the machete was his

Clearance part 4 (Ethan Mini-Series)


Living within an underground civilization, it is the dream of each member of the community to achieve Clearance.  In order to achieve this, you must be skilled in combat, have impeccable survival skills,  and be able to outsmart nearly everyone you approach.  Once you achieve clearance you are sent to Ground Zero, the main land where you are sent to protect and fight for the humans who have only known the real world, society as we know it. The day of testing comes; some of the trainees in the sector achieve Clearance, while others are held back for further training.  When those who are cleared are sent above, they realize that they aren’t meant to be the heroes they dreamt to be, the protectors that their leaders told them they would be, and the world above was nothing like they imagined it would be.

The indomitable sector trainees realize that all of their lives they were being lied to.  They weren’t going to be Gods to the human race… they were prey.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: Language.  Violence (not gory, but somewhat descriptive).

Authors Note: Lord this was hard to write.  This scene took everything out of me.  Be gentle with me because I haven’t written something like this in a long time!

Part 4: Killian

Their feet thudded against the ground like a pride of lions chasing their prey, but that was the problem… they weren’t the hunters; they were the hunted.  Selena led the pack behind her, swiftly running through the trees, managing to avoid getting hit.  

She had seen the attack–it had been such a detailed vision that she had thought it was actually happening at first.  When she came out of it, Grayson was in front of her, his hands gently patting her face as he said her name repeatedly.  Immediately, she took off trying her best to recognize her surroundings, looking for something familiar from her vision.  Eventually she caught sight of a split tree she had noticed in the background and she took off into a dead sprint past it until she saw Y/n hand something over to Zeke.

Now they were running as a group through the trees to an unknown destination that would hopefully provide them safety.  She led them up a hill where she came to an abrupt stop, her arms instinctively flying out to her sides to stop those behind her from going any further.

“Selena, what is it?” Leena panted as she walked to stand next to her.  “Holy shit.”

At the bottom of the hill stood a group equal to the size of theirs.  The difference was these people were bigger, scarier, and looked much stronger.  To make matters worse, only a few moments later there were cracks and creaks up in the trees before about 20 more jumped down to the ground, bow and arrows in hand.

They all wore dark, dirty, tattered clothes.  Their faces were scarred and held what looked like permanent bruising; shades of deep violet and blue covering their faces.  Each face held a similar scowl with hard, flatlined lips.  These people had seen pain and torture, that much was obvious.

“They’re all the size of Cohen!” Zeke exclaimed breathlessly.

“Not all of them,” M disagreed, “The archers are female; look at their build.”

Grayson stepped forward, “Maybe if we could talk to them, we can explain to them that we mean no harm.” he held his hands up in surrender, “We mean you no harm!  We are from the lower community, sent up to protect and fight!” he claimed, his voice strong, but not threatening.

A large, hooded male stepped to the front of the crowd below them.  He walked with the confidence of a king, his back straight and his head held high.  He held his arm out in the direction of one of the archers, “Tilena, up.” his deep voice commanded.

The female he was instructing lifted her bow, pulling the arrow back, and directed it toward Grayson.  Based on the trajectory, Y/n knew that it was going to be a kill shot and Grayson had nothing to work as a barrier to protect him.

“Please,” Grayson pleaded, yet didn’t show weakness, “We’ve just come to Ground Zero.  It is not what we expected.  We do not mean to intrude nor to threaten.  We are here to fulfill our purpose.”

The man gave no reaction, he simply stood there, drilling holes into Grayson’s head with his eyes.  His head slowly turned toward the female, Tilena, “Release.”

Without hesitation she let the arrow go, allowing it to soar in Grayson’s direction.  His arms flew up to shield himself, but right before it got to him, the arrow was broken by a knife that had been thrown with a force strong enough that it could bust the arrow, stopping it from impact.

Grayson looked over to see Wren looking in his direction, her arm still extended from the throw.  Wren was a girl in their class who was known for her knife skills.  Hand to hand combat practice was already hard enough with her, but if you gave her a knife, she was an even tougher opponent.  Not only could she fight with them, but she could throw them at a target with 97% accuracy.

“Up!” the male voice yelled and again Tilena raised her bow to shoot.

Right as the male gave her the order to release, M picked up Wren’s knife that had plunged into the ground in front of her and launched it at Tilena, hitting her right in the chest.

Tilena dropped her bow, her hands weakly wrapping around the knife in her chest.  With wide eyes she pulled it out, looking at it like it was a foreign object, her blood coating the silver blade.  Stumbling back a few steps, Tilena let out a soft choke before falling to the ground lifelessly.

Y/n looked over to M who stood there with no emotion on her face.  She stared at the body on the ground like she had just squashed an ant.  It wasn’t unusual for M to go into an emotionless state during battle.  It was her way of coping with it, but Y/n had thought she would at least feel something after killing someone.

There was no shock on the intimidators face, no shock on any of their faces as they stared at one of their own, dead on the dirt terrain.  His hand was fisted, straight out to his side and he opened it like he was dropping something to the ground.  All of the archers dropped their bows to the ground.

He took another step forward, dropping his hood to reveal his stone hard, square jawed face, “I am Killian.  You have stepped onto my territory, you have killed one of my warriors, and you will die.”

“Bitch!  You shot at us first!” Leena retorted, Talon pushing her back behind him.  “Talon, don’t.” she growled, shoving his hand off of her.

“Leena,” Y/n said in a warning tone, knowing that Leena always acted impulsively.

“No,” Leena snapped, pushing past Talon, “We were sent here to rid this world of evil and hatred.  These people attacked us for no reason, so this seems like it’d be a pretty good place to start our journey.” she bent and snatched a knife from her boot.

Taking this as a sign of war, the enemy group all pulled out weapons ranging from small knives to large machetes, but no one reached for the bows.  Y/n, whose hand was still encased in Ethan’s, squeezed tighter, knowing that the fight was inevitable.

Ethan let go, not bothering to pull out a weapon and took a stance, showing that he was ready to charge at any second.  Taking the same stance, Y/n clenched her fists at her side and waited for the first move or sound to be made.  

“To the death!” Killian shouted, throwing his fist in the air.  His warriors did the same, a loud roar of their voices filling the air.

Immediately after the call of war, the enemy began charging them with barbaric growls and thunderous battle cries.  The Indomitable Sector started running towards the warriors without a sound.  They had been taught to move stealthily and swiftly during a fight so that they were nearly untraceable.  

