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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

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RE: WWX and his arc being about trauma. I got into the fandom through CQL and the first time I saw it I actually read a lot of his actions post the burning of Lotus Cove as being influenced by his trauma. He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. He seems to be self medicating with alchohol (which WQ kinda calls him out on). He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. He avoids all kinds (1/3)

Of reminders of his tramua, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely igonres it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. Plus, a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive, and there are just in general a lot of points (2/3)

Where it's made clear that he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example), but none of that ever really gets dealt with so all of those issues are still hanging under the surface even if they're not apparent all the time. I mean, this is just my take, but at least imo WWX ticks a lot of the checkboxes for PTSD in the drama and it explains a lot about the way he acts and the bad decisions he makes. Hope this was helpful! (3/3)

I'm only referring to the drama btw, not the novel (which I haven't read yet). My memory is terrible so I'm not sure if I made it clear or not lol. Anyways, have a good day ^^

Hi there,

I am always curious when people who have only engaged with CQL end up engaging with my novel-only meta blog but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised: if CQL posts end up in the mdzs tag, why not the opposite? I’ve seen some of my novel meta reblogged and tagged with “the untamed” and “CQL” so maybe the answer is already out there, staring at me in the face!

I’ll start by saying that I do not wish to really argue with people’s interpretations of CQL since I consider that MDZS and CQL are very different works because so many changes were made in the process of adapting the novel, and I personally have no interest in analysing CQL except wrt how it can help us better understand the novel (seeing certain elements removed or changed may help us understand why they mattered in the first place or what their use was). So I will speak to the arguments that could be applied to the novel and why *I* don’t think WWX’s arc in the novel is about trauma, and why I don’t think that picking up certain behaviours that can be exhibited by people with PTSD (but not exclusively by people with PTSD) is enough in itself to support the idea that a character’s arc is about trauma/shaped by PTSD. That does not mean that my interpretation is the only acceptable one--I am aware that a lot of people disagree with me on this and see trauma as a central theme/central part of WWX’s arc--and so I expect that a lot of people will disagree with my points (hopefully after they’ve read this post in good faith). And that’s perfectly fine: how likely is it that we can find another person who will agree 100% with our own interpretation of a work of fiction? And having divergent opinions floating around the fandom, or having to develop counter-arguments is a good way to strengthen our own pov if we don’t find ourselves convinced by that other interpretation, so it’s all good.

So first, I’ll address the biggest point of my argument before moving to address more specific points you raise in your ask. For me, WWX’s characterisation is not about trauma but about resilience.

So first, let’s clarify some things. Going through adversity/experiencing a situation that is difficult =/= experiencing trauma. Trauma is a concept referring to a potential response to going through adversity/experiencing something distressing or disturbing. In short, trauma as it is conceptualised and understood is not universal: not only in the sense that is a spatiotemporally specific concept used to make certain experiences intelligible, but as the reaction to difficult events (as well, what is considered to be an experience that falls under that concept is not itself universal and can take many gorms, and the behaviours and thoughts associated with trauma are generally not exclusive to it, ie having certain behaviours/thought processes is not an automatic proof that someone is dealing with trauma/ptsd). So after all this word vomit I want to clarify that my intent is not to suggest that WWX doesn’t go through experiences that are likely to cause trauma, but that to me, what is being portrayed is a different reaction to these events: resilience (if a slightly more “fictional” portrayal of resilience than what it would be presented in psychology/psychiatry).

Resilience refers to how people adapt or recover successfully from adversity/distressing situation/stress. That does not mean that people’s first reaction to adversity/distressing situations will be not defined by negative emotions, of course. For instance, I don’t think WWX’s heightened paranoia/emotional state directly after the fall of LP when he goes to look for JC is an indication of trauma because at this point WWX is still deep in the middle of that moment of adversity: he’s still a fugitive in the middle of a war, in the middle of danger. This also doesn’t mean that people cannot still have some temporary negative reactions to things that happened to them, afterwards: WWX having to pause when JC presents him with Suibian after he returns from Mass Grave Hill is not inherently an indication of trauma as it can be read that his sword a reminder of the difficult sacrifice he made--and the consequences he faced as a result (just because a situation was not traumatic doesn’t mean we enjoy revisiting it).

Why I think that WWX’s arc or characterisation is about resilience rather than trauma is because of many things, but mostly I want to point out two sections of the novel in particular.

First, this characterisation of WWX through JYL that we get relatively early in the novel:

Most memories from back then were already blurred. Yet, Jin Ling’s mother, Jiang Yanli, remembered all of them, and even told him quite a few. She said that, after his father heard of the news that his parents both died in battle, he had always dedicated himself to finding the child that these past friends had left behind. After searching for a while, he finally found the child in Yiling.

