yesmiladywrites

[yesmiladywrites]

Savior Complex 17/? (SPN/TWD Crossover)

Excerpt from Savior Complex: Castiel lays siege to the Sanctuary:

Chapter 17: Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin

The sun never rose over the Sanctuary. The people tilted their faces skyward, desperate for even a glimpse of natural light through the thick, swirling whiteness, but salvation never came.

Without sunlight, the passage of time became impossible to measure. Hours bled into days, into weeks – perhaps even months. Inside the Sanctuary, every clock had stopped, as though time itself had been warped, corrupted by the unnatural mist. And although the sun never rose, the wind, it whispered. A chorus of a thousand faceless voices carried through the fog, distant and unintelligible. Unfathomable.

Sometimes, something else appeared in the sky.

An immense arched shadow would come drifting high above in the smoky mist, sweeping over the Sanctuary like some otherworldly satellite, gliding slowly at first, then faster and faster with every pass, wreathed in violent bursts of lightning too blinding to behold.

The soft wind would swell into a howling storm, and with it, the whispers – closer, louder, insistent. In, in, let me in.

Until, finally, the voices would come together in a single, deafening shriek. And when the colossal ring passed over the Sanctuary one last time – its people writhing, clutching their ears against the terrible cry – it was as if the air itself burned away, leaving behind a jarring, absolute silence. Those who still had breath in their lungs howled in voiceless terror, mouths agape, eyes bulging, yet no sound escaped into the vacuum.

It was always a mercy, when the whispers returned.

(Read the entire story here. )

[yesmiladywrites]

Excerpt from Hell Hath No Fury (The Walking Dead, Rosita + Negan) AU Season 7 This is part of my ongoing TWD/SPN crossover series Armageddon Again but this excerpt can technically be read as a Walking Dead standalone.

Trigger warnings apply: sexual coercion, racism, misogyny. Feedback welcome. Enjoy!

“You know,” Negan says as he leans back in his armchair, gesturing with his drink, “I bet my wives are out there right now, ears pressed up against the door, just dying to hear what ol' Negan’s up to. I bet you’re wondering that too.”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, revulsion coiling in her guts, her voice tight and controlled, “To be one of your wives?”

Negan begins to snicker. “Fuck no!” he exclaims. His voice holds a breathless edge to it, like he genuinely finds the whole thing hilarious. “Is that what Dwight’s been telling you? No wonder you knocked him on his dumb ass.”

Rosita's mouth thins. Her gaze flicks to the baseball bat.

He continues, “Don’t get me wrong – I am SUPER into you. I mean, shit, who wouldn't be? You are smoking hot. And not just that. Look at you – strong, fierce, drop-dead gorgeous, and you swagger in, show up on my doorstep, dragging your titanium-core lady-balls through my gate? What? Are you kidding me?”

His grin is wide and unapologetic, reveling in his own audacity. “You see, I’m what the kids might call a Boomer” – he gives a little helpless shrug – “so excuse me for being a culturally insensitive prick when I say you’ve got that whole Spicy Latina thing working for you. It’s the goddamn honest truth. You own that shit.”

He pauses for a breath. “Still, gotta pass. Thing is, I like my dick. I’m highly attached to my dick. I am deeply, emotionally, some-might-even-say homoerotically invested in my own penis. And you - you clearly can’t stand the sight of me." He shrugs. "I gotta look out for the Big Guy. So, even though you really are stupidly hot, we'll have to put a raincheck on this whole hatesex thing until you're less inclined to stabbing me in the balls." He finishes his tirade with a sip of his whiskey.

She doesn’t respond right away, letting the silence hang heavy between them. “Don’t hold your breath,” she says, unable to keep the sting from her voice.

He chuckles good-naturally. “Let’s hear it from you, then. What made you come all this way?”

“I want to be a Savior,” Rosita says boldly.

He rolls his eyes. “Nope.”

“You need people who can get shit done, I can do that for you.” The lie sounds convincing to her ears.

Negan doesn’t think so. He slams his glass onto the table and leans forward, no longer grinning. “One more time,” he challenges.

Rosita’s nostrils flare. “There’s nothing left for me back there.” Her voice cracks, unsteady. It’s the truth.

