Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Length: 1667+ words
TW: Nothing but fluff here, folks
A/N: I saw three dogs while going on a walk yesterday. It was a good day. I was inspired by THIS video right here (please watch it, and be prepared for your heart to melt, and I couldn’t help, but write this. Plus @winchesters-favorite-girl kept posting pictures of Eeva, and I really love her dog ;; So here’s some dog!Dean fluff!
Dean hated witches. I mean, he hates all monsters in general, but he’s very vocal on his hatred for witches. This case just gave him more reason to hate them. Sam was down with a broken leg back in the bunker so it was up to Dean, and Y/N to gank the witch.
The witch had led them to a forest, the hunters on high alert, but kethat didn’t matter because the witch had enough of running. She casted a spell on them from a safe distance, letting the dust surround them before disappearing.
“Dean!” Y/N yelled, bringing attention to the dust around them, but it was too late. They had already inhaled whatever mystic powder she threw their way on them.
“Fuck!” Dean cursed. “We don’t even know what spell she hit us with.”
His partner didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned her weight on the tree closest to her. Her lungs felt like they were expanding, and collapsing at the same time. The blood in her veins felt like hot lava slowly pumping through her bloodstream, and yet she shivered, her skin prickling with cold dampness that came from her sweat. Her heart felt like it was racing, too fast to be normal, too fast to be healthy. A choked sob escaped her lips.
“Y/N?” Dean whipped his head around to see her lurched over. He ran to her, one hand on her back, the other cupping her cheek. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”
She couldn’t respond. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Dean ignored to pain that was starting to bloom in his heart. He ignored the fact that he could feel his blood pumping his heart, and the fact that it fucking hurts. He ignored the pain he felt all over because the blood in his veins were moving too slow, and too thick.
“Y/N?” he choked out, trying to push through his pain to help her with hers.
Then everything started spinning, and darkness overtook the two hunters.
Y/N came to first. She opened her eyes, finding her surroundings to be bigger, and monochrome. She tried moving her fingers to scratch the itch away from her cheek, but when she brought up her hand to her face, she found a paw- a small paw. She looked down finding a furry chest instead of her normal human body. Trying not to panic, she analyzed her surroundings, and her mind went to Dean. She found a German Shepherd near her, and Dean’s clothes surrounding it. She quickly ran to his side, nudging her paw against his chest, but when that didn’t work she placed her snout on his neck, trying to feel a pulse. Suddenly, he moved, and she backed up from him, trying to give him some space. He tried raising his hand to his head, but he found the same thing, a paw. His eyes widened, and he frantically looked around, seeing her. There was concern in his eyes as he scanned her figure for any injuries. He tried speaking, but only a bark came out, and Dean looked less than happy. She walked over, and nuzzled his chest once again to relax him.
He looked around, trying to look for his phone, thanking Chuck for smartphones. He used his snout to unlock his phone, growling in annoyance at the rectangular device for moving around as he held it in place with his paws. Finally, he got it to dial Sam’s phone, waiting until he picked up before barking. Y/N rolled her eyes at his incessant barking. They could hear Sam’s confused questions as Dean kept barking at the phone. Finally, they heard him speak the words they wanted to hear.
“I’ll come find you guys. Just stay on the line.”
Dean just kept barking, and barking. Y/N’s ears perked up as she heard some howling from afar, she quickly leapt on Dean, trying to shush him. She put a paw near his mouth, missing his sharp canines. He got the message, and stayed quiet, realizing the sound of growling was getting closer. With their heightened senses, they could see a pack of coyotes approaching them.
Also after the nuclear apocolypse, if you’re in the right place and people are still alive you can use a fake Aussie accent and people will be like EEYYYY MAD MAX REFERENCE, EYYYYY NICE right before mutated coyotes attack the caravan and murder half of your friends.
Don’t Trespass When having a circle, make sure you aren’t on private property or out in a public space that has a curfew. It’s always safest in your yard or a friend’s yard. Don’t go into abandoned buildings, cemeteries, churches… They either won’t be safe or will have patrols that will catch you.
Solitary Safety Always let someone know where you are; especially at night. If you aren’t having the circle in your yard tell someone where you are in case something happens to you. Make sure you pay extra attention to open flames and any sharp tools you may be using. Always make sure you have a way to contact someone if needed.
