#yea they’re a vessel that works

[goo2]

drew my friend @modernlad’s oc the other day. might digitalize it n change up some of the colors a bit later but for now im pretty happy with it :3

[bullet-prooflove]

StolenMoments!Series Part Five: Gone - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Sam Hanna)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds

Part One: First Date - You and Nik have an unusual first date.

Part Two: Christmas in Afganistan - You and Nik reunite in Afganistan.

Part Three: Yours (NSFW) - Nik and you take the next step in your relationship.

Part Four: Last Words - Nik goes on the hunt after you're taken.

Sam finds you sitting alone on the edge of your bunk, your packed bag resting in the space alongside of you. You don’t look up when he enters, you’re too focused on the plush heated blanket that’s folded neatly upon your lap. Your fingertips toying with the edges of it.

“It was Sabatino’s.” You find yourself telling him. “He lent it to me when one of the generators broke.”

“I know you hate the cold.” He had murmured, his lips ghosting along the line of your jaw as his heated form covered yours.  “And I won’t be here over the next few weeks to keep you warm.”

You had told him that a lifetime ago, back when the two of you were sitting in a car watching Sidorov fuck his mistress. You’d been surprised he remembered. He’d laughed when you’d said that, his nose trailing over yours as he’d whispered.

“I remember everything my girl tells me.”

He’d made love to you that night for the last time. His hands threading through your hair as he kissed you. You’ll never forget the way he looked at you in that moment, like you were the most precious thing in his world, like he loved you more than life itself.

“He’s a good guy.” Sam says as he takes up residence alongside of you, his shoulder nudges against yours. “But you knew that anyway.”

You purse your lips together grimly before you tilt your head to look at him. You look like a horror show. The left side of your face is swollen, marred with hues of purple and blue. Your lip is split, and your right eye is bloodshot, the broken blood vessels stark against the white of your eye. Your nose has been reset by the medic on base and you have cracked ribs from the beating you had taken when the Taliban had first tried to interrogate you.

As soon as you had landed back at base you’d been triaged. Your injuries didn’t warrant a hospital visit. You’d been taken away to the medical tent instead while Sabatino was airlifted to Daoud Khan Military Hospital in Kabal for emergency surgery. The bullet had torn through his back and exited through his chest causing him to bleed internally, his lungs had begun to soak up the blood causing him to choke. It had been fucking devastating to watch, the man you love dying right before your eyes.

“I got word that he made it through the surgery.” Sam says quietly as he leans forward, clasping his hands together. “That man is one tough bastard.”

“He is.” You say with a small smile because the Sabatino you know never quits; it isn’t in his nature. “When can I see him?”

Sam doesn’t say anything and that’s when you realise the real reason he’s here. The words that he’s not saying.

“He’s already gone, isn’t he?” You say raising your eyes towards the ceiling as you inhale deeply.

“Yea.” Sam says quietly. “The CIA closed ranks, he was moved as soon as the surgery was completed. I don’t know where they’ve taken him.”

It’s a blow. Sam sees the impact of it as your grip on the blanket tightens, your knuckles whitening. You haven’t learned yet the sacrifice that comes with being involved with a CIA Officer, but you’re starting to. Their lives, they aren’t their own, they belong The Agency. They go where they’re told and they do the job. Sabatino, he’s an important asset, the connections he has, the operations he’s worked, the shit he knows, they can’t afford for him to be vulnerable. Sam knows it must kill you, it had killed him once upon a time when it happened with Michelle. The worst part is, he doesn’t think you understand what Sabatino was saying in the chopper, how he’s betraying the CIA by giving himself to you.

“You don’t know do you?” Sam says softly. “What he was trying to tell you in the helicopter.”

You shake your head.

He slips into Armenian sometimes when he’s emotional, when he’s in the throes of pleasure and he can’t find the words, he wants to say in English. He whispers them against your skin in the heat of the moment, saying the most beautiful things in a language you don’t understand.

“I love you.” Sam tells you in a low tone. “He was saying I love you.”

It hits you hard because in Sabatino’s final moments that’s what he would have wanted you to know, that he loved you. He had repeated it over and over again until he’d begun to drown on his own blood.

“He doesn’t know��” You trail off, your palms smoothing over the blanket.

“You never told him.” Sam states.

“No.”

Your eyes fucking sting, you pinch your brow to stave off the tears, but it’s been a traumatic twenty-four hours and right now, this conversation it’s more than you can bear. Sam’s hand comes to rest on yours, he squeezes it lightly before he sighs.

“If you go down this path, it’s going to be like this. It’s hard, loving someone like him, there’s going to be compromises, ones you don’t even see coming.” He warns you. You know he’s speaking from experience. His wife Michelle was a CIA operative when they met, she’d given it up when they had decided to start a family. “If this were a normal relationship you’d be going home to your man, he’d be taking care of you, helping you recover but it doesn’t work that way with them. They can’t be there when you need them. It hurts the both of you.”

“Was it worth it?” You ask him. “You and Michelle going through all of that?”

Sam smiles, because the years he’s had with Michelle have been the best ones of his life.

“Yea, but that included a lot of sacrifice on her part.” He tells you with a knowing look because that’s what it takes, commitment, endurance. He knows Sabatino is willing to go the distance, but the question is are you. “If you want this, write him a letter and tuck it in the folds of that blanket, sooner or later his belongings will find their way back to him.”

He raises to his feet, his hand coming to clasp your shoulder.

“You need to choose quickly.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “Our ride will be here in an hour. We’re taking you home.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[writerscafehub]

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙳𝚄𝙲𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚈: @fushic0re

ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ . 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀:

From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

        I’d say a 3.5. I’m proud of my work, but there’s always room to grow and improve. 

2. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

        I think my writing style focuses a lot on the complexity of the inner emotions the characters feel. I like to take a lot of time fleshing out their inner selves that way when there’s dialogue or they commit a specific act, readers are able to say to themselves “yea, this is very them”. All in all, I like a lot of emotion. 

3. Are there any writers that inspire you?

        My fellow writers café members inspire me! Everyone has such different styles and ideas, it really makes me want to be more innovative. I don’t really have any specific muses, to be honest–the fanfiction fandom in general makes me want to write and see my ideas developed.

4. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

        “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” and “Dance In The Dark”. 

5. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write and which do you find most difficult to write?

        Steve Rogers for sure is my easiest. I love that man with my entire being and have dissected him and my interpretation of him so many times. I find Geralt of Rivia a bit difficult to write, hence why there’s no work for him.

6. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

        There’s not really a who, more like a what–my emotional wounds. Writing is used as a tool for me to not only bring my ideas to life, but use them as vessels to work out these emotions and proverbially close that chapter of my life by turning them into something positive. 

7. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about!

        I have a very cute “Spy x Family” meets “The Incredibles” one shot for Miguel O’Hara in the works featuring Filipina!Reader, Gabriella O’Hara, and reader’s daughter hehe 

8. First fandom you ever wrote for?

        I’m really gonna expose myself here…it was for Black Veil Brides LMAOOOO 

9. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

        GIRL (gender neutral); black cat gf x golden retriever bf, the mean one being soft for the sunshine one, enemies to lovers, reincarnation. 

10. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

        Mafia/mob boss. I have one singular wip with that trope and after that, I’m retiring it. Cannot stand it, no offense. 

11. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

        Definitely my demon! Lee Bodecker and ghost!Steve Rogers fics. Those were RIDES.

12. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

ENEMIES TO LOVERS, BLACK CAT GF x GOLDEN RETRIEVER BF, and THE GRUMPY ONE BEING SOFT FOR THE SUNSHINE ONE. I clearly have a preference. 

13. Do you listen to anything while you write?

        Either bossanova, classical music, jazz, lo-fi, or a playlist I made specifically for whatever I’m writing.

14. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

I don’t have a preference tbh. they’re both very impactful, it just depends on the plot in question. 

15. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

yES ALL THE TIME. especially for fluff pieces with family dynamics, I always wanna create little side drabbles in the style of “modern family” like they have their very own sitcom. 

16. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

writing for Geralt of Rivia. The deep lore for The Witcher seems like a lot of ground to cover. 

17. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I can’t remember anything specific, but my fic “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” received a good amount of super meaningful feedback from Filipino readers that meant a lot to me. They expressed how much it meant for them to be seen, especially in a fantasy-fairy tale like story that incorporated our culture.

18. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yes, lore building for “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call”! I’ve never written anything in the fantasy genre, so that was definitely a challenge. It turned out amazing. I loved writing it and that fic is one that is near and dear to my heart. 

19. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

I’m a fucking baby and I can only have angst if it’s followed with fluff…..but I do love angst.

20. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

EEEEEE I currently have one OC for a re-write of my series called “Keeping Up With The Starks”. Her name is Camila Santos Stark, a Filipina-American who is the only daughter of Tony Stark. She’s a spoiled heiress but is definitely a no-nonsense woman who you do not want to underestimate. She’s described by others around her as the rational version of Tony–the snark is there, but so are a bunch of other characteristics that Tony doesn’t possess. Steve Rogers is her love interest. He thought she was a spoiled brat, but look who fell in love!

21. If you could enter the universe of any one of your fics, which would it be and why?

Definitely “Take Me Into Your Arms, Siren’s Call” – it’s pure fantasy which sounds amazing. Plus, Namor! 

22. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

Eh, there’s nothing really interesting going on behind the scenes–I just write at night with a candle lit. 

23. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

        “I’m a beauty, I’m a beast, it defends on the feast” – “So Cool” by Dounia

24. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

        If writing frustrates you, that’s a sign for you to step away and take a break. If you initially started writing because you love it, continue to lead with love–don’t kill the joy.

[karl-von-moor-official]

WHOOOP WHOOP #marine biology is trending, so I absolutely have to share some of my favourite marine bio facts with you: 

1. Take two breaths right now. Nice, right? Ok, did you know that statistically you owe every second breath of oxygen to the ocean? More than half of the oxygen in our atmosphere is generated by marine life! Mostly tiny algae and stuff. Microscopic life! Sure, rain forests are cool and all that, but the ocean binds A TON (several billion tonnes actually) of carbon dioxide and provides us with A TON of oxygen in return. Taking up around 25% of the emitted carbon dioxide, the ocean is responsible for cleaning and refreshing our air. We can breathe because of the ocean. Just think about that for a sec. 

2. Most of you might already know this, but for those of you who don’t: There’s a tiny underwater slug that’s actually only been discovered fairly recently. Its name is “leaf sheep sea slug” and it’s goddamn ADORABLE.  I mean, c’mon. Look at its face: 

And you know what’s even more amazing than its cute lil face? Next to corals, these tiny slugs are the only animals that are reportedly capable of photosynthesis! (And yea, corals are animals. And they’re also capable of photosynthesis. Actually, that works in a similar way as it works for the leaf sheep.) This slug is capable of preserving the plant cells that it eats in those leaf-like things on its back, making it possible for the slug to benefit from the photosynthesis of the chlorophyll in the cells! Free sugar, if you will. Nature is so smart. (And just look at its little face.)

3. During the first descent into the Challenger Deep, the deepest point of the Mariana Trench, which lies at a whopping depth of about 10,9 kilometres under the sea level, two men were aboard the little vessel that was used for the descent. Jacques Piccard and Don Walsh manned the vessel called Trieste on Jan 23rd 1960. BUT HERE’S THE CRAZY PART: At around 9 kilometres under the sea level, the two men heard a loud cracking noise. They found the source: the heavy pressure down there had cracked one of the outer plexiglass windows! and guess what. Those two madmen decided to keep doing down despite of it all! They reached the ground, too, making them the first two people who’d ever seen the deepest point of the earth. After coming back up (both the descent and the ascent each took about 4-5 hours) they reported life forms, which was just WILD to think about, because everyone had just assumed that that wouldn’t be possible in such depths. It is, though. There’s sea cucumbers and stuff :)

[ddelline]

wip wednesday (ft traumatic post-canon itafushi)

blurb | yea so this is a thing I never thought I would feel inspired 2 write. turns out that I did, and I do: I think the formula is megumi's inherent canonical misery(*infinity) + yūji's inherent canonical saviorism = ddelline wip

premise | follows canon thru ch256, deviates (obvs lol) after that to explore itafushi in a post-canon setting, centering on shared trauma, shared healing, and all of what may become of 2 boys who've been possessed by a 2000 yr curse and forced to bear witness to its murderous actions all the whilst (but it ends in yaoi. I feel compelled 2 point this out, even though it may count as a spoiler)

ok anyway, a lil prelude bit (spoilers 4 ch252) under the cut! posting for the sake of posting, lol, but when a b*tch hasn't delivered a new ao3 entry since october, that's what happens

25th December, 2018; Shinjuku—

In the zero point two second interval before Okkotsu-senpai snaps his right hand up and signs for the Angel’s technique, Yūji gets in close. In the exact second—same breath, same blink-of-eye—that Okkotsu-senpai intones, “Maximum output: Jacob’s Ladder,” and thrusts the katana through Sukuna’s tricep, Yūji lunges. He steps forward, takes one long step in one dizzying arc, and carves a knife-sharpened elbow into Sukuna’s right oblique. In the split breath that follows the incantation, he heaves back, finds his center of gravity and pitches backwards with everything he’s got.

Yūji screams, hoarse and raspy, desperate with futile hope: “It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!”

The battlefield freeze-frames. Suddenly he sees himself, bloodied and bruised and messily reversed-patched whole, land on the balls of his feet outside of the whiteout lance of the Jacob’s Ladder; he sees the splurt of blood in the wake of Okkotsu-senpai’s katana congeal in mid-air; he sees the monstrous outline of Sukuna temporarily undone, silhouette erased within the beam’s radius.