It was a clash of body parts, grunts, and cries.  The warriors fought messily which wasn’t something that was easy to work against.  Y/n jumped up on the first one that approached her, wrapping her legs around his neck and flipping him onto his back.  Ethan was next to her, his fist slamming against the jaw of his attacker, the cracking of bone sounding out.  

She lifted her head to see another warrior running at Ethan and her heart rate picked up, “Ethan!” she screamed, reaching her hand out.  

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his next assaulter and he took her hand, lifting her up and swinging her so that she could slam a harsh kick to his chest.  As her foot collided with the body, Ethan let go and she landed on top of the man, his body skidding against the ground as she tried her best to keep her balance.  Once he stopped moving, she planted one foot on the ground next to him and the other straight into his face.

As she went to stand up, a body went flying in front of her, tackling a female who was about to decapitate her with a machete.  Grayson pulled a knife out of the back of his pants, jabbing it straight into the woman’s side, undoubtedly piercing her internal organs.

“Selena!” he yelled at Y/n, pulling the blade out of the limp body and tossing it to her.  She caught it, turned, located Selena, and threw the knife, straight into the neck of Selena’s attacker.

Standing up and breaking out into a sprint, Y/n started to run in the direction of Talon who had at least 4 men on him.  They were all taller than him and the only way she was going to get to him was by going over them.

“Ethan!” she called, “Knees!” he immediately bent down, allowing her to step up on him and use him as a trampoline to land on top of one of the men, her legs over his shoulders.  Clamping her hands together she slammed down against his head over and over until he knocked her off of him.

The guy managed to get her in a headlock, dragging her as he choked her.  Her legs kicked and the rest of her body thrashed, survival mode kicking in.  He suddenly let go and she wouldn’t have known why, but M grabbed the knife she had thrown at him from his back and continued forward.  

They continued to fight and fight hard.  They put all of their energy into the battle, never giving up no matter how tired they were getting.  After what seemed like hours, the deep, male voice that had declared the battle, called out again, “CEASE!  RETREAT!”

The bodies dispersed into all different directions, abandoning all of their dropped weapons, including the bows and arrows that they had dropped in the beginning.

The members of the indomitable sector stood there, caught off guard by the random retreat, worried that it was a trick.  But, they could hear the feet moving further and further into the distance.

Some of them slumped to the ground from exhaustion, some of them leaned against trees.  Zeke chose to sit on top of one of the corpses that lay on the ground, too focused on catching his breath to worry about being on top of a dead person.

Ethan ran over to Y/n, his hands moving up and down her, checking for any severe wounds, “Are you okay?” he asked once his hands cradled her face.

She shook away from his touch, “I’m fine.” she said, immediately missing the absence of his warm skin against her cheeks.  “Did we lose anyone?”

Ethan didn’t get to give her an answer because a cry of pure pain broke through the air, causing her head to snap in the direction of the girl’s scream.  Jogging to the sound she rounded a large tree to see Etta, a girl from their class, cradling her twin sister Mia in her arms.

A few feet away laid another member, Jax, with blood staining his shirt, his lifeless eyes looking off into the distance.  Talon walked over to Jax, brushing his fingers against his lids to close his eyes.  

“Etta,” Y/n bent down next to her, “Etta, I’m so sorry.” she whispered.

Etta’s hands stroked her sister’s hair, tears landing on Mia’s forehead.  Her fingers moved to wipe the blood from her sibling’s lips, almost like she was cleaning her up.

“Etta, staying here is not safe; we have to move,” she said, placing her hand on her shoulder.  “We’ll make sure she’s taken care of.” her eyes drifted over to Ethan who moved closer to take Mia out of Etta’s arms.

“No!” Etta screamed.  “Don’t touch her!  Don’t touch my sister!” she cried even harder, pulling Mia as close to her as possible.

Ethan bent down, “Etta, we promise she’ll be laid to rest, but we have to move.  We’ll make sure that she comes with us so that you can give her a proper burial, but you have to let us take her.”

Ethan reached out again, but Etta jerked away, “She’s my sister!” she screamed again, “She’s my Mia.  You can’t just take care of her like she’s nothing!  I don’t want her buried under this forsaken ground. I want her with me.”

“Y/n,” Ethan whispered, nodding to an unknowing Etta.

Y/n moved behind Etta, wrapping her arms around her to grab her hands and gently force her to release her sister.  Crying out, Etta fought against her as Ethan picked up Mia into his arms.  Next to them, Grayson and Talon lifted up Jax, following Ethan to find a decent burial area.  

Y/n held Etta until she wore herself out, going limp in her arms in surrender.  They were lucky that they had only lost two in this battle, but within the short amount of time they had been up there, they had lost three of their people.


Ethan had showed Etta to the burial site and they held a small funeral for Mia and Jax.  Many of the class rested against rocks or trees, staring off as they listened to the loud sobs of Etta move with the wind and through the trees.

“We need to find shelter.” Finley said, pushing herself up from the ground, pushing her golden brown hair out of her face.

“She’s right,” Ethan joined the conversation, walking over to where Finley stood next to Y/n.

“How’s Etta?” Y/n asked, earning a mournful look from Ethan.

He dragged his hand down his face, “Upset, obviously, but she’s strong and she’ll be okay.  She know’s that Mia would want her to continue on, so with time, she’ll get better.”

Turning the conversation back to the matter at hand, Finley spoke again, “We need to start moving so that we can find shelter before dark.  We need a cave or something.  It needs to be hidden as well.”

“We also need to grab as many weapons as we can.” Y/n said, picking up a bow.

“Well,” Selena said standing up, “It looks like we should get going.  Who knows what it will be like at night out here.”  They all agreed and gathered together to start their search.

But, there was one thing that they were all sure of.

This was just the beginning.


Trailer 1

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

@dolandreaming @scuteedolans @dolanxtwinzz

Things that canonly upset Dead Sea (alt title: why hes the best dude in nv)

- Telling him what to do
- Walking into his house uninvited
- Calling his favourite machete ‘a piece of shit’
- Asking him about himself.
- Actually trying to apologise for upsetting him
- Interrupting his stupid monologs

anonymous asked:

you antifa guys are actually more hateful and violent than any neo nazi group in the 21st century. its fucking disgusting and you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK

We’d usually just block you, Anon, but we’re going to use your message as a reminder of where the violence is coming from in 2017.  Off the top of our heads, here’s what the year has looked like so far:

January 20, 2017: A right-wing extremist shoots a protestor at a Milo Yiannopoulos event at the University of Washington. 

