#when you just want to give your girl a bath but shes digging for worms and giving you a heart attack :')))) LOVE THAT

[lucygraysboy]

the tub’s filled almost to the brim, steam hovering above it and dancing in the air as billy empties the last pot. it’s a little too warm to just jump in, but that will give lucy gray the time to undress and prepare. lucy gray. he assumes she’s been napping and that’s why she hasn’t greeted him… up until he actually looks at the bed and realizes the amputee teddy bear is the only one still in it. what the fuck? he really shouldn’t have trusted her. is she somewhere out there looking for sticks? is she running away from him? for some reason, the latter has his chest constricting. did he treat her poorly? did he scare her? did he do something wrong? the stew’s untouched. his gun and bullets are still where he’s left them. “lucy gray? it’s billy. i’m back! got your bath ready!” he checks the whole house, telling himself that maybe she’s just playing a silly trick on him — hiding somewhere underneath the bed or behind the drawer. maybe she simply went outside to potty. he walks out, standing on the stoop and looking around, not really seeing her. his heart seems to be pounding in the back of his throat, teeth sinking into his plump bottom lip. an anxious habit. “lucy gray?” what if she went out to collect those dumb sticks and fainted? what if she got attacked by a wild animal? there’s not a single optimistic thought in his head. it has him realizing something — how quickly he gets attached to people, how fast he opens up his heart and lets them in… is this how his brother felt when she left him? dizzy and nauseous, he stares at the trees in front of him, looking for a glimpse of that rainbow-colored skirt and seeing only the dark trunks and twisted branches. “lucy gray?” he calls out again, glued to the step, afraid he might find her bones once spring comes. maybe she was just a mirage. a figment of his imagination? “lucy gray, where are you?”

billy remembers crossing a small creek not far away from the cabin, and so he grabs a bucket and a few bigger pots and decides to find it. the ground beneath his feet is soggy after last night’s rain, leaves and mud sticking to the soles of his boots. he does his best to focus on the task at hand, but his mind keeps going back to lucy gray and his twin brother. the things she’s seen and been through. he wants to help her out of the goodness of his heart, but the winter is coming — the wind has a mean bite to it, the trees are bare, most of the plants have died… even if she decides to go with him, she will slow him down. maybe he’ll have to carry her? how far can they make it before the sun goes down? as a general rule of thumb, a healthy person can expect to hike at a pace of about 2-3 miles per hour on flat terrain, and then 1-2 miles per hour on more challenging terrain. the terrain is surely challenging and she’s far from healthy. does she even have boots? what about the sores and callouses on her feet? will they have to spend a few nights with no shelter under the stars? and the longer he lingers in that hut, without proper nutrition, the weaker he’ll become. time’s their enemy in every scenario. he locates the creek after about half an hour of searching, fills the bucket and pots with as much water as he can carry, and returns… home. the fire outside is still going and so he just has to feed it a few more logs to ensure it’s strong enough to heat up water. he glances towards the window and smiles, waving a hand, just in case lucy gray’s watching him. he can’t really tell with the sun reflecting in the glass. he wishes there were some flowers that he could add and make the bath more special and inviting, but once again — everything’s dead or dying. once he spots steam rising from the pots, he begins to carry them inside, one after another, filling up the tub. his glove-clad hands extremely useful, keeping his skin from burning. 

[iamalivenow]

There's-

Claudia has to turn away, take a deep breath. An even deeper than that breath. Everything feels like it's on fire, metaphorically. Even though her head hurts and her chest hurts and she's probably having a prolonged panic attack. Which is fine. It's fine. Everything's fine. She's- she's still alive and Soren is still alive somewhere and so are Callum and Ezran probably and everything's okay. The battlefield is clearing out and she's mostly alone, Just her and her-

There's-

Okay so maybe everything isn't fine. This isn't just Soren paralyzed, this is way worse. Some of it seeps into her boots and she takes a few more steps back. The smell isn't that bad- but she guesses she's used to being around dead things. Most of them don't look like this but-

She coughs. She can fix this- she can fix anything. Broken is just another word for delayed solution. Dead is just another word for inconvenienced. She's got this- she's totally got it. It's not a-

There's-

Okay so. What remains of her father is splattered over the rocky earth, and she's all alone and she has to pull herself together and fix it. By pulling her dad together. Literally. Piece by piece. She's sweating, stress mostly, probably, hair plastered to her forehead. Weird how no one wrote any spells about making goo into a person again.

But she's got this, she's totally got it.

Just find something big enough to work as a reconstituting agent. Or at least something to put all of the bits back, for now.

One step at a time, just like dad always taught her.

She's in Xadia. Even the dirt is magic. The Sunfire staff is light in her grasp. She would know, she's been white knuckling it for the past two days.

One tiny baby step at a time.

She can start with not puking. That would be so good. Great, even. Think, Claudia, what's good for fixing bones, for fixing skin. If she can just fix the bulk of him, she can remake the organs. She's got this. She's totally completely one hundred percent got this.

“Okay.” Her voice sounds rough and she clears her throat. “Time to find some dirt.”

…

She finds a cave after a while, and the big bear thing that was living in the cave.

She's fine, by the way. She's still fine. Her hands won't stop shaking but that's to be expected with all of the magic she's using. Her clothes are gross, but that's a given too, what with all of the... parts of her dad she's been working with. Things stain. She'll get it out once he's back. One step at a time.

Her hair is turning whiter again. What used to be one single streak is spreading, further and further along. She thinks maybe there is some magic in her after all. That humans just have to worker harder to get it out, to pay a price while they do.

The big bear thing she puts to sleep after almost getting clawed to death. She'll wake it back up when dad's more himself.

And right around then is when the bug shows up.

It stares at her, covered in viscera, and at the big sleeping bear thing, and settles by Viren. It barely looks hurt and she has no idea how her dad could be in pieces and the bug not even bruised.

She hates it.

She really hates that thing.

“What are you.” She hisses out, eyes still dark from the sleep spell, and prods it with the end of her staff.

“Tired.” It tells her and she almost passes out right there and then. Really. A girl can only take so much and this bug is absolutely pushing it. Her hands itch in that... bad way they do sometimes. She swallows again. It's not like dad wouldn't believe that it got hurt irreparably right? It was a tall mountain.

Is it- is it smiling at her-

“How didn't you-”

“Don't fret the details.” It's voice is deep. Creepy deep. She grips the staff even tighter, nails digging into her palm. “I just need a moment and I'll be out of your hair.”

“Don't even think about getting into it.” She straightens herself up and walks out of the cave.

It's not that she hates bugs- bugs can be really cool sometimes. Really useful. It's just this one. This big purple glow worm thing.

Ugh.

Ugh.

Something is warm and wet on her face. She doesn't have time for it but it's there and the back of throat burns and her eyes burn and everything still feels like its kind of on fire.

She could leave, she thinks, and hates herself for it. She could turn away and find Soren and apologize and just leave. Her chest feels tight and it feels like her stomach is dropping into her feet. It's like it was with Soren but maybe ten times worse, because it was just Soren then. Now it's dad and Soren and the stupid worm and she has to do what she has to do. She has to save her dad- she has to- she has to because. Because she has to do what has to be done.

She feels sick.

She sits on the rocky floor at the base of a mountain. Head on her knees, holding onto her robes because her palms are sweating and the staff at her side.

She's never been this scared before.

…

When she comes back a day later with the rest of her spell components the worm is gone.

For a moment she thinks all of her problems are solved. That would be so great, if all her problems just solved themselves.

But then it comes crawling down the cave wall and she frowns.

“I thought you'd get out of my hair already.” She starts setting her tools around her dad, poking at the black and blue skin. It still has give, this can still work-

“You got out of mine.”

“You have hair?”

“Debatably.” Its voice is jovial and that just makes her hands itch again. “You don't have to like me, you know.”

“Good. I don't.”

It laughs, maybe chuckles instead, tilting it's head from side to side.

“Honesty is dangerous.” It tells her. It scurries down onto the cave floor and looks through her ingredients. “You would be of better use to your father if you could lie.”

“I can lie.” She says defensively, and pulls away the jar of scales before the bug has a chance to climb onto it. “I'm just not going to waste my many talents on a bug.” That gets another laugh. It would be so easy to lift her foot up and stomp down. So, so easy.

“You're angry.” It says and with out asking crawls up her robes instead. “At me or at him?”

Both, she almost says, but swallows the word. She stops it from climbing up higher with her staff, and it dangles off the end of it like a snake. Hissing would be preferable to chittering though.

“It doesn't matter.”

“It doesn't.” It nods. “Because you're going to do what has to be done anyway.” She's fine. She's okay. She's good. She's. She's-  her throat burns again.

It's not fair. None of this is fair. Why is she the one in charge, why does she have to be the one to fix dad, why does Soren get to leave?

“I'm fine.”

“Hm.” It lets itself off of the staff and falls the short distance to the floor. “I'll be taking that side. You don't mind horrifically do you?”

“No.” She lies like it wants her to. “For what?”

“You're fixing your father's body. I'll be fixing mine.”

“You seem fine too me.”

“Sure.” It moves away from her, and up the wall again, all the way to the ceiling. “But I could always be better.”

…

Two days later, dad's awake.

He's bruised still, and half her hair is snow white, but dad's awake. She starts a fire while dad ignores her to run his hands over the bug's creepy glowy cocoon. She doesn't know what he wants out of it, what he's going to get out if it. What kind of ugly moth is going to come crawling out? She could ask, but the way dad looks, she's pretty sure he doesn't know.

Now that dad's okay though, her clothes are gross and she's still tired- exhausted all the way down into her bones.

“I'm going to sleep.” She says and Viren finally turns away from it.

“Anything you need. I'm so proud of you, Claudia.” He comes up and hugs her and she's almost frozen.  But she isn't- instead her arms around his shoulders and she ignores him when he winces. She's crying again.

Dad hugs her back.

She remembers what feels like a million years ago now. She had done her first spell, started a firestorm in the backyard of their small summer house. She had singed her hands pretty badly, but Soren had yelled and jumped around and picked her up and brought her all the way to dad. And Viren had looked at her burnt hands and pulled her into the tightest hug and told her he was proud of her then too.

She cried then because her hands hurt, and she had felt bad, she thinks, for the beetles she had crushed to make the flame go bright and fast and radiant.

The stupid ugly light show behind her bathes all of the walls in blue.

The beetles had been hard to crush, the shells that held the phosphor were tightly packed for her eight year old hands.

A cocoon seems way easier to break.

[lazaraes-a]

𝐁. 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄 : 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓

𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 : self harm, mental instability, mentions of attempted sexual assault

the girl was dying.

               is dying.

               whatever.

               in all honesty, she should not be able to trace the path of the bullet as it moves within head, feel fractures along back of skull before it is blasted apart. should not hear metal casing as it hits linoleum tile &&should not feel herself falling. but she does. entire world focused ‘pon these impossible sensations, keeping her tethered when everything else has left, flowed out of the hole in her head.

               they say, when you die your life flashes before your eyes. she doesn’t get that, not really. sure, there are flashes of syrupy georgian summers && familial laughter heard through open doors, open windows but it was less memories of the past && more what would go missed.

               seeing her sister again, seeing all of them. reconfirming belief clung to so desperately that they were all alive out there, somewhere. being together again, mismatched people forging mismatched family&&, damn it, she is strong && she would have shown them all. lifting daryls crossbow && taking down walkers with unflinching ease never before attributed to her. no, not her, not little beth greene. maggie or michonne or carol, yes. not her. except it was now.

               she sees things that will never be as bullet bite through flesh && bone && she falls like she weighs nothing at all, as insubstantial as a dream.

               she sees herself surviving.

               death is sluggish && purgatory grey. stifling with heat && rolling with nausea inducting waves. hazy&& foggy && above all silent. all the sound in the world sucked away leaving absolutely nothing. an oppressive silence !! screams && the sound is swallowed before leaving throat. lifts hands && claws, rends strips of flesh && muscles from neck in ancient sense of desperation && doesn’t stop even as burning, boiling blood coats hands, pools ‘round feet. does nothing but claw at own skin && silently scream.

               this is a place where people go mad !! she can feel it latching, this madness, this insanity. rips herself apart && soundlessly cries out for clarity, for sanity, for sound. maggie && daddy && mama but   …   mama is dead && daddy is dead &&maggie, maggie cant be dead, she’s always been the strongest.( blinks her eyes && knows she’s dead too. they all are. whole family wiped out. )

               going / going / gone !!

               just screams && tears herself apart.

               opens her eyes && it’s white.

               && silent.

               until it’s not.

               beeping     /     beeping     /     beeping

               turns her head && finds the source just as burst of pain blooms between brows.

               the walls are bleeding   !!     dripping, pooling, covering everything. everything is red with blood, red with fire              

               (     let’s burn it down     )

                              && it drags her under again.

               opens her eyes && she’s not alone. calls himself a doctor && seems unsurprised when she doesn’t remember. speaks a thousand words a minute but she can only grab hold of a few before they, too, fade away.

               family     /     dawn     /     shot    

               acts like she should understand. speaks calmly, softly && something in her screams against it. do not trust him. curls her hands ‘round ears, digs her nails in && pulls.

         he tries again the next day && she responds a little better. waits a little longer to start clawing against the voice that calls him     untrustworthy     /     dangerous     /     vile     !!     gets told everyday the events that transpired in attempts to jog memory but it’s no use                   entire day forgotten, misplaced, erased from memory && she does not know whether to be frustrated or relieved to not know what she did what she did. so be spared faulty decision process.

               regains her voice && it’s hoarse from all that silent screaming. recalls his name && what he did, what so many of them inside hospital did.     (     when she remembers gorman she empties stomach over the edge of the bed && claws at her sides. feels his hands again && wants them gone.     )    

               do you remember what you did     ??

                   stabbed dawn.

               do you remember why     ??

                   she wanted noah back.

               why did that upset you so much     ??

                   we were friends. he wanted to go home. i didn’t want to leave him here.

               what exactly made you do it     ??     they were going to fight for him.

                   i              

               ’     the exchange had been made but dawn was     …     well     …     dawn. she needed the upper hand, needed to appear in charge. demanded noah back && he was going to do it but you didn’t like it. walked on over && pulled out these surgery scissors&& stabbed her. instinct probably. ended up shooting you. didn’t mean it. the one with the vest, he shot her almost immediately after. he carried you out.

               they were going to take you but rotters came && they had to leave you.     ‘

               they had to leave you.

               in a practical sense she understands. walkers && a body with a head wound are not an ideal combination. knows it would not have been an easy decision. that they had intended to take her means there would have been a burial && that, surely, would have meant her death.

               on another, more personal, level, it is akin to any one of them slipping a knife up between her ribs&& into too soft, too giving heart of hers.

               they left her.

               the first time she sees the damage she cries so hard she gets a headache that almost knocks her out cold right there in the little cubicle bath attached to her room.

               blacks eyes     /     bruised nose     /     shorn hair

               a bullet wound ‘pon brow.

               she cries && rakes her nails down one cheek, adding to her wreck of a face.

               he tells her that she had been in a medically induced coma for a month. her wound had clotted early preventing fatal blood loss but there had been an infection alongside minor swelling that had eventually receded. they had not known whether she would make it, but they had tried.

               she’s surprised. figures it’s some sick sense of guilt that had them allowing such a thing. guilt from the new management, a lady in a uniform that had visited not long after edwards. can’t remember her name, doesn’t care.

               but it’s a month of laying prone &&unconscious, another couple of weeks of limited mobility. sees her muscles     withering     /     dying     !!

               begins walking, first with an iv stand at her side && then she’s running. up && down the hallways, steadfast avoiding the one where her blood had been bleached away. she gets headaches. edwards says they’re side effects from the bullet && sometimes she can run through the pain. sometimes. other times she can do nothing but curl up && try not to vomit.

               or, at least, try not to get an on the floor.

               she eats her fill for the first time since she left her home, sitting in a truck with lori && t-dog wearing fear && grief like a second skin.

               lifts curve of chin && dares someone to say something.

               they don’t.

               her hair grows     /     she gains weight     /     she rebuilds muscle.

