”

RIP Russi Taylor

Bluey (eh?)

A case of the munchies

DELLA DELLA DELLA

Donald’s apology

Wendigo fight!

Destruction of Donald’s guitar (and baby Donald rage)

Donald and Della knew!

Scrooge to the rescue!

Scrooge/entities of Christmas

“Welcome back!”

Launchpad being Jewish

Launchpad’s song (and everyone just goes along with it)

Della cameo at the end

The end credits *sob*

Intermission (Fasting Contest)

Last contest video with Ben Schwartz *sob x2*

“Can’t eat a goddamn raisin?!”

Random song parodies (Weird Al vibes)

“They call it vehicular manslaughter.”

Ducks and bread

Mickey’s Magical Christmas: Snowed in at the House of Mouse (feat. Mickey’s Christmas Carol)

Alllll the cameos

Donald acting like Scrooge

Triplet time!

Donald and ice skating, Part 2

Ludwig Von Drake appearance!

Walt Disney himself as Mickey (wait, no, Clarence Nash (aka the original Donald))

Chip ‘n’ Dale hate train

Brief discussion of the Winnie-the-Pooh universe

The Nutcracker (more Von Drake!)

Narrator vs. Von Drake

More Donald fanservice

Surprise Goofy appearance!

Narrator vs. all Ducks really

Mickey’s Christmas Carol vs. The Muppet Christmas Carol (Edit: started by @real-life-pine-tree)

Scrooge being a hater

Nightgown stylin’

Why is Daisy Scrooge’s love interest? (Seriously, Disney, Goldie’s right fuckin’ there)

Scrooge the Englishman

Tiny Tim

Shit goes down when Present leaves

RIP Tiny Tim

Scrooge going to hell

Pete hate train makes its grand return

Scrooge changes his tune

“Has he lost it?”, townsfolk say

Random Movie Trivia, courtesy of @writebackatya

“Toys ain’t gonna keep Tiny Tim from dying.” “But a raise and his father’s promotion will.”

Sweet song at the end

Heroes and villains getting along

Hopefully this is sufficient! (If it’s not, feel free to add shit!)

[jassygay]

Meet my GL2 ocs :D

Ruby Jewels (Name by: @randomperson1638 thx you for giving her a name) a redesign version of an spoiled brat and she is not one of the villains ok she had no sins (she sinless btw) she lesbian

Ryana an cute lil chunky oc ^v^ (Ryana is trans so she is born as a boy and change her gender to female) Ryana is a human

Nature child, she died of being chocked by the vines and she became an nature angel, (she is aroace cuz she had no attraction to any gender ok)

Pure, she is wingless cuz Darker rip her wings but she had a ability to fly without wings so yea she is wingless Angel (angels don’t need wings btw) she straight ally, made her from an art challenge

Jason, he an demon, don’t ask about his skin cuz I made him from an art challenge of making demons, also this hair kinda reminds y’all that his hair is made of pineapple, so yea he had pineapple hair, he is also straight ally

Plum, she is not a human she is a plum ok, also from an art challenge, she is pansexual

Horror, y’all may know her cuz of my last post, she is half demon and half angel, her parents doesn’t hate her only other demons and angels, she is omnisexual

Girl, you guys also see her in my last post from last month ago, an goddess of feminism, she is any sexuality of your choice, married relationships with Gender Neutral and Boy

Holy, she is an faceless angel, she is sapphic, I can’t make a good pic of her cuz her wings are big, she an angel and I made her from 2 months ago during Halloween

Eerie soul, you guys also see her in my last post too, I update her bolder thingy, she use the bolder thing to hit people in the head and kill them, she is straight ally again, she lost her husband and kids cuz people in Spain kill her and her family and she haunts men and children to be a family again or looking her family (kinda like La Llorona some you guys may know about her and people who are Mexicans also know her)

Diana, my very old oc, she is lesbian and Jassy’s gf (Aglia hates Diana but didn’t know that Diana is Jassy’s gf) Diana is not a kitsune, a Wendigo, or a deer, she is an princess goddess of diamonds

Miles, you guys see him in my last post, redesign version of bad boy, Neko’s bf, he gay, he is half wolf and half demon