January 29, 2017
: Alexandre Bissonnette walks into a mosque in Canada during evening prayers and opens fire, shooting 17 people and killing six of them.

January 2017: Over 40 Jewish centers in the U.S. receive bomb threats.

 February 22, 2017:  Adam Purinton tells two men from India to “get out of my country” then shoots both plus a bystander, killing one.

February 28, 2017: a mosque in Toronto is set on fire by arsonists.

March 12, 2017: a mosque in Ypsilanti, MI. is set on fire by arsonists.

March 20, 2017: James Jackson arrives in Manhattan with a sword and stabs the first black man he sees to death.  He later tells authorities he “intended to kill as many black men as he could.”

March 24, 2017: Yelling “I hate Muslims!” a man in Minneapolis stabbed a Somali man in an attempt to kill him.  

March 26, 2017: A racist mob attacks a 15-year-old Polish boy in Gloucestershire and, when a local Asian shopkeeper tries to intervene, attack him as well with crowbars and baseball bats, then attempt to run him over with a car.

March 31, 2017: A 17-year-old Iranian/Kurdish boy is nearly beaten to death by a mob of eight people in Croydon after he revealed to them that he was a refugee.

April 6, 2017: A Charlotte store is set on fire by an arsonist who leaves a warning message for the shop owner that he “did not want any refugee business owners and that they would torture the owner if they did not leave and go back to where they came from,” according to police.  It was signed “White America.”


April 30, 2017: A  white man storms a pool party in San Diego and shoots four black women, two black men, and one Latino man while allowing white attendees to leave.  One victim dies while the other six sustain critical injuries.


May 5, 2017: A man walking his dog on South Beach in Miami is confronted by two men who call him a “fucking faggot,” then attack him, beating him unconscious.  At one point in the attack, one of the attackers shouts  “all faggots need to die and we’re going to make sure they do!”


May 14, 2017: Vandals spray-paint hate graffiti on the home of a black family in upstate New York before attempting to set the house on fire while the family slept.  Although the family escaped unscathed, their garage burnt to the ground and their house suffered some damage.

May 17, 2017: A homophobic mob break into the home of a gay couple and shoot and stab both men to death.  


May 20, 2017: University of Maryland student and member of the “alt-Reich” facebook group Sean Urbanski walks up to 22-year-old Richard Collins III, who is black and who Urbanski does not know, and stabs him to death in an unprovoked attack. 


May 24, 2017: A barrage of doxxing, rape threats, and death threats received by trans comic book artist Sophie Labelle forces her to cancel an appearance and event at a Halifax book store, which also received bomb threats and threats of attacking the event.  Labelle is forced into hiding.

May 26, 2017: Three men intervene on a MAX train in Portland when they witness another man verbally abusing two Muslim women with an Islamophobic tirade.  The Islamophobe responds by pulling out a knife and stabs the three interveners, killing two of them.  


May 27, 2017: A white man drives his pickup truck through a campsite, targeting the Native Americans camping there while yelling racial slurs at them.  He intentionally drives over two Native American men, killing one and injuring the other.


March 3, 2017: A Sikh man is shot and injured in front of his Seattle house by a white man waring a mask, who yells at him to “go back to your country!”

May 27, 2017: A 34-year-old Anthony Hammond lets loose with a flurry of racial slurs directed at a black man in a parking lot, then pulls out a machete and stabs the man before barricading himself in his apartment for several hours, until finally surrendering to police.


January 1, 2017: 19-year-old Nathan Richardson encounters 67-year-old jogger Wenqing Xu and beats him to death in an unprovoked, random attack.  After committing the murder, Richardson texted his friends that he “fucked sum chink up. Bodied him. I think pure crime scene – his head’s gone,”


June 18, 2017: two men armed with baseball bats attack a group of Muslim teenagers, kidnapping a 17-year-old girl, who they beat to death, dumping her body in a pond.

June 1, 2017: A Princeton professor and racialized woman is forced to cancel a three-city lecture tour to promote her book about the Black Lives Matter movement after receiving over 50 death threats.

June 19, 2017: Shouting “I’m going to kill all Muslims!” 47-year-old Darren Osborne drives a courier van through a crowd of Muslims leaving a Finsbury mosque, killing one person and injuring ten others.


January 28, 2017: a First Nations woman walking with her sister is struck by a trailer hitch hurled from a passing vehicle.  After struggling in hospital for several months, she succumbs to her injuries.  

June 21, 2017:  an Islamophobe approaches a Muslim man and woman sitting in a car stopped at a traffic light and knocks on the window.  When the driver rolls down the window, the Islamophobe sprays the driver and passenger with acid, severely burning both.  


February 21, 2017: a 24-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Chicago, IL. 

February 26, 2017: a transgender woman is shot and killed in New Orleans, LA.

March 1, 2017: a transgender woman is stabbed to death in New Orleans, LA. 

March 22, 2017: a 38-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Baltimore, MD.

April 21, 2017: a 28-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Miami, FL. 

May 17, 2017: a 34-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Fresno, CA.

July 2, 2017:  a 28-year-old transgender woman is shot and killed in Lynchburg, VA. 


June 3, 2017: 38-year-old white supremacist Phillip Wade racially abuses a 57-year-old black man on an Oakley, CA. bus, then pulls a knife and stabs the man to death while the man is walking away from the confrontation.  The victim is the third racialized person Wade has stabbed in the past six years and the second person he’s murdered.  

July 16, 2017: A man attempts to pull the hijab off of a Muslim woman waiting for the tube in London, then hits her when she resists.  He then pins her friend to the wall and spits in her face before leaving.  

July 16, 2017: Arsonists set a mosque in Manchester ablaze. 

July 18, 2017: A NASA researcher of South Asian descent has her car windshield shattered by a rock thrown through it by an assailant screaming “go back to your country!”  She’s injured in the attack.


July 19, 2017: Two men exit a car and attack a racialized pedestrian with their fists and an iron bar.  


August 5, 2017: A mosque in Bloomington, Minnesota is firebombed, narrowly missing killing & injuring dozens of members there for morning prayers. 


August 8, 2017: A well-known Chicago neo-nazi starts an altercation at a concert, then pulls out a smuggled knife and stabs a man and a woman at the show.


August 12, 2017:  A white supremacist in Charlottesville, VA. drives his car at high speed directly into a crowd of anti-racist protestors, killing one woman and seriously injured 19 other people.