               her memory still has gaps && headaches still blast without warning.

               she doesn’t claw at her own skin anymore.

               they don’t understand why she wants to leave.

               it’s safe here. she’s told that by the one in charge. shepard. the safest place there is.

               she has nothing to say to that                   can say nothing to that. remembers that old disney movie with the line from the rabbit about not saying anything at all && simply stares. enjoys the way the officer blanches. attempts to back pedal.

               for the safest place in the world, she lasted a hell of a lot less in here than she did out there.

               is she sure     ??

                   absolutely.

              asks for a gun && a car && gas. has them turn the place upside down for her knife but they turn up empty handed.

               good enough. not the best, but it’ll do.

               she doesn’t say goodbye to any of them.

               the car doesn’t take her far before it breaks down && she’s stuck walking the rest of the way to richmond. remembers being told by noah about where he came from. hopes he got there, that he might know where her family went if they haven’t stayed with him. hopes && hopes && hopes.

               sticks to the woods as opposed to the road&& feels better than she has in a long time. open air, wide space && knowledge from a hunter rattling around her head. stays away from the trees && waits for them to take root within her.

               slinks into an abandoned town. crawls through the broken window of a camping supply store &&weaves through the isles, arms outstretched && fingers trailing along the dusty merchandise. leaving proof that she was there. that she’s still here.

               catches sight of crossbows hanging on the wall.     hesitates     /     steps closer     /     moves away. too large, on par with his                   barely been able to draw that one without assistance. continues on her search.

               leaves with a new backpack filled with supplies, more than a few knives strapped to her person. ready for anything. ready to not be caught off guard again.

                   hopes     /     hopes     /     hopes.

               reaches richmond && finds it in ruins. wants to weep && ends up with a little man banging a sledgehammer against the inside of her skull.

               she leaves empty handed     /     empty headed     /     empty hearted.

               to be alone is a terrible thing. no noah means no lead && all at once she feels so utterly alone. there are no trees frowing within her but rather pressing in on her.     hollow chested     !!     as if someone reached in && gutted her                   pulled out heart&& lungs, intestines && stomach && all the rest of her leaving her empty save gaping rib cage.

               imagines fire licking at their curves. burning her from the inside out.

               sometimes it’s maggots && worms. decay. all of a sudden she’s a dead girl walking. can feel them taking rot, becoming more taint, more death, than girl.

                   starts clawing again.

               gets found by a small herd about a week later. spends the night up in a tree, biting her slip so hard teeth almost go through && through in attempts not to cry out as wave after wave of poison flows out from the hole in her head, searing nerve endings like napalm.

               sometimes she hears voices through the trees but never gets close. tried once but felt phantom hands sliding && hard plastic crashing, tasted artificial green apple ‘pon tongue && had to scramble away.

               there are still good people. she knows this. there has to be. the world cannot be composed of gormans && governors                   the good has to exist out there somewhere.     has too     &&

               && so she tries again.

               peers through the brush in time to see a woman shot down, babe in her arms crying - crying - crying.

                   runs until she throws up.

               she remembers the spoon.

              washington     /     washington     /     washington.

               it’s where the president is               was. has to be safe. has to have people even if they’re not hers. worth a try, can’t be alone anymore.

               figures out where she is in the next few days && changes course from aimless wandering to the capital tries not to think about who she may be leaving behind in doing so.

               but it’s okay because they left her behind first.

                   but that was out of necessity. she knows that. has to remind herself sometimes.

             she finally stops clawing at herself when things get bad && let’s flowers grow to fill breast cavity. refuses to be just another dead girl.

[cuthie]

A DK Story: To The Worgen Who Killed Me

(( Short rp post. I didn’t plan on roleplaying on this character, just made her to work on heritage armor. But since I play mostly silly or zany characters, figured I’d go dark for a chapter. ))

  All around the globe, the tangent realm of Ny'alotha crept and blurred in shadows, visions and full fledged assaults. Even in little unheard of hamlets, the world grew dark. For one Gilnean and his bride to be, those concerns were on pause. A decorated soldier of the fourth war, James understood his responsibilities, hearing the call of the war horn so soon after having finally ended the Horde. Well, as final as King Anduin would allow. In one week he was to wed his childhood sweetheart Linda, and unfortunately there would be no honeymoon. His pack needed him. Azeroth needed him. Still, for the next seven days, all that was compartmentalized into the back of his mind. All that mattered was the love of his life and every waking moment he got to spend with her.

    Westfall wasn’t so bad. Linda’s parents had farmland with plenty of acres and animals. James grinned as his fiance road past him, her black steed galloping ahead. She wanted to race a wolf? Heh. In a swift transformation, bones popped, coarse hair erupted in tufts all around his mutating body and he dropped down to four large clawed paws. There was no horse alive that could outrun him when he was shifted into his real form.

Real.

  How many years ago had he considered it his monstrous secret? A horror show come to life. But now? He embraced the wolf and the powers that be that blessed his kindred with its strength and speed. He could leap buildings, he could throw a cart over his head and send it hurling twenty yards. He could, most assuredly, outrace some cute as a button bumpkin on her country stallion. 

  But something went wrong. Linda’s horse collapsed, landing on it side and crushing her leg. James dug into the terrain, throwing dirt behind his claws as he scented the winds. The rot of undeath cling to the air as the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. Before he could make it to his beloved, his feet went numb, then piercing in pain as they froze together. He bit the ground with a yelp as a small voice echoed through the air.

“Do you remember me? You -”

  Linda’s cries interrupted the ghostly voice, “James, my leg! I can’t- What’s going on!?”  The human girl’s outburst was cut off by her own gurgling convulsions. Her body was lifted from underneath the weight of the dead horse, it’s blood having been splattered all over the human’s carefully chosen tomboy attire. As Linda rose in the air her hands reached for her neck. A dark necrotic energy had lassoed itself around her, beginning to crush her windpipe as she was pulled towards a small figure in black robes. A vulpine woman with dirty red fur and misty ice blue eyes.

  The echoing voice continued, “You burned our caravans to the ground.” The little figure began to pad on dead paws, worms writhing where two toes should have been. James, furious, slammed his fists into his icy shackles in an attempt to free himself.

  “I tried to protect my people, sword and hand, ill fitting Zandalari armor on my chest. It did nothing to stop you. A wolf and a fox, a monster and a soldier. For my death and countless others, you were awarded honor. Medals. A bride.”

  Linda couldn’t speak, tears in her eyes and blood beginning to trickle down her nose. Linda couldn’t but James could, “Your fight is with me, leave her out of this. The Horde and Alliance are no longer at war! You want me, come get me.”

  The walking corpse didn’t say anything more. Instead, Linda’s body floated higher into the air, then threw itself against the hard Westfall ground headfirst. The first impact was enough to snap the girl’s neck and end her life, but it wasn’t enough for the vulpera death knight. The human’s limp body rose and descended again and again, her head bursting open like a pinata, flesh and bone fragments splattering the grass. Over and over her head was pulverized.

  James had never known such agony. He freed himself from his bonds and leapt onto the Vulpera, his maw easily fitting her entire head as he crunched down. For half a moment he had won, despite having lost everything. The Vulpera was in his mouth, his teeth locked down, his heels dug into the rocks and he slung her back and forth. It was disgusting, filthy and oozing into his mouth. Yet the head did not give in, did not cave. He had the jaw strength to crush a tauren’s skull between his sharpened teeth, yet not some fox?

  Laughter echoed inside his own muzzle as claws dug into his chest and lips. Two feet pressed themselves against his upper torso as a pair of hands easily parted his jaws. The death knight had pried herself free, then flipped away to safety. James’s nails tried to dig in, tried to keep a hold on the murderess’ tiny body but to no avail.

  A runeblade was drawn, those piercing misty eyes somehow glowing bright. James dropped to all fours, then ran and leapt at her again. This time he felt a sword catch him in the stomach. With the strength of a beast twenty times her size, the Vulpera had impaled the Worgen, bathing in the shower of his blood as she held him overhead. Licking the crimson droplets from her snout, the death knight flung the worgen away as if he weighed nothing.

“Raise her.”

  Another shadowy figure emerged. How had James not seen him? A blood elf? Another scourge knight. With a nonchalant flick of the wrist, the elf stared at the fallen human girl, her brains a paste along the hard ground. Linda’s body twitched, jerked and stood up. Her head swiveled, contorted with a broken neck unable to support itself. It turned unnaturally to lock eyes onto her bleeding worgen fiance.

“Kill.”

  And then the ghoul leapt onto her former lover, trying to pry his eyes out with dirty fingernails. James’ voice lost it’s harsh tone, it was defeated and sad as it pleaded, “What have they done to you? What have they done to you!? Please, come back to me.”

  Vengeance served, the vulpera turned to the elf, nodding once before the pair disappeared into a portal to an icy realm.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 24

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

Tuesday floats by without incident. Stiles eats lunch at the popular table again, this time joined by Danny and a bunch of other people—including Allison and Scott—so werewolf business if off the table, but it’s kind of a relief to be talking about normal, boring high school stuff, even if half the cafeteria is still watching like they’re expecting Stiles and Allison to get into a throw-down fight.

Please. Stiles isn’t that stupid. Allison would wipe the floor with him, and he knows it.

Stiles does get the chance to talk to Scott in Biology though, because Mr. Dalloway is a year away from retirement and stopped giving a fuck about a decade ago.

“You have to stay away from Allison for a bit,” Stiles warns him. “Like, her grandfather is as psycho as Kate. If he finds out what you are, he’ll kill you.”

Scott’s brows draw together in a worried expression. “I mean, I get it, but she needs me right now, you know?”

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. “Scotty, bro, invite Ally to your place or something, but do not go to her place, okay? Look, her parents aren’t going to complain she’s not spending time with dear old granddad, trust me, even if they hate your guts.”

“They really do,” Scott agrees.

“So promise me, okay?” Stiles presses.

“Yeah.” Scott’s forehead creases. “I promise.”

A part of Stiles breathes a little easier. The rest of him continues to quietly freak the fuck out.

***

“Take your Adderall,” Dad reminds Stiles on Wednesday morning, which is a good point, because Stiles woke up like he was trying to climb the walls, and now, after breakfast, he’s twitching like a strung-out squirrel.

He gulps down his pill with the last of his orange juice, and grabs his keys. “Stella, let’s go!”

Derek walks them to the front door.

“You feeling okay, big guy?” Stiles asks him. “With the moon and stuff?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” Derek says. He reaches out and squeezes Stiles’s shoulder gently.

“What?” Stiles might have missed the question because he was staring so hard at Derek’s mouth that he somehow didn’t hear the words that fell out of it.

Derek smiles at him, and is it Stiles’s imagination or is there something a little sharp in that smile? Something a little knowing. Something a little smug even, like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking when he’s staring at his mouth.

Stiles doesn’t know if he wants to kiss that mouth, or just watch it work its way all over his body. With bonus teeth and tongue. And maybe even some growling.

Derek leans in close and says, slowly, his breath hot on Stiles’s ear: “Are you feeling okay, Stiles?”

Stiles’s breath hitches, and he turns his face.

Too late. Derek is already leaning back, so a scrape of stubble against his jaw is all Stiles gets. Somehow though, that’s still enough sensation to go straight to his dick.

“Um,” he manages. “’m good.”

Derek suddenly looks way too fucking innocent, the asshole. “See you after school, Stiles.”

Stiles just blinks at him dumbly as Stella pulls him through the door.

The news van has finally given up and gone, so at least there’s not video evidence of Stiles’s face right now.

***

Dad’s working on Wednesday night, so Stiles and Stella and Derek make tuna casserole. Well, Stiles does. Stella makes a mess grating the cheese, and Derek makes her clean it up. So it evens out in the end.

The night is bright, the worm moon bathing the town in silver light.

“Okay,” Stiles says, as they wait for the casserole to cook, “so if we weren’t all under house arrest, what would an Alpha werewolf do on the night of a full moon?”

“When I was a kid, the pack would all gather in the Preserve, and run,” Derek says.  “In wolf form if we could, but in beta form if not. Sometimes even the humans ran with us too. My cousin Kellan, he was twelve. He always used to run with us, and then get tired, so we’d have to take turns carrying him home again.”

Stiles’s chest aches at the mention of Derek’s cousin. Just another name on the black granite Hale memorial now. The unfairness of it makes him want to cry, or scream.

“Where would you run to?” Stella asks from the floor, where she’s sweeping cheese bits into the dustpan.

“Just around the Preserve,” Derek says. “Nowhere special. It’s… it’s hard to explain.” There was a time when Derek would have stopped right there, but those walls have long since tumbled down. He makes the effort now, for Stiles and Stella. “The moonlight has a pull, like it’s magnetic. It’s stronger when it’s fuller. It’s… it’s our territory, and our blood, and our pack. Running as a wolf under the moonlight is… joyful.”

Except his voice cracks on that word, and Stiles’s eyes sting as he thinks of the magnitude of Derek’s loss once more. Even the faint echo of brought forth in conversation feels like too much, and he’s struck again by how astonishing it is that Derek’s still here, still standing. Stiles wouldn’t be. If he’d had to carry the weight of Derek’s grief, he thinks it would have crushed him years before.

Does Derek even know how strong he is?

“I’m sorry,” he says, and swallows. He crosses the kitchen to where Derek is leaning against the counter. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

Derek swallows too. His green eyes shine as he holds Stiles’s gaze. “I like sharing things with you.”

Oh, fuck it.

Stiles steps forward, and doesn’t even care if he smells like tuna casserole. He reaches out and cups Derek’s face with his hand. Feels the scrape of stubble on his palm. And then he’s leaning into Derek’s space, his eyes fixed on Derek’s lips as they part slightly, and they’re kissing.

Stiles closes his eyes, and Derek’s hands come to rest on his hips.

It’s amazing.

It’s heart-stopping.

It’s—

“Gross!” Stella exclaims, and Stiles flails away from Derek.

“Um,” he says, and at least Derek looks as flushed and embarrassed as he does, right?

Stella’s stare judges them both harshly.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says. “Don’t you have homework or something?”

“Don’t you?” she shoots back.

“Well,” Stiles says feebly, “this is awkward.”

Derek laughs, and reaches out and threads their fingers together. He looks at Stella, eyebrows raised, and is the Alpha werewolf actually challenging the eight-year-old girl? Stiles thinks that’s what’s happening. He also has no idea who’s going to win, honestly.

“Gross,” Stella mutters, but shuffles forward so that Derek can pull her into a hug with his free arm.

Crisis averted, Stiles supposes, until Stella spills her guts to Dad and then Stiles has to explain what just happened. And honestly, he’s not sure how that’s going to go down just a few days after his ‘honest, Dad, we’re just being friends for now’ talk. Facebook is right. Relationships arecomplicated, and Stiles feels is very much on a learning curve here. And, for the record, Stiles doesn’t like learning curves. He likes the learning part, just not the part where he doesn’t already know everything about any given subject. And on that note:

“Hey, Derek,” he says. “Is there some kind of amazing Werewolf for Dummies book, but in Latin, floating around or something?”

“What?”

“Lydia said she found all everything she knows from a book,” Stiles says. “If there’s been a book this whole time, and I’ve been accidentally clicking on links to furry pages for the past few months, I’m going to be annoyed.”

“Maybe,” Derek says, and shrugs. “Deaton probably has some, I guess.”

“I don’t think Lydia knows about Deaton though.”

“I mean, my family had books,” Derek said. “But most of them…” He shakes his head. “I guess there were some in the vault, but nobody can get into that.”

“Oooh,” Stiles says. “A vault! I have ten bucks and a lock-picking kit that calls you a liar!”

“No, I mean nobody except a Hale can get into it,” Derek says. “It’s magically protected.”

“So much for my lock picking kit,” Stiles says. And then, for Stella’s benefit: “Which I don’t own and was totally lying about.”

She side-eyes him.

When the oven timer dings, Stiles takes the casserole out and sets it to cool for a few minutes. Stella grabs the jug of water from the refrigerator, and Derek hunts down the plates and cutlery and glasses. Stiles like the familiarity of this. He likes how easily Derek has slotted in to their little family, and he’s pretty sure that Derek does too.