Yūji blinks. The next thing he sees is swirling black and blue nothing—like when you close your eyes and focus on the dark vacuum on the backs of your eyelids. He looks down, catalogs his bloody and ripped sneakers sinking slightly into ground that’s plush, looks sandy.

Darkness swirls. Yūji sinks. In front of him, Fushiguro has collapsed over his own bent knees. His face is turned into the ground, his fists are balled at the ends of where his arms are stretched out long.

“That’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

The composition of the soul—

Viewed from that angle, their plan had no flaws. Calculate: a curse puppeting a human vessel, theorized soul multiplicity, Yūji’s ability to perceive and target the soul, and the Angel’s technique—then solve for X. If the aforementioned conditions are used as variables, then no matter how you scramble them up, X will solve for a window wherein Yūji is able to bully open a sliver of an entryway into Fushiguro’s soul. And they did—it worked.

They’d one-upped the strongest sorcerer of all; when all was said, done and executed, they had outwitted The King of Curses himself.

However. 

“That’s enough,” says Fushiguro’s collapsed body. “I’ve had enough.”

For a moment, Yūji doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. He feels like he’s being asked to interpret a conversation from underwater—goes back over familiarly shaped words, tries his best to turn over the syllables, to pick them apart and put them back together the way they’re supposed to be. His ears ring faintly.

He stares at the crumpled angles of Fushiguro’s back; a vulnerable spot of his neck peeks up visible where his collar creases awkwardly. He feels simultaneously nothing and like he’s very cold.

Yūji attempts to repeat the words, “I don’t—” but the words lodge in the hollow of his throat. His ribs feel suddenly tight over his heart.

What they’d failed to take into account was the possibility that within Fushiguro Megumi’s soul—any will to live had been extinguished.

Comprehension slams into Yūji like a freight train. He stops breathing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks. Blood rushes in his ears, squalls and claps like thunder. He wants to repeat himself—it’s time to wake up, Fushiguro; there’s no time actually, we don’t have time for this, so wake up—but when he tries, his throat closes up and his jaw sticks shut. His mind is racing, his heart inches upwards in his throat.

“Fushiguro—” Yūji croaks, but runs out of words. Fuck, but he’s always been better at doing. He takes a step forward, stretches out a hand.

The blue-black vacuum shudders. The sandy ground quakes.

“No!! Fushig—”

“Scale of the Dragon.”

Yūji blinks. His surroundings once more have shape: the sky is a murky dome, the ground craggy rock. The entirety of the landscape—cut through by thousands, maybe countless katanas. A violent shiver shudders through him, makes him stumble slightly forward. Far up the blade-crowded plains, the blinding light of Jacob’s Ladder has winked out; a bleached sand tempest spirals from its impact site.

Fushiguro is gone.

They failed. Yūji failed.

The pale sand whorl shudders and warps. “Recoil.”

Yūji’s mind draws blank. He understands, somehow primally, that he needs to move. His heart races, slams against his too-tight ribs with meaty thunks. Fushiguro is gone. Against all odds, their plan had worked; Yūji had reached him—and he’d failed.

“—tadori!” cuts a voice—cuts Okkotsu-senpai’s voice, tight with nerves, from somewhere ahead and above. It sounds submerged, hindered; or maybe that’s just him.   

Him—who needs to move. He needs to move now.

“Twin Meteors.”

“Itadori!!”

Yūji snaps both arms up in tight guard on knee-jerk instinct. The first reinforced Cleave slashes across his forehead up into his hairline not a second later. Pain cracks through his skull, blinding and breathtaking. In front of him, Okkotsu-senpai’s matte white uniform splits open, blooming a violent red. Rika shrieks. Okkotsu-senpai sinks to one knee with a pained, bitten off grunt. 

“Okkotsu-senpai!!”

Yūji grinds a heel into the solid underfoot, forces his weight into his knees. Don’t move; focus on defense, says a small, rational part of Yūji. Don’t move in any way that might jeopardise the plan, says an amalgamation of their remaining fighting roster.

Move. Move now; a short sprint and you can make it in time, drag Okkotsu out of danger, says his instincts. Yūji bites his lip raw to keep from swearing. Sweat slicks down the small of his back. He remains still.

The next three hits garrote across his hip, stomach, upper thigh; gouges him clean to the bone. Yūji grinds his teeth until his back molars creak and swallows back bile reflexively. Pain, bright and overwhelming, sparks in his chest. He wills himself to lean into it; feels the pain, but not the shock. He repeats, focus, and breathe, says it over and over again, wearing the words down like an old prayer. He’s already failed an assignment once today. He’s not allowed to contribute to another defeat. All that matters is the plan, the painstaking step-by-step—

The greyscale dome of Yūta’s domain cracks and shatters.

Yūji sees Maki-senpai slip the Split Soul Katana home—the tip ruptures bloody through the stretch of skin supposedly guarding a curse’s heart—before he actually sees Maki-senpai.

Sukuna grunts, freezes. His eyes go wide. Slowly he cranes his neck, gaze abandoning Rika and Okkotsu-senpai to dart over and behind the bulk of his right shoulder. 

The plan. The painstaking, convoluted, step-by-step plan, outfitted with so many failsafes and exceptions it can barely be called a plan at this stage. The plan with its end goal—

Fushiguro. For Yūji, he’s both the beginning and the end. 

Behind him, someone is propelled from high above into the pavement with such brute force that it sends violent tremors shocking through the full expanse of the city block.

Step one is getting the hell out of dodge—clear the way for Maki-senpai. 

He wills himself, as the domain collapses into bleak daylight and a ruined cityscape, to move. He sees Ui Ui swoop in from high above, aiming for where Okkotsu-senpai is cradled in the spindly palms of his shikigami. Neither Chōsō nor Kusakabe should be far off, then. Yūji can tag out for now.

He grits his teeth and steels himself, spins on one heel and takes off in a sprint.

The sudden movement strains the gouges in his thigh and hip taut; what did he expect, really? Pain, furious and overwhelming, lashes up his spine, burrows into the lesions; blacks his vision for a split second. He stumbles, swears. The wound across his forehead dribbles steadily into his eyelashes and along his temple. He scrubs the inside of his wrist irately across his face. Taking quick stock, he traces the pain, sparking like a live wire, to three busted ribs, six lacerations at worst: forehead, forearms, torso, left hip and upper left thigh.

He blinks crusting blood and light-headedness out of his eyes; he hones in on the pain he’s feeling—digs in to use it as a focal point, situates himself inside it. It’s physical, he thinks; just physical, it’s fixable. For me it’s fine. Not like—

It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!

Cutting a sharp right corner, sprinting down a narrow, partly collapsed alleyway, Yūji imagines Fushiguro before him: beaten down—defeated; kneeling face down in the blue-black vacuum pit of his soul, the expanse of his shoulders pitching into the not-sand of the ground; the skinny stretch of his back long and limp over folded knees.

It’s enough—I’ve had enough.

Yūji scrubs an angry hand across his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you!”

[fudgetoonbits]

something I wrote bc I’m cray cray over my own fictional universe blah blah blah it’s around 200 years in the future uh company uses ai to make robot servants lololol there will be a full book ab it soon and a video game when I learn to program taking perspective from different characters at slightly different times in the same setting but this is just a backstory short story thing on one of the minor characters which was also for a school assignment so yea

TW: violence, torture, death

title is inspired off Kill the Rock - Mindless Self Indulgence [yes ik what that band did I just like the music not Jimmy]

Kill the Fire

“I’m just saying. Watch your back.”

He wished he had followed those words so badly.

It was the year 2196, Penumbra’s second year at the Human Generosities Association’s core building.

It was a famous company for constructing creatures of metal and magic to serve mankind: robots powered by artificial intelligence and, of course, targeted at an affluent audience. However, to even fathom creating a sentient, smart vessel and testing our limits, many studies have gone in dedication to humans: the only currently known intelligent species on Earth.

Penumbra was one of the many test subjects. He went there and ‘worked’ for an insignificant income. Of course, this was worth next to nothing, but he had nothing better to do other than go to the gym and study, so he figured he’d get a job.

The boy was 17 now, and he still had no big goals for his future. He never had any special talent to follow, so he was content with this job. He had acquired an adequate affinity with one of the good scientists, Dr. Phoenix, and another test subject, Caesar. It was, at the very least, entertaining to be at the building.

Penumbra sat on a cushioned bench in the waiting room. He was waiting for the doctor, and the doctor was waiting for him.

“Hey Penumbra!” a familiar voice called. A man dressed in a black leather jacket and a pair of patched baggy jeans: Caesar.

“Oh, hi Caesar,” Penumbra replied with a faint smile.

He sat down next to him.

“Got any plans for the weekend?”

“Caesar, you know I’m busy either here or at school or helping my family, if you really want to do something, the only time I see myself being free is like- months from now. Sorry friend.”

“Well, that sucks. Uhm, see you around...?”

“Bye good friend!”

Caesar got up and waltzed off.

Penumbra scrolled through his phone, and it seemed like 30 minutes had passed in 10 seconds because the doctor had already opened the door.

“Ah, Penumbra- you're all set. Come on in.” An affirming hand rested on Penumbra's shoulder, guiding him through the door frame.

Dr. Phoenix was a man in his late 30s. He wore black rubber boots, yellow-tinted goggles, a white knee-length coat, and a dark pair of skinny jeans. Wide streaks of white danced among his frizzy jet-black hair as he strode, and his smile was yellowed and sharp, stretching from ear to ear. He seemed to lack in hygiene, but Penumbra frankly didn't care.

Penumbra patiently sat on the examination chair. It was ancient; you could tell by the scratched, torn leather and the creak that erupted through the room when it was weighed. He leaned backward, and though he came here often, his body would still jerk from the sudden sound, never quite getting used to it.

The tall but scrawny figure slid some blue mid-length gloves on, the latex slapping against his skin. He pulled a needle out of a case, flicking the tip.

“So, uh… what cha’ got there, Doc?”

Dr. Phoenix muttered something Penumbra couldn't hear, but Penumbra was too nervous to ask him to repeat that something. He shuffled around and fiddled with his fingers.

“Ah, okay,” he responded after a long silence, not sure what else to say.

“How’s your family?” Dr. Phoenix prompted, rubbing Penumbra’s shoulder with a prep pad. He looked down at the floor.

“They’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Good to hear, good to hear.” The needle entered his skin. He winced, but not from the pain, that was just a tiny prick. He winced at the thought of what had just been injected into his system.

This was a prominent problem Penumbra never took care of. He and the doctor were good acquaintances and he trusted him. He would just hate it whenever he felt like he was not being taken seriously, but he would never confront Dr. Phoenix. He couldn't confront anyone. Penumbra couldn't even get any words out of his mouth. His thoughts would wrap around his throat and constrict him like a snake.

So, It’s better like this, he thought.

Penumbra woke up the next morning on a Saturday… and he felt absolutely awful. He ran to the bathroom, held his head over the toilet bowl, and vomited. Gagging from the gross taste lingering on his tongue, he sighed and cleaned himself up, taking some Advil to ease his throbbing headache. It was time for another visit.

Penumbra was, again, in the waiting room as usual. He was minding his own business until an odd-looking kid rushed down the hallway and suddenly stopped.

“I think I lost them,” he wheezed out, catching his breath.

He tilted his head at the stranger and giggled a little.

“What cha’ running for you goof?”

The kid jumped back, a little startled. He wore a baggy band t-shirt with some long shorts and striped socks, and he looked just a few years younger than Penumbra. Once he adjusted himself, he stared at Penumbra for around 10 seconds before snapping out of it.

“Oh, uh… sorry for the racket,” the boy nervously smiled, breaking eye contact.

“No, no, I just wanted to make conversation, you don't need to apologize.”

“Oh okay! Well, in that case, I'm Blake, and you are…?”

“Penumbra.”

“Well Penumbra, first of all, I really like your hair.”

Penumbra had dark mid-length hair touching just the end of his neck, his bangs a light blonde color.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Second of all… what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that, but I volunteer as a test subject. I’m just waiting for the doctor.”

“…may I accompany you while you wait?”

“Sure.”

Blake sat down next to him, and they chatted until Dr. Phoenix opened the door.

“Ah, Penumbra, I’ve seen you've made a friend,” he eyed Blake with an unreadable expression, “Well, come in.”

“See you later, alligator,” he walked into the doorframe.

“Bye.”

Penumbra and Blake would talk for the next few weeks, establishing a deeper friendship. Blake liked talking to Penumbra, but he got more worried each time Penumbra walked into the doctor’s office again.

One afternoon on a Wednesday, Penumbra sat down once again, and Blake joined him. Blake was really uneasy that day, fidgeting with his fingers. They both sat there in silence for a minute or two until Penumbra broke it.

“What’s up with you?”

“Huh?”

“Why so tense?” He nudged Blake’s shoulder playfully.

He took a deep breath before the words tumbled and slid out of his mouth, carrying shock like a plastic slide.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you, Penumbra but... I was running because of, well, the people here. I’ve been stuck in this god-awful building on the run for like, I lost count. Talking to you makes me feel better but-,” he gulped, “I’m really worried for you, Penumbra. I’ve seen things in here no one should see- records of people being tortured in ways I can’t put into words- and all in the name of ‘science’.”

Penumbra was devastated, one of his worst fears taken to a whole other level. But he knew the doctor for so long.

He would never do that to me... right?

“And I know you are much more at the odds of being the next. So... I’m just saying. Watch your back.”

Penumbra never saw Blake again after that.

It had been a few weeks since. He already stressed about it to Caesar and now he was preparing to stress about it to someone much more difficult.

Dr. Phoenix.

“So, Penumbra, you wanted to meet me here for...?”

Penumbra sat on an end of a wooden table in one of the lounge’s kitchen rooms. Dr. Phoenix was waiting for the tea to finish, elbows resting on the counter and watching the steam like a cat watching a bird.