Group Safety As above always make sure someone outside the group of you knows where you are. There is more safety in numbers but still pay attention to flame and sharp tools. With more people sometimes things can get confusing and someone could trip over someone else…
Wild Animals They do not want to be your friend. You probably won’t even see them as they tend to avoid people, but in case you do see an animal do not approach it; even deer will attack if they feel threatened. Most are harmless if left alone (deer, rabbits, squirrels, owls…) others are more keen to attack (coyotes, wolves, raccoons, foxes…). The fire from the circle may help repel them, but if they do come after you don’t worry about breaking the circle or anything else, get away.
Sharp tools Take care not to cut yourself or anyone else. Don’t leave the blade on the ground or someplace you or someone else could accidentally run into it. Always bring a first aid kit with bandages and rubbing alcohol just in case. Accidents do happen
Open Flame Safety This goes without saying: NEVER leave an open flame unattended. Check your candles regularly to make sure they aren’t catching anything else on fire, been knocked over or are otherwise hazardous. Keep loose clothing, hair and anything else flammable well out of reach of any flame.
Fire Indoors Having lit candles indoors can be dangerous. Make sure they won’t catch any furniture or curtains on fire. Keep small children and pets well away from the flames. Make sure that the room is well ventilated so there isn’t smoke buildup. Use candle holders. Keep all hair and clothes away from the flame.
Fire Outdoors As with fire indoors keep small children and pets well away from any flame. Make sure there aren’t any plants, dry grass or leaves that could catch fire near your candles. Keep all hair and clothes away from the flame. Keep in mind that while outdoor the wind can blow out your candles so try to keep then guarded with holders.
Incense Indoors Make sure the room is well ventilated so there’s not smoke buildup. Some fire alarms will be set off by incense smoke. Don’t light incense indoor if there are any pets or small children as they have a harder time breathing with the smoke in the air. Make sure no one with allergies to scents will be in the house until you have aired it out. Use a small fan too keep air circulating so you don’t get overwhelmed with the smell. Keep all lit incense away from anything flammable.
Incense Outdoors Incense outdoors is a lot less dangerous. Make sure to keep all lit incense away from anything flammable. Keep in mind that some animals are curious and might be drawn to the new small, especially in or around forests. Make sure you aren’t around any bird nests that have baby’s as the smell could kill them.
Cleanup Always cleanup everything after you’re done your circle, be it indoors or out. Collect all your tools and put them away and clean up any ashes from incense. Don’t pour out the melted wax from your candles, not only does it use up your candles faster, but now there’s a pool of wax for someone to step in, or some animal to find and eat which can make them sick. Always leave the area you cast your circle in as you found is.
some of you may know i’ve been feeding crows for a few months now, as represented in my operation: crow army tag
i’ve been doing it as part of spellwork and as an attempt to gain a cohort of familiars. ultimately i would like to train them to attack cops or something but i haven’t quite figured that out
it’s gotten to the point where i can pretty much walk out onto my porch during any daylight hour and crinkle a packet of ramen noodles and they’ll come perch in the trees. today a few of them were willing to land on the far edge of my lawn while i was still on the porch, which is a new development.
they’re still wary of me. every time i move, even from the other side of the window, they jump. i think it’s reflexive
an unexpected side effect is that i am learning which of my neighbors the crows like. lots of people walk by my house but only for a select few will the crows only stay on the ground level while they walk past.
at first i summoned raccoons, and they got into the crawlspace directly under my bedroom. actual monsters under my bed, screaming and gnawing on the floorboards. just kidding, they’re probably cute, but i interpreted this as a metaphor for the structural underpinnings of my thoughts and beliefs: there’s something dangerous going on in the recesses of my mind, and i need to get rid of it before it gets trapped and rots down there.
well, i think the raccoons are gone but apparently it’s because there has been a coyote sighting exactly in front of my house, and i have no idea if i summoned that or what it means
The messaging system sucks. The messaging system has always sucked. The messaging system has sucked for hundreds of years. Somehow, nobody thinks this is unusual.
You wake up to discover that tumblr’s default font is now Papyrus. “Coyotes,” explains a colorful polygon with dots for eyes. You offer no response. The grayfaces and polygons know what coyote attacks look like. This is not a coyote’s work.