The first time they met, Wei Wuxian was kneeling on the ground, eating the fruit peels that somebody tossed on the ground. Yiling’s winter and spring were quite cold, yet the child only wore thin layers. His knees were already tattered, and on his feet were two different shoes that didn’t fit at all. As he was looking down, searching for fruit peels, Jiang Fengmian called him. He still remembered that there was a “Ying” in his name, so he lifted his head. Although his cheeks were both red and chapped from the cold, he still wore a smile.

Jiang Yanli said that he was born with a smiling look. No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them; no matter what situation he was in, he would be happy. Although it sounded a bit heartless, it really was not bad.

This refers to a time of his life that is extremely difficult: he lost both his parents suddenly, at a young age, became suddenly homeless with no means to feed himself except to beg, and yet the only trauma he seems to carry from this experience is related to dogs. To me, this is a clear move from MXTX to position WWX as the kind of protagonist who can face a storm and keep his smile on his face. I can imagine that some people take it perhaps as a subversion, as the text telling us that WWX is weathering it all with a smile but underneath it all he is just a bundle of unaddressed trauma. And that’s certainly a possible interpretation, but it’s not mine. In this case I think the text is being straightforward. What we see of WWX also seems to support that: the way WWX just rolls with being brought back from the death, how easily he finds a way to adapt to things, etc.

I also find it meaningful that the novel choses to include in its ultimate chapter this discussion as part of its wrap-up of WWX’s journey and of Wangxian’s relationship.

After they left the shop, Wei Wuxian still sat on Xiao Pingguo while Lan Wangji held the reins in front.Swaying left and right atop the donkey, Wei Wuxian took the flute from his waist and placed it by his lips. The limpid notes flew across the sky like birds. Lan Wangji halted and listened quietly.

It was the song he sang for Wei Wuxian when they were stuck in the Xuanwu cave. It was also the song that Wei Wuxian just so happened to have played at Dafan Mountain, the song that enabled Lan Wangji to confirm his identity.

When he finished, Wei Wuxian winked his left eye towards Lan Wangji.

“How was it? Beautiful, huh?”

Lan Wangji slowly nodded. “For once.”

Wei Wuxian knew that ‘for once’ referred to how his memory was good for once. He could not help but smile.

“Don’t always be so angry about it. It was my fault in the past, alright? Besides, my terrible memory should be accredited to my mom.” Wei Wuxian propped his arm on Xiao Pingguo’s head, spinning Chenqing in his hand. “My mom said you have to remember the things others do for you, not the things you do for others. Only when people don’t hold so much in their hearts would they finally feel free.”

This was one of the only things he remembered about his parents.

Of course, this is not a direct reference to resilience as it is explored in psychology. But to me it speaks to that idea: one of the biggest lesson WWX has kept with him, one of his only memory of--and thus legacy from--his parents, is this idea that we should not hold so much in our hearts. It also reframes his bad memory as being the result of a philosophy, of an approach to life that not just about being grateful/paying your debts to others, but also a form of resilience, in a sense.

As well, I find that a lot of people who go with the trauma interpretation see WWX’s actions and thoughts processes dyring his YLLZ’s days as being the result of his ptsd, where I personally read it as the influence of modao. I am aware as well that some people do not think that modao actually harmed WWX during that period of his life, but I don’t think that LWJ would have been worried if there were not reasons to believe it would:

One against two, Lan Wangji still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei Wuxian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei Wuxian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan Wangji lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well (此道损身，更损心性。)”

So now, onto the specific points you raised in the ask.

Self-medicating with alcohol: WWX is shown to enjoy and drink large amounts of alcohol before the fall of LP and after most of the events of the novel have unfolded. In the novel, while WQ tries to make WWX stop drinking, it is as likely to believe that it is for his health (now that he doesn’t have a golden core) than it would be because she was worried he was self-medicating. As well, heavy drinking is a very normalized behaviour (although most physicians don’t think it’s a good thing) in a lot of cultures and times, and considering WWX’s higher tolerance and his general demeanor while imbricated, his drinking is not shown to have a negative effect on his ability to live his life. The line between “self-soothing” (normal aspect of being humans dealing with emotions and hardships) and “self-medicating” (pathological) is hard to trace with alcohol consumption. As well, just because people with PTSD may self-medicate with alchohol doesn’t mean all people who self-medicate with alcohol do it because of PTSD.

He's paranoid even before getting thrown into the burial mounds. As I mentioned briefly before, WWX is at the time a fugitive in the middle of a war: he’s still in the middle of those stressful events and his paranoia is not necessarily a maladaptive response since they are still very much fugitives in the middle of a war. Trauma is not really your reaction during but in the aftermath. It would be more telling if WWX were still exhibiting signs of paranoia in situations where he would have no reasons to.