“Doctor do you... do you ever think something is wrong?”

“Like?”

“Well, I just- uhm... Doctor... am I special?”

“...pardon?”

The snake had let go.

“Don’t get the wrong idea- but- I just- I've heard many are... unethical in their studies- in this organization. And you’ve just been so shady these past couple of weeks and I just wonder- don't you think this is getting a bit out of hand?”

“...Penumbra, you really think I would harm you?”

“Well, I just don’t have a good feeling about this I mean I’ve felt really, really sick after these recent tests. My family has been getting sick worrying about me. What are you trying to accomplish?”

The doctor’s fingers dug into the edges of the countertop, chipping a fingernail. It had been a few minutes of silence. He calmed down ever so slightly, removing the teapot from the stove and pouring it into two cups. He brought the tea to the table with a jar of sugar cubes, staring daggers at poor Penumbra.

“Go on, drink.”

Penumbra carefully raised the teacup and drank slowly, not wanting to aggravate Dr. Phoenix any longer. A minute passed, and he felt terrible. His eyes fought to stay open. Eventually, he gave in and went out cold, the doctor giving him a glare unlike ever before: the glare of not a villain, but a monster.

Penumbra woke up in the usual beat-up examination chair, but his arms and legs were chained down to it. On top of that, he didn’t seem to be in the usual examination room either. The walls and floor were lined with newspapers, duct tape, and plastic wrap. He would be panicking right now if it weren’t for his dry throat, raging headache, and hazy vision.

He tried to speak, but all he got out was a hoarse croak. A series of steps approached him from behind, the head cushion rendering him unable to turn his head around.

“Good nap?”

“...”

“Fine, I see how it is.”

He walked around the chair, the figure now fully revealed to be nobody but Dr. Phoenix himself.

“What do you want from me?”

“I see an opportunity to cover a topic I haven’t quite been able to venture yet.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, after all those injections, you seem to battle disease relatively quickly, even recover rapidly from most minor physical trauma. I must say, I’m quite impressed with this progress so far. So, I want to see how well your body can handle something much more extreme.” He sinisterly smiled, swiping a cloth off the table to reveal various surgery-grade medical instruments, liquids, syringes, and a box of matches. Penumbra trembled in fear, tears running down his cheeks.

“Doctor, I know you’re a good person. You don’t have to do this.”

“I am a good person, I agree. I do what’s best for the company and do what must be done to make life more manageable for thousands.”

“Doctor, please.”

He ignored his desperate pleas and got to work.

That was one of the worst days Penumbra had ever experienced. Or so he thought when this continued over a course of several periods.

It had been a few weeks. Penumbra’s beloved hair had started to fall out, his sclera was gray, and his skin had turned a pale pink. He had a stitched incision on his throat, another one of Dr. Phoenix’s torturous experiments- this one to test if a human could have a ‘mouth’ on any area connected to the esophagus.

The only tool that seemed to not have been put to trial was the box of matches sitting on the table. Unfortunately for Penumbra, Dr. Phoenix was going to be working with that today. Dr. Phoenix grabbed Penumbra’s shoulder with another syringe in hand. He protested, wiggling to the best of his ability being restrained. But despite his struggle, he got the needle in and injected it. He stepped back from Penumbra, his eye twitching as he looked down at his lap hopelessly, choking out a sob. He wanted to go home and be with his family. He missed them so much.

“Now, today’s trial is especially important, so I don’t want you screwing it up. Got that?”

Penumbra stayed quiet. Dr. Phoenix proceeded.

Out of all the recent unethical experiments, this had to be the worst one yet for Penumbra. His head was set ablaze for hours at a time, and he survived. No normal human being could ever survive that. He was special. He was made special.

A week later, he could feel another prick against his shoulder. His head was covered in burn scars and being burnt just didn’t hurt anymore. Dr. Phoenix said something, but the piercing noise of insanity muffled his voice.

Penumbra had finally snapped.

He broke the chains with ease, sitting up out of the examination chair. Dr. Phoenix dropped whatever instrument he was holding, but Penumbra didn’t see that. All he saw was a lying, cheating tool. Penumbra held a face of fury, flames erupting from his head.

The doctor was no more: history.

Penumbra sat on the cold floor. His thoughts were racing. Not only was he worried how he was going to ever approach his family and friends again, but he was smothered in the unbearable guilt of murdering Dr. Hickory. He held his face in his hands, but not for long. He couldn’t just mope around; nothing would get better.

So, he tore the newspaper off the wall and opened the door. He may not be or have been accepted, he may have missed time with others, but that doesn’t matter right now.

He was finally free, and he took that in like the fresh, un-smokey air.

That’s all that mattered right now.

[returntothesoup]

Blech I hate that. Well. Ok let’s dissect based on the various disorder contained in this vessel

DID: this one is mixed…. As a traumagenic system, we weren’t meant to be like this. No one is. You’re supposed to be able to grow up and develop your brain and end up as one person. We didn’t get that. It took everything we had and everything we could create to survive. And living with this??? Masking as a singlet at work, dealing with life changes, a little coming out to discover we’re a parent now??? WOOF!!!!!! But who are we with out it? We don’t exist without each other. So … who would we be if it was “cured”? Huh? A person who doesn’t exist bc we didn’t have a chance? An amalgamation of all of us? And like … idk … I love our littles. They’re so sweet. I love our angsty teens who are constantly asking to dye our hair black. There is no “cure” without an erasure of what we are.

ADHD: Broski yea maybe cure that bitch good god give me a cohesive thought oh my god

Autism: this is another mixed bag. When I think of the things about autism that are hard, a big portion, at least for me, comes from the way society hates who I am as an autistic person (system). We are “disabled” bc we can’t produce in a dystopian capitalist hellscape. So am I disabled or can I just not survive without functioning within capitalism. And my brain?? Our brain???? So rad!! (Deeply deeply traumatized with lots of issues) but. Such deep empathy. A connection to the world NT’S genuinely cannot wrap their heads around. Show me an inventor, an revolutionary artist, an expert who has devoted their life to studying one random tiny thing that ISNT ND/autistic. Autism is a genetic thing. Clearly, humanity needs it, or it would have evolved out of here. I love my autistic brain. But. Meltdowns? ARFID? The fact that I can feel a loud noise down my ear canals into my skull searing pain? Sensory issues? Yea I wouldn’t mind that getting helped. But cured? No thank you. I don’t need a cure for something that isn’t an illness.

CPTSD: yea get that bitch outta here god one thing bangs slightly too loud and I’m jumpy for an hour

I got a question for systems. How do you feel about fan fiction headcanoning someone having DID / OSDD. But the writer made it a "fix-it" of sorts. Like fusing them into one being. Or some cure for it.

Do you not mind that? Or do you hate it?

I personally hate it because it seems wrong especially morally.

This goes for other disorders to btw. How do you feel if your mental disorder got a cure in a fanfic?

I haven't read any autism fan fiction that delt with fixing it/curing it but if I did I would feel offended and grossed out.

[inertblue]

Some misc doodles of Adonis around Hallownest! Nothing explicitly canon for their story, but not NOT canon, either

[loverdrew]

Just A Little Longer | s.r

(not my gif)

Synopsis: A day out on the field doesn’t go as planned, and Y/N is thrown into am ambulance to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital before anyone can help. 

A Grey’s Anatomy x Criminal Minds crossover.

Warnings: none (?)

There was a ringing in the air louder than the one you hear everyday. I felt my breathing hinder. My eyes can only open so wide, enough to see the light, but once by my side, could see only a dark substance quickly oozing out of my body. As I came to, I could tell it was getting harder and harder to breathe, a sharp pain with every inhale and exhale. Upon instinct, I checked my fingers for mobility, feeling that they could move slightly. At least this means I am not paralyzed in my upper body. There was no other noise for a few more minutes, just a slight rustling of trees and the dirt road beneath me. I don’t even remember the initial shot being taken, whether it was from me or him. All I remember is instantly falling to the floor once I arrived on the scene. I just laid in my own blood, the realization that no one may be coming for me.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!” I could faintly hear from what felt like a mile away. My brain perked at the voice, definitively Morgan, but my body would not react. I tried with every might to move my limbs once again but alas, nothing. It was if my brain was screaming and sending pulses to my muscles but it just refused to move. I started to feel hands all over me, lifting me and placing me on what I could imagine was a gurney, as it moved. My sense of hearing coming in full force, beginning to hear people talking and shuffling. Hotch and Morgan were asking where I was being transported to and Emily and JJ consoling someone else who I could hear was practically sobbing. 

“They’re going to take care of her, c’mon let’s just go follow them now!” Emily yelled to everyone. But that distressed someone fought back.

“No! She’s not even moving! They’re intubating her! Emily she’s dying!” 

Spencer....? 

“Reid, you want to help her? Get out of here and go to the hospital.” Hotch firmly said, I could even tell he probably put his hands on Reid, as the sound of prominent footsteps were halted. And the next thing I heard was doors closing, and the sirens blaring.

Once we had arrived at the hospital, I heard a woman’s voice that sounded very strong, like she was in charge.

“What do we got?” She asked.

“GW to the left ribcage, she’s lost a lot of blood, almost 2 pints. We’ve been intubating her since we got to the scene but Bailey, it doesn’t look too good. Possible head contusion when she hit the floor as well.” The EMT stated.

“Alright I’ll page Shepard and Hunt immediately. Out of the way everybody! FBI agent coming through!” And my gurney started moving even faster, winding down a short hallway into a room where I could hear many doctors coming to look at my wounds. I felt absolutely helpless, not being able to communicate what hurts for me. What if they miss something? What if they can’t help me in time? The EMT said I lost a lot of blood, what if it’s too much to come back from?

“Hang 2 units of O neg now!” A man with a deep voice yelled out. I could feel big, callus hands turning me on my back, and the next thing I knew a needle was being shoved in my arm and a warm sensation filling my arm. 

“Owen she needs to go up to CT now or she’s not going to make it.” A woman with a softer voice spoke next to the man.

“Amelia she needs this wound patched first or she’ll bleed out and then she won’t even have a chance in CT.” He raised his voice at her, kind of like how Hotch can be sometimes.

“Let me see, I can patch quickly if everyone gives me space. Looks like the bullet left through the back as well.” This time it was another man with a softer voice than the first, and instantly felt his delicate hands holding onto my ribs, feeling a metal substance touching my skin. By my analysis, he’s most likely a plastics surgeon. Only a man in plastics has such delicate touch.

“Well hurry Jackson she’s got about 10 minutes before that brain contusion completely debilitates her and she’ll be in a coma.”

“Yea I got it.” He said nonchalant.

The sounds of beeping and shuffling were quickly interrupted by deep screams, of which belonged to the lanky pretty boy. My heart rate instantly got faster the second his voice entered the room.

“Sir, sir who are you?” The plastics guy asked urgently.

“I-I’m her, her uh- I’m just a friend, please let me be next to her.” He pleaded, rasp in his voice. I can tell he had been crying the whole ride over.

“Okay, sir you’re gonna have to wait with everybody else, she’s in a lot of distress and she’s lost a lot of blood. We’re doing everything we can for her.” Almost on cue, my heart monitor started spazzing. The loud beeping indicating I’m going into cardiac failure. 

“She’s in V-fib, get the defibrillator now!” The man with the lower voice yelled. I felt the clothing on my body being ripped open, a few buttons popping and flying off. The patches were on and in a few seconds, I felt the shock and I could feel it vibrate every vessel inside me. They cleared a second a time, my heart rate returning to normal.

“Okay Jackson you’re gonna have to finish her later she needs a head scan now.” The women voiced, and immediately I could feel the gurney being whisked and into an elevator, going up to the CT room.

Being in the big machine and hearing the slight “ZZZ” sound felt like the first time of peace since my brain fully woke up. For a few hours now I was being poked and prodded, not even getting a chance to hear my own thoughts. This was the only time I got to really savor whatever life I had left, to really hear and feel the people I love around me, and to prepare for what could happen. It felt inevitable to try and escape death, it was a part of my job. And the one regret I’d have is not being the real me with the person I loved most in this world. That tall, pretty, incredible genius was the love of my life for the past 3 years I’ve been with the BAU, and he was everything and more I could’ve ever dreamed of and better. I could physically feel my heart aching at the way his voice cracked yelling for me. I wished nothing more than to look him straight in the eye and hold his hands, telling him I’ll be okay. The way he stuttered when he said friend, so unsure. We had kissed just a few days ago, after a long day of work he came by my hotel room and finally expressed his feelings after so long. The fireworks we shared were something out of a book. The way his hands fit around my face, holding me so close and so softly as if I were glass and he was afraid to break it. We hadn’t talked about it since, but we figured we had more time. But now I realize time is never guaranteed. 

Within 30 minutes I was in a regular room, the plastics man working on sowing back up my wounds. “You, Ms.Y/N are one of the luckiest gunshot victims I’ve seen; no severe tears. Which means this just needs a quick stitch and you’ll be all set.” He said softly to me, I could feel a smile on his face as he spoke.

I heard another person walk into the room, footsteps almost so quiet. 

“H-How, how is she Dr.?” He was shaking.

“The CT showed some swelling but no internal bleeding. We’re going to keep her here overnight but I’m sorry, I don’t know if and when she’ll wake up. That’s all up to her.” The women sadly spoke, unsure of even her own diagnosis.

I heard Spencer start to cry again, a loud puff coming from deep in his chest.

“Dr. Reid, could you please sit with me.” The two of them stepped to sit in the 2 seats next to my bed.