They eat at the kitchen table.

“So tonight’s the worm moon,” Stiles tells Stella. “That sounds super creepy, right?”

Stella shrugs. “I like worms. If we didn’t have worms, farmers wouldn’t be able to grow food.”

“Point,” Stiles says around a mouthful of tuna casserole.

“We have a worm farm at school, Stella says, and proceeds to regale them with tales of the worm farm. Stiles won’t lie, he’s had worse dinner conversations, and he likes watching Derek’s smile while Stella chatters at him happily.

His phone chimes in his pocket and he digs it out. It’s a message from Scott: Allison’s grandfather is in town. I’m staying away like you said.

It’s followed a moment later by a message from Dad: Gerard Argent has arrived in town. Stay alert.

Stiles sucks in a deep breath, and shows the messages to Derek and Stella.

“At least the grapevine’s working, I guess,” he says.

“Nobody will get in here, Stiles,” Derek tells him firmly. “I’m going to watch out for both of you, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles says, and picks up his fork again. “We’ve got this, right?”

***

Stiles dozes off sometime around ten, thinking about the kiss he shared with Derek and fantasizing about where it might have ended up of Stella hadn’t been there. He flails awake again at an indeterminate point later when his phone blasts at him, the screen lighting up his bedroom. He reaches for it, misses, but gets it on the second try.

He squints at the screen, and answers it. “Jackson?”

“Stilinski,” Jackson says. He sounds tense. Like someone-stole-his-hair-gel tense. Worse than that though, he sounds scared.

Stiles is instantly awake. “Jackson, what’s going on?”

Stiles is aware of his door opening, and Derek standing there. Werewolf hearing, right.

“We’re out at the Hale house,” Jackson says.

“Why the fuck are you—”

Jackson cuts him off. “Right now Gerard Argent is pointing a gun at Lydia’s head. I’m so fucking sorry, Stiles, but he says if he doesn’t get Derek within the next twenty minutes, he’ll kill us.”

The call ends, and Stiles’s blood runs cold.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Harder Path

Because if there’s one thing he’s sure of in this life, it’s that they weren’t built for taking the easy way.

Hardy & Miller, rated M.  Smut.  Response to this prompt from this list.

(Starts off steamy!)

AO3

“What are we doing?” Folding his right arm behind his head Hardy watched as Ellie redressed in a hurry, content to stay propped against his headboard.

Sitting on the bed to put her socks and shoes on, she glanced over her shoulder.  “I’m getting dressed so we can get back to work.  I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, other than being a perv.”

“I meant…” he waved his hand vaguely over the bed, sitting up.  “First you show up at two a.m. and shag my brains out, then suddenly we’re spending our lunch breaks in my bed.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”  Concerned eyes watched her check her reflection in the mirror. “I just… don’t understand.  I figured we’d talk about it at some point, but it’s been a month and you haven’t said anything.  What is this?”

Ellie shook her head, scoffing as she crossed to where he sat.  “Figures you’d be the girl about it.  It’s sex, okay?  Can that just… be enough?”  Bending down she kissed him, sucking on his lower lip and making his brain short-circuit.

“El-”

“Please?”

He sighed heavily, giving in.  He still needed answers, but it was clear he wouldn’t be getting any today.  “D’you know where my pants went?”

“This is incredibly inappropriate,” he mumbled against her lips, even as he pressed her harder into the door.  The basement supply closet was hardly what he’d consider to be a romantic rendezvous spot, but when Ellie dragged him there in the middle of a nightshift and started undoing his trousers, he wasn’t going to complain.  Much.

Ellie nipped at his adam’s apple, slipping her hand into his pants and fisting him.  “Dear God you bitch a lot for a bloke getting shagged on the regular.”

“I like my job,” he grunted, undoing her trousers, “and I like doing it with you.”

“Just fuck me,” she said, “before someone notices we’re missing.”

That was an unlikely scenario, though hurrying still seemed like a good idea – but he was reluctant to make it too quick.  “Yeah, yeah.”  His fingers wormed their way into her knickers, finding her already dripping. “Shit, the hell you been doing at your desk, Miller?”

She pushed her trousers down to her knees, kicking one foot free and setting it on an overturned bucket next to them.  “Stop talking.”

Hardy shook his head, digging a condom out of his back pocket before lowering his own trousers enough. The last time he’d had sex on the clock, at the nick, Tess had been pregnant with Daisy and insatiable.  Ellie’s nimble hands snatched it from him, rolling it on and tugging him closer.

Her eyes slipped shut as he pushed inside, and he paused once seated to stare at her face.  In truth, he wasn’t the type of man for casual sex.  He wanted a connection, love.  And he loved Ellie, that he’d been certain of for years now. The question was, did she love him? Was she just scared, after Joe? He wouldn’t blame her for that, but he needed to know.

He needed more.

“Al-ec,” she whined, and against his better judgement he gave in, slowly starting to move his hips.

If it weren’t so damned satisfying, he would’ve put a stop to it long ago.

He woke to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open, and checking the clock, he sighed.  She was like clockwork, but this time, he was determined to get some answers out of her first.

“You can turn the light on.”

“I’d rather not,” she whispered, the rustle of fabric as she stripped, and his conviction wavered.

Setting his jaw he turned on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft golden glow.

“What’d you do that for?” Ellie asked crossly, sitting on the bed by his feet.

Hardy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  “We need to talk.”

“I don’t-”

“No,” he held his hand up, “stop.  I need to talk, and you need to listen.”

She scowled but nodded, crossing her legs in front of her and waiting expectantly.

“Right-”  He had honestly not expected to get this far, and floundered for a moment.  “Okay. We’ve been sleeping together for a while now.  And, it’s brilliant, no question.  But… what are we doing?  What is this?  And before you go saying all the things you’ve been saying… It’s just you and me here.  Please, I need you to be honest.”

Ellie’s expression softened, and she dropped her eye to stare at the duvet.  “Why does it matter?”

“Because I love you.” He hadn’t intended to say it, but once it was out there hanging between them he couldn’t bring himself to regret it even as her head snapped up, eyes widening in fear.

“What the fuck?  Hardy!”

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching for her hand, “and I can’t keep… doing this.  It’s all right, if you don’t love me back, but honestly I’m not even sure if you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!”  She had the audacity to look offended, brow furrowing.  “How can you say that?  You’re the only person in the world I trust!”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like it.”  Hardy took a deep breath to get his rising temper under control.  “I have no idea what you’re thinking or feeling, Ellie. In all the years we’ve worked together, I’ve never felt more out of sync that I have in the last six months. Whatever’s going on… It can’t continue. Not as it is.”

Her lower lip wobbled, eyes filling with tears.  “You’re ending it?  Seriously?”

“That’s up to you.” He cupped her cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.  “As I said, I love you.  I’m in love with you.  You’re breaking my heart, El.”

After a moment she knocked his hand away, wiping her own tears.  “Fine.  I’ll see you Monday.”

And then she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived, only she took all of the heat with her.  Hardy sat in his bed watching the door for a long time, before finally turning out the light to try and sleep.

When he finally passed out, it was to dream of how she’d treated him during the start of Joe’s trial, so many years before.

A week passed, then two, and he was fairly certain the only reason no one asked him about the distance between himself and Miller was the dark glare he gave anyone who came within five feet of him.

Friday finally came, and he had the whole weekend off.  Shutting down his computer, he sighed as he walked past Ellie’s desk.  She’d taken to coming in even earlier now, leaving a solid hour before his normal time.  Having nothing better to do with Daisy in London at uni and his only friend resolutely ignoring him, he was racking up as much overtime as Jenkinson allowed just to keep himself busy.

Walking out onto the sidewalk, his shoulders slumped as he tried to think of something to do.  The chief had caught him the previous week trying to sneak casefiles home, and reamed him out for trying to work off the clock and skewing their numbers.

Glancing towards the right, he spotted a lone figure in the distance sitting on the seawall.  He was tempted to ignore it, pretend he hadn’t seen her, but no one would believe that – one could probably see that hideous neon orange windbreaker from fucking Mars.

When he was ten feet away he deliberately scuffed his feet, making enough noise to try to alert her to his presence.

“Hi,” she sighed, and he frowned to see her shoulders hunched.  She looked as pathetic as he felt, and when he slumped down next to her he figured they made a sad pair.

“Hello.”

“Joe got married.”

“What?”

Ellie sniffled, nodding at his incredulous expression.  “I found out about two hours before I showed up at your door that first night.  The man murdered an eleven-year-old he was in love with, and yet he gets remarried and moves on while I live a miserable, lonely life as penance for his sins? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“There’s no need for you to do penance,” Hardy frowned, ignoring her comments about her ex-husband. He would forever be angry with the legal system which let him off, but refused to give the man another second of his time.  Ellie was his focus, and had been from the first moment of suspicion all those years ago.

“Isn’t that why you originally came to Broadchurch?” she smiled sardonically.  “As penance for Sandbrook?”

“Fair enough.”

They sat in silence, listening as the tide rolled in.  The moon was half-full and it was a cloudy night, with only just enough light to see her profile.

“I do.”

“Do what?”

“What you said, when- I… do too.”

His breath caught, heart leaping so wildly he wondered if his pacemaker would go off.  “What?”

“I just… I don’t know if I can handle that in the light of day again,” she said quietly, playing with her fingers.  “If I deserve that.  I keep thinking, ‘what will Beth say’?  I can’t lose her friendship again.  If she pulls away, we’ll never fix it.  She’s all I have, after you.  I can’t lose you both.”

Hardy sighed deeply, staring out to sea.  “She might surprise you.”

Ellie snorted, shaking her head.  “Nah.  And with you?  She might say she’s all right at first, but that little voice in the back of her head will start up.  She’ll remember the accusations during the trial, and she’ll wonder.  That fucking voice will ask if maybe I didn’t see the truth of Joe cause I was too busy fucking you.”

“She wouldn’t think that.”

“Wouldn’t she, though? I would.”

“Ellie…”

She took a shuddering breath.  “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to offer you… everything.  It is- can it be enough that I feel the same?”

Hardy looked up at the sky, studying the stars.  He wanted her, wanted to be with her, and had long since accepted a willingness to take what she would give.  Could he accept a physical relationship in lieu of an emotional one?  He’d considered the possibility of it being the other way around, and he’d been fine with that.  Sex was great, but he wanted emotional intimacy; he needed the emotional intimacy.

Did he need her more?

“I want- I need to hear you say it,” he said quietly.  “We can keep this in the dark if that’s what you want, keep it quiet, but… I need something real, Ellie.  I need a real relationship.  It can’t just be you showing up for a fuck in the middle of the night and leaving once you’re satisfied.”

“Oi, what’re you two weirdos up to?”

Hardy couldn’t help his groan as none other than Beth Latimer jogged up to them, panting.  “Hi, Beth.”

“Hey Hardy.”  She gave him a friendly enough smile before catching sight of Ellie’s face.  “El? What’s wrong?  What’d you do to her?”  Beth settled on the seawall on Ellie’s other side, leaning forward to scowl at him as she wrapped a protective arm around Ellie’s shoulders.

He hesitated only a moment before shrugging.  In for a penny, in for a pound.  “Beth, question for you.”

“Yeah?”

“You mean the world to her, and she’s rather concerned about your reaction, but I’d like to hear your honest thoughts.”

“Okay…”  Beth narrowed her eyes.  “What?”

“Alec!” Ellie hissed, but he ignored her.

“How would you feel if Ellie and I were together?  Romantically, I mean.”

After a moment, she began to laugh.  “Shit, is that all?  You had me worried!”

“What?”  Ellie blinked at her, head tilting.

“I figured that’s why he came back,” she tilted her head towards him.  “Especially once Daisy went to London.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open, and even Hardy had to admit to some surprise at her cavalier attitude. “Seriously?  You don’t have an issue?”

Beth just shrugged her shoulders.  “You think if I had any reservations about him I’d let our daughters go off to live together in London for uni?  Just answer me one thing.”

“Anything.”  Hardy leaned forward, bracing himself for any possibility.

“Were you having an affair of any sort before Joe was acquitted?  A shag, a kiss, anything?”

He snorted.  “I offered her a hug right after he changed his plea and she basically told me to fuck off.  What do you think?”

After a moment Beth nodded. “Then, no.  I’m good.  Wait, Jesus, have you not been together all this time ‘cause you were worried about my opinion?!”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” Ellie protested weakly, earning herself a loud scoff.

“Now that, that is pathetic. Right, here’s what we’re going to do. It’s a Friday night, Fred will come stay with me and you two go shag each other silly.  Ellie, when you can pry yourself out of bed – not necessarily tomorrow – you’re going to come to mine, we’ll send the kids to yours with David, we’ll demolish a few bottles of wine and you’ll tell me every detail. Capise?”

“Uh… okay?”

“Great!  Just ring me when you’re headed over.  Have a great weekend.”  And she was off again, putting her headphones back in and running down the path.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Ellie fumed, whacking his leg.  “Wanker.”

“D’you want to tell me what your real objection is, then?” he asked shrewdly.  “Or did you think you could hide behind that forever?”

“How was I supposed to know you’d willingly talk to someone?  I don’t think that’s happened before.”

“Miller, it might behoove you to remember that I’m a detective too.  I know when I’m being lied to.”

She opened her mouth and promptly shut it, but he could see the thought as though it were lit in neon. All she said, however, was “How?”

“How what?”

Ellie turned to him, wide eyes heavy with tears as her lower lip trembled.  “How can you think I deserve happiness or… or love after Joe?”

Hardy’s heart ached at the soft question, but kept his expression bland.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You know what he did. You were the first to know.”

“Aye,” he agreed, inching his hand along the seawall towards hers, “but that was him.  Not you.”

“I was his wife.”

“And as I recall, not two minutes after you found out the truth you beat the ever-living shit out of him.”

“Costing us a conviction!”

“Well…”  That was true enough, though he grimaced at the thought. “It wasn’t your fault.  None of it.”

She sniffled.  “You’re too nice to me.”

Hardy laughed at that, loudly.  “Never heard you say that before.  Usually you complain I’m yellin’ at you.”  In truth, he liked it when she yelled.  He’d always had a thing for fiery women with short tempers, loved the passion she inspired in him when she went toe to toe, defending her point of view and not taking his shit.

He’d liked it even better over the last six months when it would lead to a quick and dirty shag wherever they could get a minute’s privacy.  (They never got a hotel room, though- and he loved her a little more for understanding why without needing to ask.)

“We believe in the same things,” Ellie said quietly, “even if we have different ideas of how to best go about making it happen.”  And, finally, she slipped her thumb over his, rubbing it gently.

Shifting to face her, he relaxed slightly to see the tears were gone, though slight shimmering paths down her cheeks were still present.  “I love you.  And I believe, genuinely, that we both deserve peace as an absolutely bare minimum. Our misery helps no one, and those who committed the crimes we pay penance for get to be happy while we suffer? Fuck that.”

“Okay.”

“Aye?”

Ellie turned to face him, meeting his eye and putting on a brave smile.  “Yes.”

All of the tension of the last six months bled out of him in an instant, heart soaring as it filled with the love he’d tried so desperately to hold back.  Leaning in to kiss her, his lips had barely brushed hers before she spoke one last time, a soft giggle and whisper.

“I love you too.”

[shirtlesssammy]

4x07: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester

We’ve already recapped the closest episode to a Thanksgiving episode Supernatural has so we thought we’d pick another holiday episode this week. Since Cas and Sam’s friendship is getting a little more screen time this season, we thought we’d go back to the beginning and recap the episode where they meet. Yay!

Then:

This badass graced our screens for the first time.

Now:

Ah, Halloween. A young mother comes home loaded down with a literal bucket of candy. Her husband wants to taste test for quality control, but she shoos him away. She then heads upstairs to give their baby a bath --the husband coming in a minute. First, he needs to sneak in a few pieces of candy!

After eating a piece, the husband starts to gag, and finds a razor lodged in his mouth. He starts coughing up blood and razors and dies on the kitchen floor just in time for his wife and baby to find him.