Jackie (name by @idkwhatthisisbutheresdcandstuff thx you for giving thema name ^v^) Jackie is a Hybird, they are half rabbit, half wendigo, half goat, and half human, (cuz hybirds can be any half species) you also may call them Hyona(not name by @idkwhatthisisbutheresdcandstuff@) but Jackie is still her name ok

Neko, redesign version of OwO cat, Miles’ bf, he gay, he is an cat but he is 0% sus and 1000000000% normal, he likes anime

Indigo, made them bigender, Indigo had been abuse by their parents for being Bigender but they run away, they are also bisexual too, Indigo is a human

Ocean, he is not a human he is a train (old oc and he is my Thomas the train oc) he been taken by scientists and he was experimented and Demin, Cerulean, and Sapphire kidnapped him and took him and treat him like he is their youngest brother so yea he been adopted, he Omnisexual, he always wanted to go to the ocean

Heather, Jassy’s childhood friend, Heather is not straight she is lesbian, human, she wanting Jassy to be back because Jassy been abuse by her stepfather because of her biographical parents had a divorce in few years that Jassy’s parents never get divorced they love each other and loves Jassy and her siblings, Heather join the detective gang

Insane, you guys also see him too in my last vid, I update him a lil, Insane possess people and turn them into crazy psychopaths, he not an demon he is a virus

Gore, you guys may not see her but you guys see her as a genderbend, Gore hates people but not her friends, she never hates Jassy cuz Jassy never do anything bad to Gore, she is lesbian, she is a Gorgon means that she can turn people into stone, GL2 had no snake hair for Gorgon ocs but we can use Brazilian hair as Gorgon hair, or other hair that are look like snake hair for your Gorgon oc, Gore had trust issues, crush in Jassy

Realistic man, you guys seen him in my VERY LAST post of Jassy’s and his past, he was use to be an Seraphim(but without an Angel with wings that had eyes on them) He was thrown out of heaven because Heaven was attack, and was adopted by humans a group of nuns and priests, he been married and had 3 kids (Jassy is one of them) and 1 unborn child, so he is Jassy’s biological father, the reason why Jassy run away from her home because she wanted Realistic man back and become a family again with her biological mother and siblings and adopt Kyle and then Kyle got kill by Aglia and her unborn child is also got kill by Aglia(Yall know about Kyle) so yea he is an entity and an seraphim, his real name is Damarcus

Hand, he is just an demonic hand with one eye, I try to make him but he LOOK LIKE THIS💀 hand is autosexual

Antonia, she is a human and redesign version of gacha heat, she is lesbian and a wrestler, she been rap3 by her own stepfather but she beat him up and her mother kill him(her mother didn’t get a new husband anymore cuz she didn’t want Antonia be rap3) she had a gf name Autum

Autum, she is Antonia’s gf, bisexual, made her from an art challenge again, born in September, Virgo, and her birthstone is Sapphire, she is human

Moonlight, she is an alien, an star alien, she creates stars of an dead soul, sweetful, loves creatures of space, loves humans, loves galaxy, she is sapphic

Monarch, she is aromantic, she is not a butterfly she a fairly, made her form an art challenge

Máximo, he is an Brazilian, he a human, he is trans and demiboy, he work as an builder, support every countries

Sea, daughter of Seala the sea goddess, Stari is her pet, loves animals in the ocean, loving, caring, and beautiful, she is bisexual, she a mermaid

Deep, he also a mermaid, had a crush on Sea, pansexual, loves animals that are in the deep, doesn’t mind about humans, hates when humans taking animals and other mermaids

Color, an entity of color, loves all the color, creates the whole earth with colors, painter, never kill humans at all he harmless, bisexual and nonbinary

that all it I had more ocs to work on :) hope you like them

[icelynia]

My story about MatPat and the Theorist channels goes back to 2015. My family had just moved and I got into FNAF. I was still a pretty young child, so it scared me. My older sibling didn’t want me to watch it, but I did. I got into it and loved it. I remember being scared to watch the one FNAF 4 Theory that had Nightmare Bonnie in the thumbnail. It looked too scary. Same thing for any of the FNAF 4 videos.