Negan leans back with a satisfied hum. “Getting somewhere.” He studies her for a long moment. “You served? You look like a woman who could fill out a military uniform.”

Rosita gives a small nod.

Negan smirks. “Yeah, I can tell. You got that look about you. That big ginger fella? He had that look too.” He leans in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Can I be honest with you? That whole eeny-meeny bullshit? Yeah, I rigged that. It was always gonna be Red. Know why? Because he was down for it. And I respected that. A soldier – a real soldier – knows when it’s time to take one for the team. Somebody’s got to jump on that grenade. You don’t do it for Uncle Sam, you do it for your brothers out in the shit with you. That’s valor.”

He sits back, relaxed. “Of course, you’ve got Daryl to thank for the Asian kid.” Holding up his glass, he toasts: “For Carrot Top!”

Rosita surges forward, hissing, “His name was Abraham.”

“Ah shit,” he sighs. “So you two were…?”

Rosita scowls. To her horror, her eyes begin to sting.

“No?” He leans in, studying her face closely. “You were something, though, am I right?” He finds something in her expression, for he then exhales in surprise. “No, come on. Don’t tell me he dumped you? You? Are you shitting me?”

He looks utterly scandalized. “I take it all back – what a fucking moron. I swear, he must’ve been the dumbest man on earth. You know what, I’m glad I knocked his dome in. Honey, you deserve better.”

Rosita takes her chance. She grabs for Lucille.

Her hand barely grazes the handle when Negan slams his fist into her wrist. He’s fast – so fast that he doesn’t even spill his drink. Rosita gasps in pain, recoiling.

“There she is,” he chuckles, pleased. “Gotta admit my head’s still reeling, though. You did it. You blew my mind.” Lifting a hand to his temple, he flings his fingers in a sharp motion, mouthing a silent boom. He looks at her then with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “You’d seriously throw your life away for some ginger pubes asshole who didn’t want you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” she hisses, clutching her wrist to her chest.

Negan rises from his seat. Circling around her, he leans on the arm rest and whispers in Rosita’s ear. “What if I make you a better offer?”

His breath smells like whiskey and toothpaste. It makes her skin crawl.

The sting of her failure ebbs in her chest and threatens to spill from her eyes. “What?” she says hoarsely. 

He reaches past her shoulder and grabs Lucille. Rosita tracks his movement by sound alone as he begins to swing the awful thing around. She stares at the drape-covered windows, refusing to turn her head. She knows what men like him want. He likes to be watched, likes an audience. She won’t give him that satisfaction.

“I don’t normally let this sort of shit fly,” he grunts, flinging his baseball bat through the air. “But you’ve got a real go-getter attitude about you. I like that. So I’m gonna make you a one-time offer: stick around.” He continues to swing the bat. “Try us on for size. No tricks, no strings attached. What’d you say, slick?”

Rosita laughs, sharp and bitter. She can’t help herself. “You’re a monster.”

Negan stops mid-swing. “Monster?” He moves closer, bringing Lucille under her chin and slowly lifting, forcing her head up.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what a monster is,” he murmurs, the barbed wire biting into her skin just enough to sting. His voice takes on a strict, dangerous undertone. 

Rosita inhales sharply. She stares straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower. “Do your worst, asshole,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And waste all this potential?”

She closes her eyes. “What do you want?”

He lowers the bat, his gaze never leaving her face. “I want you to get to know me.” He chuckles knowingly. “You may think I'm a monster, but there are things that would make your worst nightmares look like bedtime stories. You think those dead pricks out there are something to worry about? No, you don't know shit from shit. Stick with me, maybe you get a chance to learn." 

“And if I say no?”

“Why the fuck would you say no?” Negan retorts, incredulous.

Her mouth wobbles. She knows what Negan is – a psychopath, a manipulator – but he’s also a man. And men can be outwitted.

Rosita says yes. It’s not a surrender; it’s strategy.

(Hell Hath No Fury (4732 words) by yesmilady)

[yesmiladywrites]

What if SPN monsters were only lame because the universe cared about playing fair, and not because of silly budget reasons?

***

The vast expanse of Purgatory offered no sanctuary. It was hunt or be hunted; an endless whirlwind of bloodlust. In the darkest depths of the eternal forest, the dead devoured one another. There was no final rest for those lost human souls, damned by their monstrous nature.