“I know what it feels like to be in a field of study where, you know everything there is to know. And I also know what it feels like to be completely out of control in that field, when you know what to do, but you can’t even do it.” She sighed. “I am one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, I know almost everything...but yet I had a brother who died of a brain injury. I could’ve been there to help him but I couldn’t do a damn thing. I know what this feels like.” Reid started crying harder, his cries muffled by his own hands. He was trying so hard not to let the sounds leak from the room, but it did and it made my bones stand still.

“I had a mentor who was in a coma, and even though I’m in plastics”- (told y’all) -”there was still nothing I could do for him. We just had to wait. He was one of my greatest friends, one of the best people you’d ever meet, so loved. The love of his life died in front of his eyes and I think most of us knew he’d be going next, to be with her. Life was too painful without her. Do you love this girl right here?” Spencers respond came almost immediately.

“More than anybody or anything.”

“Then wait, just a little longer. If she loves you like you love her she’s going to fight to wake up and be alive.” Both of the doctors walked out, leaving me and my lover boy.

His veiny hands grabbed onto mine, rubbing softly at my knuckles.

“I’m gonna do what he said, just wait a little longer. But please Y/N, if you can hear me, come back to me.” He cried into my hand, the tears coating it.

As if the Gods granted it themselves, I moved my eyelids open. Very slowly, and it hurt to do so, but they opened. Spencer sensed movement, and his head instantly came up holding on tighter to my hand. A weak smile placed on my face as my tired eyes loving locked with his.

“Waiting for me?” 

[idkxwriting]

Treacherous - Chapter 15

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Sorry I couldn’t post earlier this week! Here’s a chapter for you :) I hope you enjoy. I think there’s only one left after this... If you’d like to be alerted anytime I post a new chapter/new work, follow @idkhaylijahwrites​ and turn on post notifications :) Thank you for reading, and giving me feedback, it means a lot! <3

Chapter 14  -  Masterlist

Damon hit reject on his phone again, turning it off and shoving it into his back pocket.

“Stefan again?” Y/N asked.

He grunted, pulling the grate off the wall in the walk-in freezer, and urging her to get in. “Yep. They’re onto us, so we’ve gotta keep moving,” he said. They had been holed up at the Grill. Two demons, a witch, and a vampire later, they were already exhausted. It seemed Empusa was just as ready as they were, her supernatural army thirsting for revenge and all too eager to find Y/N.

She climbed in the hole into the underground tunnel system, Damon dropping in behind her. “Which way?”

He tilted his head in the direction of their route, the only way to get through town without being seen - their best chance at catching Empusa by surprise. Damon had tortured the vampire that had attacked them at the Grill for information about where to find her before ending his life, and they were on their way to the graveyard.

“Why does it always have to be the graveyard?” He had complained.

“It has to be the graveyard,” she had said, inexplicably knowing it’s where it would all end.

They moved through the tunnels mostly in silence, Damon leading the way.

“Do you ever think about dying?” Y/N asked after a while.

Damon shrugged. “It’s not really on my to do list…”

“Yea, but even you aren’t entirely invincible. Don’t you ever wonder what happens to us after we die?”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly. “No, I don’t.”

She continued to follow Damon in silence, and when they reached their destination, Damon turned to her. They stood in an old crypt, and even in the darkness she could see the dust and decay that littered it. She was beginning to breathe heavily, and he took her hands in her face. “Hey,” he reassured her. “I don’t know what happens next,” he paused. “But I believe no matter what comes after all of this, we’re all okay in the end.”

She nodded, trying to convince herself that he was right. “We’re all okay,” she repeated.

He pulled her wrist up, glancing at the leather bracelet. “Y/N, if you need me to, I can compel you...take it away so you don’t have to be afraid.”

She shook her head adamantly, stepping back from him. “I can do this, Damon.” She closed her eyes, picturing everyone she cared about. The people she had loved, the ones she was lucky enough to know.

She thought of Elijah, and Dean, and how some people go their entire lives without ever falling in love.

She could do this. She woulddo this. For all of them.

She gripped the knife that sat at her hip, hooked in her belt, and took a deep breath. “It’s now or never,” she said with determination. “Let’s go.”

Damon’s eyes held a sadness in them, but she also recognized respect. He could be an ass, and he was often selfish, but she knew deep down, if their roles were reversed, he’d face his fate.

“Okay,” he said, pushing the heavy stone of the crypt aside so they could exit the tunnels.

*****

It didn’t take long for the Winchester’s to piece together that Y/N was at the cemetery, and judging by the trail of bodies and the silence throughout town, whatever Empusa had planned had already started.

The rain picked up in intensity as Dean drove, his rage warring with his worry. Sam had tried to reassure him a few times on the ride over, but quickly gave up when he was met with a short and clipped tone, if he bothered to answer at all.

Stefan’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller ID. Alaric.

“What did you find?” Stefan asked urgently.

Dean watched his face in the mirror with worried curiosity.

“What do you mean?” Stefan asked, sitting up with alarm. “Alaric, if she does that…”

The muffled voice continued.

After a few more moments, Stefan ended the call and sighed. “A little digging and it turns out we were right, Empusa needed Y/N in Mystic Falls after all. Her vessel is falling apart, she needs a new body.”

“Y/N…” Sam said.

Stefan nodded grimly.

“Alright, so let’s go gank this bitch, first.” Dean’s eyes flicked to Stefan in the mirror again when he was met with silence. He turned to Sam, his brows knitted together. “What?”

But he already knew. He had known the second he saw Elijah, cold and daggered. There’d only be one reason she would have betrayed Elijah like that - only one reason she would have left without filling Dean in on the plan, because she knew whatever she had come up with, he and Elijah would have been the ones to stand in her way.

She had no intentions on surviving.

It was why she had told him she loved him. Why every piece of him screamed that she had been telling him goodbye back at the house.

Stefan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There’s only one way to kill her…”

“The knife…” Dean said hopefully.

Stefan nodded, but his face fell. “The knife needs to be used on Y/N.”

Dean’s knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, the pain in his chest sharp.

“But if all she needed was the knife, what’s stopping her from doing it now? She’s had the knife for days…” Sam trailed off.

Stefan sighed. “It’s not just the knife. They need a celestial event…”

Dean gripped his chest as the discomfort continued to grow. “So what, she’s waiting for a full moon or something?”

Sam shook his head. “Or something just as powerful that the magic can be pulled from. That’s why Empusa is waiting at the graveyard. Mystic Falls is full of ley lines, it’s why it’s basically a magnet for the supernatural. And they all converge…”

“Let me guess,” Dean interrupted. “At the graveyard?” He coughed, the pain growing sharper, and quickly. One hand gripped his chest, and he knew it wasn’t just heartache anymore.

“Exactly,” Stefan said, leaning forward with concern as Dean’s coughing worsened.

“Dean?” Sam turned, his eyes questioning.

He slammed on the brakes, swerving the car off the road before throwing it into park. His hand flew to the door handle and he swung the door open, doubling over out the side of the car as the coughing became overwhelming, blood spattering the pavement beneath him.

“Dean!” Sam was up and out of the car, but Stefan beat him to it.

As he coughed, he felt the thick blood in his throat blocking his airways, and he dropped on all fours. Stefan pulled him up, trying to support him, but he shook his head, his words of warning trapped in his chest.

Sam’s eyes went wide and realization dawned on him. “He’s been hexed,” he explained. “Help me find the bag!” He began tearing through the car, searching for the small hex bag that he knew had to be there.

Dean gasped for air, feeling as though his lungs were being torn to shreds inside of his chest.

“Check the wheels,” Sam shouted, and Stefan searched frantically.

“Got it!” Stefan exclaimed, finally finding it wedged near the gas pedal. He tossed the bag to Sam, who already had a lighter ready. They burned the bag, and in it’s ashes Dean felt relief.

He coughed some more, spitting the blood from his mouth, the coppery taste still on his tongue. Stefan backed away, letting his brother help him up as he regained control of his thirst.

“Witches,” Dean groaned. “I fucking hate witches…”

“You okay?” Sam asked, getting him back on his feet.

Dean nodded and waved him off. “Let’s go,” he mumbled, already exhausted.

“Why don’t you take a minute,” Stefan suggested.

Dean ignored him, dipping to get back in the car.

“Dean, he’s right…”

Dean stopped his movements, slamming the car door in frustration. “Because we don’t have the luxury of taking a minute!” He bellowed. “Now get in the damn car!”

Sam shot Stefan an apologetic glance, who nodded, knowing there’d be no changing the hunter’s mind. They got back in the car silently, Dean’s rage hanging heavy over them.

*****

When they arrived at the graveyard, they parked, all of them out of the car before Baby’s engine had fully quieted down. Thunder crackled and the wind whipped through the trees, an unsettling feeling in the air.

There were signs of a fight, branches broken, a bloody stake. Stefan knelt over the body of a newbie vampire, and grimaced.

“Staked?” Sam asked.

Stefan shook his head grimly. He turned the body over, and the Winchester’s saw he had been drained of blood. “Empusa’s feeding on her own army,” he explained.

“She needs power,” Sam muttered.

Dean sighed, exasperated. “Well this is just great. Where the hell is Y/N?”

Stefan held his hand up, quieting Dean as he listened. “She’s close…”

“You can hear her?”

While he could hear a fight in the distance, but it wasn’t what had alerted him to Y/N’s presence. Stefan’s eyes darkened and his face fell. “I can smell her.”

Dean didn’t wait as he moved further into the woods with urgency, following the trail of bodies left behind.

They heard the fight before they saw it, and when Dean finally caught a glimpse of Y/N, he sprung into action. He tore through the demons and vampires that had been closing in on Y/N and Damon in the distance. He killed without question, his body moving on muscle memory, his only goal to get to her.

“Y/N!” He roared, his angel blade slamming into another chest with all his force.

But the storm drowned out his voice, and her focus remained on the vampire in front of her. She hunted with skill, but even across the way he could tell fatigue was setting in. Her movements were less graceful, and her breath came in heavy pants. Her limbs looked heavy as she swung, using her body to force a stake into a vampire’s heart.

Dean sidestepped another monster, vaulting himself over the stone markers of the grave in front of him and sprinting towards her, reaching her just in time as a demon flashed it’s black eyes and grabbed her from behind, putting her in a chokehold.

She struggled, throwing her weight against him, and just as she looked like she couldn’t fight much more, Dean ripped the demon off her back, stabbing him without mercy.

She turned, gasping for breath. Her eyes were tired, her hair messy and matted with sweat and rain. Her shoulder hung low, and he knew from the dark stain on her shirt that her wound from the other night had opened again. Her forehead was caked in blood and mud, her lip bruised, but through all of that she smiled at him.

It hit him with such force, he felt his heart stop.

When it beat again, it pushed through all the frustration and anger he had felt at her being there at all.

“Thanks.” She pushed the hair out of her face, her sleeves muddied. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she caught her breath.

He turned so they stood back to back, but it seemed the fight was already dying down, the thunder with it, while Sam and Stefan cleaned up the few stragglers. “What am I doing here?” He growled and rounded on her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Damon stepped between them. “I had it handled.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he took in the oldest Salvatore. “Had it handled?” He shouted. “You have her out here on a damn suicide mission!” Dean shoved his chest. “I should kill you,” he gritted through his teeth.

Damon gripped his neck and squeezed, an angry scowl on his face.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, rushing towards his brother.

Stefan approached cautiously, his eyes fixed on Damon.

“Damon let him go!” Y/N pulled on his arm, but his grip didn’t waiver.

His ice blue eyes remained fixed on Dean, and he tilted his head. “I would love to see you try,” he grinned, pushing the Winchester aside.

Dean gripped the angel blade. He had never staked a vampire with one, and he wasn’t sure if it would work on Damon, but he was beginning to think he might be willing to risk it. He shoved at Damon, opening his mouth with a retort when a familiar and refined accent cut through the arguing.

“Always bickering like children…”

They turned to see Elijah walking towards them, his hand in his pockets as if unbothered by the entire scene.

Y/N gripped the blade, her temper rising at the imposter before her. “Show yourself!” She screamed, furious that Empusa would dare to show herself as Elijah.

The figure before her only smirked. “Why? You have the blade, just end it…”

She white knuckled the hilt, all of her exhaustion leaving as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.

“Or perhaps you can’t,” the monster tilted it’s head, Elijah’s eyes staring at her with pity. “See that’s the problem with you humans, always letting your emotions control you. You know I’m not him, and yet you hesitate.” Empusa turned her attention toward Dean. “I wonder if she’d have the same hesitation if I took your form.” A cold laugh escaped her hips. “Perhaps we should let her choose which one she’d prefer bloody and broken…”

A cloud of dark smoke rose up, until Elijah was gone and a clone of Dean stood before them, angry and ready for a fight.

Y/N grit her teeth, but before she could move Stefan rushed forward, Damon quickly behind. They charged Empusa, and Dean gripped her arm, holding her in place. He reached under her jacket, knowing it was where she had stashed the blade and pulling it from her belt before she could react, charging at Empusa.

He didn’t know if it would kill her, but he knew he couldn’t let Y/N die, so he had to try. Empusa was fast, snapping Stefan’s neck and disarming Dean with little effort. She flung Damon aside with the flick of her wrist. She turned the blade, aiming at the hunter, but Damon was back on his feet, stepping into it so the blade ran through his own chest instead.

Y/N lunged forward, her rage driving her as she watched Damon drop, sputtering blood. Empusa kicked Y/N to the ground, her head hitting with a thud. Sam was already on the move, helping his brother up. Dean lunged once more, the angel blade slamming into her shoulder

Empusa laughed and pulled the angel blade from her shoulder, the wound disappearing before their eyes. She snapped the blade and dropped it to the ground, rounding on Dean. She gripped him by the chin, a mirror image of him staring back at him, and lifted up. “You can’t save her, Dean,” his own voice spoke. “No one can.”