“let’s all just keep xkit guy in our thoughts and prayers tonight as he works to fix this new update,” the post says. You reblog it. But can this cycle really sustain itself? How much longer before he needs more than prayers? How many more times, before xkit guy demands incense, bath bombs, the blood of unblemished lambs?
The updates are sudden now, coming without warning. Rich and poor, proud and humble, fave and problematic, all are swallowed up in user interface cataclysms. Once there was a sigil to reblog, a ward to keep the chaos at bay, but nobody reblogs it. It doesn’t work any more. Deep down, you wonder if it ever really did.
Tried posting yesterday, but Tumblr decided to eat it prior
So… Been getting a lot of asks about seeing Priscilla, and knowing her breed and stuff. Priscilla was without a doubt in my mind the cutest Pekingese ever. Loved being with people, usually tried licking everything and everyone every chance she had, and was just so SILLY.
But cute as she was, she was tough as nails. She survived pneumonia after getting it as a puppy (the week we adopted her actually), various trampling sessions with all the french mastiffs we’ve had over the years before she proceeded to put them in their places, and more recently a coyote attack. She was a little dog that was never scared to let others know how she felt, and if she didn’t get her way there was hell to pay.
But she’s been in my life since I was eight years old, and this goofball has meant the world to me. Silly was a really good girl…. There’s no other way to put that. And I will always be grateful for all the good memories she has left me over the years. Helped me feel a lot better to see the old pictures with her so happy again too, she was such a funky dog heehee.
I’ll leave it there, but g’night Silly. I’ll never forget how amazing and loving a dog you were.
Scott was pacing the front of Deaton’s clinic as he checked you over before beckoning the three that had stayed inside. Scott, Lydia and Stiles hurried to stand next to you. Your brother couldn’t bare to look at you while Stiles attempted to lighten the mood with jokes, Lydia glared at him while she clutched your hand.
“Well the good news is that she’s alive.” Deaton muttered as he repeatedly flashed a light in your eyes.
“And the bad news?” Scott sighed.
“She isn’t in her body.” Deaton didn’t elaborate and he stepped away meaning Stiles let out a flood of questions. “What I mean is that she is in someone else’s body.”
Guys and girl, pet owners with an open heart please help if you’re able! Last night my pet 9 year old shih tzu Orphey was attacked by a coyote and was severely injured. He has 4 fractured ribs, two deep puncture wounds and multiple lacerations and blunt trauma down his sides. we’ve had him in emergency care all night from critical condition the vet said we would need to get him stable on an iv drip and oxygen chamber antibiotics painkillers and other medication. His blood pressure dropped to 35 from a 150 norm after 6 and a half hours we had him transfered to a specialty vet that said surgery would be necessary to see if there was internal bleeding and to suture the torn muscle. In addition to the near $1700 we’ve spent in emergency care we had to pay for an oxygen transport to the new vet at near $450 that lands us at over $2000 out of pocket with no pet insurance and we’re unable to pay for his surgery let alone his current continued care. We took him home unable to continue treatment and he’s still in unstable condition to whether out the storm on his own and I’m so worried he won’t make it through the night. He needs to be cared for but we are unable to keep up financially. Please if you are able to help I would be eternally grateful, any amount helps and if you’re unable to donate please spread this around! I don’t want my little guy to pass because I am unable to pay for medical services :( you can donate on paypal at
email@example.com the estimated cost for the care he needs is inbetween $5000 and $6000 T-T
Update: so far we’ve raised $500 thank you for the help so far everyone I deeply appreciate it and I think orphey will too!
Someone asks you “How many miles to Wall Drug?” and you answer automatically. No matter where you are or where you are going something in your bones knows. After a while they stop asking. The knowledge sits heavy.
You drive five miles out of town and the stars are so bright that you can’t look away. You recognize none of them. The glow from town has faded. For some reason it takes twice as long to drive home.
At night you can hear the cows calling. Occasionally the coyote will answer. Their attack could come at any time. Keep the young in the center of the herd and wait until morning.
The old school house is ancient and uninhabited except by the ghosts of the children who died during the Children’s Blizzard. They finally reached the school but the fire won’t light and oh god when did the building decay. Why can’t they get warm?