January 25, 2017
: An arsonist destroys the only mosque in Victoria, Texas.


August 12, 2017: A self-identifed member of the white supremacist “three percenter” movement is arrested by the FBI after unsuccessfuly trying  to blow up a bank in Oklahoma City with a car bombed modeled after the one used by Timothy McVeigh.


May 25, 2017: A black woman riding the train home is subjected to extreme verbal harassment by Jeremy Christian, who admits to being a neo-nazi and tell her he will kill her.  As she leaves the train, Christian hits her with a bottle, cutting her eye open.  When police arrive, they refuse to arrest Christian.  The next day Christian would stab three people, killing two of them.

August 20, 2017: A racialized man standing outside his own home is attacked by a motorist who, without any provocation, jumped out of his car and ran at him, shouting racial slurs, before physically assaulting him.  The victim is seriously injured in the attack. 


August 6, 2017: someone lights the car of the president of a Québec City mosque on fire.  His mosque is the same one where  Alexandre Bissonnette had shot 17 worshippers in January. 

August 27, 2017: yelling “ this should clean away the AIDS!” a 56-year-old man throws boiling hot water over a 21-year-old gay man before hitting him about 16 times with a metal bar.

August 2017: a gay man has his jaw broken by a man shouting homophobic slurs and a group of people outside of a fast food outlet.

May 20, 2017: A man begins screaming homophobic slurs at a lesbian couple riding the subway before attacking them both, beating one woman unconscious.

June 10, 2017: A mob screaming transphobic insults attacks three trangender women, stabbing one and sending two to the hospital.

August 2, 2017: Two men chase down and beat up a 29-year-old transgender women while yelling transphobic insults at her.

August 20, 2017: While waiting in line at a food truck, a 22-year-old man is subjected to homophobic abuse and demands that he “go back to your country!” before 24-year-old Gregory Brzoza beat him unconscious.  The victim loses several teeth and has a broken jaw.

August 23, 2017: A 37-year-old man and a 47-year-old man start a fight with a black high school student on a city bus, yelling racial epithets at him as they beat him.


September 7, 2017: A swastika-adorned neo-nazi assaults a Filipino-Turkish man in a Fullerton, CA. parking lot while yelling racial slurs at him.

June 7, 2017: a 23-year-old white man in a Chicago Starbucks spits at a black man, telling him his children are “disposable vermin” and calling a second black man a slave, then punches a black passerby, knocking him unconscious.  He’s charged with a hate crime three months later. 

August 2017: After enduring eight different racist attacks, including having the front window of their home smashed in and their car set on fire, a Pakistani family is forced to flee their Dublin home of the past ten years. 


August 28, 2017: Several white teenagers begin shouting racial epithets at a 8-year-old black boy playing in an adjacent yard before wrapping a rope around his neck and hanging him.  The boy survives but has to be airlifted to medical care for the injuries he sustains. 


September 14, 2017: A 40-year-old man begins spitting and repeatedly punching a 37-year-old Orthodox Jewish woman on the subway in New York.  When her 57-year-old mother tries to intervene, the man punches her, pulls her hair, and spits on her as well, yelling “dirty Muslims” as he escapes from the train car.


September 15, 2017: A black Cornell University student returns to his residence to find five members of a white fraternity shoving and harassing his roommates.  When he asks them to leave, they attack and beat him while shouting racial slurs. 

September 15, 2017: A 29-year-old white supremacist covered in racist tattoos repeatedly enters a hookah lounge in Lake Forest, CA., threatening to kill the Iranian staff and patrons.  

January/February 2017: four men used Grindr to target gay men for assaults and robberies.  Pretending to also be gay, they would arrange to come to their victims’ homes, where they would hold their victims at gunpoint while they beat them, bound them, verbally abused them with with homophobic slurs, and stole property and vehicles.  

September 12 and 14, 2017: 23-year-old white supremacist Kenneth Gleason drove through Baton Rouge, shooting black men he passed in his vehicle before jumping out and shooting his victims again at close range.  Bruce Cofield and Donald Smart are murdered.   A speech made by Adolf Hitler is among items recovered by police from the racist murderer’s home.

April 4, 2017: a 27-year-old man breaks into the home of 65-year-old Orthodox Jewish woman Sarah Halimi, beating her to death while calling her “Satan,” and then throwing her body out of a third-floor window.  

September 18, 2017: two men jump out of a taxi to racially abuse a teenage boy walking with his friends.  One of the men pulls out a knife and threatens to stab the teenager.

August 2, 2017: Five white men attack a black couple at a KFC drive-through, using racial slurs as they assaulted them and pointing a gun at them. 

August 26, 2017: Four white men attack a black couple  at a recreation center in Rustenberg, South Africa, yelling racial slurs at them as they beat them.  One of the accused was evading charges for a racially-motivated attack against three petrol pump attendants in 2014 when he was arrested for this assault.


September 24, 2017: A 58-year-old surgeon on his way to his mosque is confronted by two men who begin shouting Islamophobic insults at him and then stab him in the neck.  


September 3, 2017: Ally Steinfeld, a transgender teenager, is beaten, stabbed repeatedly, tortured, and mutilated before being murdered by a gang of assailants.  Police arrest three people, with more arrests forthcoming.


October 8, 2017: A 66-year-old black man is held at gunpoint in his own garage while two white assailants shout racist epithets and beat him.  The two leave only to return minutes later to shoot up the victim’s home.

In case you have trouble counting, Anon, that’s three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve fourteen fifteen shootings, three four five six seven eight nine arsons, two three four seven eight nine ten eleven twelve stabbings, two three four five six seven eight nine mob beatings, over 40 41 bomb threats, one failed bombing, an acid attack, a hanging, and several other miscellaneous assaults by bigots, Islamophobes, nazis and racists so far this year.

Eight Nine Eleven Twelve Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four twenty-five twenty-six Twenty-seven Twenty-Eight Thirty Thirty-one Thirty-two people are dead because of these bigoted attacks and fifteen twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-five thirty-five thirty-seven thirty-nine fifty-eight fifty-nine sixty sixty-one sixty-three sixty-four sixty-five sixty-six were severely injured.  

But it’s anti-fascists that people should be worried about, right?

“you should be branded as terrorists just as much as the KKK“ 

Really, now?  Anti-fascists are as much terrorists as the KKK, a terrorist organization which murdered over 3000 people in lynchings, arsons, bombings, etc. over its 150-year history, are we? 

Maybe it’s time you learned about the logical fallacy of false equivalence, Anon!