She tossed Dean aside like he was nothing, moving with lightning speed to grab Y/N, her arm wrapping around her neck painfully.

While she had had Dean, Sam moved towards Damon, ripping the blade from his chest with force, knowing the vampire would eventually recover. He gripped the blade, turning his attention back to Empusa. “You won’t kill her,” Sam moved toward her slowly, trying to keep Empusa talking as his brother got back up. “You would have done that already…”

Empusa’s eyes narrowed mischievously. Teeth bared, she placed her fangs along Y/N’s neck, daring Sam to continue.

“You harm one hair on her head and I swear I will tear you apart,” Dean yelled.

Empusa’s hand shot out and Dean’s neck strained as he was lifted in the air by an invisible force, his breath coming in short gasps under the pressure.

“No!” Y/N shouted, but the grip on her neck tightened, choking out her protest.

Dean slid forward until Empusa could grip his chin. “I’d like to see you try.”

Y/N struggled in her grasp, aware that the body pressed against her was in the shape of Dean, but all wrong. She reached for the small knife she kept tucked under her jacket, knowing she only had one shot. But as she moved Empusa threw Dean, knocking him against a gravestone before gripping Y/N's wrist, forcing her to let the knife drop to the ground.

She tightened the hold she had on Y/N even harder, her fingers digging into the knife wound at her shoulder, tearing open the few remaining stitches and causing her to cry out. She turned her attention to Sam and smiled. Her shape shifted until she was no longer in the form of Dean. “Give me the knife, Sammy.”

Sam's stance faltered as he stepped backwards in shock at the familiar voice. He had known it was Empusa, but still, the likeness to John Winchester standing before him was uncanny. He swallowed nervously, trying to gain control of his emotions.

“Give us Y/N and we’ll give you the blade,” Dean bargained, standing slowly with a heaviness in his limbs.

“Now that just defeats the purpose…”

“How so?” Sam asked.

“Oh come on, son,” she continued to impersonate John. “That big college brain of yours couldn’t figure it out? She’s the soul stone. If I use the blade, I get a new body.”

“And you need a new body…” Sam said, trying to keep her talking until they could come up with a plan. “You can’t survive without her.”

“That’s why I had all those visions of me as a ripper,” Y/N choked. “It wasn’t me, it was you the whole time…” Her heart ached at the love she had let go because she thought her fate would have her turned into a ripper. She grew angry as she realized it wasn't her own life she was seeing, but what would be if Empusa would win.

“You have no idea, sweetheart,” Empusa laughed.

Y/N’s hands pulled at the hold trying to breathe. “Go to hell,” she growled.

“I’ve done that a few times now,” Her attention turned towards Sam, the vision of John still unnerving him. “Sammy, give me the blade. That’s an order.”

“You sick son of a bitch,” Dean gripped his ribs with one arm, his free hand pulling his gun, aiming it right between Empusa’s eyes. Between John’s eyes.

“Come on, Dean. You wouldn’t shoot your old man now, would ya?”

Sam gave Dean a knowing look and began to spread out, creating a wide berth around her, Sam readying himself to attack.

Dean saw Damon stand once more and Stefan begin to stir out of the corner of his eye, but remained focused on Empusa. He cocked the gun. “You don’t know me that well…”

Sam nodded, and Damon rushed towards Y/N as Sam tossed the blade toward him. At the same moment, Dean’s finger pulled the trigger when suddenly everything stopped. Damon and the Winchester's were unable to move and the bullet dropped to the ground.

“What the hell?” Dean grimaced, trying to move, but his body was stuck.

Sam struggled in his own place, unable to move.

They both heard a snap, and turned to see Damon's neck broken and his body drop, revealing Crowley standing above him. He kicked the blade towards Y/N. “Now!” He shouted.

Y/N dropped her head and used all her strength to slam it back into Empusa. She loosened her grip just enough for Y/N to lunge forward and reach for the blade. Empusa growled, turning and dragging Y/N with her by the hair, forcing her to scramble to move with her. As they moved she shifted back into her own true form, a hideous thing. Her skin was sickly grey, her nails long and stained. Her hair was dark and straggly, matted down in grease, and her eyes lifeless and cold. Her teeth were shaved down into sharp points, jutting in several directions.

She screamed in frustration, loud and painfully shrill, adjusting her grip so she was holding onto Y/N’s arm, her free hand waving toward Crowley. He flung backwards, an invisible force shoving him aside as though he were nothing.

“Crowley, let me go or I swear I’ll gank your demon ass myself!” Dean roared, pushing all his weight forward with no success.

Crowley gripped onto a headstone, pulling himself up.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean screamed.

The demon shook his head, his eyes telling Dean it wasn’t him that had frozen them - it wasn’t him holding them back.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice sounded defeated, and Dean turned to see Cas, a look of regret in his eyes.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice gave away the betrayal he felt, and Cas gave him an apologetic look before turning back to Y/N with determination.

He glanced at her and nodded. Dean followed Cas’ gaze to her, wondering what on earth was going on.

Empusa faced them once more, and laughed maniacally, her hand gripping Y/N’s neck and her nails digging in as she pulled her so her back was to her chest.

Y/N winced, but she kept her eyes trained on Dean. She wasn’t afraid, but she looked sad, like she was sorry. She mouthed as much to Dean, as she carefully raised the blade.

“No!” Dean pushed with all his strength, but still he was immobile, the scene playing out before him in slow motion as he was unable to stop it.

A tear rolled down Y/N’s cheek, and she nodded at him, as if saying it was all okay.

He continued to fight, desperate to get to her, furious as his own body betrayed him.

Her eyes never left his as she shoved the blade into her body, and through her own heart.

Empusa let out a blood curdling scream, her face twisting and she stumbled forward.

Dean screamed, hating that he couldn’t get to Y/N. Hating the way her eyes remained on him, calm and sure even as the blade pierced through her skin, tearing through her muscle and stabbing through her heart. He hated the way her lips turned up in a broken smile, her mouth filling with blood as her eyes glistened, the fight finally over as Empusa’s body turned to ash, the blade dissipating with it.

Cas released them and when Dean could move once more he lurched forward, losing his balance as he tried to keep up with his own efforts. He found his footing once more and rushed to her, catching her as her knees dropped the ground. Her body sagged into him, and he struggled to keep her held up, one hand banded around her back, the other pulling her face to look at him, only she didn’t respond. “Y/N! Y/N, stay with me!”

His voice was hoarse and he glanced around for help. “Cas! Do something!” He shouted angrily. He turned to Y/N again, pulling her in, his hand gripping her shirt at the shoulder, bunching the fabric in his fist. He pressed his lips to her hair, and he sat back on his heels, rocking her into him, knowing she was already gone.

The world around him went silent. He sensed the others surrounding him, but didn’t, or couldn’t, acknowledge their presence. He registered his brother’s hand on his shoulder, but felt no warmth or comfort.

He was empty.

As empty as the shell of a body that rested in his arms. Y/N was dead, and for the first time in a long time, he wished he was too.

[clockwork-recollective]

About your Evillious au, what the Barisols' personalities like/what role do they play in the story ?? I saw in the original post you mentioned Behemo is more morally good and Levia is something sinister and now I'm really interested,, (Also is it okay if I try drawing Aerico? If not that's fine, I just think she's super cute so I wanted to ask!)

oh! I’d love to talk about it 🥺

role wise, they play a similar, if not slightly larger role ( especially in Levia’s case ) in the story! it’s their personalities that are most different!

Levia’s not just a simulated version of Behemo that was created in the second period; she’s malice itself. she’s literally the manifestation of malice, taken a “human” form. she attached herself to Behemo when he was a child, becoming both his only friend and his source of isolation. she wanted to truly become something human and tangible ( similar to Ma’s desire, no? ) and even though she’s the manifestation of malice, she’s not... bad. she just wanted to become something more than sin, but didn’t quite realize that she was hurting Behemo in the process :(

but basicallyyyy she ended up getting separated from Behemo once his parents realized something was “possessing” him and intervened, and it wasn’t until years later when he couldn’t help but recreate the image of her in the second period that she found another chance to become “real”, sneaking into the coding of “Levia Barisol” and taking her name and body 😰

Behemo on the other hand was a sweet child who just loved to play with dolls because he LOVED his father and his work as a scientist working on the beginnings of the second period and creating the “humans” 🥺 he was often bullied like in canon uehehej poor baby 😭

now I won’t go into their ENTIRE backstory because it’a ... a LOT but that’s the gist of it yeas 👍👍 Levia b literally sin and Behemo is sad

NOW personality wise Behemo is much more gentle and docile, and he doesn’t like to side with Levia’s ... less than good ideals and actions; he’s very empathetic and sweet, and tried to stop Levia from escaping by herself even as she dragged him with her 😭 while being trapped inside of Elluka Clockworker, he wasn’t asleep, but rather conscious ( as is Levia ) and constantly watching sorrowfully, as he’s never in control save for very rare occasions 😭 but he’s always siding with the good of the world and just wants peace in every world 🥺

once separated from Ma, he follows Allen ( + Kokutan ) closely, becoming a motherly sort of figure to him and guiding him along as they try to get to Ma and the vessels of sin ehehe

THIS WHOLE EXPLANATION WAS ... probably very confusing because I am never good at fully verbalizing my ideas and concepts ue ue ue BUT yeas ... Levia is literally sin incarnate, Behemo is a sweetie, they’re conscious as Elluka, they give pieces of their souls to Riliane and Allen ( in canon it’s just a theory but it’s an actual thing in my au 🤫🥺 ) and ......... they’re also very brunette 💕 AUGH I just hope this all at least makes some sense and I’m not just rambling nonsense all the time 😭

ALSO AUGH THANK U THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY U LIKE HER 🥺🥺 I would love if u drew her !! I don’t mind at all and if anyone wants to draw Aerico, I’d be elated to see them loved and drawn! 🥺💕💕💕💕

[tamiettitami]

24 and/or 34 for the soft fic prompts! :)

rated G for GENERAL AUDIENCES; 1,084 words; TAGGED for Bad Days, we all have them, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Hugs, Post-Canon, Rose Apothecary (Schitt's Creek), Pet Names, Fluff

find the original prompt list here and read on ao3 here !

While David is making his way back to the store after what was supposed to be a quick run to Café Tropical turned into a 20-minute long outing byway of Twyla's innate inclination to talk, he notices the Apothecary's sign is flipped to close. That's odd, he thinks to himself. I left it on open since Patrick is there. He threads his eyebrows together and furrows his mouth upward before realization hits:

Patrick.

Patrick must've turned it.

But why?

Before David allows himself to dwell any further, he pulls out his phone to send a quick text to his husband after quietly shaking his head back and forth a few times.

can you let me in?

He decides to leave it at that and do the interrogating in-person, not that he'd ever force Patrick into telling him something he's uncomfortable with saying aloud; however, he's worried about him.

David's phone pings moments following with a straightforward Yea. The door is cracked open for him once he's finished looking at the notification.

"Hi," David says simply in his slow, shy voice used when he's carefully approaching Patrick and trying to avoid cracking the eggshells he's ever so precariously walking atop. He closes the door lightly behind him and locks it suit after it clicks in place. "How are you?" He's sure he knows the answer, though it never hurts to ask.

Patrick simply shrugs. Without a second thought, he plops down on the stool next to the register.

"Can I help?" David inquires, making sure to keep his distance. He knows Patrick is a sensitive person, and while there's nothing wrong with that, the absolute last thing he wants to do is upset him by crossing the invisible line drawn in the sand. He's come awfully close before and let's just say he slept on the couch that evening.

"A customer yelled at me today." Patrick taps his foot on the leg of the stool. His eyes aimlessly wander around the sales floor until they land on a box of eye creams. "I was putting those away," He gestures towards the cardboard vessel with a quick jerk of his head. "And someone walked in here looking for a new moisturizer. I told them you'd be back soon to help them choose because I'm just the numbers guy. They got all upset with me for 'not doing my job' since they had somewhere to be in ten minutes and couldn't wait for you."

David frowns and shakes his head with a sigh. Patrick will raise his voice from time to time when it's absolutely necessary although he despises people who raise theirs at him. Is it hypocritical? Yeah, it is, except that won't stop Patrick from feeling worthless like he's a single speck of dirt in an antique store. Despite his efforts to make himself known, it seems as if people always find a way to cut him down.

It breaks David's heart to see Patrick like this. He isn't exactly known for standing up for himself and David doesn't blame him. With the past he has, he's more than well aware of how horrifying it can be to stick up for yourself in situations where you're marginalized. He wouldn't wish this feeling on his worst enemy, God forbid his husband.

"First off, you're so much more than just the numbers guy. Rose Apothecary wouldn't exist without you and I can confidently say that." Patrick shifts his body closer to David's like he's yearning for his touch, so David takes a few steps towards him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you, but we don't deserve the business of someone who thinks it's okay to yell at a store owner when we're providing a service for them to begin with."

"Sometimes, I feel like I don't deserve to be apart of this store," Patrick confesses. "Like I'm a dead weight and you're forced to drag me along."

David closes his eyes and shakes his head as he continues to make his way into Patrick's personal bubble. "We're married, honey, I love having you around. Work would be miserable if you weren't behind the counter every morning to greet me with a kiss or hand me a cup of coffee."

A long stretch of silence hangs over them before its broken by Patrick speaking up. "Can I have a hug?" He looks at David through his lashes where he was busy picking at the skin around the base of his fingernails.

"What?" David is caught off guard by his request. Sure, Patrick is a take-charge kind of guy, but he's always had a difficult time voicing what he wants; it's easier for him to act instead of ask, and clearly, acting was off the table right now given his current state of vulnerability.

Patrick redirects his gaze down towards the floor. "Nothing, it's stupid."