He over-reacts to a lot things, which seems to me like a nasty case of emotional dysregulation as a result of PTSD. I’m not certain at which reactions you are referring to here, but especially considering that some of this might be chalked up to acting choices since this is based on CQL, I probably won’t address this one point too much in relation to the novel. I do want to emphasize though that we’ve seen prior to Sunshot campaign that WWX can be quite impulsive in certain situations (hitting JZX for insulting Shijie, which he does both before and after the events of the Sunshot Campaign). As well, I do think it’s important to remember that he is still in the middle of the war during the Sunshot campaign, and that he is also hiding something pretty important from the people close to him and living a sort of double life, on top of experiencing fatigue/hunger in a way he hasn’t for years due to the loss of his golden core. In short, there are a lot of things going on that can be used to explain what can be seen as “over-reactions” without necessarily going with PTSD.

avoids all kinds reminders of his trauma, his sword being the greatest example but there were other little things. I’ve broached in my previous discussions, but it’s also pertinent to remember his mom’s philosophy: we can also see this as WWX trying to leave in the pass this difficult sacrifice he made in order to move forward.

He never gave much of a fuck about propriety but the way he completely ignores it (and the possible social fallout) later speaks to me less about not caring and more about not *having* the emotional capacity to care, much like what happens with depression. I have to disagree with that interpretation of WWX and WWX’s actions, but again this might just be a case of CQL-only vs novel-only interpretations of the character. One thing WWX thinks about being reborn in a “lunatic’s” body is that he’ll get to have fun, the way he never could when his actions reflected on others. So while at times WWX flaunts propriety, he is aware of how his actions can impact others and show in different situations that he is aware of propriety. His choice to protect the Wen Remnants goes against that, for sure, but it isn’t necessarily a case of not understanding the possible social fallout so much as putting other things (ie his life-debt towards WN and WQ) before propriety, as we can see for example in this exchange.

Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me.”

[...]

Swords unsheathed, the two stared at each other for a while. Neither was willing to take a single step back. A while later, Jiang Cheng spoke, “Wei Wuxian, have you still not realized what the situation at hand is like? Do you really need me to say it out loud? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.”

“There’s no need to protect me. Just let go.”

Jiang Cheng’s face twisted.

Wei Wuxian, “Just let go. Tell the world that I defected. From now on, no matter what Wei Wuxian does, it’d have nothing to do with YunmengJiangShi.”

“… All for the Wen Sect…? Wei Wuxian, do you have a savior complex? Is it that you’ll die if you don’t stand up for someone and stir up some trouble?”

Wei Wuxian stayed quiet. A while later, he answered, “So that’s why we should cut ties right now, in case anything I do affects YunmengJiangShi in the future.”

a lot of his behaviour can be read with various shades of being self destructive Which ones, specifically? I’m not trying to be obtuse, but I’m not sure which ones you mean.

he's in a pretty bad headspace (him crying about being useless in the burial mounds for example) It needs to be said that the crying is only in CQL (it was an acting choice by XZ). My memory is playing tricks on me, but I think pre-rebirth we only see him cry after he kills JZX and after JYL’s death? Someone please fact-check me on this.

Since I don’t believe it was MXTX’s intent to make WWX’s characterisation and arc about trauma, I do feel like interpreting the different behaviours as signs of his PTSD might lead us to miss out on other potential interpretations or meanings behind these choices, if we put aside the PTSD angle. It may also lead us to deny the text the possibility to signify something different through these behaviours and signs, especially on a thematic level--to explore something about how events and emotions shape us in a manner that exists outside of modern psychiatric classification.

TLDR (because god this got long): My point is not that WWX is unaffected by the things that happened to him or the things he’s done during this portion of his life: of course he is! Especially as they are happening to him, or when he is still stuck in a very difficult situation. But I don’t think his character and his arc is about trauma but instead about resilience. That, at the end of MDZS, WWX is still the person JYL described: No matter what unfortunate thing happened, he wouldn’t cling on to them.

#wintersrchild #mdzs meta #mdzs #wwx #maybe i should tag this as unpopular opinion? just in case

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irageneveart · 5 years

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there are so many things a 16 years old person should be doing beside throwing hate, BUT HERE YOU ARE BEING A BRAT

@bfmyers I really can't take this anymore, are you really that full of hypocrisy to scream TOXIC left and right while you yourself use your free time to only spread hate? I don’t usually do this and I try to stay away from useless discourse but you're just kicking on my nerves way too much

under the cut cause boy I have a lot to say. (really, it’s long. I needed to point out everything)

I'm going to kindly tell you to fuck off artists' backs.