Throughout the years, even as I grew out of channels like StacyPlays, Stampy, and The Ireland Boys, I continued to watch MatPat since he provided content for all ages. I remember meeting another girl who watched the channels and being so excited. She was in the grade above me and even had some merch like the one theorycrafting journal. I was so jealous!

One key memory was my first time watching Mat and Steph play through Until Dawn. I had nightmares and was scared of the dark for weeks because of those wendigos! 

Throughout all the highs and lows of the past decade, I’ve been able to count on MatPat to provide quality and mostly educational content to watch, so thank you.

Also new hosts! Try your best! I’m excited to see what y’all do and the ideas and whatever changes happen! Some will probably leave, but the rest of us are here to stay so good luck!😉🤩

I am sadly missing the goodbye premier because of an event I have to go to so I’ll say this here:

Thank you MatPat!

Enjoy retirement!

💚♥️💛💙💜

(Purple is GTLive!)

[biscuit-bread-brax]

Made an Undertale Oc, his name is Mergus and he’s what happens when I’m allowed to play god (I shoved a Wendigo into a genetic blender with the Mothman)

He’s a monster that looks like he should be in horrortale, he is drawn to moments of great tragedy (like genocide or your house burning down from a botched cooking lesson), he’s a tall lanky guy with 4 fingered hands and legs that end in points instead of feet, and he’s actually just a total disassociated dork that loves angst. If you get him in a conversation he’ll just start yapping about tragedies being great to watch, like a dork <3

He’s supposed to have baggy scrappy torn clothes, but I’m not an artist so please just pretend he does y’all ✨

Idk if he’s singular multiverse entity or if a version exists in every universe, so y’all can decide for yourselves lol

Enjoy my critter! ✨

“Where is your house, undyne?”

[dino-fart]

Fic Schedule for This Weekend (Hopefully)

Here’s what’s planned, hopefully it’ll happen lol, work has been crazy due to staffing shortages. 

3 Requests

Escapsim (Namor’s Chapter) - Multi Character x Female Reader

In Reina In Waal - Namor x Female Reader

The Third Strange - Stephen Strange x Female Reader x Clea Strange

The ‘Miracle’ - Joel Miller x Female Reader

The Sith and The Mandalorian - Din Dijarin x Female Reader

Siren of the Sea - Defender Strange x Female Reader

My Scruffy Wizard Cat - Sinister Strange x Female Reader

The Wendigo Forest - Strange Supreme x Female Reader

Love y’all and thank you for the support and love!

[spaceferren-comics]

heyyyyyy i have many questions about your project because it’s awesome 😎

what IS Typhon? how did he come to be?

how did everyone meet?

who is considered the most powerful of all the characters?

love these characters so much i’ll consume y’all’s art

Tysm!! For Typhon, since he’s got so many different alternate versions (Typhon Valac aka Horror Typhon, Snatched/Main Universe Typhon, Mooties Typhon, etc) Im gonna assume you’re referring to Typhon Valac since that’s who ya made fanart of! :33 I’ll have his long ass story down below cuz even the basic synopsis is long lmfao

Irl we all met over roblox rp servers LMFAO, but in universe we met mostly through various comical means

Of all our OCs the most powerful is like Toy-Maker, who’s basically an unknowable force of unbridled chaos. He’s sorta like if you mixed Bill Cipher, Jevil, Dimention, Klefka, Marx etc. into one horrific mix lmfao

(Long story ahead for Typhon Valac, prepare thyselves)

Typhon Valac

Horror Typhon (also known as 'Typhon V' for 'Typhon Valac') is a humanoid yet monstrous wendigo-esque rabbit creature. This demonic beast appears very much like a skinny, starved, yet muscular ghoul- with torn and tethered rotting skin that loosely clings to the muscular frame of the creature. However, he strangely wears a pair of almost cartoonish white gloves, not much different from say Mickey Mouse or the likes, likely tied to his past as a Disney Employee/Animator.

Typhon V is the twisted spirit of Cecil Cuminotto, an Italian immigrant who worked as an animator at Walt Disney studios in the mid 1980s (during most of Disneys layoffs, and while the company was in a massive slump). in Burbank, California. Cecils' life could best be described by two words: Constant Work. Indeed Cecil worked day and night, doing above and beyond what should have been necessary- always under the threat of fire from the uptight and rigorous company. However it was his passion, so for the most part, he didn't mind- and in his spare time, he even liked to make sketches and rough animations of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (though he hid this from the company, as he didn't belong to Disney at the time) to entertain himself or his fiancé.