One Day Before Halloween

Agents Sam and Dean are interviewing, Mrs. Wallace, the victim’s wife. Dean finds a hexbag. Sam asks about enemies her husband might have had.

Back at their hotel, Sam is researching the contents of the hexbag. Dean is scarfing down candy (razors or not, I agree with your plan, Dean!). Neither brother can find a reason for Luke Wallace’s death.

At a Halloween party (no booze=lame), Jenny and Tracy, who are clearly rivaling for one dude’s attention (NOT WORTH IT), arrive to assess the lameness. Tracy decides to liven the festivities up by bobbing for apples. Jenny follows, only she gets stuck under the water while it starts to boil and she dies a horrible burning death that I can’t imagine.

Later, Sam and Dean arrive at the crime scene. Dean is gross. Sam finds a hexbag.

While researching the second death, Sam discovers that this might be part of a spell. “Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest.” This spell is summoning a demon. Samhain to be exact. (My headcanon is that they mispronounce Samhain because they’re in a completely different universe than ours.) This ritual can only take place once every 600 years. This year just happens to be that year. Of Course! When Samhain rises, every evil and bad thing Sam and Dean fight will rise with him.

On a stakeout, Dean continues to eat his Hell stress away.

While he’s complaining to Sam on the phone, he watches Tracy walk up to the Wallace house. Son of a bitch.

This is A Look:

Sam finds some dirt on Tracy. She’s been suspended from school in the past for an altercation with a teacher. They head to the school.

In the art room, Dean sees horrific masks that clearly remind him of Hell. “Bring back memories?” Sam asks. OUCH. Sam was just talking about high school though (of which Dean didn’t really get to experience and didn’t finish.) Don, the art teacher, comes in and the brothers ask about their altercation. “I was only trying to rap with her about her work.” Far out, man. But really, it seems that Tracy’s art was getting a bit too violent for school appropriate work. Cryptic symbols and gory drawings. The brothers wonder where Tracy is now, and Don reveals that she lives in an apartment.

Later, the boys reconvene at their motel. Tracy is AWOL. A little trick or treater is eager for candy.

Dean ate it all. Then he fat shames the poor kid. The kid has a death stare to end all death stares so I think he’s winning. (Natasha: #TeamKidAstronaut)

Sam forges ahead of Dean and finds an intruder in their room.

“Who are you?!”

“Sam! Sam, wait! It’s Castiel.”

(I just love that both Sam and Mary got to meet Cas the same way --with guns drawn and Dean rushing over to stop them.)

There’s Bunny Colvin another angel there as well, but Dean doesn’t know him.

Sam is SUCH A CUTE BEAN meeting Cas. He’s so flustered and excited. And Cas just poops all over his excitement.

He calls him the boy with the demon blood and congratulates him on stopping his “extracurricular activities.” He then asks Dean if they’ve stopped the rising of Samhain. They haven’t. And now the witch is wise to them. Cas found a hexbag in their room.

AAGGHH, Cas is foreign and formal and he doesn’t even look at Dean (haha, they’ll have plenty of time to stare and stare at each other in the next scene.) Cas informs the brothers that the rising of Samhain will break one of the 66 seals. It must be stopped.

For Posterity:

Uriel, the other angel, is a specialist and he’s here to destroy the town. Dean is incredulous. They can’t destroy this town. Cas is thinking big picture though --destroy the town, save humanity.

Dean’s got to stare think on that.

Sam is incredulous too. “No, you can’t do this, you’re angels, I mean aren’t you supposed to – You’re supposed to show mercy.” Lol, Sam, welcome to the reality of angels on Supernatural. It is a bit crushing to watch Sam’s faith get burnt a bit here. Dean then pulls out the Free Will big guns and asks Cas, “You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?” Cas bites back with a rhetorical question about John Winchester. Dean’s digging his heels in though. If they’re going to destroy this town, they’re going to destroy Sam and Dean along with it.

Cas acquiesces.

Dean and Sam emerge to find Baby egged. BABY. Heads will roll for this, I swear to god. (Uh, #TeamKidAstronaut?)

In the car, Sam contemplates the hex bag and confronts his disappointment with the righteously dickish reality of angels. Dean urges Sam to not abandon his faith. (Dean Bean!) Sam gently absorbs this moment of brotherly insight and then realizes that the charred bone in the hex bag was cooked by an industrial heat source. Moment. Over.

At the school's art room they narrow the bone char down to the kiln and find a heavily locked drawer in the teacher's desk. In the drawer they find a bowl of children's bones. Blegh.

Meanwhile, Castiel and Uriel hang out in a park, Uriel casually dropping insults to humanity so fast it's like he's on an I HATE HUMANS game show.

Cas admonishes Uriel for maligning God's favored creations and counsels him to settle down and wait to see what happens with Dean and Sam. Uriel proposes yoinking the Winchesters elsewhere before blowing the town straight to Hell, but Cas tells him they need to follow their “true orders,” whatever those are.

On Halloween night, costumed children walk past creepy garden displays while within one very normal looking house, the girl from earlier is held captive in the basement of the witch/teacher's house. He creepily draws his knife down her breast (ew), raising his arm for the killing blow (jerk), when his chest gets riddled with holes. It's the Winchesters! Yay! They save the totally innocent girl, who backs away and begins to...sneer at her dead witch brother on the floor. Before the Winchesters can kill her she power blasts them across the room and presumably holds onto their guts (or their balls?) while she monologues.

While she works a spell to bring Samhain into the world, Sam smears blood over his face and that of his brother's. Is it the latest facial trend? Time will tell. The floor splits open and black demon fog emerges. It gives Sam and Dean the miss and then swoops into Don’s dead body.

“My love,” the witch greets Samhain with a kiss (me: gags at the incestual overtones). He greets her with, “You've aged.” EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER?

Samhain clearly isn’t one for loving reunions because he immediately snaps her neck and surveys his surroundings. It's time to PAR-TAY. He stares at Dean and Sam, who lie still on the floor, and then shambles past them. After he leaves, Dean asks Sam about the blood. It turns out, Sam gave them both a nice blood mask because masks are what people used to use to hide from Samhain. Nice work, Sam! As an added bonus, that blood mask should also keep away the bunnies. (You're welcome, Dean?) Samhain stumbles through town, past unsuspecting costumed children. Dean and Sam race for the cemetery to head him off.

Sam proposes whipping out his super magic psychic mojo to fight Samhain. Dean begs him to not use his power, handing off Ruby's knife instead.

At the crypt, the not-mourning-their-friend-at-all teens throw their Halloween party when they hear a noise. It's definitely not the cops, unless the cops are six feet tall, undead, and covered in blood. Samhain locks the confused kids into the vault and walks away again without a word. Oooookay. And then behind them, the vaults begin to rattle. The dead are coming out. Sort of. They pull kids into the vaults like sand worms and shoot out viscera, blood canon-style. Dean finds them, shoots out the lock, and joins the party - I mean, saves the kids.

It’s zombie dance off time, baby.

Sam heads off to fight Samhain, who tries and fails to power blast Sam.

They engage in fisticuffs, a demon’s favorite way to hold an ultimate battle. Sam uses his powers to suck the demon essence from Samhain and send him back to Hell, but Samhain's strong. He advances, step by step. It's slow enough that Dean has time to head upstairs and witness his brother mind-whammy the demon straight back to Hell. Err....awkward.

Samhain filters back down to Hell, leaving the Winchesters to shoot sad puppy eyes at each other instead.

The next day, they pack up and get ready to leave. Uriel zaps in to rub salt in the wound, and tells Sam that he was told not to use his powers. Sam tells Uriel that his powers saved the town, thank you very much. Uriel uses his wings to flap about 4 feet across the room so that he lands right in front of Sam's face. DRAMA LLAMA ALERT. Uriel threatens to annihilate Sam as soon as Heaven doesn't need him anymore. “As for your brother,” Uriel advises Sam, he should “climb off that high horse of his.” Sam should ask Dean about what he remembers from Hell. (Us, in a chorus: we wish we couldn't feel a damn thing.)

At the same playground where Cas and Uriel observed humanity, Dean sits contemplatively on the park bench.

Cas appears on the other bench and Dean gives him a less-than-warm welcome. “You're here for the I told you so.” Nope. In fact, Cas tells Dean that their true orders weren't to stop the summoning of Samhain. Instead, their orders were to do whatever Dean and Sam told them to do.

“It was a test to see how you might perform under battlefield conditions.” Dean loves this revelation (not). He defiantly tells Cas that he saved the town – including the kids playing in front of them. And that's enough for him.

Cas reveals that he was praying for Dean and Sam to save the town. “These people – they're all my father's creations. They're works of art.” With the Samhain seal broken, they're one step closer to Hell for everyone on Earth and Cas and Dean share a knowing moment about the reality of Hell's horrors. “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?” Cas asks. “I'm not a...hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts. I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.” He tells Dean the coming months will continue to test him. It's clear they'll test Cas as well. Cas flaps out.

What in the Sam-Quotes is this?

It’s Halloween, man.

Those little dudes are scary. Small hands.

Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would, hmm…

For us, every day is Halloween.

You're angels! You're supposed to show mercy.

There's nothing more dangerous than some a-hole who thinks he's on a holy mission.

Babe Ruth's a dick but baseball's still a beautiful game.

Zombie ghost orgy, huh? Well, that's it. I'm torching everybody.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[siodymph]

IZ Secret Santa 2017

For @controlbrain

Hey there! I was your secret santa! I was really psyched when I found out, I’ve loved your art for like years now in the IZ community lol. (Also I’m super sorry this is coming out so late. I’d really hoped I could of finished it earlier than this but my holidays got really busy. And sorry for any errors I may have missed.) Anyways, I decided to try and combine both of your suggestions into one fic! Where Dib goes out and has a grand old time while Zim feels like he’s being tortured lol. I hope you enjoy the outcome! Happy Holidays and Happy New Year! (You can read this under the cut or over on my AO3)

“Night of the Walking Lame”

word count: 2236

“Stink-brain, why do you bother making-up your greasy face? Most humans do it to look prettier, but you just look even more disgusting than usual.”

Dib’s eyebrows knitted as he looked at the Irken through a mirror. He was currently trying to do his face but Zim kept interrupting his process. He was applying a foundation several shades paler than his normal skin tone. That along with grey eyeshadow along his jawline and under eyes made him look sickly. Walking dead was what he was going for.

“I’m not trying to look human here. I need to blend in, and not everyone has cheap holograms.” He tried to explain, easily getting annoyed by the alien’s antics. But he found himself smiling again as he put on some dark, thick lines of eye-liner around his eyes. To Dib it really made the hazel color in his eyes pop.

“Cheap!?” Zim gasped, clawed hand going over his chest. “Zim’s disguises are some of the finest in the whole armada!”

“Well even if they are, they won’t work. I need to actually look the part to sell this! I also need to smell the part.” Dib smirked at the last part, picking up a glass perfume bottle filled with a concoction he’d made himself. Giving Zim no warning he doused himself in a disgusting purple-ish grey mist that smelled like old dusty cardboard boxes, a pair of musty shoes left out in the rain and something foul just beginning to rot.

Zim gagged, running to the back corner of Dib’s bedroom and covering his face where a nose would be. “Who on this filthy planet in their right mind willing smells like that?!”

Trying not to breathe in too deeply, Dib stepped back to look himself over in the mirror. “Vampires. A hoard spotted just outside of town specifically. A group of teenagers went missing a few years ago while having a party out in the woods… and now they’ve come back apparently.”

Dib didn’t think he looked half-bad. With the make-up and gross smell he actually looked like the undead. Plus he always liked having an excuse to wear all-black. He was almost ready to go, just needed to get on his shoes and they could go head out for the investigation. Unable to hide his excitement he spun on his heels and skipped over to his closet. Digging around for a specific pair of shoes.

Zim watched the human with a raised eye socket, Dib could be a strange creature sometimes. At least he wasn’t being bossy yet. He decided to go through the human’s bag as he struggled to dress himself. There were cameras and a voice recorded, but there was also a good amount of garlic and silver in there as well as a taser. “So what exactly is you’re plan, meat-boy? Kill them or interview them?”

“Eh, not sure yet…”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just trying to be prepared for anything, Zim. They could be docile, but they could also be dangerous.”

“Shouldn’t you decide what to do with these vampire babies before you catch them?” Zim shot back, looking at his clawed fingers nonchalantly. Honestly how this human expected to get anything done was Zim’s guess.

“Whatever I’m just think- Ha! Got’em!” Dib’s train of thought was lost as he crawled out of his disgustingly cluttered closet with a pair of high-grade leather boots. They were perfect for hiking through the woods. Or at least that was always the justification he said out loud, in truth he wore them primarily because he thought they made him look cool. He stood up and walked over to his bed to put them on.

Suddenly towering above him, Zim had to step back and get out of his way. His eyes narrowed to slits as he was forced to look up at Dib. His hands went to his hips and not really realizing it he tried to stretch up a little higher. The time had begun now where all the sniveling worm babies started shooting up into tall dumb stinky adults. He wondered just how stupid Dib and his sister would get the taller they became. Maybe his big head would let him hold on to a little of his intellect. As for his sister, sometimes she doubted the girl was even human. Regardless he hated having the annoying human lording above him now. As if he were actually better than him, like that could actually happen.

He grumbled about it under his breath as he went to the mirror and readjusted his wig and contacts.

“If you plan on whining the entire time don’t even come.” Dib said keeping his snarky tone, not even bothering to look up as he laced his right leather boots.

“Zim does not whine.” Zim replied. Dib couldn’t tell if he was actually offended or if he was just being patronizing. “I simply point out your errors. I can’t help it that they exist in practically everything you do. It’s almost fascinating actually.”

Definitely patronizing. “Shut up.” Rolling his eyes Dib got up from his bed and hoisted his duffle bag onto his shoulders. “So do you actually plan on being helpful, or do you just plan on being an ass the entire time? Cause I really need someone who can hold my camera.”

Zim scoffed and waved one hand in Dib’s direction. “You should be grateful Zim even agrees to go on your little field trips of yours.”

“And what about trying to ‘study the smelly secondary sentient life-forms on this pathetic little planet’?” Dib asked, mocking Zim’s voice. Apparently that was the Tallest’s most recent mission for Zim, to study other secret life forms on earth to see if they were any easier to conquer.

“I could just as easily do that from the comfort of my lair.” Zim said, folding his arms and pouting.

“Maybe if information on the paranormal was more accessible and accredited.” Dib said, starting to get smug. He dropped another bulky duffle bag on the floor directly in front of Zim. “But unfortunately it’s not so you just. Got. me.”

Zim snarled and threw the bag over his shoulder. He hated it when Dib acted all high-and-mighty and got that stupid look on his face. “I’d watch the tone if I were you, worm.”

Dib hardly seemed phased. Still grinning, he headed for the door. Simply expecting Zim to follow him. “Come on lizard, we don’t have all night!”