you have 0 fucking knowledge of what you're talking about yet you're making callouts and worse, people agree! the same people who supported the artists before by reblogging and liking their art are now shitting on them and "ihh no more reblogs from them" only because you write a lengthy shit in which not only that you threaten a human being, you don't even know how to argue. a link to a picture and screaming "toxic" ISN'T A GODDAMN ARGUMENT

people of this community, PLEASE use your fucking brains and don't bow your head to what every nameless kid has to say. you don't have to believe me either, just use your fucking brain and heart and do the decision making yourself

Now, you did a callout post on @dbd-omija pointing out how toxic they are!!! omg gasp animal death? abuse?? HOW IS THAT pOsSIbLe

where have you been until now because this is a horror community:

in the TCM universe inbreeding is mentioned multiple times

in the Halloween movies Michael kills two dogs and eats one of them

omija clearly stated they went with the 1978-2018 timeline BUT NO YOU KEPT SCREAMING BECAUSE HOW DARE THEY SAY SOMETHING AGAINST YOU

on that matter: in the halloween movies Michael's cult makes him rape his niece, in another movie Laurie, before jumping to what it seemed her death, kisses Michael's mask lips. GASP, when will you sue the directors?

after he escaped, Max literally slaughtered every living creature in that farm. put the DBD devs on your "I need to sue them cause I have something to say against this horror game!!!" list

If there’s something I can agree with you on, it’s about tags. Yes, these are triggers, yes tagging is important, but let’s not forget that being in this community IS about being surrounded by triggers. out of courtesy sure, we should tag our stuff accordingly, but to go all out to say “omija, if you’re reading this, i’m going to pee in your mouth.” HOW. IS. THIS. ACCEPTED?! HOW

HOW THE FUCK PEOPLE WHO REBLOGGED THAT CALLOUT THOUGHT YES THIS IS GOOD?!!?!

now you said that Omija's making all of these seem cute and that’s the real problem. this is where you are sooo wrong and let me explain:

a round head doesn't instantly make everything cute. there are many many details that the human eye perceives as cute, things that artists go to when they want their art to be seen as cute. from the color chosen to the way their eyes and mouths are drawn, to the very line work they’re using. yes, shapes count too, but this is not the case and we should get out of our tiny box and see the big picture. Their comics are not meant to be cute, actually much respect to them for being brave enough to approach well known subjects that are not explored. But that’s it. If YOU see it as cute then it’s your problem really. Art and fiction is prone to interpretation

If anything, how much cute stuff we have in the community should be the anomaly, not that someone draws anxious Bubba

omija's Amanda and Bubba art is problematic! someone asks why, you: because is toxic!!!

really? I actually think that, given their individual personalities, omija portraits the ship’s dynamic really well. Amanda is not dealing well with her feelings and with humans and Bubba has problems understanding things in general. they are two deranged people finding a way to cope and to accept another human presence nearby. "Amanda is picking on a disabled person how can you say it's well!!!!" let me remind you that his entire family is picking on his disabilities and the fact that he loves but also FEARS his family is a big theme in Leatherface's story and personality

Also, another argument of yours was about “the power play” and how that’s problematic. I’m...honestly surprised you even thought of this argument because the entire slasher fandom, the movies, everything slasher related IS BASED ON POWER PLAY. Have you read what they wrote for Laurie/Michael to say the ship is based on power play and it’s wrong? No, me neither, cause I don’t care, but you seem to care enough to vomit about it. Go read some things and tell me how problematic the writing is, you need to call out writers too after all

Btw, surprise! I don't ship neither of the mentioned ships, but I can use my brain enough to see what omija does is actually well made and well thought, sick, weird in some instances, but well thought. kudos to you artist. I can also see those who ship Laurie and Michael are still nice people

But just like you and many others I have my own morals (do you now? Exposing yourself like that to NSFW content while so many people are scared for their life because of people like you? hmmmm) and I can’t really stand explicit pedophilia. I’ve read so many books or seen so many movies where it was mentioned, it’s a trigger factor, it’s taboo, therefore is normal to be used in darker works. It all depends on the circumstances and the way it is presented, cause it’s a piece of fiction. Nobody attacked George R. R. Martin for the controversial things he had written in his books right? I wonder why

Because, another surprise, fiction is different than reality and only this argument alone should be enough, but some monkey brains out there will come to scream at me how fiction affects reality. Someone who writes a murder mystery isn’t actually killing people when they put pen to paper. People who play shooter games do not wish to shoot people in real life. Someone who writes about rape will not welcome the rapist in their arms nor do they wish to rape someone. So on, it’s simple, again, we just need to use our brains.