This would all change tragically however as come 1984, said fiancé, Katherine Gell, who died tragically in a horrific car accident with a young and inebriated Nicholas Martin- tragically, on the day of their honeymoon no less. Distraught at his loss, Cecil asked for a few months off to process his grief- and was denied, and was thus not even allowed to attend his own SO's funeral. This sent Cecil into a massive downward spiral of depression in and out of the workplace, his own mental instability making him begin to see her everywhere he looked- like a phantom haunting him. His guilt ate him alive- and in a desperate bid to reprieve himself, he reached out to friends and family alike- neither able to help him.

Distraught and mentally ill, Cecil did everything he could to make the constant pain and misery end- such as drowning himself in a waterfall of drugs and alcohol. Noticing his changed demeanor at work, he was investigated- and dozens of anti-depressants and liquor bottles were found hidden in his desk. Immediately fired, the now purposeless addict only continued his spiral by subjecting himself to more and more dangerous concoctions of drugs, alcohol, and anything that could make him simply stop thinking anymore. After taking a particularly lethal (and large) dose of Heroin, Ecstasy, and Hard Vodka, Cecil died alone and painfully in a dark alleyway, forgotten and left to rot. His intense rage, guilt, pain, and overall suffering made his spirit linger- refusing to move on, and thus: a voice called out to him.

A sultry and booming voice, one compiled of millions of collective voices, actually. An entity that simply called itself 'The Darkness' reached out to the distraught spirit- offering Cecil power, resolve, and the ability to get revenge against everyone who made his life so miserable. Unsure at first, the all-powerful eldritch god promised Cecil everlasting splendors, and that getting revenge/inflicting suffering on everyone who ever wronged him would bring him peace. And with peace, maybe, just maybe, a chance to see his fiancé. Cecil leapt at the chance, agreeing to bring forth as much pain and misery as humanly possible into the world of the living.

And thus Typhon V was born, his spirit possessing his still rotting corpse- and his darkness tainting and corrupting the already rotting body into something no longer human. Now having a rabbit-skull-like face to cover his own rotting face below it, long and gangly ears, and generally disproportionate features for a human. Ironically, he got to keep the gloves he once drew nonstop- now forever a piece of him and his attire.

Typhon V is no longer Cecil- even if he may have remnants of who he once was. Only hate and a desire to bring forth suffering upon his victims remain. Like a Shakespearean, he was reborn from the tortured soul of Cecil, a tragic figure whose life was marred by despair and addiction. Typhon V's genesis was thus marked by a harrowing demise—a consequence of the vices and suffering that ultimately consumed him. Bound by his insatiable thirst for retribution against the people he views failed him, he emerged from the depths of the beyond, like a plague soon to be unleashed, twisted, and malformed. He first targeted his family, slowly but surely picking off all the Cuminottos, often the cause of death being deduced as a 'Suicide'. However, even after their demise came no salvation- as Typhon kept them in a personal hellscape of his own design- a horrific personal little world where the souls of his victims reside. This black-and-white world, not too different from an old-school Disney cartoon, is where the demon regularly plays Cat and Mouse with unfortunate victims' souls who've been caught.

[hugsandchaos]

Y’all remember Grubber and Tempest? I really like the idea that after the movie, they develop a “big sister, little brother” relationship. The funniest part is that Grubber is eventually going to grow taller than Tempest, but he wouldn’t dare to tease her about it. I especially love the idea that if Grubber asks Tempest about something like the wendigos, she’d either try to avoid telling the tales because no one would suspect anything in pony history to be dark, or get an evil grin, tell him to sit down, and tell him everything. He didn’t sleep well that night. Anyone else have the same idea?

[xwendigox]

Bro we almost at 300 views on my website. Y’all so amazin 😭 💕

[whump-me-all-night-long]

The Jewelry Box: Carnelian’s Undoing

my contribution to Spiral Day, started by @brutal-nemesis

Did I cry while writing this? Absolutely, it was like Niagara Falls over here. This is probably one of the most emotionally draining pieces I’ve ever written. It took me several different sessions, spread out over quite a few days, to get it completed. It’s also one of those where I feel like it’ll never be really and truly ready, so here it is anyways. I hope y’all enjoy it because this was one piece that I was extremely nervous to post and share.