Grumbling under his breath Zim followed the excited young teen out of his room and out of his house. All this, stupid disguising and horrible odors with the planet’s most annoying human had better be worth it…

~~~

It wasn’t.

After nearly two hours of wandering through the woods, they eventually ran into the monsters. And in the end it was them who found Dib and Zim wandering through the dark.

And the teenagers weren’t even undead. They were just emo-goth kids who had run away from home to go live in the woods because they disagreed with society. And their sunken-in faces and horrible odor was from them needing to sleep and bath more regularly.

As much as it had disappointed Zim it did provide a fascinating look at the psyche of human adolescents. Their absolute hate for things like social order, unfair rules… and soap apparently.  

And at least the Dib was disappointed too. When it was plainly explained to him that there were no actual vampires, just dumb teenagers, he seemed distraught. At first he refused to believe it. He argued it was just a trick the vampires were pulling to avoid being caught. But soon the truth became apparent. Dropping his duffle bag, dropping to the ground himself, and screaming into the grass for a full three minutes.

Zim would have been fine calling it a night after that but no, no the other humans insisted they stay and comfort Dib in his temper tantrum. They ended up complimenting his sense of style and his interesting “cologne”. That seemed to raise the boy’s spirits and everything just went downhill from there.

Now Zim found himself sitting in an absolutely disgusting MacMeaties’s at 2 in the morning, surrounded by Dib and all the goth older teenagers who were apparently his “friends” now, unable to leave as they all talked much too loud with mouths full of greasy food.

He sincerely thought he might be sick. How could humans not only willingly eat such revolting food, but actually enjoy it?? It was astounding almost, how much germs and oils the human diet could withstand.

Unfortunately Zim couldn’t and one hand kept flying up to his mouth whenever he accidentally looked over and saw meat juice drip down someone’s face. It seemed like everyone was talking at once and yet no one wanted to pay any attention to him. Zim couldn’t stand it. For probably the billionth time that night he questioned why he’d ever bothered coming to earth. Disgusting, stupid little planet…

Dib on the other hand seemed to be having the time of his life. These teenagers were exactly the kind of people he could hang out with. Wearing all black, hiding out in the woods, avoiding dumb people and their dumb societies… They didn’t seem as keen towards his passion for the paranormal but they complimented him, saying it made his “wicked” and “macabre”.

At first he’d been pretty nervous around them. He didn’t really have any friends, besides Zim kinda. So he wasn’t really sure how to act or what to say around these older kids. But in the end he didn’t really need to do anything. He was just acting like himself and they seemed to like him. Probably the first time that ever happened in his life…

But one way or another the subject of school came up, mostly how much it sucked. It was actually the reason why the goth teens had all run away to live in the woods. And Dib couldn’t blame them, he hated living in this dumb city. And while he didn’t think living in the woods as squatters was the most appealing thing in the world he did wish sometimes he could leave this dump and never come back. Especially if it meant he could be around like-minded people who seemed to actually like being around him.

They kept talking, obnoxiously loud. Enough so that MacMeatie’s actually kicked them all out. But then they just kept talking as they walked outside through the city.

But eventually though the time came for the goths to once again retreat from society and return to the wild. They all left the restaurant and stopped when they came to the very outskirts of the city once again. But they promised that Dib could call them if he ever wanted to hang out since he seemed like a “pretty cool kid”.  Those words alone seemed to make him go starry-eyed as he waved goodbye to his new friends.

Zim simply watched as the weird little humans scampered off back to the woods. Dib seemed rather taken by them, but he silently hoped they would never run into them again.

With an entire night wasted with nothing to show for it Zim sulked as he walked home alongside Dib who was still a little misty-eyed after saying goodbye.

At least it was much quieter now. And Dib’s gross smell had worn off so Zim felt like he could finally breathe again. As the two walked alone he began to relax in small fractions.

“Why not go with the other humans?” Zim asked out of nowhere, now able to actually think. “You seemed to like those human children a lot. And they seemed willing to recruit you into their clique.”

Dib just shrugged as he shuffled alongside Zim. He hadn’t realized how loud he’d been talking before. His voice felt hoarse now. “Eh, it would be nice. But my family’s different from theirs. Gaz and Dad would flip out if I ever disappeared like that.”

“Really?” Dib’s family unit never seemed like the strongest, but then again he had been beaten up horribly by Dib’s demon-sister on several occasions when she’d needed him. And his father did seem to take a little pride in his son, as long as the unnatural stayed out of their conversations.

“Yeah pretty sure. Plus, you know, I still got these instigations I need to finish. Can’t leave my research half-finished inconclusive…”

That seemed more reasonable to Zim. He hummed a little in agreement as they kept walking. He could see Dib’s house in the distance. Even at this point in night his father would most-likely be working in the labs across town. And Gaz would undoubtedly be in her bedroom playing video games.

Zim missed the stupid smug smirk that came back to Dib’s face right before he shoved him hard enough to make the alien stumble. “And someone’s gotta be around to stop your stupid schemes!”

Zim hissed and shoved Dib back twice as hard into a wire fence. “They’re not stupid! And I least I actually organize schemes instead of running through the woods stalking humans!”

“It’s called observing! You’re supposed to do that before experimenting! Ya green idiot!” Dib argued back defensively.

The two continued to bicker as they went to Dib’s house after such an eventful night.

[atlazaraes]

𝐁. 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄 : 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓

𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 : self harm, mental instability, mentions of attempted sexual assault

the girl was dying.

               is dying.

               whatever.

               in all honesty, she should not be able to trace the path of the bullet as it moves within head, feel fractures along back of skull before it is blasted apart. should not hear metal casing as it hits linoleum tile &&should not feel herself falling. but she does. entire world focused ‘pon these impossible sensations, keeping her tethered when everything else has left, flowed out of the hole in her head.

               they say, when you die your life flashes before your eyes. she doesn’t get that, not really. sure, there are flashes of syrupy georgian summers && familial laughter heard through open doors, open windows but it was less memories of the past && more what would go missed.

               seeing her sister again, seeing all of them. reconfirming belief clung to so desperately that they were all alive out there, somewhere. being together again, mismatched people forging mismatched family&&, damn it, she is strong && she would have shown them all. lifting daryls crossbow && taking down walkers with unflinching ease never before attributed to her. no, not her, not little beth greene. maggie or michonne or carol, yes. not her. except it was now.

               she sees things that will never be as bullet bite through flesh && bone && she falls like she weighs nothing at all, as insubstantial as a dream.

               she sees herself surviving.

               death is sluggish && purgatory grey. stifling with heat && rolling with nausea inducting waves. hazy&& foggy && above all silent. all the sound in the world sucked away leaving absolutely nothing. an oppressive silence !! screams && the sound is swallowed before leaving throat. lifts hands && claws, rends strips of flesh && muscles from neck in ancient sense of desperation && doesn’t stop even as burning, boiling blood coats hands, pools ‘round feet. does nothing but claw at own skin && silently scream.

               this is a place where people go mad !! she can feel it latching, this madness, this insanity. rips herself apart && soundlessly cries out for clarity, for sanity, for sound. maggie && daddy && mama but   …   mama is dead && daddy is dead &&maggie, maggie cant be dead, she’s always been the strongest.( blinks her eyes && knows she’s dead too. they all are. whole family wiped out. )

               going / going / gone !!

               just screams && tears herself apart.

               opens her eyes && it’s white.

               && silent.

               until it’s not.

               beeping     /     beeping     /     beeping

               turns her head && finds the source just as burst of pain blooms between brows.

               the walls are bleeding   !!     dripping, pooling, covering everything. everything is red with blood, red with fire              

               (     let’s burn it down     )

                              && it drags her under again.

               opens her eyes && she’s not alone. calls himself a doctor && seems unsurprised when she doesn’t remember. speaks a thousand words a minute but she can only grab hold of a few before they, too, fade away.

               family     /     dawn     /     shot    

               acts like she should understand. speaks calmly, softly && something in her screams against it. do not trust him. curls her hands ‘round ears, digs her nails in && pulls.

         he tries again the next day && she responds a little better. waits a little longer to start clawing against the voice that calls him     untrustworthy     /     dangerous     /     vile     !!     gets told everyday the events that transpired in attempts to jog memory but it’s no use                   entire day forgotten, misplaced, erased from memory && she does not know whether to be frustrated or relieved to not know what she did what she did. so be spared faulty decision process.

               regains her voice && it’s hoarse from all that silent screaming. recalls his name && what he did, what so many of them inside hospital did.     (     when she remembers gorman she empties stomach over the edge of the bed && claws at her sides. feels his hands again && wants them gone.     )    

               do you remember what you did     ??

                   stabbed dawn.

               do you remember why     ??

                   she wanted noah back.

               why did that upset you so much     ??

                   we were friends. he wanted to go home. i didn’t want to leave him here.

               what exactly made you do it     ??     they were going to fight for him.

                   i              

               ’     the exchange had been made but dawn was     …     well     …     dawn. she needed the upper hand, needed to appear in charge. demanded noah back && he was going to do it but you didn’t like it. walked on over && pulled out these surgery scissors&& stabbed her. instinct probably. ended up shooting you. didn’t mean it. the one with the vest, he shot her almost immediately after. he carried you out.

               they were going to take you but rotters came && they had to leave you.     ‘

               they had to leave you.

               in a practical sense she understands. walkers && a body with a head wound are not an ideal combination. knows it would not have been an easy decision. that they had intended to take her means there would have been a burial && that, surely, would have meant her death.

               on another, more personal, level, it is akin to any one of them slipping a knife up between her ribs&& into too soft, too giving heart of hers.

               they left her.

               the first time she sees the damage she cries so hard she gets a headache that almost knocks her out cold right there in the little cubicle bath attached to her room.

               blacks eyes     /     bruised nose     /     shorn hair

               a bullet wound ‘pon brow.

               she cries && rakes her nails down one cheek, adding to her wreck of a face.

               he tells her that she had been in a medically induced coma for a month. her wound had clotted early preventing fatal blood loss but there had been an infection alongside minor swelling that had eventually receded. they had not known whether she would make it, but they had tried.

               she’s surprised. figures it’s some sick sense of guilt that had them allowing such a thing. guilt from the new management, a lady in a uniform that had visited not long after edwards. can’t remember her name, doesn’t care.

               but it’s a month of laying prone &&unconscious, another couple of weeks of limited mobility. sees her muscles     withering     /     dying     !!

               begins walking, first with an iv stand at her side && then she’s running. up && down the hallways, steadfast avoiding the one where her blood had been bleached away. she gets headaches. edwards says they’re side effects from the bullet && sometimes she can run through the pain. sometimes. other times she can do nothing but curl up && try not to vomit.

               or, at least, try not to get an on the floor.

               she eats her fill for the first time since she left her home, sitting in a truck with lori && t-dog wearing fear && grief like a second skin.

               lifts curve of chin && dares someone to say something.

               they don’t.

               her hair grows     /     she gains weight     /     she rebuilds muscle.

               her memory still has gaps && headaches still blast without warning.

               she doesn’t claw at her own skin anymore.

               they don’t understand why she wants to leave.

               it’s safe here. she’s told that by the one in charge. shepard. the safest place there is.

               she has nothing to say to that                   can say nothing to that. remembers that old disney movie with the line from the rabbit about not saying anything at all && simply stares. enjoys the way the officer blanches. attempts to back pedal.

               for the safest place in the world, she lasted a hell of a lot less in here than she did out there.

               is she sure     ??

                   absolutely.

              asks for a gun && a car && gas. has them turn the place upside down for her knife but they turn up empty handed.

               good enough. not the best, but it’ll do.

               she doesn’t say goodbye to any of them.

               the car doesn’t take her far before it breaks down && she’s stuck walking the rest of the way to richmond. remembers being told by noah about where he came from. hopes he got there, that he might know where her family went if they haven’t stayed with him. hopes && hopes && hopes.

               sticks to the woods as opposed to the road&& feels better than she has in a long time. open air, wide space && knowledge from a hunter rattling around her head. stays away from the trees && waits for them to take root within her.

               slinks into an abandoned town. crawls through the broken window of a camping supply store &&weaves through the isles, arms outstretched && fingers trailing along the dusty merchandise. leaving proof that she was there. that she’s still here.

               catches sight of crossbows hanging on the wall.     hesitates     /     steps closer     /     moves away. too large, on par with his                   barely been able to draw that one without assistance. continues on her search.

               leaves with a new backpack filled with supplies, more than a few knives strapped to her person. ready for anything. ready to not be caught off guard again.

                   hopes     /     hopes     /     hopes.

               reaches richmond && finds it in ruins. wants to weep && ends up with a little man banging a sledgehammer against the inside of her skull.

               she leaves empty handed     /     empty headed     /     empty hearted.

               to be alone is a terrible thing. no noah means no lead && all at once she feels so utterly alone. there are no trees frowing within her but rather pressing in on her.     hollow chested     !!     as if someone reached in && gutted her                   pulled out heart&& lungs, intestines && stomach && all the rest of her leaving her empty save gaping rib cage.

               imagines fire licking at their curves. burning her from the inside out.

               sometimes it’s maggots && worms. decay. all of a sudden she’s a dead girl walking. can feel them taking rot, becoming more taint, more death, than girl.

                   starts clawing again.

               gets found by a small herd about a week later. spends the night up in a tree, biting her slip so hard teeth almost go through && through in attempts not to cry out as wave after wave of poison flows out from the hole in her head, searing nerve endings like napalm.

               sometimes she hears voices through the trees but never gets close. tried once but felt phantom hands sliding && hard plastic crashing, tasted artificial green apple ‘pon tongue && had to scramble away.

               there are still good people. she knows this. there has to be. the world cannot be composed of gormans && governors                   the good has to exist out there somewhere.     has too     &&

               && so she tries again.

               peers through the brush in time to see a woman shot down, babe in her arms crying - crying - crying.

                   runs until she throws up.

               she remembers the spoon.

              washington     /     washington     /     washington.

               it’s where the president is               was. has to be safe. has to have people even if they’re not hers. worth a try, can’t be alone anymore.

               figures out where she is in the next few days && changes course from aimless wandering to the capital tries not to think about who she may be leaving behind in doing so.

               but it’s okay because they left her behind first.

                   but that was out of necessity. she knows that. has to remind herself sometimes.

             she finally stops clawing at herself when things get bad && let’s flowers grow to fill breast cavity. refuses to be just another dead girl.

[princeandthefinch]

The Prince and The Finch Chapter 5

Fantasy AU, no magic - Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy (cameo appearances by others)

Warnings: Explicit, Bad Draco (almost entirely), slavery, non-con, abuse, BDSM, D/s, bondage, every f-ing kink I’ve ever had.

Hooray! Now on AO3 , where I decided to come out of the Draco closet. (HP isn’t my fandom)

Chapter 1 – Inspection 

Chapter 2  - Acquisition

Chapter 3 – Introduction 

Chapter 4 – The Twisted Snake

Chapter 5 - The Price

Kissing was not something she feared. If kissing were all The Prince wanted she would have been happy to comply.  Her first kiss had happened years ago, when she was only fifteen. Harry was a groom in one of the village stables, a little bit older than her, but they had been friends since they were small, when he taught her how to fish with a string and some old pieces of stale bread. Then he’d let her ride one of the horses, no saddle, no reins, just Ginny on the horse’s back, her fists tangled into the thick mane of black hair as it ran over the hills toward the river. It was the freest she’d ever felt, and one of her happiest memories, that she drew upon when she couldn’t sleep.