But not all monsters came from humankind. Above, in the hidden mountains of Purgatory, shrouded in a perpetual icy fog, the giants roamed.

They were the monsters of old. Leviathans, Behemoths, Hydras, and Dragons – ancient, titanic, eldritch abominations. Giants could not come to the forest, could not join the eternal battle – not in their true gargantuan forms. For even Purgatory had its rules. When these colossal beings descended from their mountain peaks, they were forced to assume humanlike appearances, bound by some unspoken primordial law.

For a bottom dweller to ascend the mountain and face such nightmares was unheard of. For a bottom dweller to return was unimaginable. No one had ever attempted it – no one except for Dean Winchester.

He hadn’t found Cas up there, either. But by then, all of Purgatory had learned of Dean.

[yesmiladywrites]

Excerpt from my TWDXSPN crossover

Grief had a funny way of sneaking up on a person.

One moment, Dean was fine – coasting down an empty post-apocalyptic highway, a bullet hole in his leg and his new pal brooding up the shotgun seat – the next, he was struck by a sense of longing so intense it stole the very breath from his lungs.

Before he knew it, a single tear escaped from his eye. He attempted to wipe it away discreetly, but unfortunately his companion had already taken notice.

“You alright?” Daryl asked quietly.

“It's nothing,” Dean said gruffly. He tugged at his nose with a forced casualness. “Don’t worry about it.”

Brow furrowed, Daryl gave a small nod and returned to his silent contemplation of the window. He’d angled his body away, like he was offering Dean a moment of privacy, not making a big deal out of it.

He was a good one, that Daryl. He knew when to leave things well enough alone. Some things were better left unspoken.

Several moments passed as they drove on in silence.

“It just feels like a part of me is missing, you know?” The words tumbled out of Dean in a quick rush. “It’s never gonna be the same,” he felt compelled to share.

“Life’s a bitch,” Daryl mumbled his agreement, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he stared out the window.

Dean released a long, shuddering sigh. “My Baby’s gone, man. And the world just keeps on spinning. It ain’t right.” His mouth wobbled, and he paused for a moment to collect himself.

It was always the little things that reminded him – the scent of leather, the wind in his hair, the way the light hit the road just right. Whenever it happened, Dean would find himself plunged into a world of sorrow, feelings and memories he’d worked so hard to suppress clawing their way to the surface.

“You would’ve liked her,” Dean sighed wistfully.

Daryl shot him a strange look, brow furrowing. “...Her?”

“She was so damn beautiful,” Dean said, voice soft with reverence. He stared out at the road ahead, watching the world rush by in a blur of asphalt. The hum of the engine beneath him seemed hollow. “They just don’t make ‘em like that anymore. Well… I guess they don’t make ‘em at all.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “She had these – these curves, man… sleek, smooth… every time I put my hands on her, it was like magic. Real magic, not that witchy bullcrap. She fit me like a glove, you know? It was like we were made for each other. And the way she purred… God, you’d feel it in your bones.”

By now, Daryl was looking downright confused. And was he… blushing?

“What?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Ain’t Cas a guy?” Daryl asked hesitantly.

Dean blinked, momentarily thrown. “What? No, not Cas – Baby. My car.”

For a moment, Daryl just stared, processing. Then, slowly, he nodded. “No, I get it.” A shrug followed. “Had a bike like that once.”

(AMHC on AO3)

[yesmiladywrites]

I think the portal fluid might've become connected to the Citadel. Maybe it wasn't the case at first, but Rick only managed to fix portal travel after the dinos closed the rift.

Maybe the central finite curve had something to do with stabilizing portal travel?

Like an interdimentonal highway or railroad system. Just a thought.

We are missing a trick treating "portal travel" as one thing, I think. There's two moving parts to it - a gun, and the fluid. And they're seperate things, story-wise, no? They're independent factors.

You can have a gun that needs refilling, and fluid seems to be mined/processed on the citadel, and you don't need a gun to use it (permanent wishing portal/Mortys hand etc)

And the guns can be made relatively easily if someone doesn't wanna use/doesn't have one of the mass produced ones, but the only time we've seen the fluid made it's been either a massive industrial scale operation, or nearly blew up Ricks whole garage (not to mention how long he put off trying to make it, and how ecstatic he seemed when he managed it)

I wonder if looking at the two things seperately makes any difference to any theories... Hmmm.