If you have bullying-related or a family related or any thing related trauma and you see a Michael/Laurie fic or Quentin/Freddy or whatever other ships or subjects you have seen around, and decide to click on it, and then you have a negative reaction, that fiction is not harming you. Your unresolved trauma is harming you. Your decision to read something when you know it triggers you is harming you. The past actions of yourself and those who inflicted harm upon you are harming you. All of those things – your trauma, your real-life bullies, your actions – are real, and have the ability to harm you. (the italic bits are from @dracfics who said it better than I ever could put in words. Thank you)

next on your "who am I going to shit on today" is @renlvbon

not gonna lie, for the omija callout I read everything searching to see whenever you are right or not. I don’t personally know either of the artists but I could read enough to see you’re just a self entitled person with something to say regarding everything. for ren's callout I simply skipped after I saw your argument.

you're not doing gods' work by opening people's' eyes that they can or should portray the characters the way they are, disabled and gross. no, you're just picking on someone's art style

Can we stop this toxic nonsense???

don't get me wrong, I agree that we shouldn't make them supermodels and we shouldn't erase what they are, fucking ugly and gross killers, but saying people who don't draw them a certain way are cowards or calling them out or whatever else shit is TOXIC and ANNOYING. We all change them more or less, we have to because none of us are the original creators! We’re just thirsty people making them to be what we want and what we imagine because they’re fucking fiction

I’ve seen people agreeing with you saying the artist should consider real people with disabilities or on the heavier side (“like me” they pointed out). I’m so sorry if this comes out as rude but if you search or need validation in a horror community that’s not a good thing at all! Body positivity and a healthy approach to disabilities should. not. be. searched. in. a. horror. community or any community on tumblr for that matter. You want some positivity on that? In a real case scenario with them we all would die, no matter how you look like

Going back to the artists, some people don't have experience/ are insecure/ are uncomfortable drawing body hair or fat bodies or whatever. That doesn’t make them fatphobic or whatever shit I saw you writing in your tags.

Drawing a black character less than the color YOU think is good? Have you ever tried to color skin? There are so many ways to do it, there are so so many colors you combine and you play around with + lighting and shading that alters everything. and yeah maybe some people pick a different color, a lighter one, or a more yellow one than they should for asiatic people, or whatever. but these tones are NOT easy to get well (you can always put a brown color down and to call it a day, but maybe people won’t want that. They don’t want to be disrespectful, exactly cause there are predators like you that don’t know how to help, only how to fucking scream). Or maybe they simply don’t know how. Every artist has their own range of comfort zone, be it about subject - composition - colors - etc. I don’t do well with neon colors for example, it happens. Hell even the screen you’re using alters the colors

How about giving actual tips, support and explanations instead of rude call outs? And don’t come at me with the “color picker” shit cause color picker from a real life photo is hell and if you don’t know some color theory your art is going to look dull and lifeless regardless

The only time I can agree that whitewashing is wrong is when white-supremacy, nazi and other ugly shits like these are coming into the topic. But it’s not the case here

some young artists don't have the skill to draw certain body shapes, or body hair, or even a non-anime face. some others think putting a scar on the character’s face make them 'uglier' and ‘scarier’ and for them that's enough AND THAT'S ALRIGHT

drawing something that's supposed to be ugly but still having anatomy and proportions and a functionable mouth or eyes placement or whatever ISN'T EASY. ofc, you can go all out if that's what you want, but personally I want things to still be working because at the end of the day every single one of them is human. I'm not drawing dark fantasy in this fandom, I'm drawing slashers

NO ONE IS DRAWING FOR YOU. NO ONE IS USING THEIR SKILL TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD. art and writing, especially when is made in the free time of the creator, is made FOR THEMSELVES. If there are people enjoying it? Yay, that’s a win, but no one expects everybody on this planet to like what they’re doing. We’re getting back to that golden rule, DON’T LIKE: MOVE THE FUCK ON/ BLOCK AND LIVE YOUR LIFE. EASY. no one uses these unnecessary callouts for anything, if you have something to say do so kindly, if you can’t, just vent to your friends

So now let’s wrap it up cause IDK how many of you even make it through this point

can we fucking stop making young artists and writers cowards for drawing or writing how they can and however they fucking want? Please and thank you

this shit going on with "the best artist/writer for x y z character" or "conventionally drawing ugly Bubba uwu" will just destroy the confidence of whoever wants to keep drawing or writing or joining the fandom. There’s no competition who draws Bubba the ugliest nor who writes Michael the best. if you can do things a certain way, do it, and let the rest draw and write whatever they can WITHOUT FEARING THEY'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

now I'm waiting for your very "well" argumented reply but I hope you'll understand that what you're doing is TOXIC and you should stop or at least change your way to address things. You’re talking to other human beings, not a void when you can throw any random thought you have in the morning. I don't care about you to be honest, but there are so many people out there following your words mindlessly and the creators are suffering and it's not fair.