Taglist: @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome–hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: thoughts of death, like so many thoughts about death, that’s basically the entire piece, acceptance of death (not in a suicidal way, more in a “I’m okay with dying” type way), beating, painful wound cleanings, noncon touching (nonsexual), implied death (but no real death), referenced grief, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, pet whump, being sold, noncon drugging, please please please let me know if I missed anything, this is a rather heavy piece and I want to make sure everyone can read it as safely as possible!

Masterlist

-

He was laying there, unable to move, every single inch of his body aching, a pain he’d never experienced before. Distantly, as if from another life, he heard screams, sobs, pleas that went unanswered. He wanted to move, to get up and comfort the person that had become his entire world, but he was stuck; he couldn’t move a fraction of an inch, no matter how hard he tried.

Soon enough, the horrible sounds of grief and guilt and death were replaced by the shallow, near-silent rattle of his own breath and the pounding of blood in his ears. He knew there was something important that he needed to do, something that he knew his life depended on, but he couldn’t remember what.

So instead, he just stayed there, his broken body sprawled out on the hard floor, blood pooling out from under him like a halo of death.

-

There was movement around him, stirring him from the half-conscious daze he was in, delirious from pain and blood loss. He blinked slowly, vision so blurry he couldn’t make out a thing, surprised to find his eyelashes meeting something wet.

Am I crying? When did I start crying?

A hand in his hair pulled his head up, the part that had been pressed into the floor feeling damp and sticky. Dark eyes met his own glazed gaze, and he saw the flash of teeth. He would’ve flinched if he could, but he couldn’t. 

“Hey there, sugar,” a low, soft voice said. “You took your punishment so well. Played your part like a champ. Now my sweetheart’s breaking, all thanks to you. I knew you’d be absolutely perfect.”

For some reason, he started crying harder at that. No, he thought, I didn’t want to do this. You made me do this. He can’t break, not now. 

Not over me.

The other dropped his head back down, and he went back to drifting, letting all the thoughts fall out of his head.

-

He woke next to the tap tap tap of footsteps. Blinking groggily, he tried to sit up, tried to get up, but the pain lancing through his body prevented him from doing more than rolling over a couple inches. 

A shiny shoe resting on his cheek, pressing his head down, kept him from attempting it again. A face settled in his line of sight, and his lip curled.

The Jeweler stared at him for a moment, a pleasant smile on his face. “Hello, sugar,” he said, removing his foot and replacing it with his hand, which stroked his face in a way that made him want to push him off, but his body was still not responding to him.

He swallowed several times before cracking open his mouth. “What-” His voice was rough and hoarse, sending a cough through him. “What did you do to, to me? Where- where is he?” Panic started overwhelming him, crashing over him and pulling him down, drowning him.

He couldn’t remember anything. He had been in his cell, whispering with his world, and then there was nothingness, blankness, emptiness. Tears pricked in his eyes, and he took a shaky, shuddering breath that ended up sounding like a sob. 

The Jeweler moved his hand to comb through his hair, still softly smiling. “Shh, shh,” he soothed. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about any of that. You don’t need to remember any of this. What you need is to forget. You’re going someplace new, and you’re leaving all of this behind. Okay, sugar?”

He tried to shake his head, but it was barely more than a twitch. No, no I don’t want that. Please, don’t kill me, don’t make me leave, I can’t leave him, please.

The Jeweler laughed softly. “My silly sugar,” he said, voice dripping with condescension. “Just relax, okay?”

“Please,” he managed to whisper before his head was set back down.

The Jeweler stood, grabbing something out of his line of sight. When he did see what it was, the fat tears rolled down his face even harder. The large needle, filled with a menacing amber liquid, came close to his neck, piercing it easily with him weak and nearly paralyzed. His mouth opened to whine softly at the cold flooding into him, before it withdrew and was left alone again.

His eyes found the Jeweler and he sobbed, begging, “Please, not this, anything but this.” He just smiled.