[yesmiladywrites]

My headcanon is that at some point Cas looked at Dean and decided to flick a switch in Jimmy's body and turn on aging. Just like on the Sims. Aging enabled. That's it. That's all.

in the good spn that lives in my mind that isn’t beholden to like actors physically aging, cas looks exactly the same all throughout until the very end. like he’s just 30 yr old jimmy-looking for a decade. and then. like post-s13, he comes back from the empty and, he’s different. there are more lines on his face. his hair starts getting longer. he has to shave. his grace is weaker, he’s becoming more human, and that starts reflecting on his body. one days dean notices some gray hairs at cas’s temple and he nearly starts crying bc he thinks this is his fault obvs. he changed the angel. but cas is like, “oh. i’m…old.” and then smiles. he gets to age with dean and he’s so happy about it. 

[yesmiladywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV), Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Simon (Walking Dead), Castiel (mentioned), Negan Smith (Mentioned) Additional Tags: BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sam Winchester is So Done, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse Summary:

In the world of the walking dead, one cannot trust the living. Sam and Dean have to assume the worst about every stranger.

[yesmiladywrites]

I like to google certain phrases just to make sure they sound right, and, well...

[yesmiladywrites]

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

[yesmiladywrites]

Look how the flappers instinctively start flapping. A+ attention to details.

Just in case you never noticed this in 4x10

[yesmiladywrites]

Fanon!Chuck when we were all innocent: And this is my most favorite angel, Castiel. He's a little different but that's okay. To reward him for living by my most sacred rule I have created for him the Most Righteous Man!

Canon!Chuck now that we know what's up: Castiel is like a haunted, Victorian doll. Cracked, always showing up no matter how many times I throw it in the garbage - always sneaking into my toybox, messing with my toys. Messing with how I've set them up, interrupting the story!

[yesmiladywrites]

Theory: Billie dies next episode, followed closely by Cas. Since repears are angels and the next reaper to die after death dies becomes death, Cas gets an endgame upgrade as the new death.

[yesmiladywrites]

[yesmiladywrites]

End Game spoilers ahead!!!!

S

P

O

I

L

E

R

S

...

Ok, now that's out of the way, here are some of my fix it ideas (feel free to take these as prompt)

1. Saving Tony's life - imagine if during Tony's dying scene, doctor Strange (one heck of a medical doctor apparently) steps in to save Tony's life. Or.... maybe with the help of the time stone? Like with Vision in the previous movie (local time rewind with the results of Tony snap unaffected).

2. Saving Natasha (and Gamora!) - okay it's been theorized that everyone who's been dusted was in the soul stone. We now know that's not true (I think?) Buttttt what if that's only true for the sacrifices? We did see Thanos talking with wee Gamora after the first snap. Maybe both Natasha and OG Gamora are still out there. Which will probably leave us with TWO Gamoras but hey the more the merrier.

3. NY 2012 & time travel - you know how the bald non asian lady made a big deal about not affecting her own universe string, so bruce promised to bring the stones back therefore not hurt the timey wimey? Well it occurred to me that THAT is the same "universe" where Loki escaped and CapxCap happened. Meaning, they already created a different universe and therefore returning the stones probably won't matter much. They fucked up. Plot point? Plot hole? Who knows, just throwing it out there.

4. Old Steve plot hole - like the above, Steve going back to Peggy also creates another universe. It's NOT a stable time loop because there will be another Steve back there, who will either be rescued early or after 70 years. Ergo this plot line makes no sense and it is therefore REJECTED lol.

[yesmiladywrites]

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

[yesmiladywrites]

tumblr right now:

(the gif isn’t mine, i shamelessly stole it from this post by @jonahsimms )

[yesmiladywrites]

I got stabbed in the butt.

There’s an old legend that a birthmark or defect indicates the spot where you received a fatal wound in your past life. In some cultures, people mark their dead with soot or paste so they can recognize them when they are reborn, which has inspired several researchers to spend their lives documenting hundreds of case studies that allegedly reflect this belief. Source Source 2 Source 3