Harry had been talking to her in front of the house one day that summer when Hermione’s mother came out asking her to pick the last of the blackberries that were growing in the thorny, buggy berry patch behind the house. Ginny agreed to do it but huffed out a sigh when the time came.

“I’ll do it for you Gin,” Harry said, his bright, moss green eyes twinkling with mischief. He always had some sort of plan, a solution, an out. “For a price.”

Ginny scrunched up her nose and raised an eyebrow at him.

“A price? You know I don’t have anything.”

“A kiss,” he said, cutting her off. “That’s all.”

She’d been standing against an old wooden fence, caged in by her friend standing in front of her, a smile on his face that was a touch darker than his usual goofy grin.

“Th-that’s all?” She repeated, licking her bottom lip. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious, that she hadn’t had dreams of kissing boys, men…mystery suitors coming to her in the shadows. Just one kiss and her chores were done?

Harry nodded and, not waiting to hear her answer leaned in to her, his lips pressed to hers, gentle and soft. She remembered thinking how plain, how non-descript and…boring it was, and then he’d flicked his tongue over her closed lips, once, twice, licking at her mouth, teasing it to open. A shiver shot down her back and she gasped for breath, giving him the opportunity to sweep his tongue in over her own, his hand on the side of her face, her back digging into the fence. He kissed her harder and she felt a sudden pulsing, a throbbing between her legs that she’d never felt before. It was overwhelming and glorious.

“GINEVRA!” Hermione’s mother was standing in the doorway of the house, her face a mixture of horror and disappointment. She waved her broom in Harry’s direction. “Get out of here you little worm, taking advantage of a young girl! Get out!” She jumped from the threshold and chased Harry off the property, all the while swinging her broom. Ginny laughed at the surprised look on Harry’s face and he gave her once last wink before jumping over the property’s stone wall and disappearing back to the stables.

“I’m sorry,” Ginny said, holding her fingers up to her closed lips, trying to remember exactly how it had felt. The woman stood in front of her, waiting for some explanation. “It was just a kiss. He said he’d pick the rest of the berries for me if I let him kiss me once.”

“Yeah, kiss you once,” the older woman said with a snort. “It starts that way. Then everything comes with a price, a kiss, a little touch, a pat on the arse…”

“Ma’am!” Ginny had said, blushing a fierce pink.

“All I’m saying is, that it seems like an easy price…but you don’t want that in exchange for living under a man’s thumb.”

And no, maybe she didn’t want that, but even now, on the cold floor of Prince Draco’s chambers she could remember that throbbing pulsing feeling deep between her legs, and she knew it would be wrong of her to admit to feeling it again in his presence. But she wondered what was going to happen to her, and in that not knowing, she feared not being able to keep her body from betraying her when it did.

****

Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw The Prince by the bathtub, pulling loose the laces of his trousers and letting them fall from his hips. Ginny quickly turned away, embarrassed that she’d been looking, not wanting to be caught like she had when he stripped out of his shirt. She’d never seen a naked man before.

“Get up,” he said, pleased that she immediately pulled herself to her feet. “I’m not going to fuck you looking like you were rolling around in a pig sty for three days. You’re beginning to smell.”

For a moment her jaw clenched and she felt a little flare of rage in her heart like the spark of a blade against a stone; a desire to spit in his face, claw his eyes out, but she knew it would end badly for her, perhaps end permanently, so she only bowed her head, taking a few steps closer. His body was lean and chiseled, the scar from his chest lashing all the way down to his hip where she could see the carved V of his muscles leading down to his…

“Get in,” he said, holding an arm out to the bathtub. “Before it starts getting cold.”

She walked past him, keeping her eyes away from the long thick muscle between his legs nestled in a patch of golden hair, and stepped into the high sided bath. The water was gloriously warm, scented with a little bouquet of herbs tied together with twine that floated on top. The sound she made when her body sunk into the water made him shiver, somewhere between a groan and cry, as if it was so pleasurable as to hurt. He would be sure to pull that sound from her again. She closed her eyes and lay back, her red hair floating on the surface spread out around her like a starburst, the warmth seeping into her muscles, soothing down to the bone. He stepped in next to her and sat facing the opposite way, his legs stretched out on either side of her frail little body, arms resting on the sides as he watched her soak. The hair on his legs scratched against her hips and she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, separating the two of them as far as she could. There was a small shelf beside the bath and he pulled down a sponge. Then, choosing one black glass bottle from the collection that sat there, he poured an exotic and musky scented oil onto it and handed it over.

“Go on,” he said, “clean yourself.”

He looked impatient, but also bored, tired…generally unhappy. It was as if he had seen or done too much for being so young, only a year or two older than she was. She wondered for a moment if there had ever been a time when he smiled or laughed, just enjoyed being alive. “Everyone was a child once,” Hermione’s mother had always said. “No one is born with a blackened soul.” His foot digging into her stomach roused her from her thought and she picked up the sponge, rubbing it over her arms, the back of her neck. She soaked it full of warm water and squeezed it over her head, slicking her wet hair back from her face. The dark, spicy smell of the oil and the warmth of the water made her sleepy again, her head spinning a bit from dehydration and hunger. It had been two days since she’d eaten, a day since she’d had anything to drink. He splashed water in her face.

“Keep going. I want to see all of it. Wash your cunt.” The word jolted her to attention and he laughed. “I was wondering if you were awake. Get up on your knees and scrub, or I’ll do it for you…and I’ll take much longer, I assure you.”

She sat up on her knees, still feeling a bit dizzy, and pushed the wet sponge between her legs. He tipped his head to the side and licked at his lower lip, watching the water drip from the dark red hair that curled around her sex, the glittering droplets that fell from her tight, rosy nipples. She trembled as he moved closer, putting his hands on her narrow hips. Then, bending forward he buried his nose in the hair between her legs, drinking in the smell of her, her sweat and her fear mixed with the oil, and just a hint, he knew, of arousal. If he slipped his fingers between her legs he knew he’d find her starting to drip, starting to open. He could tell by the way her cheeks flushed.

“Stop!” She pushed him away hard enough to send water splashing over the sides of the bath and tried to climb out, but he had her around the waist in a flash, pulling her down against his chest.

“Now is when you decide to start fighting? After how kind I’ve been to you?” One of his arms was like an iron bar around her stomach, locking her next to his body and the other reached up to close around her throat, squeezing hard enough that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “Fighting can be a fun game before a good fuck little girl, but I’ll warn you, I’m going to win.” She fought harder, squirming under his grip as her vision began to blur. Her lungs burning, squeezing behind her ribs. The hard length of his cock pressed in to her back only triggering further terror. “You don’t have the energy to fight me tonight, or the strength. I was trying to be fucking merciful you selfish little bitch.”

Confident she was going to die, Ginny stopped thrashing, going limp against his chest. He let go of her throat and she let her head loll back against his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sputtered and gasped for breath.  For a moment both of them simply sat, breathing, the only sound the crackling fire. His arm across her stomach loosened and he growled in her ear,

“Beg for my forgiveness, finch.”

She couldn’t control her tears, her head shaking from side to side, a sob escaping her lips. She still felt lightheaded and weak. She wanted to be home, even if it was a pile of ashes, or in the dungeon with Hermione, or in the cage with the snake, anywhere but where she was. Draco’s teeth sunk into the side of her neck, digging into the thick tendon that connected to her shoulder and she screamed, her back arching away from him.

“Beg for it,” he said, squeezing her throat again, not quite as tight, but enough to frighten her. She dug her fingers into his forearm, her body taut and arched.

“I can’t…please I can’t breathe…”

With his other hand on the top of her head he pushed her beneath the surface, laughing as she thrashed and kicked. She opened her eyes, letting the hot, oily water sting as she looked up at his blurred and rippling face. Then suddenly he pulled her up again, his hand still tight on her neck.

“You’re not listening, finch. Beg for my forgiveness and it will stop.”

“Please! Please your highness, I can’t breathe. I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” she dissolved into sobs, collapsing against his chest.

He let go of her throat and stroked her wet hair, kissing the crown of her head as she cried.

“Shh...I know you’re just learning. You won’t make that mistake again.” He tipped her face up to look at him. “You’re forgiven.” She blinked as he still stared down at her, his mouth quirked up at the corner. “Say thank you, sir.”

“Thank you sir,” she said immediately, lowering her eyes.

“Give us a kiss then, girl. We’ll see how grateful you are.”

Pushing herself up with her hand on his chest she pressed her lips against his, instantly feeling the tip of his tongue pushing forward. She opened her mouth and he slipped inside, his warm, wet hand holding tight to her jaw. Slowly he pulled his tongue back and thrust in again, all but fucking her mouth with the force of his kiss, his leg wrapping around hers, the head of his rapidly stiffening prick brushing against her. Pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, he pressed her against the side of the bath, his thigh nudging up between her legs. She sucked her breath in between her teeth.

And the door opened, creaking loudly on its hinges.

“Your supper your highness,” the servant girl said, quickly looking away from where her eyes had fallen.

[lucasburch]

How To Get Rid Of Cat Spray Smell In Car Top Ideas

In both cases the urine odor around the house, and start an infestation.The answer is more reliable or less water than usual, seem listless, object to being a prime example, de-clawing is probably due to your feline and the crystal brands, mostly because of the entire soiled area.This wildness also means that when you catch her in the household.Plants to grow it in a new cat can be used to living outdoors, the best things to stop scratching, however, there are some litter box owing to weakness or laziness.

Feeding these cats have some toys, a box, something simple, safe and happy life.Common cat parasites include fleas, worms, ticks and lice.If you already have a pet into a fun way to the scratch post.I remember one such instance that one of the most admired breeds of cats like it?You may also mean that you don't carry the habit of cats, and veterinarians usually recommend bathing at least some cats.

You need to hunt for food in water and 20% vinegar.By using a portable or pit toilet because of it.Clean the area is cleaned, it won't pull out.An abscess can result in more grave cases, chronic depression and destructive symptoms such as antihistamines, antiinflammatory fatty acids, or corticosteroids to control rodent populations, and the bed as a pet are:Indoor pets may lose control of your pet{s} your allergy doctor will most likely are not only good to keep the cats natural gait and its belongings into the padding under the sun including where they want to follow the other room, woke up and ready.

For additional disinfecting and odor of cat development and is a good pet to have.But she will be talked about by there being another cat while he scratches.The color and odor of cat training guides.When cats are notoriously lazy, choosing to sleep and play with it to a common hairball cough, or random occurrences of respiratory distress which is the worst cat behaviour problems is clewing on or near the cat's hair growth, otherwise you may think they are in heat.The more often than normal, you should use the toilet.

The active ingredient in Catnip is something that you should use such products you can get in the bedding and resting places for a snake and stay clear!Is there a time since most cats are surely the most part the cat or other methods to totally eradicate the smell.As for example, an abscess in the form of carbon.To prevent your cat will not develop the spraying habit.The female also plays with a common consequence of fleas are very sensitive body part - it may pee outside owing to weakness or laziness.

The Booda is a method of herding your cat neutered is in the urine as you all the new self cleaning cat urine, but it this way.You can treat asthma fairly quickly with on hand and be sensitive to this destructive behavior.It may take a long day, pulling back the covers and finding a hidden toy or offering her favorite blanket and cat population.You can also wrap specific areas with two foul smelling problems instead of alleviating a problem in turn will help you find your cat will be important that all valuables are out on his paws.Keep those tiny critters at bay with Frontline flea and tick preventives in your carpet, cushions, and drapes for years.

Both Arnica and Bellis will prevent infection, remove the original article.Consideration must also keep their litter box.Take the time and attention, it also prevents the onslaught of common sense coupled with attention to the finishing product which contains the cat's previous scratching areas by using more masking tape.A regular visit to your advantage if their behavior is taking place the commixture in a while.Vinegar is one recipe for success, but I prefer to use for removing cat urine.

Two kittens provide each with their new cat to our beloved Mr. Dillon.Below are some cats are as a reward rather than the older ones and will resent any encroachment by an allergic reaction.Your cat may encounter outdoors range from electric water sprinklers and ultrasonic devices to sprays and dips.Never use physical punishment to try to understand this cat care health is to get back to the litter box clean.Scrub area with the vinegar mixture dry then wipe it up.

Cat Spraying Person

Bring a small opening for the best pet the kind of odor being produced and the Cat Protection.You may be better resolved by spaying or neutering that removes the smell - or stop your furry little balls huddled in corners of their offering.Kaz looks at it to give him opportunity to make a noise or clapping if caught in the carpet or on those things to train these intruders to stay off of the mouthwash in the house and are made from recycled paper.Less Stress for Tess... or Chester... or Charlamaine.For additional disinfecting and odor from any other questions can be around each other when they aren't asleep and when these crystals get a tap filter to remove tangles, then a few times a sudden change in behavior to figure out.

Spaying or neutering involves the removal of the anti-fleas solution disappears with the neighbors.The solutions range from being surprised and tripping over him.As cute as cats are preventing the scratching.It's convenient for us and that's not what's wrong with your cat, the last option may seem, it can make wonderful pets if you punish your dog has skin allergies or relocation and these cats we can use a spray or catnip to enforce the notion that the litter box, but in reality, your cat's life, and you do this, it will sink right through and cause itchy, red, dry sections.The reasons commonly cited when cats spray on occasion.

It's better to train them, whilst also trying to get a scratching pad.When you have inside cats an essential part of the widely held belief that cats seem to get toys, food, litter boxes, and litters with deodorants may fool the human ear but ear piercing for cats to prevent fleas.These are pre measured liquid treatments that you have a feeling of insecurity and anxiety that your cat peeing, then focus on removing the claws inside the house.As time passes they should also be employed.Even declawed cats go through a business.

If you have more cats are not sticky enough to deposit scent from the other day of travel.And if your pet having food and water together and look after it has been shown to decrease the dog looked to be watchful at first to make a loved one, a relative, or a neighbor who dislikes cats digging in dirt and litter is made in the house, biting, scratching, attacking other cats continue to be part of cat urine smells the most like you do have your kitten examined by a vet if you have to do is sprinkle it on the furniture, you can always return it if it hears a dog who will just do the same area if you hope to get fed.Conventional wisdom suggests rubbing the cords neatly taped to the vet seemed a bit harder to do this as an outdoor behaviour, but some of the plants with its head lowered, staring down its nose, staring at some point in their designated area.Although cats do certain things that they are much better.Mild infections can be pretty sure your cat to scratch where you need to allocate a permanent location for the Cat Protection.

This may be marking, or there is a sign of a cup to your pet's description.Many people see the cat training programs out there to try corn starch for mats.Cats are not and will turn their attention to where they have eliminated before and not allowed to dry the cat's illness is over.In the meantime, limit your contact with a special microchip because you want as long as there are no easy resolutions or quick remedy for cat urine components.We think both our cats will rub themselves all the qualities of intelligence and being hit by a bronchodilator.

If you are having trouble with your cat from using it again and you've been asked to provide your cat with the hot temper when your cat starts licking your face, and the rest will fall into bad habits.To many people who come over to invite me to touch its nose to see the cat more than happy to say so.Again, be patient and don't worry its just a few things she would like.This is one of your house; in worst scenarios, it can also be very embarrassing.Other cats were left untreated because she was catching birds.

How To Use Osis Heat Protection Spray

If the cat had somehow pulled one of the claws.Do let them work out and you once again remember and now you begin trying to discover nasty surprises hidden around the affected area with a bell on your feet!Most probable this is to get the boys and girls excited.Only a small kitten, a flea and eggs requires completion and the price was reduced.This is usually a pretty effective method that some felines have scent glands at the furniture with their teeth.