There’s gold in them hills. Every hill. There’s gold in the land, and the people, and the giftshops.
If you encounter a Mountain Lion remember that they are more afraid of you. They know what happened to the forest. They know it’s only a matter of time.
There’s someone new in town. They’re acting strangely and you suspect they’re from another planet altogether. The people from the other side of the river can’t be trusted.
You reassure yourself that the strange shape in the night as you drive down the highway was just a roadside statue. One that seems to have been walking alongside the road. The T-rex has escaped it’s leash.
My father told me a story once. I’ll never forget it, for a few reasons. I think it’s the first story he ever told me, as a child. Its also the story of how my grandfather died. But honestly, that isn’t the reason.
You hear stories, on TV, or sometimes you over hear something in a public place. People talk about ghosts and aliens, and you think to yourself “that ain’t real. They’re making it up, or they’re mistaken, or they’re crazy.” or something like that. You just can’t believe it.
Until something happens. Something that brings it all together, connects the dots in a way you didn’t think of before. Maybe it happens to you, maybe you hear the same story again and again, happening to different people. It doesn’t take long for the world to become a lot bigger than you thought it was.
As I said, this is a story my father told me, but I never believed it, even though he swore up and down it was true. It wasn’t until I started clicking around the internet I started to believe. I started to hear other stories just like the one my father told me. It didn’t take me long to believe in The Rake.
That’s not what my father called it, of course. He’s never used the internet in his life, he wouldn’t know what the consensus has taken to naming it. When he chose to call it something other than “it” or “that thing” He called it “Skinwalker” after an old Cherokee tale his grandfather told him.
But I’ll tell you the story, the way he told it to me.
“We were out hunting one night.” he’d tell me. “Coyotes. We’d kill ‘em for fifty bucks a skin.” they lived on a dairy farm, in Ohio. “They’d kill calves sometimes. We’d do it every night, because we needed the money. Sometimes, while we were out, we’d come on a Deer, and kill it. Our landlord didn’t mind, and it could a feed our family for a few nights and save us some money.”
“Anyway, we were done making our rounds and heading home, walking, ’cause we didn’t have a car or some four-wheeler back then. We’d cut through the woods. That’s when we came up on it.”
“Blood, everywhere. Splattered on the trees, in the grass, in the creek, everywhere. At first, we figured it was a pack of Coyotes. We’d seen it sometimes, they can’t scavenge and start hunting Deer or cattle. The worst was when they breed with feral dogs. But this wasn’t like that.
See, when a pack of dogs, or wolves, or coyotes attack something, they do it right. They’ll pick off one that’s weak, or sick, or old, or just small. They’ll hunt it, draw it into a corner, some place it can’t get out off, and they’ll run it right to the biggest one, the Alpha. And that deer will never see that Alpha. It might hear it, but it won’t see it. It’ll just notice that it’s throat is gone, and then it’ll drop dead. Its quick, its clean. That wasn’t what happened here.”
“Something had run up on a den of deer. Coyotes won’t attack a den, wolves neither, because they’d get too much of a fight. There were three, I think, three bodies. Just torn apart. You’d see a head here, a leg here, a torso there. Predators don’t do that. They don’t leave behind scraps. What had done this hadn’t done it for food. It had done it for fun.”
“But we didn’t know that. We saw a bunch of carcasses and we think its something we gotta take care of. I remember my dad telling me to go home; he thought it was a pack of feral dogs.
But I wasn’t leaving him, and I damn sure wasn’t walking through two miles of woods alone, with nothing but a twenty two and a pocket knife.” he was only thirteen at the time, so a .22 rifle was about the only gun he could reliably use. “dad had the shotgun, and I wasn’t going anywhere without it.”
“It took me a while, to convince him, but finally we began tracking whatever did that. It wasn’t hard, either, we just followed the blood. Either that thing bleed a deer before it got away, or it dragged one for a mile. I don’t know. I know that I’d never seen my dad scared before that night.”
“We started hearing noises. I’ve been in a lot of woods, in my life, I’ve been all over the world, and ain’t never heard noises like I heard that night. I heard things screaming.”