don't forget to tell me to go kill myself. have a nice day

#ira talks #bfmyers callout #vent and triggers #this shit needs to stop #long post #my opinion #i won't put this in the main tags cause that's really useless #so I don't really know how to tag lol

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seenashwrite · 5 years

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Word Count: 3K Category: One-shot; Behind-the-scenes canon-compliant; Humor; Friendship-Turns-To-More; On-the-case Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Reader/Female OC, Cas [ever-so-briefly*** ] Pairing(s): Dean x Reader Warnings: None Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post, minus tags and links, in an effort to make it show in searches; more post-story Overall Summary: Dean, you thing-breaking dumbass, this is why we can’t have *nice* things.... Okay, but really: A fellow hunter finally finds it, the answer to solving a case she never quite put to rest; enter Dean and his penchant for picking up, dropping, and breaking things.

“I broke it.”

Dean immediately made some sort of slightly cringy face that I’m guessing he thought came off as adorable, then Sam looked over his shoulder at me with the same routine, albeit nervously.

I couldn’t say what expression my face had taken on, but Castiel was staring at me like I was either going to vomit or combust.

“It was an accident,” Sam tried.

And failed - I was seething.

“I can’t kill you, I know, ‘cause that never seems to take,” I said to Dean. “But I sure as hell can beat the tar out of you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes a bit at me, and I knew he was trying to judge if I was serious.

I was serious.

Several moments of near-painful silence went by, which Dean, naturally, broke.

“It was… look, this thing on the side… here… and the… is… it wasn’t my… then my hand, so… see?"

"Uh-huh,” I said, crossing my arms.

“I’m going to go. I think I should check on the bunker,” Castiel said to me as he backed up, sticking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door.

“Uh-huh,” I repeated, only seeing him out of the corner of my eye, as I was still focused on my target.

Dean frowned. “Nice, Cas, thanks a lot.”

“You’re most welcome,” Castiel replied, then promptly zipped away.

I was proud of him. That was some absolutely-on-purpose, right-back-atcha sarcasm. I was also glad he had 86′ed himself, one less thing to stand in between me and laying down that aforementioned ass-whooping.

Dean rolled his eyes, then warily brought them back to mine. Sam sighed and leaned over in his chair, getting a better look at the pieces scattered around Dean’s feet. He reached out.

“Nope! Don’t. You. Dare,” I said.

Well, possibly yelled. Could’ve been a shout. Either way he jumped back, held up his hands briefly as if I were going to arrest him.

“What is your problem?” Dean snapped.

My jaw dropped. “You. You, with the constant touching things and handling things and us having to watch you like you’re a four-year-old!” I snapped right back.

He glared, and I started pacing around, gesturing with my arms and hands, and I probably looked like a raving lunatic but I felt like I was dealing with a lunatic, so he deserved a little crazy dished back at him.

“I honestly don’t get it - I really don’t. Consider me boggled. With the knife spinning and the gun flipping like you’re in some movie, and then the behind-the-back shots, and the sliding over to some nasty or away from some creeper, like you’re on a damn baseball team, all those moves, and I just - how can one man have that level of coordination and still manage to fumble everything else? Huh? Can either of you tell me that?”

“You know, you’re being a real—”

“I don’t know how Sam survived childhood, with all the dropping him on his head you must’ve done, but hey - maybe by some stroke of luck you activated a hidden part of his brain and that’s how he ended up a genius.”

Sam grinned. “Thanks!”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean told him.

“The hours… the days…. the weeks… months… all wasted,” I went on. “There’s not another one. It’s one of a kind. Nothing else like it. You have single-handedly screwed me.”

Sam stood and walked over. I’d quit pacing, but my arms were still up and out. I brought my hands to either side of my head. I was muttering random sounds, essentially growling at no one in particular. Sam hesitated briefly, but then took me by the wrists and gently lowered my arms, sliding his hands down to hold mine, giving them a few good squeezes as he spoke.

“Listen, lemme just… if I can just move all of it to the table, get a real good look at the damage, maybe there’s something that can be done to fix it.”

“Sure, super glue should do the trick,” Dean said dryly. He was still hanging out on the side of the bed. I had to give him credit, though - he was holding onto what was left of it like it already had been coated in super glue, not making the first move to touch the rest.

I made myself inhale and exhale a deep breath before responding. “I appreciate that. I do. I wish you would let me do the moving. ‘K?”

Sam nodded. “Okay. And we’ll go pick up some dinner, let you have some space, that sound good?”

“Good. Yeah.”

“What can we bring you?”

I almost said a time machine so we could all go back ten minutes, so I wouldn’t have left it with Dean, and so he wouldn’t have picked it up in the first place. But I didn’t - Sam didn’t deserve to be treated that way. His brother on the other hand…

Dean stood.