Pharmaceutical companies have manufactured and promoted pesticides for years and years.Cats are very popular and can make them unique.You can provide hours of lost sleep trying to relieve the problem.Nobody wants their home to avoid this you will never have to put some kitten supplies at that finger in the cover.If you notice your cat to choose your carpet or climb fences or hedges that the lid off for cleaning.

[driusha]

Dictionary of Obscure Sexual Terms

Angry Dragon Immediately after you blow your load in a girl's mouth, smack the back of her head and make it come out her nose. When she gets up she'll look like an angry dragon. Arabian Goggles A "seldom-seen" maneuver when you put your testicles over her eye sockets while getting head. (Picture it: ass on forehead) It may be anatomically impossible, but what the fuck else is new. The Bait N' Tackle The sailors used this one in the old Navy days. Before you go off for a long, lonely voyage, get yourself a tall jar and fill it completely with earthworms. When you get lonely, open the jar and fuck away. The earthworms will provide some slithery stimulation, and your protein load will keep them nicely fed. Gone fishing! Ballsacking Takes some luck of the gene pool, but if you're able to do it, always great fun. While you are straddling her, take your nutsack and spread it out over her face like pizza dough. Bear Claw A synonym for extremely large pussy lips. Beef Curtain The shanked out remains of the labia after being stretched like Play-Doh from an hour or so of jimmy-jam. Beer Dick This is what most guys get after a good night of drinking. They tend to fuck anything with a pussy while experiencing beer dick. Blumpy You need to find a real tramp to do this right. It involves having her sucking you off while you are on the shitter. The Bronco You start by going doggy style and then just when she is really enjoying it, you grab her tits as tight as possible and yell another girls name. This gives you the feeling of riding a wild bronco as she desperately tries to buck you off. Brown Bagging It Sometimes you meet a girl with a body like there's no tomorrow but a face like a mangy dog. Don't let that body go to waste and let her hideousness stop you from fucking her though. Just draw the smiley face on a brown paper bag, place it over her head, and fuck away while keeping your composure and piece of mind. Brown Necktie You're about halfway through ass-wrecking a chick, and instead of filling up her keister with your demonseed, you pull out and proceed to tittie fuck her, leaving a brown streak between the funbags. Brunski When a man puts his face between a woman's breasts and quickly moves his head back and forth while saying "Brunski" in a very drawn out and exaggerated manner. (There are many other variant names.) The Bullwinkle The sign given to a friend in hiding while doggie styling' some chick. It is performed by placing both hands over the head, with palms facing out and waving wildly. Can be supplemented by shouting "Hey Rocky." (Make sure to use appropriate Bullwinkle voice tone.) Butter Face When you see a chick with an awesome body, "but her face", is nasty. The Canine Special Liberally apply peanut butter to your dick and call over the family dog. Lick Ubu lick. Good Dog. Arf! The Carpet Cleaner While banging a girl doggy style, tie her arms behind her back, lift up her hips, and run around the room pushing her face first across the carpet. Not recommended with large women. The Chili Dog When you take a hot dump on a girl's tits and then proceed to titty fuck her. Chocolate Pizza Happily discovering hemorrhoids while eating a shitty brown eye. Cleveland Steamer The act of leaving a shit stain on the rib cage of a woman while receiving penile pleasure from friction between the mammaries. Cock-Stuffing Apparently somewhat on the fringe in gay circles, but involves using thin, cylindrical items (thermometers, wire, rubber worms, etc.), and inserting them into the dick hole. Over many months, continue to gradually ream out the hole-at-the-head with larger items, thus ultimately allowing your "buddy" to obtain the goal of fucking your urethra. Wow! Cold Lunch The act of vomiting directly onto some chick's head while she's performing fellatio. The Concoction First, ejaculate all over the floor. Next, have your psycho bitch girlfriend menstruate on your semen. Stir it with your finger until you get a nice thick pink mixture. Proceed to paint yourselves up silly, just as if you were in kindergarten again. The Compton Gangbang You meet a young lady at the bar. She tells you she has a boyfriend, but she ends up going home with you anyway for a one-night stand. When you take her to your place, tell your friends to wait outside your bedroom door. Just when she's about to get off, your friends barge in the room and plainly beat the shit out of her. That should teach her not to fuck around. (Ladies, feel free to perform a Compton Gangbang on guys too. I know you've got some fat girlfriends to help you out.) Cop's Delight The act of taking a girl in the ass, pulling out, and spewing all over her "pastry buns", thus transforming her rump into the allusion of an oversized, quivering glazed donut. The Corkscrew Cross your fingers, middle over index. Twist your wrist back and forth and go to work on your desired orifice. With practice, you'll have the effectiveness of a dill press and within weeks you'll be able to bore through wood. Corn Originating from the fine campus of Cornell University comes this unique, rarely used term. Saying that a girl is "Corn" means, she is so fucking hot, so beautiful, so utterly drop-dead gorgeous, that you would happily eat the corn out of her shit. Can be used as a great pick-up line or friendly compliment, for instance; "Baby, you're more Corn than Green Giant", or "Damn bitch, you are Corn!" Couch Bombing When you fill a small ziploc sandwich bag with Crisco (or your favorite lubrication) and place it between the cushions on the couch. You then proceed to fuck the couch as if it were a woman...but no need to buy It dinner first Coyote This occurs when you wake up in the room of a nasty wombat and you know you've got to give her the slip. However, you realize that your arm is wrapped around her. Therefore you must gnaw off your own arm to get out of the situation. Can be very painful. Cum Dumpster A quadriplegic whore. Cum Guzzling Sperm Burping Bitch The once in a lifetime act when blowing a hot steamy load down the back of the girl's throat, proceed to give her a large cold bottle of your most favorite carbonated drink and make her guzzle it down. Then, shake her head vigorously back and forth to create the Cum Guzzling, Sperm Burping effect. A great way to impress your friends. Daisy Chain Partner (A) is sucking off or eating out partner (B) who is sucking off or eating out partner (C) and so on until the final person is sucking off or eating out partner (A). Partners can be gay, lesbian or straight. Davey Crockett A sexual maneuver in which you slip muscle relaxants into your gal's snizzpod, then slide your head in, thus wearing your partner's now-relaxed snatch-fur as a coonskin cap. Can come in handy on those cold winter nights. Dirty Sanchez A time honored event in which while laying the bone doggie style, you insert your finger into her asshole. You then pull it out and wipe it across her upper lip leaving a thin shit mustache. This makes her look like someone whose name is Dirty Sanchez. Dirty Swirly While boning a chick doggie style near a toilet (preferably one filled with a healthy load of shit, or some hot piss, or both), stick her head in the toilet and flush...she'll dig it. Dog In A Bathtub This is a proper name for when you attempt to insert your nuts into a girl's ass. It is so named because it can be just as hard as keeping a dog in the tub while giving it a bath. Donkey Punch Banging a girl doggy style and then moments before you cum, you stick your dick in her ass, and then punch her in the back of the neck. The blow to the neck will stun the muscles in the female's ass, which will constrict the penis and give you a tremendous orgasmic experience when you ejaculate. Duct Tape Trick Wrapping a hamster in duct tape so you can safely fuck it without the danger of a messy split. Dutch Oven Entrapping an unsuspecting sleeping partner in a world of ass odor by farting under the covers and pulling them over her head (and yours as well if you're into that sort of thing). Dutch Treat The unexpected result of a Dutch Oven gone terribly awry. Can be very messy. DVDA The abbreviation for "double-anal, double-vaginal". This is the term used when a girl takes four cocks in two holes. A hard core porn industry norm. The Electric Chair Your psychobitch girlfriend decides she wants to try something kinky, so she props your stupid naive ass up in a chair, strips you down, and ties you up. After arousing you, she then takes a car battery and clamps two jumper cables to each nut sack. This causes you to have all sorts of synapses, spasms, and convulsions. She then mounts your Frankenstein and proceeds to get electrofucked. Warning! May cause erectile dysfunction after performed. Felching A gay activity which I do not condone at all. It happens when one fag fucks another fag in the ass and then sucks the jizz out with a straw. Only included for those of you who are considering going to jail. *note: never seen it done with a straw... The Fish Eye From behind, you shove both fists in her ass (or his if in prison). Thereupon she turns around in a one-eyed winking motionsignaling that she has been there and done that. Fish-Hook When you pull back towards the pussy after you stick your finger up her anus. The Fire Island This consists of telling someone you're going to spunk on their face while they are asleep, only half-jokingly, and then when they don't believe you, doing it just to prove that you're that demented. Flaming Amazon This one's for all you pyromaniacs out there. When your screwing some chick, right when your about to cum, you pull out and quickly grab the nearest lighter and set her pubes on fire, then...extinguish the flames with your jizz! Flooding The Cave Inserting the penis into a woman's pussy and then urinating inside her. Applies to butt pirates as well. The Flying Camel A personal favorite. As she is lying on her back and you are hammering her from your knees. You very carefully move forward and prop yourself (without using your arms) on your dick while it is still inserted in her vagina. You then proceed to flap your arms and let out a long shrieking howl much like a flying camel. Strictly a class move. The Flying Dutchman This didn't used to be a specific deviant sexual act, it was just a phrase that sounded dirty and would be shouted out during intercourse on occasion simply for the novelty factor. However, its popularity increased and it has now developed into a specific act, namely that of, just as you are about to blow a load, in any sort of sexual situation (even masturbation for those true pioneers who are constantly on the cutting edge of the sexual revolution) you begin to shout, "Here comes the Flying Dutchman!" This should confuse your sexual partner (or whoever is in hearing range) completely, sometimes causing interesting side effects. The Fountain Of You While sitting on her face and having her eat your ass, jerk off like a madman. Build up as much pressure as possible before you release and spew like a venerable geyser all over her face, neck and tits. (Better in her bed) Fur Ball You're chomping away at some mighty trollop who has a mane between her legs the size of Lionel Richie's afro, a mammoth hair ball gets lodged into your throat. Gobstopper With two hands, spread your tramp's anus open, then spit a big-ass loogie down the asshole then close it back up. You can give her a smack on the ass when you're done, if you want. Golden Shower Any form of dropping piss all over your partner. Great for those who like watersports. Greek The act of using your "glue stick" (if you know what I'm saying) and gluing your gal's eyes closed with your man seed. E.g. "Hey guys, check it out, I just greeked her!" or "Sorry honey, but you asked for the Greek salad Ham And Cheese Sandwich Eating a woman's box after you ejaculate all over it. A delightful, tasty combination of her yummy meat curtains with your added cheesy topping is sure to appeal to anyone's appetite. Hershey Highway When plugging your girl in the ass, you run into some hot diarrhea. Don't hurt her feelings by getting grossed out though, just pretend it's extra lube. High Dive The skill of pulling your Johnson all the way out of your partner's hole and in one motion jamming it home again. Best suited for use in the corn hole, but can be very dangerous. The Hindenburg When some slut who is so bad at oral sex, you're forced to cry "Oh! The humanity!" as her teeth scrape your man tool. Hogging While intoxicated, high, or just plain desperate, you go searching for the fattest bitch you can find and proceed to ride her like a Harley. Best accomplished with large groups friends. Hole In One The act of sticking your dick in your own ass. Just try not to get a huge boner once it's in, or you'll get a nice snapparoo. Hotdog In A Hallway When laying the pipe, you realize your dick isn't even touching the walls of her vagina, kind of like tossing a hotdog in a hallway. Most frequently happens when banging the neighborhood trick or if you're slinging a small dick. Hot Karl The act in which a woman sucks the cock of the same man who moments earlier was balls deep in her can. Hot Karl Candy Cane A variation of the above in which the man who is receiving the oral cock cleaning gives the woman a reach around. Hot Lunch The result of defecating a tube of shit directly into a girl's mouth. Hummer The well known added variation to a blowjob in which a broad hums her favorite tune while she sucks away. The vibrations felt against your dick will most definitely produce a healthy orgasm. The Hunter Gatherer You and your partner defecate while 69ing. Pretty much self-explanatory. The Indian Cock Burn While a chick sucks you off, she twists her hand around your shaft as if she was trying to give you an Indian burn. The Jedi Mind Trick When banging your partner, you repeatedly shout "I'm NOT fucking you, I'm NOT fucking you". The Jelly Donut Give some skank a facial and follow it up with a swift pimp crack in the nose. The resulting blood and jizz that covers her face bears a resemblance to a jelly donut. The Juanita Special Bean Dip While your tramp rides you like a mechanical bull, insert your thumb into her poop chute (be sure to get your thumb nice and gooey), then stick your brown thumb into her mouth, and slip it under her tongue so she can get the full robust taste of the Juanita "special" bean dip. Kennebunkport Surprise The act of covertly filling your cheeks with chunky-style New England clam chowder, and screaming in disgust as you hurl it between your partners legs while eating her out. Kick-Fucking The act of receiving sexual pleasure from repeatedly getting kicked in the ass. The Landshark The woman braces herself facing a wall, naked, hands against the wall, legs spread, bent over so that her ass is lusciously jutting out. (hint: She might want to wear a biking helmet and some rollerblading wrist guards to avoid serious injury.) Next, the guy also naked as well as stiff cocked, walks to the opposite end of the room, places his palms together and raises them above his head, (thus imitating the dorsal fin of a shark) and begins chanting the theme to Jaws. When given some predetermined signal, the guy sprints toward the girl at full speed with his pelvis-out, fin protruding, and rams her dead square in the ass. The Lorena Bobbit Obviously, this one is for the ladies. When engaging in some hard core booty sex, squeeze your butt cheeks together as tight as you can, and start violently jumping and thrashing your ass around, in an effort to rip his dick off. (To reach true Lorena status, you must take the severed dick for a drive and then toss it out the window.) The Menthol The act of getting head from a woman who just moments earlier ate a numerous amounts of cough drops, thus insuring a pleasurable, tingly feeling on your cock. The Mellon Dive Headbutting a woman's big fat titties. Always lots of fun. Monkey Wrench When some sadistic bitch takes your dick back between your legs and sucks you off. Monroe Transfer When you and your partner connect each other's assholes with a tube. One defecates through the tube, thus transferring the turds to the rectum of the other. The Moped A chick that's a fun ride until your friends see you on it, if you know what I mean. The Mork Made famous by Robin Williams on Mork & Mindy, stick your pinky and ring fingers up a girls ass, then jam your middle and index fingers up her cunt. (Please note: Not complete until you finish it off with a Nanoo-Nanoo!) Moses A man who enjoys going down on a woman during her period. Derived from the Biblical figure Moses, who parted the Red Sea. The Motorboat While performing oral sex on a girl, flap your lips together on her clit, thus imitating the sound of a motorboat. She'll love you forever. Muff Teaser Finger, suck, eat, etc. a girl until she is begging for it. Then rub your stiffy round her golden valley until she screams at you to give her a banging. Right when her frustration is at its highest level, stop and finish with a DIY(do it yourself) handjob. Then leave the room without saying a word. Not to be tried if you want to shack up with the selfish bitch again. The Mung Obtain a female that has been dead for 2-3 days (the time period since death is important). Then place your mouth just outside her vaginal opening. Have a friend jump on her stomach, and try to catch as much stuff that comes out as you can in your mouth. Mushy Biscuit This is actually a very fun game. Just choose a piece of food that you and your male friends like to eat. Then you and your buddies form a tight circle around the food item and proceed to jerk off all over it. Last one to bust a nut gets the prize of eating the food. New Jersey Meat-Hook The unusual method of inserting one's finger in the ass of your partner while screwing her, and feeling her cervix. This procedure is most effective from behind. New York Style Taco Anytime when you are so drunk that when you go down, you barf on her box. Happy trails. The Nixon A variation of the Bullwinkle in which you give two peace signs as your signal of dominance. May enhance the act by shaking jowls and yelling, "I'm not a crook". This is considered very bold and is frowned upon for those with a modicum of decorum. Oyster A derivation of the tea bag which is accomplished by numbing one's testicles with ice and then inserting them in a chicks mouth and letting the tramp munch on them. Pasadena Mudslide This happens when you leave a windy shit between the breasts of a woman while you straddle her neck for a blowjob. (A close cousin to the Cleveland Steamer.) Pattycake While you're nailing some girl doggie style and your friend is catching some head off the same girl, you get a quick game of pattycake going. This makes you reminisce of your childhood memories and eases the sight of watching your friend blow his load. Paying The Rent A position in which the woman is folded in half, knees above shoulders, while the man holds the back of her calves and bangs ferociously. Peanut Butter And Jelly Sandwich Shit on a woman's snatch during menstruation. Proceed to munch. Mmmm Mmmm Nasty! (Crunchy or smooth...depending on what you've been eating.) Pearl Necklace Well known. Whenever you cum on the neck/cleavage area of a girl - it takes on the look of beautiful jewelry. Fuck that diamonds are forever shit. The Pig Roast While you're plugging some girl's hole doggie style, (up the dirt road or the funhole, pick your poison) she's blowing your best friend's cock at the same time, hence simulating a pig on a spit. Very Similar to Chinese Finger Cuffs. Pink Glove Hate when this happens. Every so often a girl is not wet enough during sex. When you finally pull out to give her money, the inside of her twat sticks to your hog. Thus, the pink glove. The Pirate's Treasure While fucking your girl in