“Heard deer, and fox, and rabbits and raccoons and birds, just scared. Keep in mind, this is maybe twelve, or one o’ clock. ‘cept the fox, and some birds, nothing was supposed to even be awake. But they weren’t just awake They were moving. I saw flocks of birds that night fly straight into trees just trying to get out of there. We came up on a pack of coyotes, nearly shot a couple thinking it was what we were looking for us, but then we saw they were running towards us. They ran right passed us, didn’t even notice.”
“Then some deer did the same. Then some rabbits, squirrels, foxes, even a couple wild hogs. These things were supposed to be eating each other and the only thing they cared about was getting out of there.”
“We should have put it together. That maybe whatever we were tracking, it wasn’t something we were supposed to see, and it wasn’t something we could kill. I don’t know why we didn’t just go home. I guess we were curious. I think that was my dads nature, to go toward trouble, to fight. And knowing what I knew about what my father did during the war, my nature was to stay close to him.”
“We finally get into an open valley. It was normally a soy field, but it wasn’t in season, so it was just flat dirt. We saw the tracks, then. A lot of the animals fleeing the forest had paved over the land. But where that deer blood was, nothing had taken a single step. Like they were leaving it for us to find.”
“The tracks were shallow. Whatever it was couldn’t have weighed more than one hundred pounds, but that didn’t mean much. A bobcat weighing forty pounds wet nearly tore out my damn throat, once. All that means is that its quick and hard to hit.”
“So we follow the tracks, and it doesn’t take us long to find where it is. There’s this old school house that sits on the top of a hill. Half of it had been ripped out by a tornado, but nobody lived there, not for a long time. We caught homeless people in there, sometimes, or druggies looking for a safe place to shoot up. We figured maybe that was it. Maybe it was some sick kid riding a high. But we didn’t think that for long.”
“We get within fifty yards, and we hear this noise. A screeching kinda sound. It was sort of made up of two different sounds. One was a high pitched screech, another was a low pitched growl. It was making both, at the same time.”
“We get within twenty yards, and we hear this sound. I can remember thinking that it sounded like paper being torn apart, while someone was swinging water in a bucket, back and forth.”
“Dad looks at me, kneels down, and whispers. I gotta stay behind him, ’cause we’re about to corner him. Any animal will fight when its cornered, specially when its a predator. But we can tell by the tracks that its just one. He tells me its probably a single, feral dog, probably rabid.”
“The plan is to sneak up on it while its eating, shoot it, and then keep shooting it ’till it don’t move anymore, then slit it’s throat. And if it gets to dad, It’s my job to shoot it or stab it to get it off him. So he walks up, and I’m right behind him, just a tad to his side, so I can see what it is. I wish to this day I hadn’t.”
“It was leaning over a carcass, tears off its flesh, and throws what it doesn’t nibble at aside. There’s blood all over the brick, glistening in the moonlight. It’s pale white. Human looking, but not quite human. It had arms and legs like a human, but it sat like a monkey, hunched over. And its hands weren’t normal; it had long fingers with claws at the end.”
“So we see that, and my dad hesitates. He wasn’t about to fire on a person. So he clears his throat, to try get it to turn around.”
“I swear to god, all the noise just ceased. I ain’t ever heard true silence before that, and not after it. But for two seconds, nothing, nothing, made any noise. Which made it all the louder when it turned around, made this shrill cry, and jumped on dad.”
“He got a shot off. I think he missed. If he hit the thing, it didn’t mind. But it was on him, tears parts of him off. I start shooting it with the twenty two, point blank, but it barely bled the thing. I got off five rounds, and then I started hitting it with the gun butt. But it wasn’t budging.”
“It didn’t even register that I was there.”
“It’s clawing at my dad, taking off bits of his flesh. It starts on his torso, ripping off the skin, his tit, then it moves up. It tore off his throat, it tore off his nose, his eyes, it scalped him. Then it started digging in, ripped off the bottom half of his jaw, the little bones and that tube in your neck, then his ribs.”
“I don’t exactly remember what happened, but somehow, my dads knife ends up in this things shoulder, and my dad ends up on my back. I’m running, and by god I’m running faster than I’d ever run before or after. And its following me. I end up back in the woods, opposite the ones we been in. I’m headin’ towards my landlords house, cause it’s half a mile away.”