Dark Souls 3 has so many cool boss fights, such as:

–Large Man in Armor
–Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Mr. Freeze
–Evil Treebeard
–Yur a Wizard Crow-Man
–The Entire Vatican
–The Wolf Furry Fanclub
–Mega Papyrus
–The Last Demon’s Soul’s Reference
–Lightsaber Pope & his Stand, Star Platinum
–Small Onion vs. Machete Giant
–The Very Hungry Caterpillar God Eater
–Mr. Freeze’s Ballerina Sister
–Evil Butterflies Seek Revenge Through a Piece of Armor
–Dragon Daddy & Revolver Ocelot
–Large Man in Armor (In the Dark)
–Sibling Comradery in its Weirdest Form
–Dragon with the World’s Softest Head
–Jesus Riding a Dragon
–You, but Cooler

Dean knows he’s fucked up. With his mom dead, Dad gone off the deep-end, and entrusted with the care of his brother at four years old, who wouldn’t be? Even without Sam’s constant this-is-not-how-a-normal-person-handles-grown-up-emotions bitchface, Dean would know he’s fucked in the head. Just a little. And hell, being a Hunter sure doesn’t help.

Thing is, though, Dean has never really, truly, realized how messed up he is until exactly this moment.

Because watching Cas take out five vamps mojo-less and mortal?

Major fucking turn on.

Which isn’t even the fucked part of this entire thing. Look, Cas is exhibiting his strength, his ability as a protector, as humanity’s hero from all things fugly and terrifying blahblahblah—attraction like that can be logicked. No, the honest-to-god clincher in this clusterfuck is that as Castiel, covered in blood and guts and sweat, finally swings his machete up onto his right shoulder like motherfucking Rambo, Dean has an epiphany. With Cas’s chest heaving like he just ran a marathon, body parts strewn all over the goddamn floor, that is when Dean Winchester realizes:

Oh god I love him.

And if that isn’t a one way ticket to therapy what the fuck is. 

Now, the standard operating procedure in a situation like this would be to totally ignore any and all feelings and push them so far down they pad the soles of his feet. But, this isn’t standard procedure. This is DEFCON 1. Because they’re in a room of dismembered bodies and Dean is so messed up and he’s also apparently in love and his palms are sweating and his mouth is dry and he’s pretty sure he just lost all motor control because yeah, yup, there’s his gun—dropped on the floor. And oh, his feet are moving. And he’s walking. And walking. 


Uh huh, yep, and now they’re kissing.

It’s probably the nastiest kiss of Dean’s life, if he’s being totally honest. Cas is stiff as a board, and they both have vamp innards on their faces so it’s… slimy, in a way Dean just really doesn’t want to think about. And when he pulls away, they stare at each other. 

Until, of course, the eldest and clearly most eloquent Winchester breaks the silence with: “So it turns out I’m in love with you.”

Which just, like, makes Dean want to jump off a bridge because he’s actually pretty sure he’s been in love with Cas for years and what the hell kind of confession is that??? Fuckin’ moron.

But instead of demanding an explanation, or blowing him off, or doing any of the myriad of things he’d be totally justified in doing, Castiel smiles like the sun is currently shining out of Dean Winchester’s freckled ass, and reaches forward to entwine their fingers. He wipes his mouth on a clean patch of his sleeve, applies a chaste kiss to the one place on Dean’s jaw not covered in gore, and walks out of the room (with Dean in tow). 

“Turns out I’m in love with you, too.”

Dean smiles like an utter idiot all the way home.

After a series of a variously depicted clown, spottings increased this year, however for a little while the clown mania has calmed or so we thought. In Maine, a 31-year-old man was arrested wearing a clown mask while wearing a machete that was duck taped to his amputated arm.

Now someone would suspect Stephen King’s revamped thriller “IT” would be the reason behind this, especially since King is from and lives in Maine. Yet, as a State Trooper questioned the man who was intoxicated replied with “I was just clowning around and wanted to copy the recent clown sightings.”

I didn’t hear the full story but they just said on the news “he had the machete duct taped to his amputated arm” and thats the most edward elric bullshit I’ve ever heard

The Unspoken Game

A/N: So like said before I wasn’t ever going to post this because this was orginally for Chloe who’s been a little ran down lately. So no judgements ! This is a Thomas fic WHO I’VE NEVER WRITTEN ABOUT EVER ! BE PROUD OF ME LOL ! I hope you all enjoy this as much as I know that Chloe did !

Dedicated to: @writing-obrien

Warning: God, the smut tho. I’m just be warned.

Word count: 2714

Originally posted by space-ing-out

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Stop That

Word count: 2,612

Warning: smut will be in the next part, angst

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request/summary: @omgdeangirl – “Hey you should make a smut where the reader thinks Dean is in love with Jo but he’s actually in love with the reader and they end up fighting before getting together.

A/N: sorry it took so long but this is going to be a two parter with the smut in the second part because I got a bit carried away with writing the plot whoops. Also let me know if you want tagged in the second part.  Enjoy!

Originally posted by sensitivehandsomeactionman

The room was almost as dark as the night sky outside. It smelt like someone had emptied barrels of beer all over the floor; there were a few beer puddles to be fair but nothing disastrous. You sat at the table beside Cas, him as stone cold sober as always (apart from that one time that we don’t talk about). Sam and Bobby were in the living room, sharing stories over a few beers. The overall mood of the house was contentment, even happiness that the hunt was over after weeks of treacherous work.

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This one time in 8th grade some kid sitting next to me and he pulled his shirt up revealing his machete to me and said “yo look i got jumped so I’m carrying this with me” and the rest of the class he just talked about cats

Love At First Sight

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Word Count: 1,613

Warnings: Implied smut, language, but other than that, just fluff

Request: Can I request a Dean imagine please? One where the boys meet a girl while she’s hunting the same vamp nest as them and Dean basically has a love at first sight moment. This girl is all sass and Zeppelin shirts and Dean eventually asks her out and to move into the bunker. But the first time she meets Cas Dean has to ask why he’s looking back and fourth between them, so Cas confirms that they are in fact soul mates.

Author’s Note: Please, send in requests because I love reading them and I love writing them! If you would like to be tagged in my future fics and my Series Rewrite that is coming soon, let me know and I’ll add you!

If you want to be apart of my 500 Follower Challenge, please look at the post here. I’ve only gotten two asks so far so keep sending them in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom (if you wished to not be tagged, let me know and I’ll remove you)

Originally posted by sooper-dee-dooper-natural

“If I find that damn vampire, he’s going to fucking get it.” You growled to yourself, climbing inside your car.