“Don’t move!” I exclaimed, pulling my hands from Sam’s and rushing away from him, dropping to my knees near Dean’s feet.

“I can step over—”

“Put— put it down on the bed, and please, just— please take it slow.”

He did so, but then I felt him staring at me as I surveyed the mess around us. I looked up, and I admit, the anger was fading and the panic was starting to set in. He must’ve seen it because his expression got a bit softer and there was actually a little sympathy in his eyes.

He glanced away for a second, then back. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I know.”

“If I thought it would slip out of my hands, I would have—”

“Stop, will ya?” My head had already dropped again, as I gingerly picked up one of the larger pieces that was directly in his path. I leaned up briefly to set it on the bed, away from the edge, then back down I went. I grabbed the back of his calf, scooted myself to the side, then prompted him to lift. “Step clean over these smaller pieces, alright?”

I raised my free hand so he could steady himself. He responded with a firm grip and allowing me to guide the leg til his foot was planted, then we repeated the action with no problem on his opposite side. I let out a huge sigh of relief - so did he.

“We’ll be back in no time,” Sam told me, and I heard Dean fishing his keys from his pocket, but I was focused and didn’t acknowledge them. The door closed without any of us saying another word. And that was when the tears finally came to my eyes.

Here was the thing: the Winchester brothers had helped me over the last few hurdles in my quest to find it. I was more grateful than they’d ever know. I needed it to put a long-time cold case of mine officially to rest, and I couldn’t figure it out on my own, which had pissed me off to no end, but not getting the assist just wasn’t an option.

Sam had labored for countless hours over piles of clues and hints and other nonsense that had been tripping me up for years. Dean had been a champ out in the field, often checking leads on his own when their cases took them near some place that held promise, clocking who knows how many miles. We’d hung out socially a few times when they were in my neck of the woods, I’d spoken with Sam at least every-other-week, texted with Dean just as frequently, and well…

I considered us friends. Good friends. Maybe my only friends. MaybeI was their only friend, too.

And I thought about that, all of those things, as I stood over the table, staring down at what we’d worked so hard to find. Nothing was cracked or chipped, thin motel carpeting be damned. None of the pieces were tiny or crumbled, the smallest of them still taking up my entire palm.

It almost seemed… it shouldn’t have, really… it hadn’t felt like it…

Yet there were things about it I hadn’t noticed before, all these intricate details. Diagonal grooves on the piece Dean had managed to keep in his hands, along with oddly-shaped spaces that almost looked like they tunneled. I studied the smaller pieces - similar grooves. And on the sides that had faced internally, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, now that tears weren’t clouding my vision.

I was just starting to smile when the door opened.

“Hey that’s good to see,” Sam said. He was carrying our drinks and headed straight to the dresser - he knew better than to set them on the table with it.

“What’s good to see?” Dean asked. His arms were full of bags stacked atop a small box, so he kicked the door shut behind him.

I don’t know what came over me, but I rushed him, and the poor klutz would’ve likely dropped his cargo had I not pressed in so far as I put my hands on either side of his head and pulled his face in close, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

It was a toss-up, what I saw on his face - horror or surprise - when I pulled away and wide eyes stared back at me, but I couldn’t have cared less.

“Oh you beautiful man,” I told him, now smiling so much my cheeks hurt.

He blinked a few times, still startled. “I got you cupcakes.”

“What?” I asked.

“What?” he asked right back.

“What?” Sam chimed in. “I mean, what happened, why are you—”

I went to turn from Dean, but he wobbled, so I thought better of it. I grabbed the bags, leaving him with just the box. I mean, priorities and all, but I wanted those cupcakes. I answered Sam as I made my way to the dresser.

“He dropped it, but he didn’t break it - looks like it was supposed to come apart.”

“What?!” Sam exclaimed.

“We need to all stop saying ‘what’,” Dean said, and in a gruff tone, so I glanced over at him.

He met my eye, then immediately turned his back to me and started sorting out the food. I frowned slightly, but I didn’t have time to figure him out. I walked back over to the table where Sam was standing, taking a good look at it.

“I liked the compliment and all - but you are the genius,” Sam told me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Did you see, on these, how on the inside they’ve got—”

“Yup! Think those might twist and turn and snuggle up all nice and cozy into these gaps?”

Sam grinned, pulled me into a huge hug, held so tight I almost gasped. “I’m really happy for you,” he said, and heaven help me, wrapped those never-ending arms even tighter.

Dean cleared his throat. Loudly. Twice.

Sam let go and I chuckled as his stomach growled. Loudly. Twice.

“Let’s dig in,” I announced, heading over to the spread Dean had laid out.

“You don’t wanna—”

“Nah. It’ll still be there when we’re ready.”