“I can hear this thing, screeching and moaning. I hear these tree branches crack and get thrown around. It sounds like someone’s taking an ax to every single tree I pass, its cracking so loud and often, but I just ain’t looking back.”
“Finally, I trip into gravel. I look up and there’s my landlord and bunch of his buddies, drinking around a campfire. I scream and I cry, and they come over. I’m telling them to call an ambulance, and he looks at me, and I’ll never forget what he said.”
“‘What is that on your back?’ he asked me. Just as he said it, he saw. One of those godawful flannel shirts my dad wore everywhere. It was what was left of my dad. Most of his head, his torso, but nothing after the waist.”
“Suddenly we hear it. Screeching. He grabs me, my dad gets thrown on the ground. I’m fighting him, crying, cause I think we can still save him, somehow, but my dad had been gone ‘for I ever picked him up. He has to pick me up and throw me inside before I come with him.”
“He and his buddies, we’re all inside, and their locking doors, and getting guns. The landlord’s asking me ‘what happened?’ ‘what happened?’ but I just don’t know what to tell him. He pieced enough of it all together to understand that there was something dangerous there. All the lights in the house are on, and someone calls the cops. They’ll be there, but in fifteen minutes.”
“We look outside, and see it walk in front of the fire they’d made. Don’t know what it is, one of ‘em says it looks like an Ape. Suddenly, something goes through the window. We shoot at it, but ain’t the thing. Its my Landlord’s dog. Just the body, though. Not his head or legs.”
“We start pushing things in front of doors and windows, when we hear something the garage. I remember one of his friends sayin’ that the doors were open. We hear metal and glass just get ripped apart. We put a couch and a TV in front of the door to the garage.”
“It banged around some more, but then it got quiet. Not silent, like it was before. We could hear it move around some, and the guys were talking, making sure the guns were ready. Someone hands me a pistol. No sooner did I cock the hammer back did we hear something shatter upstairs. Then we heard it screech again. ‘cept now it was louder, and it didn’t echo and fade out. Because it was inside.”
“We all rushed to the one door leading upstairs, and we got to it just as that thing did. It opened it just a bit, and four or five men just slammed into it. It got its hand through. Someone with a shotgun took care of that. Put the barrel right up to its wrist and pulled the trigger. Cut its hand off, clean.”
“That only pissed it off, though. It started pushing on that door, clawing. We were on one side, pushing as best we could, and it was on the other, doing the same. That wood just wasn’t going to hold, so someone tells us to keep our heads down. Suddenly the top half of the door is just gone, my ears are ringing, and there are splinters everywhere. Two or three of them just unloaded on the top of that door.”
“I don’t really know where it went after that. The police got there. I was still glued to that door, what was left of it. The sun was up before they got me off it. They put me in a hospital for a while. A lot of people talked to me, but I didn’t talk back, not for a long, long time.”
“When I got back home, I got a job for the landlord, working on the farm. We didn’t talk much, not about the thing. But, I signed up for the army when I was nineteen, and he sat me down to drink some scotch as a send off. I asked him, right away, what the police told him. The story they went with was a wild animal, probably a wolf, or maybe a bear that had migrated north. I asked him how they could say that when they had the hand. He looks at me, stunned.”
“He tells me that hand never made it back to the station. The cop who had it in his car wrecked, drove into a tree, died on impact. The hand was never found, probably taken away by an animal. The cops, when they would acknowledge the hand existed at all, said it was simply the paw of a bear that looked like a human hand.”
“I never talked to the Landlord again. He went missing when I was in basic. Never found him. They said he owed some people some money and just ran away, but I don’t think its that simple. I never went back to those woods. I wouldn’t even if I had the whole goddamn US Army at my back.”
But that was a lie. When my mother died, I don’t think my father felt he had anything left, and that he might as well settle old scores. He went to those woods. He never came back. FBI was called, they did a show for everyone involved, but I knew they weren’t really looking. I had to get one drunk and slip him a few fifties before he finally told me that they get a few calls about those woods every year, about someone up and vanishing. But that was all he wanted to tell me. Before he got up and left with the rest of his team, he wrote “The Rake” onto a napkin. I didn’t know what I meant until I searched for it on the internet. Honestly, I would have rather not known.