-

He didn’t so much as wake up next as he did rise to consciousness, suddenly and roughly. Hands, too many hands, were touching him, grabbing him, manhandling him.

A low groan slipped out of him as he tried and failed to open his eyes and he heard a muttered curse. 

“It wasn’t supposed to wear off yet, was it?” someone asked in a hushed voice.

“Who cares?” someone else responded. “It’s not like it’ll remember any of this anyways.”

He whimpered and the hands resumed their work. He could feel them harshly cleaning out his wounds, bandaging them up. The people surrounding him were thorough, his gently throbbing muscles telling him that much, and it felt like an eternity before they were done.

He sighed as they set him back down, ready to slip back off to oblivion, but then they were back, pulling at his clothing, taking it off-

He yelped as the cold air hit his sensitive skin, struggling against the hands. Weak as he was, it barely affected them, but he still heard several more curses as flailing limbs knocked into them. A backhanded slap had him stilling, though, knocking all the fight out of him and leaving him even more dizzy and disoriented than he was before.

He let them pull new clothes onto him, although they felt less like clothes and more like scraps of cold, thin cloth that barely covered him. He shivered and whimpered, high in his throat, face burning, desperately wishing he was anywhere else in the world.

Another voice joined the fray, this one too painfully familiar. “Is he ready?”

A chorus of “yes, sir”s followed, and then hands grabbed at his arms, lifting him up and dragging him along. His head rolled wildly, completely out of his control.

After what felt like an eternity, he was dropped yet again onto cold floors, crumpled in a heap. He whimpered as his head knocked against the hard tile, eyes struggling to stay open. 

Distantly, he heard the Jeweler barking orders. He let the words wash over him, floating around him, unable to pierce his drug-induced bubble of semi-consciousness. 

Instead, he let his thoughts drift back to him. The him that had started all of this, that he’d known since day one, that had helped him and held him, guided him and encouraged him. The him that had loved him. The him that he had loved.

It took him several moments to realize that he was crying again, silent, salty tears dripping down his face, causing the small cuts littering his skin to burn faintly. He knew he was about to die. He wasn’t scared. Angry, yes. Sad, yes. But scared? No, he wasn’t scared of death at all.

He used to be scared of being stuck in this hell on earth for the rest of his life, of never escaping, always stuck in this stasis. Now, he was scared of leaving him behind, not knowing what was going to happen to the person he was about to die for. Wherever he went after this, he didn’t want him to follow very quickly.

No, he wanted him to escape, to forget, to live. He wanted him to find someone else, someone new, to make him happy, who understood and forgave. Maybe one day he’d tell this new person about the old one, the one who had been sacrificed to get him there. 

There was only one regret he had. The one thing they’d sworn never to say, he wished he had said. And he wished he had heard it in return.

I promise, if I make it out of this, the first thing I’ll do when I escape - when, not if - is find you and tell you that I lo-

He was yanked out of his thoughts by hands grabbing him, lifting him. One last tear rolled down his face, into his hairline. He took a deep breath, one of his last. He felt ready to die. He didn’t mind dying, not for this reason.

He wondered, vaguely, how he would go. Would it be a bullet? Fire? Knife? Poison?

It was none of those things. 

He was placed inside a large wooden box. His hands were easily tied behind his back with what felt like silky ropes, and his ankles were forced together with the same material. A cloth gag was placed in his mouth, securely fastened around his head. He blinked slowly, confusion evident on his face. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Somewhere above him, the Jeweler stood, seen through flashes of dark hair and pale skin, sparkling teeth and bright eyes. He reached down into the box to cup his cheek, stroking a smooth thumb over his skin, pressing lightly into a blooming bruise there.

“Just a bit beat up, right, sugar?” he said, almost.. gently? “By the time you get there, you’ll be nearly back to full health, I dare say.” There? Where was there? “Just close your eyes now, and stay calm, alright? You’re doing such a good job here, making me a wonderful sum along with a new business associate. You’ve really been the perfect Jewel for me, sugar.”

The hand withdrew, and he almost found himself missing the warmth of it when the light above him was cut off, something large being placed over the top of the box. It wasn’t until a painfully loud whirring sound started that he realized that it was the lid, and it was being drilled down, secure and unable to be broken.