"If it's something you want, it's not stupid, babe." David tries his best to reassure him with anything besides empty words.

Instead of verbalizing his desire again, Patrick simply holds out his arms. It takes David a moment to get the memo. As soon as he does, however, he closes the gap between them as if his life depends on it.

They stay still for what feels like an eternity, neither party wanting to let go.

There's something so comforting about feeling safe enough around a person to relish in their embrace like this.

Every so often, David will tighten his grip around Patrick's waist or Patrick will bury his head further into the crook of David's neck.

It's clichè, but David is Patrick's home.

He's the place where Patrick feels most sheltered, protected from the outside world in their own little universe filled with secretly exchanged looks and quietly whispered words.

Except right now, there's no pulling back to look into the other's eyes or repeated sentiments of I love you like there normally is when they hug; they're merely caressing in silence.

Even though Patrick is the one who needs the hug, David would be lying if he said he isn't enjoying it, too.

For the next five minutes, hugging is all they do. They hug, and hug, and hug like there's no tomorrow.

Neither of them would trade this moment for anything else.

[ruthlesslistener]

For the OTP thing: PK/Lurien and WL/Dryya?

PK/Lurien’s already been finished! So it’s WL/Dryya time, hell yea

Who’s the messiest one:

-WL is this time! Dryya gets quite messy when she’s out killing people, but otherwise she keeps herself meticulously clean. Whereas WL doesn’t really care about how dirty she gets or what she’s spreading her roots into, as long as she keeps herself suitably groomed and presentable as queen. 

Speaking organizationally-wise, it’s still gonna be WL XD Dryya keeps all of her belongings spartan-tidy, whereas WL doesn’t really mind some things being left askew as long as she knows where it is...usually

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA:

-Dryya. Part of it is because she’s dating the Queen, and a monarch kissing her royal knight is unprofessional/something that assassins can exploit, but also a part of it is bc I like to headcanon Dryya as a mantis so she’s kinda private/protective of her personal relationships. Mantids tend to court via displays of combat and are rather jealous of each other’s lovers, so she was raised thinking she should be proud of her mate, but to keep her public displays of affection somewhat on the down-low unless she’s proving herself in public. Hence, she’s not really embarrassed about it as much as she is ‘oh fuck if some random person makes a comment about us being cute in public then I’m going to have to fight down the urge to challenge them to a duel’

Who's the funniest drunk:

-Dryya. I still have no idea if it would be even possible for WL to get drunk, so Dryya it is! The aggressively friendly mom side of her comes out in full force when she’s drunk, so the Five try to enjoy it whenever possible, especially since she’s so uptight and grumbly about it when she’s sober. WL thinks it’s cute either way

Who texts the most:

-Neither. Dryya’s always a martial arts teacher in my modern aus, she’d be too busy teaching kids how to fight to text. WL will scroll facebook to send her minion memes for fun sometimes (bc Dryya always groans at them, which WL thinks is hilarious), but they’re not really into texting

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music:

-Dryya knows more bawdy tavern and soldier-songs but WL, like I said before, would unironically consider Baby Shark to be a bop so she’s still got the more embarrassing taste in music

Who reads the most:

-Dryya again, because she’s the Captain of the Guard and thus responsible for a lot of paperwork; WL has glasses somewhere that PK made for her when her eyesight started going, but she’s just not much of a reader herself. When Dryya’s on guard duty though, she’ll often bring along some tablets she’s interested in to read aloud while WL gardens, often philosophical books or ones on the arts of war (though she’s also got quite a soft spot for romance novels, something that she tends to keep hidden)

Who’s better with kids:

-Dryya still, as she used to help care for and train nymphs in her old village. WL has more of a desire to be around children, but the way that rooted beings care for saplings is still far, far different than from how actual infants need to be treated, so Dryya is still the better one with kids by far, especially when they hit their moody, snappy teenager phases. I’ve not talked about the possibility of Thorn (my Broken Vessel) and Dryya meeting a lot on tumblr, but if Thorn was taken in then they’d be Dryya and WL’s kid without question. They’d get along swimmingly

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house:

-WL this time, because she’s picked up quite a few things from her husband. Dryya is relatively good with patching shit up in a pinch, but WL has more knowledge on how to keep things stable and fixed for longer, whereas Dryya’s philosophy is more focused on ‘hey if it works, might as well use it ‘til we can catch a menderbug’

Who’s got the weirdest hobby:

-I’m still tempted to say WL but for some reason I get the vibe that Dryya would be super into some hobby that would sound completely out of left field coming from her, I just don’t know WHAT yet. So for now, Dryya

Who cooks and who cleans up:

-WL had no idea what cooking was until she took a mortal form. Dryya is def. the only one allowed near the kitchen...though ‘cook’ is kind of a dubious title for someone whose two means of food preparation are usually ‘slice up a bunch of things that taste good raw together and then consume it’ or ‘pour alcohol on it and then set it on fire before consuming’

[headoffices-a]

now that my episode of ugly crying is over, i would like to make y’all think about how lonely lucifer was in the cage. how being tossed away like garbage from his family, isolated and alone and suffering from the ‘ side effects ’ from the mark.

like, he was the light. he loved god more than anyone, anything. from the moment of his creation he was never alone. there was always god, the other archangels, and then the lesser angels, and he could make stars and fill the empty universe with colors beyond human comprehension. and then all that was taken away. he was cast out from heaven, shunned by his family, betrayed by his two closest brothers, and shoved into a tiny, tiny box* at the bottom of a newly formed hell, where it’s dark and empty and he’s all alone, save for the ‘ voices ’ of the mark.

and you know what, i think it got worse when human souls started showing up. at first, they probably just. wandered/floated around in the darkness, screaming out his pain. there was no rack, no levels/circles, just the oppressiveness of his suffering, seeping into their beings, corrupting them and turning them into demons. unless it’s explained how exactly what happened to lilith, cain, and the knights of hell, they are who bore the brunt of it all. lilith probably helped mold hell, sang to lucifers pain and crafted the circles, the rack, and ‘ kept the place running ’, for lack of a better term.

all the while, lucifer was still down in the cage. he can’t really communicate with lilith and the others very well, if hardly at all. not that he wants to, mind you. demons disgust him even more so than humans. they’re everything he told his father, his brother ( all the down, he screamed how this would be the end of them all. ), they were and then some.

he’s completely alone from the time of the war, of the fall, until sam winchester kills lilith and sets him free. i know that we, as humans, have a hard time connecting to huge numbers. terms like light years, the age of the universe, of our own planet, of the both teeny tine and also many, many thousands of years that we as humans have been a thing on it, and everything in between- it’s very hard for us to visualize it. to really wrap our heads around it. so i’m gonna make you think about it anyway. millions and millions of millions of years he was down there. oh, but yami, it’s not really all that long after being cast out from eden that lucifer gave cain the mark, but think about this: literally only god knows how many years are in between the locking up of amara, of him giving lucifer the mark and the creation of humans. plus, time works differently in hell, yea? have we any idea how many it was for him vs. how many it was on earth?

conclusion- lucifer is fucked up, thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

*and another thing. y’all got any idea how huge lucifer is as an angel? if castiel, a mere normal angel when first introduced, is the size of ( large building i’m too lazy to look up ), then how fucking massive would lucifer have been before being set free? i’m not talking about the little white wisp we see, i mean the archangel of the morning star, the light bringer, the treasure of heaven, shoved down into that tiny cage. sure, we could argue that it only looks that small cause that’s how we perceive it, or that it changes with his form. if his without a vessel, the cage is large. if he’s in a vessel, the cage is small. but we all know how i’m only here to cause pain and suffering, so i’d like to think it’s always been as small as we see it.

so we have this thing, too huge for our tiny little human brains to understand without melting in our skulls, shoved and squeezed and stuffed into a space no bigger, if not smaller, than the bedroom some of you are reading this post in. this is the kind of shit blackholes are made from. this is the kind of shit that some people believe the big bang came from. something infinitely big, infinite mass/substance/being, in a place infinitely small.

[morgan-n-cheese-91]

Rant while I’m watching

This is all season 10 the end of 9 and the begninng of 11? I think. This is copied from a chat of mine so I’m not gonna deal with the times. Please just read around them.