This damn vampire was causing so much shit with his nest, that it drew you in. You hated vampires and hated hunting them but it is what had to be done. You were a hunter for god sake. You should act like it and stop being a damn baby.

You knew where the nest was and since you were alone, you needed to take them out by yourself. You never really hung out with other hunters because you had a certain way of doing things and other hunters would always fuck it up. So, you’ve been a lone hunter since you graduated high school.

You think you were doing pretty good by yourself. You didn’t have to depend on any one but yourself and if something went wrong, you had only yourself to blame and you were okay with that.

Vampires were always a pain in the ass and deserved to die. You actually had close encounters with them and almost got turned a few times but you always managed to escape.

This was a strange hunt already because it seems like wherever you went, people seemed to be already questioned and the morgue seemed to already been visited. Maybe there were other hunters here but you got here first. This was your hunt and you were going to beat whoever the hell was here to the nest first. That is why you raced out of the motel you were staying at and zoomed down the street.

You got there in no time but your eyes zeroed in on the beautiful late 60s Impala. They were already here.

Oh well, you could use the help. You always had difficulty to take on nests alone.

You grabbed your machete, pulled on your leather jacket over your favorite Zeppelin shirt and booked it inside. You heard grunts and sloshes come from one of the rooms but before you could investigate, a vampire pounced on you. You growled and fought him off, doing your best to keep his fangs away from you.

The vampire pinned you against the wall and you struggled, kicking wherever it would hurt. You got him on his knees and brought your machete down so fast, he didn’t have time to react. Blood sprayed on you but you ignored it, walking to the room where you heard noises come from.

You walked inside, seeing two very attractive men fight off three vampires. You knew they would need help and you were here to provide it. There were already many vampires that lay dead but you weren’t going to stop until all of them were dead. You rushed to aid the men and threw the vampire to the ground, slicing his head right off.

This was the first time the men noticed you and the shorter, green-eyed one stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You would have stared back but the vampire was sneaking up behind him. Your eyes widened and pushed past him, killing the vampire. The taller one already killed his vampire and now everyone was dead. You breathed heavily, looking at the men.

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Meta: Down in the Muck - Mr Ketch, Dean and Masculine Hunting Identities

In the past eleven seasons, SPN has mainly depicted American hunters as blue-collar workers with a very traditional view of masculinity. John Winchester with his giant machete, his penis truck and his Playboys was a perfect embodiment of said hunting culture. The British Men of Letters differ radically from this concept both in terms of socioeconomic status and in their sense of masculinity.

When Mick approaches Wally in First Blood, the latter tells him, “You can take your offer and you can shove it up your ass. I’m sure it won’t be too painful,  what with those soft hands of yours, right?“ The homophobic and misogynist implications here are obvious - Wally deems Mick too “effeminate”.

Mr Ketch is a slightly different case than Mick. In the latest episode, we see him actively try to refashion himself as an “American style” hunter in order to recruit Dean. Something which despite his own assessment really doesn’t go down to well.

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Songs and Vamps

Originally posted by casclarenceunicorn

Word Count: 2,220

Author: Deka

Warning: Blood, violence, weapons, sexual innuendos, fluff, a litlle angst, that’s it.

Pairing: Lucifer x Soulmate!Reader

Summary: After a good morning song, the boys and Y/N went on a hunt to kill some monsters, what could go wrong?

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Long Lost Sis

Summary- When Sam and Dean run into Y/N, Adam’s twin, on a hunt, to say they’re surprised is an understatement.

Just to make it clear, Sam and Dean know about Y/N (from the whole debacle with Adam), but they never tracked her down.  

Shoutout to @winchesters-favorite-girl for her wonderful feedback!

Disclaimer- I don’t own the Supernatural universe or the images/gifs used, they were found on Google.

Long Lost Sister Masterlist


The nest of vamps turned out to be a lot larger than Sam and Dean originally thought. It wasn’t until they were about halfway through chopping heads, that they realized exactly how big of a nest they’d wandered into. The brothers continued to slice and dice their way through the group, bodies dropping around them.

One of the vampires threw Dean against the barn, leaving the vampires to circle around Sam. Sam turned left and right hacking off heads. As he was decapitating one, three more snuck up behind him. They got the jump on him, dragging him down to the ground. Sam’s machete flew from his hand, he tried to reach for it, but it was too far away. Before Sam could worry about his next move, the vampire above his head suddenly flew off. Sam watched as the other two quickly suffered the same fate. Sam looked up expecting to see Dean at his rescue, but instead there was a young woman standing there.

She was short, with long dark hair, wearing a red leather jacket and a satisfied smirk. The woman sheathed her machete and extended her hand out to Sam, helping him up off the ground. When she spoke, her voice was warm and friendly, but a ghost of the smirk remained, “Looks like y’all were in over your heads, maybe next time you shouldn’t high-quinx my case.”

“Sweetheart, looks more like you jumped on our hunt. We were here first.” Dean said, slowly clambering to his feet. The girl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“Yeah and how did that go for you? The vamps were about to finish off your friend here and you would have been next. I saved your lives. You’re welcome by the way.”

Sam quickly jumped in the middle, trying to avoid a fight, “Thank you for that. We really do appreciate it. We owe you one.”

The girl’s rough exterior softened, “It’s all good. Just one hunter helping another out. Are you both okay?”

Sam smiled at her, “Yeah, will be fine. But you’re right, thanks for saving our asses.”

“Are you here by yourself or you got a partner around here somewhere?” The women turned and scowled at him. Dean didn’t mean to overstep, but she couldn’t be much older than 20, yet she seemed to have come alone. Hunting solo was never the best idea.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No offense, you just seem a little young to be hunting, especially by yourself. Not exactly safe.”

Sam sent his brother a warning look; he didn’t need Dean starting a fight with the hunter. “Knock it off; she just helped us out, could you please not piss her off.”

She laughed at the brothers bickering and extended her hand for them to shake. Sam gladly took it, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean.”

The girl’s face visibly paled and even though it was getting dark, Sam noticed that she suddenly stood up a lot straighter and less relaxed.

“Sam and Dean Winchester?” She asked.

“Oh God,” Dean groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve heard stories too. Is that all hunters have to talk about nowadays? Us?”