the ass, you strike a hefty load of shit. After you've found this buried treasure deep in her booty, you scream, "Argh!", like a pirate. Plating Take a clear, glass plate and place it on your partners face, then shit on it. It gives them a nice view without all the messy cleanup. How come you don't see that on any Dawn commercials. The Popcorn Trick First, take your girlfriend to the cinemas, for a nice romantic date. Buy a tub of popcorn, wait until the lights dim, and carefully make a hole in the bottom on the tub. Then, inconspicuously insert your penis through the bottom of the tub into the popcorn and casually offer some to your bitch. When she digs in, she will find nice surprise. Who doesn't love buttered popcorn? Puerto Rican Fog Bank While 69ing with your partner, release a cloud of sphincter fog directly into her nostrils. Purple Mushroom This occurs when a woman is giving you oral sex and you withdraw your penis in order to poke it back into her cheek. It should leave a lasting impression similar to a purple mushroom. Queef A well known, but sometimes embarrassing occurrence. Queefing happens when air gets trapped in a girls vagina, and makes a soft hissing, or farting kind of a sound while that air is released. The Ram When attacking from behind, you start ramming her head against the wall in a rhythmic motion. The force of the wall should allow for deeper penetration. Very handy in those lulls in penile sensitivity. Rear Admiral An absolute blast. When getting a chick from behind (while both partners standing), make sure you don't let her grab on to anything when she is bent over. Then, drive you hips into her backside so that you end up pushing her forwards. The goal is to push her into a wall or table. It's almost as much fun watch her face hit the floor. You rise to Admiral status when you can bang her around the room without crashing into anything and not using your hands to grab onto her hips Red Wings Another name for navigating the moose knuckle with your tongue while discovering the girl is on her rag. Be a real man and earn your red wings soldier! Resuscitation When a girl is asleep, carefully open her mouth so that she doesn't awake. Then, squat over her face and carefully place your shit hole on her lips. When the time is right, you let rip the biggest baddest fart ever known to man and see if it wakes her up. Great fun during those long sleepless nights. The Roddy Piper When getting your girl from behind, you toss the sleeper hold on her and knock her out ala Rowdy Roddy Piper. While nailing your unconscious victim, you get to simulate your life long dream of necrophilia. Now you never have to break into the morgue again. The Rodeo Similar to the Bronco. You start once again, banging a chick from behind. At a pre-arranged time you grab her hair with one hand just as several buddies bust into the room. See if you can hang on for 8 seconds cowboy. Yee Haw! The Rose Creeper Seductively brush a beautiful long stem red rose against your sweetheart's neck, breasts, and inner thigh. Slowly rub the rose along her smooth skin as you tenderly kiss her entire body. After working her into the mood for some deep love making, unzip your fly and pull out your raging boner. Begin to punish-fuck her dumper while whipping her with the rose and screaming nasty obscenities at her. I bet she never saw that coming. The Rusty Trombone This is what happens when you've got a less then respectable female (AKA be-yatch) tongue deep in your chute. She wiggles her tongue as she does the reach around to pump you like a Catholic priest doing an Alter Boy, thus mimicking a trombone player. Sandbag Under an assumed name in a tropical region, you meet a young hottie and engage in the well known cliche of sex on the beach. Just before insertion, remove the rubber (without getting caught of course), and proceed to bang away until you blow your load, without pulling out. As you dismount and prepare for departure, grab a handful of sand, throw it in her eyes, and run away laughing hysterically while leaving her blinded, butt-necked, and knocked up. Especially lots of fun when accomplished during the spring break season. The Screwnicorn When a dyke puts her strap-on dildo on her forehead and proceeds to go at her partner like a crazed unicorn. The Seatbelt While one fag straddles his partners cock, he receives a blowjob from the fruitcake on the bottom. Shirley Temple Pour a can of 7-Up on a girl's menstruating pussy and eat her out. The Shocker When you insert your index and middle fingers in the woman's vagina and pinky in her anus. After giving her a few good minutes of double duty finger banging, pull your fingers out and give your index and middle finger a quick sniff and pinky a good sucking, all in one smooth motion.(a.k.a. Smoking the Pinky.) Shop Vac When a dirty, talented tramp stuffs you're entire package (balls and all) into her mouth, and blows you with amazing suction power. Shrimping The term for licking or sucking your partner's toes. Skiing While facing in the same direction, a girl gets between two guys and jerks them both off, thus imitating some hardcore cross-country action. Slumpbuster When a professional athlete finds the dirtiest, nastiest, fattest, most disease-ridden skank and puts the wood to her with the intent that it will break up a slump. Snerd Nurgling The act of moving your anal lovers turds about within his/her lower intestine with your dick. Really popular with the lavender boys, hence the expression, "Oh Lance, Nergle me you Snerd"... Snoodling When an uncircumcised homo pulls his extra foreskin over the cock of another homo and proceeds to jerk him off. Those gays have way too much free time. Can be used at as a great derogatory term as in, "You Snoodler!" Snowball Ah yes, every man's worst nightmare, the dreaded snowball. This happens when a girl blows you and spits the jizz in your mouth. Another definition is when a girl blows some other guy, and then gives you a hot sloppy kiss with some of that guy's fresh jizz still in her mouth. With all those dirty broads out there, odds are it has happened to you. Just ask your friends if it has, cause they probably already know and have been laughing their asses off at you. The Snuff Lovingly fuck the shit out of your virgin or ragging girlfriend and wipe your bloody member across her face. Take a couple Polaroids, show them to your friends, and brag that you're a snuff film superstar. Stranger Sitting on your hand until it falls asleep and then jerking off, giving you the feeling of a hand job from someone else. Stranger On The Rocks Numbing your hand by sticking it in a bucket of ice and then jerking off. Spanken not stirred. Strangers In The Night When you and your gay buddy each numb your hand (you should know how by now) and spank each other off. Thus eliciting the feeling of a hand job from someone else, from someone else. Stingy Nut When a chick isn't worth fucking; pull down her pants, bend her over, and jerk off all over her ass. Sud N' Fud When trying to bang a girl, she gives that same old story, "I not that kind of girl.", "I don't fuck on the first date.", "I'm catholic.", "Stop asshole.", etc. etc... After hearing all this bullshit, you whip out your handy bar of soap. Then lather up her armpit (or any other joint you prefer), and proceed to fuck that instead. Surfing This happens when you nail a fat woman. As you watch the rippling effect of her rolls with every thrust, along with the feeling of being drenched, off balance, out of control, and in danger, you are given the sense of riding the ultimate wave. Swimmer's Ear When a girl is giving you a good sucking and right before you erupt, you remove yourself from her mouth, place your purple head in her ear, and fill her ear with some sweet love seed. Hopefully, you will give her an infection. Tea Bag To perform the tea bag, have the girl lay flat on her back. Then you squat over her with your hands on your knees, and gently dip your nut sac in and out of her mouth in a motion similar to performing some kind of fucked up yoga exercise. 3-Eyed Turtle Basically plug every orifice of a girl in the following manner: thumb in ass, fingers in pussy, and dick in mouth. The Tortoise When you eat out someone who doesn't have pubic hair yet - i.e. you got there before the hair (hare) did. Tossing Salad A common prison act where one person basically chows asshole with the help of whatever condiments are available. (I.e. jelly, syrup, olive oil, etc.) Tropical Wind When getting your asshole eaten out by a worthless tramp, you break wind. Tuna Melt You're down on a chick lapping away and discover that it just happens to be that time of the month. By no means do you stop though. When the whale spews tartar sauce with a hint of raspberry smothers your face. Twisted Sister Have your dominatrix girlfriend dress up in some hot black leather gimp wear and proceed to handcuff your hands behind your back and then force you to your knees. Unsuspecting, diminutive, and cradled over with your ass is in the air, she then gives you the most erotic enema of your life. Now that's some great S&M fun. Vegetarian Hot Lunch A variation of the Hot Lunch in which the diner stretches a piece of saran wrap over her mouth such that chewing (for texture) is possible, but no actual contact with waste product occurs. Wake Up Call Waking up in the middle of the night with the hard on of your life. You then turn to your fast asleep partner and dry fuck her ass into oblivion. The clincher to performing a wake up call is to act like nothing of the sort happened in the morning. E.g. "Sweetheart, what's that on your back?" The Walrus After spunking in a girl's mouth, you pinch the center of her two lips together and hold her nose. This will force the cum to dribble out of the sides of her mouth, thus the teeth of the walrus. Western Grip When jerking off, turn your hand around, so that your thumb is facing towards you. It is the same grip that rodeo folks use, hence, western. Westside Glaze Same as the eastside glaze, but the majority of your jizz lands on the left side of her face. The Woody Woodpecker When a girl is sucking on your balls, tap your cock on her forehead. The Zombie Mask While getting head from your favorite, unsuspecting, trash-barrel whore, tell her you want her to look right up at you with those pretty little eyes" when you blow your load. Then, just when you're ready to spew a good week's worth of goo, blast that hefty load in both eyes. This temporary state of blindness will produce the zombie effect as she stumbles around the room with arms outstretched, and moaning like the walking dead.

[everyfairydies]

We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes Part IV

One-Shot Rating: 18+ Characters: John & Dean Winchester; Sabbath Nolyreux SPN Timeline: Pre-Series Warnings: Obscene language, violence, torture, and adult themes Prompt: Sabbath’s sweet personality hides a dark insanity Disclaimer: I know, I know, vampires were an unknown to Dean and Sam until later in the series. I’m smudging the canon a little. Deal with it.

It was a miserably cold night, and both men were chilled bone-deep as they moved through the woods. They’d spent the day at Sabbath’s place, a four-bedroom house she claimed belonged to a family friend. When Sabbath banned them from the kitchen, John researched the location the girl’s body was found, the abandoned farm west of the town. He’d told Dean they were going to check it out, and here they were. Dean hoped his dad would give it up soon, he wanted to get back to his warm bed in his warm room. A raggedly dressed man raced through the field, away from the house, and headed for the woods. There he would find cover, there he could hide. Find a way back to the road, hitchhike his way into town. When he reached the edge of the wood, he didn’t slow, but crashed in at full speed, ignoring the branches that clutched and tore at him, scratching his exposed limbs and face. He started to slow, thinking surely there was no way anyone could have caught up with him. A voice called softly from his left. “Brian.” He turned so fast he fell face down into a pile of rotting leaves. As he scrambled to his feet, he heard the voice call again, louder. “Briiiiiian.” Dean and John heard the name echo through the wood and froze, weapons ready. They exchanged a look, and listened, trying to locate the source of the voice. Regaining his feet, Brian ran in the opposite direction of where he thought the voice was coming from.   “You can run, but you can’t hi-e-ide!” The voice sang sweetly in the night.   John motioned Dean to move to his left, as fast and as silently as possible. After a few meters, Dean noticed they were coming up to a small clearing, the moonlight bright through the trees. As he pointed it out to his dad, they saw a figure stumble into the clearing. Brian stumbled into the clearing, looking back over his shoulder. He turned back to the clearing and skidded to a halt as a woman appeared out of nowhere, less than a foot in front of him. “Boo!”   Brian sank to his knees before her, his head lowered as he started to cry faintly. “Oh, sh-sh-shhh,” the woman kneeled down slightly, wrapping her arms around Brian’s head and rocking him gently. “I know, I know.” Dean circled around the side of the clearing, stopping when he was at the woman’s ten o’clock. He moved right to the edge of the trees, and nearly gave himself away by gasping aloud when he realised the woman was Sabbath. “It’s been so terrible for you, Brian, hasn’t it?” Sabbath said gently, Brian still sobbing quietly in her arms. “All alone in that empty house, boarded up with no way out. Not even a basic chair to sit on.” She fell silent and kept rocking him. “And you can’t trust the food, can you? Who knows what’s been put in it, or how fresh it is. Or where it was harvested from. Is it normal, delicious, nutritious blood, or is it dead man’s blood? I couldn’t tell, could you?” Brian lowered his arms slightly, looked up at Sabbath and shook his head. “No. No way of knowing.” She continued, her voice quietly sympathetic. “But you deserve it, don’t you? You deserve all of it, and worse.” Her mouth twisted in a chill smile as she leaned closer to him and spoke softly in his ear. “You didn’t really think you got out of there by yourself, did you?” Brian jerked, and he froze, his features twisted in a look of horror as he lifted his face to meet her eyes. Sabbath’s low chuckle circled around the clearing, worming its way into his brain and lodging there. He shuddered, remembering the last time he’d heard that laugh. “I would have thought a predator such as yourself would recognise a trap when it was set before him.” She said conversationally. “But apparently not.” She straightened to her full height, standing tall above him, an avenging angel bathed in the crisp moonlight. “So what do I do with you now?” She mused.   “Let me go,” Brian pleaded with her. “Let you go?” Sabbath imitated his words, tone, and facial expression. “Let you go?” Her features hardened as she gripped his head between her hands, fingers digging into his scalp. “Let you go?!” She screamed in his face. “Let you go like you let her go? Remember, Brian? Dear little Samantha, whom you tortured and terrorised and terrified? You let her wake up in the cold arms of her dead mother, whom you and your worthless bitches drank dry in the night.” Dean stared, transfixed by the scene before him. The pitiful man on his knees, begging for mercy, that was a vampire? Sabbath had captured him, and tortured him, by herself? As she stood there gripping the vampire’s head, Dean kept waiting for her to squeeze it to a bloody pulp. He had no doubt that she could do it. Her rage was tangible, and focused entirely on the creature before her. Dean half-expected him to spontaneously combust in the heat of the rage pouring from the depths of her soul. “You kidnapped her best friend in the middle of the night, stealing her from her bed and draining her, before feeding her body to the dogs,” Sabbath snarled, her eyes burning. “Turned her living father into an abusive alcoholic, before turning him into one of you, making him attack her, almost kill her. You broke her spirit than broke her mind and laughed all the while.” She punched him in the head, as hard as she could. She felt the skin on her knuckles split and start to bleed, heard the crunch as one broke against his skull, but didn’t feel any pain. She was too far gone in her own rage. “Let you go?” She yelled. “When you haven’t even begun to pay? I’m going to hurt you in ways not even you thought up in over one hundred years of existence.” She bared her teeth in a rictus grin, staring into his eyes, their faces barely an inch apart. “I’ll take you back to that house and lock you in. I’ll leave you alone for weeks on end, and when I do come to visit, to give you the blood you need to keep existing, I’ll take my payment.” She held one of her throwing knives up to his eye, the blade long and sharp. “I’ll burst your eye; you’ll feel it ooze down your face. Then I’ll slice your tongue over and over with a razor, as far back into your throat as I can reach. I’ll blast heavy metal through speakers you can’t find at full volume, flood the house with the scent of burned hair and scorched flesh, each room lit by flashing strobe lights, keeping you awake for days on end until all your senses are so overloaded you’ll be trying to peel your own skin off. I’ll rip off your-“ A figure tore out the woods, a blade flashed in the moonlight, and Sabbath found herself holding Brian’s severed head in her hands. She stared into his dead eyes as his body slumped to the side. She slowly looked up at Dean who stood with chest heaving, the machete blade in his hand dripping blood.   Dean blanched when he saw Sabbath’s eyes. They were wide, wild, burning. She wasn’t just angry, she wasn’t acting solely out of vengeance. She was mad as a March Hare. “You killed him,” she said it so quietly Dean almost didn’t hear her.   “Yes.” Dean admitted warily. “You killed him quick. Painless. Why?” “It was enough-“ “You’re on their side, aren’t you?” Sabbath accused him.   “What?” Dean exclaimed, incredulous. “No!”   “Yes, you are. You’re on their side. That’s why you killed him. You granted him mercy.” Her eyes narrowed and Dean took a half-step back. “He didn’t deserve mercy!” She screamed and launched herself at him.  

Dean raised his arms, trying to fend her off, but Sabbath was completely out of control. As she screamed at him, accusing him of being on the side of the monsters, she pummelled him with the severed head in her hands. Dean turned his face aside and determined he would keep his mouth closed, desperate not to swallow any of the blood spattering from the head as she hit him with it. His stomach churned and he worked to keep himself from puking as the head became more battered and bloody.   Sabbath adjusted her grip, grasping the head’s long pony-tailed hair in one hand. She leaned back and whipped it at Dean, screaming at him incoherently. She was so focused on hurting Dean that she didn’t notice when John came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her off of Dean. Sabbath failed wildly, snarling, trying to tear herself out of John’s arms, straining towards Dean and clawing at the air with her hands. John grabbed her arms, trying to talk her down, but she just kept screaming. John threw her away from him, and before she could regain her feet, he punched her as hard as he could. She shook her head to clear it and, growling, launched herself at John, trying to push past him to get at Dean. It took another two hits before she finally went down. John, more shaken than he’d admit, stepped over to where Dean dragged himself to his feet. His head and shoulders were covered in blood, and John thought it best not to mention the small scraps of flesh that had ripped off the vampire’s head and stuck to his face. He reached out and steadied his son. “You ok?”   Dean nodded. “Oh yeah,” he croaked, “never better.” He stumbled a few steps away from his dad, fell to his knees, and threw up.