Then the box was being lifted into the air and he went rolling as much as he could, unable to stop himself due to his restrained limbs. There was a hard thump and he banged his head against the side of the box, immediately losing consciousness.

-

When he woke up next, he was still in the box. It seemed like it was in some sort of plane, gliding smoothly through the air, occasionally tilting to one side or the other. He breathed in a ragged breath, most of his memories coming back to him. As he struggled to pull himself up into somewhat of a sitting position, he remembered three things, three very important things:

One. His name was Carnelian. He’d all but forgotten the name he had before that. The name that mattered was Carnelian.

Two. He was supposed to be dead, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was being sold, shipped off to God knows where, to God knows who.

Three. He had to get back to Sapphire. He had to find the love of his life again, rescue him and tell him that he loved him.

[abandonned-account]

who are some good Sebaciel fic authors?

OKAY

I don’t read a ton of fics but I feel like I can point you in somewhat the right direction.

Soulless_lover is amazing. Love their work. They have tons of them too!

@amanitus more smut that just aaaaaaa

@dawnlightsilhouette yes. Their wendigo au!! Oh my goodness I love it so much.

@cielpansyhive sebaciel sebaciel I love it so much it’s so good. They are an amazing author.

GateauAuCiel. One of my besties. If you kudo and comment enough they might update their story.

GrieverBitMyFinger. They have lots of works and they are all very well written.

Lonely_Stargazer. ✨✨ 10/10

@luci-on-the-moon I cannot describe my jsjsksksk level when reading their work. It’s off the jsjsjsksks charts.

@nyamiiscares they don’t have anything posted yet but I regularly check. When they post it’s going to be good.

Rabid_bunny. They have good works. Very detailed.

@secretly-a-wuss yes. Their moth AU was *chefs kiss*

@teasmudge And if we go way back and look at them. Their cheerleader au is ✨Amazing✨

Silverwing26. Horny works. Mwah mwah

Chromehoplite. Obviously one of the most amazing authors out there. So detailed and fantastic. 💖💖

MidnightNinja27. Aight. We got agere Ciel. Love it 😍

@java-jowgie this 👏 person 👏 here 👏 is 👏 a 👏 QUEEN. Oh my god I just- belly tingles y’all.

Miss. Katherine. Y’all idk but this was one of the first people I read stories from. I highly recommend “House of Secrets” NGL I cried.

Notsafeforworse. .....yeah. Yes. Beautiful. They write Vincent Ciel too

BitterBunny. Their works are so amazing. I remember reading their Sugar and Spice but Nothing so Nice and just being in awe at how flawlessly it was written.

Plagueofinsomnia: actually haven’t read a ton of their works but what I have seen is amazing!

Alright!! Thank you for dealing with me. This is basically my subscription list and stories I have bookmarked. ✨💖🍼

[snootsnooter]

can someone PLEASE explain to me why people keep saying Alastor was ‘mistaken for a deer’ and shot, while also either before or after getting shot was mauled by dogs, for his popular headcanon as to how he died?

As far as I’m aware, Alastor didn’t look anything like a deer when he was a human. Sure he was a cannibalistic serial killer (as confirmed by Viv), but a how the hell did y’all get deer????

If I remember correctly Viv stated Alastor was supposed to be french cerole and came from the 1930s. Honestly if anything I think his death was more along the lines of how Freddy Kruger was killed. As in, he was hunted down and killed by somebody seeking vengeance for his cannibalistic serial killer ass killing someone they loved. That or being part deer was loosely inspired by the legend of the wendigo since the legend does pertain to cannibalism, and has demonic / undead deer imagery

Course it also having been the 30′s there were probably also some more racist / hate crime undertones to it too, but aside from that.

[irrelevant-86]

Okay so I’ve got this idea for a new story for my Danielle throughout the multiverse series. It’s a Danny Phantom Supernatural crossover where Dani get yeeted through a ghost portal into the supernatural universe. Like Clockwork decided to send her over to fix some shit but didn’t bother to inform her before he did it. She’s just flying around minding her own business when a stray portal opens up right in front of her and she flys into it only to come out the other side in another universe and immediately smacks into a brick wall face first(cause ya know Fenton luck).