The young woman let out a weak chuckle, her eyes darting back up toward the main road. The sudden nervous edge to her voice was not missed by the boys, “Well, Sam and Dean it was nice meeting you both, but I’ve got to go.”

She started to edge backwards. Trying to escape from in front of the boys, as quickly as possible.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked, confused by her sudden change in behavior.

“Fine, just, things to do. Don’t have all night to stand around chatting.”

Dean took a careful step toward the younger girl, reaching a hand out toward her, “I don’t know what’s wrong or what you might have heard about us, but you seem pretty spooked now that you know who we are. We’re not going to hurt you.”

She seemed to be debating with herself for a moment, “Look, I really need to be going.”

Sam tried this time, “C’mon, you just saved us, as you were more than happy to remind us. What’s with the sudden rush to get away?”

“Yeah, you don’t like making new friends?”

Sam shout Dean a glare, “Look, at least tell us your name.”

“Y/N. Y/N Milligan.”

Both brothers paled, eyes wide. There standing in front of them was their long lost sister. Oh Crap!

tags: @27bmm   @exploratiionist

It’s uncomfortable when John tells Dean to put Sam down and come over. Reluctantly, he makes a bowl for Sammy from the frayed and weathered fabric of the comforter, laying his brother’s small form on the motel bed. He always sets up Sammy’s bed like this, telling his little brother in whispers that they’re birds now, making homey nests from trashy comforters and eating pretend worms. 

Birds don’t need homes, they grow up and fly away. It’s a game, Dean thinks. Even when sometimes he has to remind himself.

Because, even as little as he is, Dean knows their home is gone. Knows John is lying when he says that the motel rooms are temporary. His father can’t even bring himself to hold or look at Sam for long periods of time.

At first they went to day care centers. A few times to Bobby’s. But, after awhile, Dean began watching his little brother while John ran “errands,” the trips getting longer and longer with a “look after your brother” and a decent sized pocket knife stowed in the older brother’s jacket.

So, Dean sings “Hey Jude” to Sammy when he cries, sitting him on his lap when he can’t carry him any more. In fact, there’s very little time Dean spends without the warmth and weight of his baby brother in his scrawny arms. He knows how to warm up a bottle and change a diaper while he lifts his brother’s pudgy arms like wings to tickle his sides.

“C'mere, Dean,” John says again.

Dean peeks at Sam’s red, chubby cheeks, watching his brother’s deep breaths, eyes screwed tight as he dreams. Of ice, Dean hopes, still seeing fire in Sammy’s eyes when the toddler is awake. The older brother makes his way to his father, watching as John lays out cold metal against the hard surface of the dresser with tiny plinks and thumps.

“Do I need to remind you of how to treat these?” John asks. Dean straightens his shoulders, shaking his head with confidence. Dean knows the rules. Knows that Dad’s weapons are dangerous as John’s voice echoes “these aren’t toys” on repeat in his head.

John nods, satisfied, picking up a new addition to his ensemble. It’s long and silver, the wane lights of the motel lamps dotting the surface of it as his father lifts it from the pile.

“This one’s new,” John says, his voice leaking a small amount of pride as he talks. “Got it from a friend. Had to special order it.” Dean stares at the edge of it, mesmerized by the sparkle. It’s pretty, the way the light glitters against the side of the machete. Not that Dean would ever say that out loud.

“It’s deadly,” John says gruffly, “to vampires.”

Dean nods in understanding. “You cut off their heads with it,” Dean says in reply, wishing his voice sounded deep like his father’s, and not small echoing against the tiny walls inside the motel.

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Calm, Perhaps

SUMMARY: To her, Dean Winchester is nothing short of art, and she loves to watch over him. But as a mission goes wrong as she becomes captured, the hunter finally realizes the importance of her eyes that trace his skin.

WORD COUNT: 1,814 words


NOTES: ngl, this is one of my favourites. have fun!

She loved to look at him. His eyes, they were usually vibrant, but she loved when they turned dark in the face of death and how they seemed foggy when he woke from slumber. How Dean Winchester smiled, and what a special occasion it was when he truly laughed. When he would lock his jaw, or cross his arms, or stare at someone as they told a tale. (Y/n) loved his face, his arms, his legs (no matter how bowlegged they were).

Her favourite times to watch the him was when he just wakes up, or when he’s deep in work. When he stumbles into the kitchen with that grey robe loose around his body, his eyes traced with sleep and his mouth yearning for coffee. When he sits in the library, sifting through books and cracking through databases, he often bites his lip from, or furrow his eyebrows as he reads a new article. And when he was really stressed, he’d run a hand through his hair.

Art, she would think, this man is a piece of art.

He would catch her a lot. How could he not? He was trained to know when eyes were upon him, eyes of the dead or of the ones he lived for. Often he would watch her back, and they would wait until one of them smiled or walked away, or until Sam came in and they had to look away. That was torture, having to cower, but neither could admit what they felt to anyone on earth.

They had their questionings about each other. When Dean would catch her staring, he wondered if it was from curiosity, fear, lust, anger. And when he would stare back, (y/n) would try to figure out of it was aggression, assertiveness, interest, or maybe calmness.

She always scratched out that last one. Calmness didn’t exist for hunters.

But he made her feel calm. For those seconds where she could breathe, and where her eyes could rest on him, she felt such ease with the ruined world.

She wasn’t foolish, and neither was he. They both knew calm doesn’t last. Nothing lasts.


She was keeping up with the days. Somehow, past the pain of the lashes and the constant draining, she remembered the number of days she had been held by these vampires. She’s at 67 now, and she thinks it’s a Wednesday. Maybe it’s noon, but it feels like midnight. She doesn’t know that; it’s been 52 days since she last saw sunlight.

“Mission gone wrong.” That’s what someone would call it, someone who would be comforting Dean and Sam and trying to tell (y/n) she would make it out alive. But this mission had been going so right, so perfect and to the point of what they set on the table. (Y/n) as bait, Sam and Dean with machetes to take the small pack out. But when their numbers turned out larger than they had estimated, the mission had gone too well, and she was taken.

(Y/n) was tired. The constant feeding the pack of twelve did was exhausting. Their last girl, a young teen by the name of Maddy, died of blood loss on her third round with the vamps. (Y/n) was past the hundredth, and she wonders how she still manages to breathe.

They let her sleep six hours, and she had to guess the time off of those moments. She would eat a small meal in the morning, hook up to an IV and maybe a blood bag if the prior day was heavy during lunch, and she would get another meal in the afternoon. They let her shower once a week, but she hasn’t seen her own face in a mirror in over two months.