WAIT![7:54 PM]BITCH NO YOU CAN"T KILL CAS BITCH FUCKING NO[7:55 PM]OH SHIT[7:55 PM]OH SHIT[7:55 PM]Dean just made allllllll the mirrors frost[7:55 PM]that's nnot fucking good[7:59 PM]CAS WATCHED STAR WARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Ok Sam has stopped pretending he's not scared of shit. You can clearly see the fear in his eyes now. And frankly it amazing.[11:14 PM]That sounds horrible[11:16 PM]but I'm more saying that more about Jared's acting skills.  ma dude.[11:20 PM]Sam[11:20 PM]Bro[11:21 PM]Dude[11:21 PM]nah[11:21 PM]nah Sam was complaining about Dean liking killing these vampires to much[11:24 PM]JODY IS A QUEEN AND SHE IS A GREAT MOM! TRY AND PROVE ME WRONG YOU WILL FAIL!  IS that a monster club?!?!?!?!?!?![11:27 PM]Could you settle for JB's? Was that a were shapeshifter battle?  My dude your as dead as your gf your gonna bleed out[11:29 PM]shush  MONSTER TURF WARS[11:50 PM]MONSTER MOFIEA[11:50 PM]I CAN"T FUCKING SPELL[11:52 PM]"Godfather with fangs."[11:52 PM]uh yea[11:55 PM]FUCKING SWEEDY TOD! Dean I know your bf is in a comanding roll and you think that's hot but please stop hitting on him[12:15 AM]Dam Dean.[12:15 AM]The King is back in town the king is back in town.[12:15 AM]THE King is BACK in town[12:21 AM]To the King and Queen of hell:[12:21 AM]Are we in heaven?[12:22 AM]You must be angels[12:22 AM]wow[12:24 AM]Crowley sold his soul for a longer dick[12:24 AM]pfft-[12:24 AM]I-[12:25 AM]I can't-[12:25 AM]I-[12:25 AM]OMG DUDE WHAT THE FUCK![12:25 AM]HAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!!!!![12:26 AM]his son is so disaponted[12:30 AM]Dam Crowley's son got flame[12:30 AM]holy shit   Dean I swear to god you go all Lord of the Rings on this motherfucking blade I will pull a Tony Stark and take it way.[12:52 AM]Is this the Cas is a little girl episode?[12:55 AM]or not  I'm laughing at Metron's discribtion of Cas[12:59 AM]Dean shush[1:01 AM]Dean Cas are having a domistic[1:01 AM]and Sam's trying to medate[1:08 AM]We hate men like you[1:08 AM]He's your Leader's bf  who's a little off his rocker right now so shush[1:10 AM]Dean like the Fiddler on the roof[1:10 AM]It's canon[1:12 AM]Why is 6 afraid of 7?[1:12 AM]Cas: Prime number?????[1:12 AM]Sam: The fuck? that's like a 2nd grade riddle[1:13 AM]CAS KNOWS LOTRS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![1:15 AM]SENSEBLE SHOES![1:16 AM][1:20 AM]Heaven: Your lame spring fling  Cas is dead[1:29 AM]Cas is sooooo[1:29 AM]Dead[1:30 AM]R I P[1:30 AM]Punish him[1:30 AM]Both Cas and Dean go WHAT?[1:31 AM]WHAT! OMG OMFG[1:32 AM]Pfft-[1:32 AM]Oop[1:32 AM]Rip Dean[1:34 AM]He's in love[1:34 AM]with "humanity"[1:35 AM]Thanos quoted Metatron  God Fucking dam it Dean  Dean will be glad to know that the Cubs finally win[2:12 AM]Fuck you died again Dean[2:14 AM]"you put on the flag of heaven..."[2:14 AM]Nah he put on the pan flag and then rekt y'all[2:17 AM]Dean's dead for what the 809th time?[2:17 AM]He'll be back[2:17 AM]Time will tell[2:18 AM]Sam he's fucking dead[2:18 AM]D E A D[2:18 AM]But he'll be back[2:19 AM]Chuck can't answer the phone right now[2:21 AM]ok ngl the blade doesn't really look real. It's looks like a prop[2:21 AM]Also[2:22 AM]WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DEAN?![2:22 AM]HUH?[2:22 AM]YOU THOUGHT THAT WAS A GOOD FUCKING IDEA?[2:22 AM]NO[2:22 AM]NOT A GOOD FUCKING IDEA[2:22 AM]DUMB[2:23 AM]Ok the way they played the opening of season 10 boi that was good[2:23 AM]OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo[2:23 AM]New title card[2:24 AM]Ok so I saw this somewhere but[2:25 AM]Soulless Sam, Crazy Cas, and Demon Dean, (why the fuck are all these allterations?) all at the same time would have been a riot[2:26 AM]Cas has a cold[2:27 AM]Did I just get a read suggestion for Spn x male instert, twice in a row?[2:27 AM]YES! YES I DID![2:33 AM]THe look of relisation[2:35 AM]Cas drives like a grandma[2:36 AM]He got hannah carsick[2:36 AM]and now is also dying so[2:39 AM]Sam's gonna murder Crowley and Dean[2:39 AM]Slowly[2:39 AM]and painfully[2:40 AM]If Sam exrosised Dean? What would happen?[2:40 AM]Would he just drop his body?[2:41 AM]Or would he just straight up die?[2:44 AM]How do they keep the knives up their sleeves without stabbing themselves[2:49 AM]Dean your a fucking slut yes  Sam stays quiet.[1:15 PM]Gets punch[1:16 PM]grunts[1:16 PM]"Proof of life,"[1:17 PM]OMG[1:17 PM]OMG[1:18 PM]20 y/o Dean[1:18 PM]yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![1:18 PM]He looks so young[1:22 PM]Ignore me just skipping all the like odd sexual sences because either they're weird or I'm very embarressed by them[1:26 PM]cas is about to fall asleep behind the wheel and crash[1:31 PM]Cas is asleep on the couch  Words hurt[1:45 PM]YOU DON'T GET TO SAY SHIT  Hahahahahahahaha[1:55 PM]Omg[1:56 PM]Smoke bombb[1:56 PM]Sam has an asmatha attack[1:56 PM]Dean just looks at him[1:56 PM]like WEAK[1:57 PM]This is payback[1:57 PM]THis is dumb[1:58 PM]YES![1:58 PM]THE PRINCESS BRIDE![1:59 PM]just heals[1:59 PM]Sam just shows up and mauls him with holy water[2:03 PM]Where the fuck did you bring him Sam[2:03 PM]What is this?[2:03 PM]HAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAW[2:05 PM]Garilla man gorilla man[2:09 PM]It's DEPRESSION DEAN but he's more homosidal  You went to fa[2:37 PM]*You went to far[2:44 PM]The music is like the Skywalker theme[2:47 PM]Lets play a high stakes game of hide and seek in the bunker[2:52 PM]HERE'S DEAN![2:54 PM]You don't want to play hide and seek anymore?[2:55 PM]Heal by hug[2:55 PM]-Cas[2:56 PM]Lillo and Stich?[2:56 PM]No[2:56 PM]Ey! IT WORKED[2:56 PM]IT WORKED[2:56 PM]IT WORKED!!!!!!!!!!!!![2:58 PM]Good plan Sam[3:01 PM]WEREWOLVES OF LONDON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![3:01 PM]AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO![3:01 PM]AHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO![3:05 PM]Bitcoin[3:06 PM]Obama[3:06 PM]the ice caps  Did I just skip a whole episode to avoid the cringe fuck yea[4:10 PM]The two of them with cougers is the funniest thing  Ask Jeeves?[4:21 PM]More like Knives out[4:25 PM]I'm lactose intolerant[4:25 PM]Sam nice[4:25 PM]nice[4:30 PM]These ladies.[4:30 PM]Complaining about dating this guy who's 'ugly' But has an island.(edited)[4:31 PM]but thristing over Sam.[4:31 PM]Who's like I live out of my car[4:31 PM]it's not even my car[4:32 PM]It's by brother's[4:37 PM]"Not to mention Homosexuals"[4:38 PM]Don't mind me just DYING![4:38 PM]omg[4:38 PM]THE FLANNEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![4:45 PM]Dean shush[4:45 PM]your fine she's dead[4:50 PM]The snap of someone's neck sounds like a torilla chip  Cas what did you do to Jimmy?[5:14 PM]I'm sorry your kinda hot but I don't like you Hannah[5:15 PM]Hannah just dropped her vessel[5:15 PM]rip[5:22 PM]ok sometimes I feel like I care more about the car then they do  Crowley's mum?[5:30 PM]Crowley's mum[5:32 PM]The RETREAT[5:32 PM]HOW MUCH I hAVE HEARD ABOUT YOU![5:37 PM]THE 2 QUEENS![5:38 PM]Jodie's got hunting sense ON[5:38 PM]THE BOIS NO![5:38 PM]They all are gonna know y'all and blow y'all's covers no[5:40 PM]Jodie's about to comit murder[5:41 PM]dang  CAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![6:15 PM]YOUR VESSEL"S DAUGHTER"S IN TROUBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![6:16 PM]Claire's about to murder your ass[6:17 PM]Lucifer popped your head[6:17 PM]Cas your not making this any better[6:19 PM]Yes he owns a tie[6:19 PM]No he's not gonna wear it right[6:21 PM]Missionary[6:23 PM]Claire's a vibe[6:24 PM]I'm vibing with Claire[6:27 PM]Ketchups a fruit[6:29 PM]Cas she stole your wallet[6:30 PM]EARTH GRAPHIC[6:30 PM][6:32 PM]Yes[6:32 PM]No[6:32 PM]You had to roast Sam like that[6:32 PM]Dean and you would vibe with this girl[6:32 PM]JUST VIBE![6:33 PM]IT"S A FRUIT[6:33 PM]Ask Sam[6:33 PM]dean and claire are on the same wave lenth[6:33 PM]ask sam[6:35 PM]yes[6:37 PM]You're offended over you worth in pigs?[6:39 PM]Rowna thought he was worth anything from 180-300 $[6:39 PM]and Crowley thinks he was worth any were from 300-500$[6:45 PM]He's a teddy bear and you would get along with his bf[6:47 PM]All three have been there done that[6:51 PM]Really love?[6:51 PM]I feel like that would be a stretch for y'all  Charlie's coming back!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!![7:53 PM]go get ketchup[7:53 PM]it's hell of a lot better  i like your sword char  Bad Charlie and Meh Dean is not a good combo[9:10 PM]CHARLIE JUST TOOK THE IMPALA![9:15 PM]Charlie broke his nose[9:15 PM]DAM![9:15 PM]USE THE FORSE![9:18 PM]Can we pleasse give charlie bad charlie's outfit?[9:18 PM]PLEASE?![9:18 PM]She looked so hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Ok the impalas a bench seat[9:30 PM]there's a couple inches differance between the two[9:31 PM]I know from experance that my grandma and grandpa are only a little bit shorter than me but when I pratice driving by pulling out their car I feel crampted in the front seats.[9:32 PM]so either Sam's crampted the whole time[9:33 PM]or Dean has a little stretch to reach the petals[9:34 PM]Fuk dean just got taken too[9:35 PM]YO![9:35 PM]It's 13 y/o Dean[9:38 PM]Spit it out[9:39 PM]How have you lived this long?[9:39 PM]Huh'[9:39 PM]How are u 30?[9:39 PM]How are you alive?[9:44 PM]Doess teenage dean have the mark?[9:44 PM]I would think but?[9:45 PM]TOLD Y"ALL SAM GETSS SQUISHED[9:45 PM]Also Dean should not be driving he doesn't look legal  I’m watching you burn[10:03 PM]SHIT LITTLE SAMMY!!!!![10:04 PM]nvm[10:04 PM]You look amazing in a hoodie and nikes  Sam did you really use COBAIN as your name[10:16 PM]jesus dude  but they are listening to HOSTER!![10:36 PM]LIKE FUCK YEA[10:38 PM]Then they killed a guy  the impala has a crank[10:59 PM]i mean duh[10:59 PM]but  Charlie's not allowed to be dead[12:38 PM]she knew the rules and broke them  Dean's about to kill Sam but[12:45 PM]I'm laughing so hard  Don't mind me just refusing to watch 10 22 because Charlie died in 10 21 and I'm pissed[10:33 PM]like she knew the rules and broke them  I'm forcing myself to continue watching and Dean is getting pulled over[11:03 PM]I also just told him to be a lawful citzen even though you aren't[11:03 PM]and he's getting arsetted on non existent charges[11:04 PM]They found the id stash[11:04 PM]ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm[11:04 PM]dean used Freddy Mercury[11:04 PM]a known BI man as a cover[11:05 PM][11:07 PM]Sam has lured Crowley into a trap[11:07 PM]pfft[11:08 PM]Poor form even for you[11:08 PM]not my gun[11:09 PM]Petion to give Sam a hair tie[11:09 PM]Man bun that fucker man[11:10 PM]Dean's murdering a family and Sam's murdering Crowley[11:10 PM]What a world[11:11 PM]Die[11:13 PM]Bold words coming from you Sam[11:15 PM]Ginger whore[11:16 PM]Fucking Dean got captured by this fucking bitches[11:16 PM]you fucking dumbass[11:16 PM]both of you[11:17 PM]You can sorta see the camera in the relection of his eyes[11:18 PM]XXXXXDDDDDD[11:20 PM]I like that they stormed the bunker but no ones home because the ones who would be are DEAD![11:20 PM]and cas is where ever the fuck he is[11:22 PM]OH SHIT[11:23 PM]Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Beaten, why for Can't take much more (Here we go, here we go, here we go now) One, nothing wrong with me Two, nothing wrong with me Three, nothing wrong with me Four, nothing wrong with me One, something's got to give Two, something's got to give Three, something's got to give now Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Push me again This is the end (Here we go, here we go, here we go now) One, nothing wrong with me Two, nothing wrong with me Three, nothing wrong with me Four, nothing wrong with me One, something's got to give Two, something's got to give Three, something's got to give now Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Skin against skin, blood and bone You're all by yourself but you're not alone You wanted in and now you're here Driven by hate, consumed by fear Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor One, nothing wrong with me Two, nothing wrong with me Three, nothing wrong with me Four, nothing wrong with me One, something's got to give Two, something's got to give Three, something's got to give now Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Let the bodies hit the floor Hey! Come! Hey! Come! Hey! Come! Hey! Come![11:24 PM]Don't burn the bloody photo I'm begging you[11:24 PM]Crappy taste my ass[11:25 PM]hes gay[11:26 PM]Dean's gonna raise holy hell on all because you burnt the pic of Mary[11:26 PM]Bringing holy hell on y'all[11:27 PM]Your dead buddy[11:27 PM]You killed Charlie and your gonna burn one of his only pics of his mom and Bobby[11:27 PM]Your fucking dead[11:28 PM]The man is covered in your family's blood and your mocking him about his sister's death[11:28 PM]not a good idea[11:29 PM]HOW MANY NIPPLES YOU GOT BOI?[11:29 PM]ttttttwo?[11:29 PM]Good   Head shot![11:30 PM]Dean[11:30 PM]Brother[11:30 PM]blood[11:31 PM]think[11:31 PM]Don't kill the boi[11:31 PM]please[11:31 PM]what the fuck[11:31 PM]-_-[11:32 PM]he was a human[11:34 PM]you're being a dick right now[11:34 PM]he just broke cas' arm[11:35 PM]DO NOT KILL YOUR BF![11:35 PM]HRMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM[11:36 PM]wow you healed quik[11:37 PM]*quicke[11:37 PM]*quick[11:39 PM]I tend to read the summary of the up coming episodes and[11:40 PM]Shot interally from the inside of the impala[11:40 PM]Blah blah blah blah ghouls[11:42 PM]Sam hasn't completely fucked up a spell yet and Cas is an angel so[11:42 PM]you ain't either[11:43 PM]How about[11:43 PM]You give them the spell and they don't kill you[11:44 PM]I swear to god the fandom loves Baby more then they do

[archivingspn]

Season 8 DVD Extra: “Angel Warrior: The Story of Castiel”

[Dean: Cas we’re getting out of here. We’re going home. Castiel: I can’t] [Dean, Cas and Benney standing beside the river in Purgatory] Singer: An angel who feels guilt, who says, “I’m in the right place in Purgatory cause this is where I- this- this should be my punishment.” There’s a lot you can do with that character.

[Castiel: Dean!] Carver: You know, it’s just one piece of the proof that this character that started out as pretty much a warrior angel who rescues Dean from Hell had a certain richness. 

[Samandriel: Despite his mistakes, Castiel’s heart was always in the right place.] Singer: He’s got this power, he’s got this connection to heaven, but he’s- he- he’s behaving, you know, he has the emotions of a mortal, and those things always conflict within him. Glass: It allows us to learn more about our own humanity. When you have a character that’s a blank slate, it allows you to explore so many things about humanity, the good and the bad. And I think Castiel is the perfect example of that. [Dean: Hold on! Castiel: Dean! Dean--]

[Title Screen: ANGEL WARRIOR: The Story of Castiel] [Dean: (in Hell) Somebody help me! (pants in pain) Sam!] Edlund: Well, I think one of the- one of the first very important jobs that- that, uh, had to get done was, Dean had to get out of Hell, which is a big problem. We toyed with the idea of there being a kind of a quest or a large s-sort of series of events that took place, uh, for- for Dean to get out of Hell. And, um, it really came down to, we knew it was going to happen, so why not have it just happen?

[Dean examines the red handprint on his shoulder in the mirror] Carver: We start in the writers room talking about what types of things could actually pull Dean from Hell, and knowing that we wanted to start getting into these ideas of, um, uh, angels and heaven and everything. At its root, it was just very smart that this divine thing pulled him out.

[Dean dodges breaking glass in the gas station] Edlund: And, then he’s sort of pursued by this sort of, uh, what seems like a sinister unseen force. That was the entity, Castiel, without a vessel, trying to make contact with Dean.

[Castiel reveals his black wings in the barn to a disbelieving Dean] Glass: Yeah, our show is definitely not the Touch by an Angel's kind of angels. (laughs) Our angels, uh, have an agenda. Singer: These are n-, y’know, not little cherubs sitting on your shoulder and they weren’t Clarence in- from, y’know, It’s a Wonder Life. Dabb: These are people who are warriors. They’re there to enf- at least, at the very beginning, they’re there to enforce what they believe is the will of God.

[Dean: I thought angels were supposed to be guardians - fluffy wings, halos - not dicks.] Edlund: Supernatural branching into the world of angels? Uh, that’s a pretty big deal. It was, mythologically speaking, a big branch. Jared: And Jensen and I both were like, well, you know we didn’t sign up to make, like, a show about religion, like, that’s not what we’re trying to do as actors. And, when we signed up for Supernatural we thought we were making, like urban legends, myths, blah-blah-blah. Jensen: You know, I wasn’t quite sure where they were taking it. I mean, now all of a sudden we were dealing with angels and demons, whereas before we were dealing with, y’know, ghosts and- and goblins.

[(FM) Misha: You guys want to run lines, or…? Dean: His name’s Misha. (looks skeptical) Misha?] Misha: When they sent out the sides for this audition, for the role of Castiel, the sides said it was a demon, because Eric didn’t want to reveal that they were adding an angel to the show. Edlund: The first episode of the fourth season was built to really be this slow build, with a big kind of introduction at the end of it, so keeping it quiet was pretty important.