When she reorients herself she finds a scroll with Clockworks symbol on it pinned to her chest. The scroll basically tells her that she in another universe and this universe has a heaven and hell, angels and demons, and all kinds of monsters including ghosts. Except the ghosts of this universe are different from the ghosts of her universe. They are effected by salt and iron and can be destroyed by burning the ghosts remains. But her type of ghost is different and isn’t effected by all that. The scroll also tells her about all the other types of monsters in this universe and how to kill them. It also tells her about a ‘community’ of humans who take out these monsters and call themselves hunters.

She decides fuck it I’m stuck in this universe might as well make the most of it, and becomes a hunter. Her ghost powers make her a scarily good hunter. Her ecto blasts can kill Wendigos as she finds out. She’s having so much fun. And then she runs into the Winchesters (who are about mid season 1). She works a case with them and decides she likes them and wants to stick around with them. She had been getting kind of lonely and hunting with other hunters kind of sounds like fun. She just decides to leave out that she is also half ghost, no need to make them want to hunt her.

What I can’t decide for this story is how old I should make Dani. Do I have her be about 27ish and she has a romantic relationship with Dean?! Or should I make her about 13ish and she has more of a parent/child relationship with him?! Like both options sound good and have the opportunity for an interesting plot.

Dani and Dean dating would be fun to write. Like the two are so damn similar in some aspects they’d have a bit of a love hate relationship at first. And their both badass hunters to top it off, they’d just make a great couple.

But her being 13 leading to Dean freaking out because holy shit she���s just a kid and she’s out here hunting by herself, she’s gonna get herself freaken killed, must protect, also sounds like fun to write. Like Kid Dani just reminds Dean so much of himself when he was younger, and cue Dean internally freaking out wondering if Dani is actually his kid from some past fling who lost her mom to some monster and decided to become a hunter.

I’m kind of leaning a bit more towards her being 13 and having a parent/child kind of relationship with Dean, but I’m not really sure. What do y’all think. Should I go the adult Dani leading into a Dean/Dani romance pairing route. Or should I go the preteen Dani, Dean/Dani father/daughter relationship route?!

[godtrials]

au spn gen fic recs <3

for @wordsfallapart​ ! <3 all either brothers focused or tfw focused.

total au’s

Semper Familia by KatZen When his dad comes back into the clearing with a scrawny kid he's just bought in tow, Dean isn't surprised. He knows Lilim aren't human, that they're creatures, like witches or wendigo. But the kid that John's got by the arm, who's pulled as far away from Dean's dad as possible without actually trying to get his arm back, the kid whose eyes don't leave John and are bright with fear, the kid who looks like he hasn't eaten in a couple of days and is obviously favoring his left leg... This kid looks an awful lot like a person. And what's more, he's the same age Sammy would have been.

Sam I Am by Lennelle Sam was taken when he was only fifteen years old. It's been two years. Everyone has changed, but Sam is different. Dean learns to understand a brother who no longer makes any sense, trying to keep him safe from himself and the people who damaged him.

We Three Kings by cosmic_medusa (I know I said gen, but this one is destiel. as the resident destiel hater, i feel like if it’s good enough for me to adore, it’s got to count as mostly-gen!) When I saw Sam sneaking out behind a dumpster to drink demon blood, I said aloud "oh...he's an addict." And, dealing with a loved one with addiction, it completely seized me.

Sammyverse by shangrilada (did y’all really think i wouldn’t rec this one) (it’s sammyverse.) Basically, Sam has really hideous asthma, and the boys are both pretty excellent at dealing with it and each other.

canon-up-until-____

The Way Back by rainylemons AU in which Dean gets between Lucifer and Cas, preventing Castiel’s death and eventual return to full-blooded angelhood. In the following months, a mostly human Cas gets a job at Taco Bell, Dean recovers from wounds given to him by Lucifer, and a silent, shell-shocked Sam wanders in from the cold.

Affliction by tolakasa AU of season 5, veering off from canon after the end of 5.04, after Sam and Dean are hunting together again. In a diner one day, Sam notices that something's missing. Something kind of important.

Fusion ‘verse by ratherastory (unsure how to describe this one, but Dean has a fucked-up knee and Sam is a little Hell-damaged and they’re coping in the suburbs. It’s lovely.)