She’s tried to figure out where she is. She knows it’s close to Kansas City, but that’s only a feeling in her gut. She’s tried to escape, the last attempt just a week back, but that resulted in lashings and a cut down on meals. She had given up on day 58, and wanted to die on 64.

She knew she would never be found. Sam and Dean had probably pronounced her dead by now; what would be the use of searching for a lost cause? It’s lost for a reason. She had accepted her fate: bleed, eat, sleep, repeat, until maybe death had managed to catch her.

She had found an anchor. A thought, a memory, a distant stretch of her heart and soul to the image of Dean Winchester. His eyes, his walk, his demeanor. She longed for that little tranquility she got by watching him. But by now, she was having a hard time remembering the layout of the hunter’s face and body, or even how that grey robe draped across him in the early mornings.

She could recall his arms, how scratched and scarred they were. She remembers his eyes, but only that they’re green (the last look she got at them was when they were filled to the brim with fear and anger as she was dragged into a car). She holds onto the memory of his smile, and the sound of his laugh, but she’s starting to think she made those up by now.

Oh, what she’d give to watch Dean Winchester one last time before she left for beyond.


The door opens and (y/n) closes her eyes, her hands shaking as someone stands in the doorway. She slowly looks up, sitting still on the edge of her cot when she sees a familiar figure. The tall girl, the alpha’s lover, the one who retrieved her and sent her back every day. She looked normal, (y/n) was sure of it, but to her she was as awful as Lucifer.

“Come on, (Y/N/N), don’t make this hard,” the lady calls out.

“Please, just another hour of rest, Aba,” she pleads.

The woman, Aba, laughs with amusement. “I don’t think so.” She walks to her and (y/n) gasps as Aba pulls her by the arm. She feels so fragile, her bones frail and her blood thin. She’s lost weight, she knows this, and she feels like if Aba pulls any harder that she might fall apart.

As she’s pulled though the basement, her feet seem to stick to the cement. It’s cold, always so cold, and dank in the air with the windows boarded up. Aba tightens the grip on her arm and yanks her around a corner, and (y/n) lets a whimper echo her chest.

She dreaded the room she was now in. “The fill-up” was what they called it. It was a small room with a few cots, IV stands all around with blood bags and needles on carts. But the one thing different today was that it was empty.

“W-Where’s Liam?” (y/n) asks quietly as she sits on a cot.

“Finally ran dry,” Aba says coolly as she grabs a needle. (Y/n) blinks back tears; Liam was her last straw, the one person she trusted here, a small boy of seven years old. She had tried to protect him, she tried to have him seem weaker so she could bleed more instead of him. But she must not have tried hard enough.

As Aba walks to her with a needle, (y/n) shifts.

“Aba, please,” she whispers.

“You’re the last one, (y/n), you know that,” Aba says in a monotone voice. “The longest lasting we’ve seen, too.” She grins, kneeling in front of her as (y/n) tries to scoot away. “I wanna see just how long I can drain you for-”

“I’m not weak,” she manages to say despite the fear. “I’ll get out.”

Aba laughs, looking up at her. “I will drain you of blood and soul, girl,” she hisses, and (y/n) sits up straight. And as Aba looks down at the needle, an impulse runs through (y/n). She raises her hand and hits Aba hard, making her fall onto her butt as a crashing sound is heard overhead.

(Y/n) looks up with wide eyes as she backs out of the room. Aba rises quickly, and (y/n) flips a cot in front of her to make her trip. It buys her a second to turn and run down the long hall. She can hear the harsh steps behind her as she turns a corner, but she doesn’t turn around.

“(Y/n)!” a strong voice calls, and she stops in her tracks. It’s a voice she held onto for over two months, one so deep and full of pain and strength that it made her knees shake. It was the voice of Dean Winchester, and it was just too far.

Before she can recover, she gets tackled to the ground. She rolls over to see Aba with her fangs out, and (y/n)’s eyes go wide. She shouts through barred teeth, pressing up against the vamp’s neck to keep her teeth as far away as possible from her flesh.

A door opens across the room, and hard steps trample down the stairs. (Y/n) keeps her eyes on the vamp, yelling out as she pushes her face away.

But suddenly, arms reach out and pull the vampire off of her, and a machete ends all the commotion in the room as (y/n) scoots back to sit up. She takes quick breaths, shaking with fear and exhaustion from such a simple action.

Soft hands touch her shoulders and she cries out in panic as she spins around. But it’s familiar hands, the touch of Dean with Sam coming down the stairs. And as she looks into his eyes, she’s engulfed once again.

“Dean,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “Oh my god.” He drops the machete and falls to his knees, grabbing her and pulling him into his arms. She sobs, gripping his jacket and wetting his shirt with tears. His hands are strong on her weak back, and his fingers wrap around her sides to keep her body against his.

“I’m so sorry,” he says into her ear, kissing her forehead and her hair. “(Y/n), I am so sorry.”

She shakes her head, crying as he pulls her to his lap so he can sit. Sam just smiles, leaning against the wall as Dean buries his face deep into (y/n)’s hair.

“68 days,” (y/n) whispers, and Dean pulls her back. He marvels at how much weight she’s lost, how small she seems in his arms and how her skin hugs at her bones.


“It’s been 68 days, and you never gave up,” she asks, looking up at him. “Why?”

“I don’t think I could make it a lifetime without having someone watch over me,” he says, and she laughs once with tears in her eyes. He kisses her forehead and her laugh turns back into a cry as she grips his shirt for dear life.

And for the first time in months, she feels calm.

The Mighty T-rex

Pairing: Dean x Short!Reader

Word Count: 1294

Summary: Dean teases the Reader due to her height, but her height has its advantages when she decides to use them.

A/N – This is my submission for @sea040561 / @my-favourite-fiction67 100 Followers Supernatural Writing Challenge with the prompt: ‘All the dinosaurs feared the mighty T-rex.’ from Deadpool and also for @winchesterprincessbride Princessbridechallenge with the quote, ‘He’s only mostly dead.’ Both will be highlighted and italicalised.

Originally posted by deanandimpala

‘Whatcha doing up there, T-rex?’ Dean chuckled as he came into the kitchen.

You huffed, grabbing the cereal then putting a hand on your hip and spinning around on the countertop. ‘Someone put my fruit loops on the top shelf. Oh you think this is funny? Because it’s not.’ Your arms dropped from your hips and scowled at the older Winchester.

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