Misha: I did one- one take of the scene and Eric said, “Okay, good, good, but actually, y-you’re n- cat’s out of the bag, you’re an angel, not a demon, now do it again.” And I did, and apparently he liked what I did, cause, um, I got the part.

[Castiel walks into a barn lit by sparking lights] Misha: The season premiere of Season 4, which was the episode that I a- first appeared in, at McGee’s offices, sort of at the screening party, and Sera Gamble, um, the writer and producer, was standing next to me. And right when I came on screen, she leaned over and whispered to me, “Your life is about to change.” And then, lo and behold, it really has changed remarkably, and it’s, um, it’s been quite exciting.

[Castiel: I’m an angel of the Lord.] Sgriccia: When we bring in Castiel, he’s -he’s in a human form. If you were to look at an angel, you’d be blinded and you’d be deaf from the sound of it. Edlund: There’s a lot that we owe to the badass presentation of angels. Like, there’s Constantine, there’s, um, Prophecy with, uh, Christopher Walken. One of the things that became a powerful icon for that character was just the trench coat. It became quite powerful. Singer: It was really a stunning shot where you saw the- the shadow of these enormous wings. And it was not, uh, (in a hippie voice) “Oh, wow that’s an angel.” It was, (sounds nervous) “Oh, like, geez, that’s an angel,” y’know.

Edlund: We didn’t swing for the, uh, animatronic wings that are constantly fluttering and re-fluttering behind him. There’s a desire to step away from that sort of thing and be a little bit more low to the ground, which is Supernatural’s general aesthetic thrust.

[Dean: Who are you? Castiel: I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition. Dean: Yeah?] Edlund: When Misha created the persona for this character, I forget if he had a cold or not, or if he just decided to do it, but he, uh, pitched his voice down a little bit, to give himself gravitas. Misha: Oh, I thought, oh, I sh- I should give him, like, a really commanding, powerful voice.

[Castiel: You have no faith.] Misha: Something that I now regret, because I’ve been doing it for six years, and there are definitely times when I have to go home and like, drink hot lemon water and- (laughs) and have a sore throat. Jensen: He came in with a, y’know, he- he committed. And, y’know, sometimes you- you win some and sometimes you don’t, but it’s nice to- to have somebody with that kind of a conviction. Carver: Y’know, there was a vein that was struck there with this character. I’m probably not the one to say why it worked. I can only tell you... it d-did, and- and it has worked, and the proof is in the pudding. 

Jensen: The fact that you know, we have essentially an angel who can pop in and pop out wherever we are- 

[Castiel: Hello Dean] Jensen: -I thought was a really good recipe for somebody to stick around, and- and be a- a- a greater part of this storyline.

[Castiel: Thank you. For everything. Dean: Save the Hallmark, okay? It’s gonna work. Nobody gets left behind.] Carver: I don’t see – and- and I’m not saying he’s not, but – I don’t look at Castiel as a mentor and a protector at all. I look at him as yet another person that was sucked into the Winchester brothers’ orbit. Edlund: He was on the heavenly payroll, and every time he showed up it was to accomplish some specific goal and he was not stretching too far out of that range to aid the boys. And sometimes he was a problem for the boys. Glass: He sometimes gets lost along the way in what he thinks is right and protecting the boys, and does things that, at the end of the day, um, end up not helping.

Edlund: As an angel, his- his understanding of human emotions was something that was, like, naive, even though he had watched humans for so long. Singer: His motives generally are right but, y’know, he- he makes mistakes because he doesn’t quite understand everything.

[Dean: What the Hell’s wrong with you? Castiel: I am an angel in a land of abominations. There have been things hunting me since the moment we arrived. Dean: (yelling) Join the club. Castiel: These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I have been trying to stay one step ahead of them to- to keep them away from you.]

Misha: He sees himself as Dean’s protector, and at the same time sees Dean as something of a mentor, because there’s a lot about the world he doesn’t understand and that he can glean from Dean. Singer: He saw in the boys, really, the worth in humanity, and he became sort of enamored of humanity as, y’know, channeled through Sam and Dean. So, on the one hand, he thinks, “I owe this allegiance to God, I owe this allegiance to the angels, but I think this freewill thing is right, and I think that’s probably what God wanted.” So, that was his sort of line of demarcation with the angels. Jensen: This relationship that he has developed with these humans, uh, has- has truly shaped the story that he is- is now kind of creating for himself. It’s- it’s much more freewill than it is about, y’know, the- the- the duty of an angel. Dabb: Castiel is the boys’ best ally. He’s kind of the one friend that isn’t each other that they’ve been able to rely on for years. That doesn’t mean he’s perfect, because he definitely is not that, and they go- that goes the other way, too. But he’s always been there for them, and I think that’s been very important, because the only brother (sic) people in their lives who- who fill that role are them- are, y’know, basically each other. Carver: I don’t know if the relationship would have worked as well, if he was just a mentor as opposed to a- a friend.

[Dean: (startles awake, spilling his beer) Ugh. Dammit, Cas. How many times I gotta tell you? It’s just creepy.] Carver: Just to speak of the Dean-Cas of it, I think you’ve got two incredibly dynamic, uh, y’know, characters slash actors in their own right who are so good at being exactly what they’re supposed to be, and what they are, essentially, is an odd couple.

[Dean: In the police report, it said that the, uh, the bush- it talked to you. Yeah? Victim: It sounded like Klingon to me. Dean: I’m gonna need exact words. Victim: You’re serious? Castiel: That’s his serious face, yes.] Edlund: Castiel the entity. This celestial being, as the fish-out-of-water- um, h-he’s an alien. He’s an alien to human experience.

[Castiel: What’s so funny?] Jared: Misha’s brought so much. I mean, Misha, he’s a very intelligent person and he’s brought a soul and understanding and some awesome humor and, um... so many other things.  I mean, Cas, it feels like he lives and breathes on-screen.

[Dean: It’s wabbit season. (Sam smiles.) Castiel: I don’t think you pronounced that correctly.] Sgriccia: Misha plays it so straight. He’s like Starman. He’s just this guy that you think- he looks human, but his cadence, his rhythm, his timing on things is off. There’s huge funny pieces that happen with him and the guys. 

[Castiel: I’m going to become a hunter.] Sgriccia: Because he says something that’s totally straight – it comes off as really, really funny.

[Sam: Really? Castiel: Yeah. I could be your third wheel! (Sam laughs and bites his tongue) Dean: You know that’s not a good thing, right? Castiel: Course it is! A third wheel adds extra grip, greater stability-] Glass: Everything from the way he plays him, where, y’know- And it allows us to write great jokes where he doesn’t always get what’s being said, you know, and always, y’know, takes things very literally.

[Dean: She’s right, you know. I mean, the whole heart jumping out of the guy’s chest, the- the delayed fall - that’s straight-up Bugs Bunny. Castiel: So we’re looking for some sort of insect-rabbit hybrid? How do we kill it?] Jensen: The fact that he is (laughs) has really committed to that character, uh, I think made it really, uh, really unique and interesting for the storyline.

[Castiel: (interviewing a cat) I’ve almost cracked him. Dean: Now! Castiel: Hey, I’m not through with you. Cat: Dumbass.] Edlund: Misha really played that in a lot of different ways. I mean, there’s been a lot of different incarnations of Castiel, because he’s gone through so much. Glass: I’m gonna go really geeky on you guys right now. (laughs) Um, you know, he’s our Data from Star Trek: Next Generation, you know? He is our character that allows us to explore humanity. He’s an angel who loves humans, and so I think what you’re getting to see in him and what makes him such a great character is, he’s a reflection of us.

[Castiel: (yelling) Why did you kill your husband?! Dean: Agent Stills? Sam: Please, forgive my partner. He’s, uh, he’s going through some stuff.] Edlund: It’s his un-formedness, in a way, as an angel that allows him to make the decisions he makes during the course of the- the story. He had what Dean and Sam later described as a moral lapse.

[Castiel: Speak plain. Crowley: I want to discuss a simple business transaction, that’s all. Castiel: You want to make a deal? With me?]

Misha: One of the biggest problems with the character is that he’s too powerful, and you don’t want an ally, uh, for Sam and Dean who can solve all of their problems with a snap of his fingers, so one of the things that they’ve been doing with Castiel over the last several years is finding ways to impede his power. He becomes kind of an enemy by being God, or he goes insane. There’s all these different layers that they have used to incapacitate him in some way. When we first met Castiel, he was very much the good little soldier. Over time, his exposure to Sam and Dean has made him much more human. It has given him, y’know, questions to wrestle with, like, “Do I have freewill? Do we all have freewill?” Questions that a good little soldier doesn’t normally wrestle with. Mark S.: We intersect with each other because we have agenda that are similar.

[Crowley: I’m talking about Raphael’s head on a pike. I’m talking about happy endings for all of us, with all possible entendres intended. C’mon. Just a chat?] Dabb: Crowley was made in Hell, Castiel was made in Heaven, and both of them are rebelling to some degree. They’ve both kind of broken away from the home office. They’re both kind of rebels in that way, and I think that’s what really gave them a common ground. They’re like, y’know, we’re rebels. You’re a rebel, I’m a rebel, let’s be rebels together.

[Crowley: It’s either this, or the apocalypse all over again. Everything you’ve worked for, everything that Sam and Dean have worked for-- gone.] Sgriccia: I think there was always gonna be some flaws in him – you know, power corrupts. So he got corrupted, and he went the wrong way, and it went- horribly bad. You know, because he had all those souls in him, um, and he realized that it wasn’t gonna work. Y-you know, that’s the human part coming out, that he realizes that. Otherwise he would have just kept going.

[Castiel slams Crowley against a wall.] Carver: For me, it’s all a balance between the joy and the pain. Mark S.: I mean, this is- it’s an amazing push and pull.

[Crowley: This is not how synergy works!] Mark S.: They need each other. They’re, y’know, they’re two sides of a very similar coin. Misha: Ah, boy, Crowley is pr- a big problem. And he just doesn’t seem to be going away, unfortunately. I don’t know what to do about it.

[Naomi: Tell me about Sam and Dean. Castiel: The prophet is being kept safe. The tablet has split in two, and the Winchesters are trying to recover the missing piece. Why am I telling you any of this?] Mark S.: The introduction of Naomi adds a- a second twist to it, which is, angels aren’t just the goody-goody- I mean, we’re getting a sense here that the stuff being done – “for the good of the garrison” shall we say – goes beyond what we thought angels were capable of doing.

[Naomi: Let us put the tablet back where it should be. Castiel: I need to protect it.] Singer: When he realizes that he’s been sort of a pawn in this game again, he feels I don’t- I can’t do anything right, I- y’know, it- it just wh- Whatever I do in relation to the Winchesters or whatever I do here on Earth when I think I’m being helpful, here I’m being puppeted by this-this person. Dabb: Cas is seen by heaven as an agent of chaos. You know, for good reason.  Like, he ripped the place apart, he’s instrumental in the downfall of these Archangels.

Singer: He’s kind of crestfallen a-about this. He feels, “The best thing for me to do is just,” you know, “Get the hell out of here. Go underground. Not be- not be involved.” Sgriccia: The humanist part helps him correct himself in a way. There’s this whole thing about heaven and the angels and how they’re dysfunctional and just like humans in a way, only a different level of arguments and disagreements. And there’s- is, you know, it’s in disarray in heaven, and he doesn’t want that anymore. Jared: Cas is starting to see the power of humanity, um, through these brothers, and what they’re willing to do and what they’re willing to sacrifice. And I think that’s kind of a story that Supernatural is trying to tell. Edlund: His ability to connect with a human, a naturally flawed, naturally imperfect, naturally given to the doubts and caprices of freewill – there’s something broken in Cas that resonates with whatever it is that is broken in humanity.

[Naomi: Castiel. Castiel!] Edlund: There’s a crack in Cas and, I put forward, the crack through which amazing things come. That’s why he keeps coming back. It has to be this way, in part because he was the one who was primed to lose it in the face of humanity’s plight. Singer: He realizes the, um, the importance of the angel tablet and his one last sort of thing of “I’m gonna do the right thing” is “I’m going to protect this- this tablet.“

[Castiel: They’re getting closer. Waiter: What’s that, Chief?] Singer: “This is- this is my last connection to God, really, and I have this tablet and I’m going to at all costs hold it and keep it. I don’t want the Angels to have it, I don’t want the Winchesters to have it. This is my last shot to make it right for me.”

[Castiel: Shut up! (knocks an angel down and casts him out of his vessel] [Castiel walking into the barn in Season 4] Glass: You can write a great character, but if it’s not acted right, uh, then it doesn’t mean anything. And, what really any writer or producer will tell you is what’s amazing – and I know this is the case with Misha – where you write a great character but then they come in and even bring it to a whole other level. Dabb: You have a universe. You have stories you want to tell. You have different moving parts. And if someone’s a moving part that can, y’know, twi- spin and spin and spin, they’re al- you’re always gonna get more use out of them, versus the one person that’s just there for a little while. Sometimes, you know that kind of early on, but more often it- it’s something that is really only apparent- only apparent in hindsight. Misha: That’s also something that has worked well for me. It’s just gratifying and interesting to play something that is always changing, and not to be sort of stuck in a rut. 

Dabb: It’s- a character – like any character, but especially a character like Castiel, who’s grown so much – really is a collaboration between the writers, the directors, y’know, the production, and, uh, particularly the actor. Glass: Misha just- he’s- he’s amazing as- as- as Cas. And, I think this guy’s gonna do okay. I think this is not the last we’ll see of this Misha. Hm? [Castiel looks up at the sky as the angels fall.]