Dean was on his bed and I was on Sam’s, both of us propped against the headboards, a handful of cupcake wrappers tossed on the bedside table between us.

Sam didn’t join in on dessert, instead making a beeline for the table, and was currently in a chair, hunched over, working on the puzzle. He’d made good headway - I’d barely set in to my second cupcake when he’d already gotten three pieces back in place. In their new places, that is - because that was the key to my little mystery. It wasn’t supposed to stay the same.

“It’s looking good,” I told him. And it was - it was turning into a completely different shape, but one that seemed much more sturdy. Dean had noticed immediately.

“It’ll stand up now, on its own, instead of being wonky on bottom, won’t it?” he asked.

“Looks like,” Sam replied. “There’s still something that needs to go over here, to keep it steady, I think.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take over?” I asked.

Sam looked up, shot me a little wink, then shook his head. “No way. This is the fun part.”

“You’re the boss.” Then I looked at Dean, who had just killed off the rest of what had to have been his fourth cupcake, adding the wrapper to the pile. “For someone in a love affair with pie…”

“Pie understands me.”

“You know, at first I thought that was going to keep us from being friends.”

“Hmm?”

“My cake preference.”

“We all have our faults.”

“Truer words,” I replied with a laugh. I pushed myself off the headboard, made my way to a sitting position on the side of the bed, grabbed my boots and started putting them back on.

“What’re you doing?”

“Well, if Sam’s not gonna let me help, least I can do is make a beer run.”

“That’ll be great, thanks,” Sam said.

Dean watched in silence as I laced up, then grabbed my jacket off of the chair Sam wasn’t in. He waited til I’d almost had my hand on the doorknob before he got up, told me to wait a minute, he’d come with me. Then I heard his keys jingle.

“I’ll drive.”

“My car’s here,” I reminded him.

Dean all but shoved me aside when he reached for the handle, pulling the door open even though I was still partially blocking the way. I gave him a look.

“Well?” he asked.

I looked pointedly at his arm. He moved back so I could pass, and out into the parking lot we went. We were nearing the Impala’s driver side, but I waited to go around, instead turning so fast Dean stopped just short of running into me. The odd vibe that had been hanging over us for months had to come to an end.

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch earlier, I really am.”

“You had every right to be. Anyway, I tend to have that effect on women.”

I glanced down. The last quarter of his jeans and most of his boots were coated in a thin layer of dried mud, leftover from what he’d brushed off before getting into the car. I knew there must’ve been plenty of bruising on his arms and legs, too.

My mind went back to earlier that night, all the work he’d done to retrieve it from the abandoned, mostly caved-in mine out in the middle of nowhere. Sam was too big to fit through what little of an opening was left, and he’d physically held me back, fussing with me about the danger of a full-on collapse, when next thing we knew, we were alone. Dean had climbed down and started making his way inside while our backs were turned.

I looked back up to find him staring at me, not making a move to go around me or rush me, remind me that the beer was out there all alone, waiting on us, needing a good, loving home, and I added that to the list of oddities.

“Still. I shouldn’t have. Being that close to something that… I’ve just been looking for it so long, to think it was right there and in one second…”

Dean nodded. “We’re good.”

I nodded as well, but didn’t budge. “I believe you. So can we… can we stop being weird?”

“Who’s weird?”

I gave him another look.

He gave one in return.

I let out a little huff.

The side of his mouth quirked up ever-so-slightly.

“It’s been… tense,” I pointed out. “Not just you making with the clumsy and all. I mean the past couple times we’ve been around each other. Then over this whole trip, we’ve been… Listen, I know what a basket case I’ve turned into, as we got closer to it, and I wanna make sure it hasn’t wrecked our friend—”

Dean planted his lips on mine just as abruptly as I’d done to him earlier. Only this was different. He’d shut his eyes. And he lingered.

He pulled away for a fraction of a second, I suppose to see how I’d react, and I didn’t give it much thought before I leaned in and kissed him right back.

It wasn’t what I would’ve expected. I’d seen him kissing other women. There was always this urgency to those kisses, like he was trying to speed through it to reach a finish line, to hurry and get it out of the way.

This, though… this was a slow burn, then just as slowly, his hands were creeping around my waist and slipping under my jacket, pulling me in, and I found myself following suit.

“See? Here you go again, with the touching…” I mumbled into his mouth.

“….and the handling….”

“….all the moves….”

He stilled, stopped another kiss before it really even started, though he didn’t move away. “But am I fumbling it?”

“Oh, this is a horrible idea,” I replied, my lips still brushing against his.

“Huge mistake,” he agreed, eyes shining.

We were kidding, sure, but there was truth behind it, and that was something we both damn well realized. And I realized I was probably the one who had to play the grown-up, so I let my hands fall away from him, stepped back. Not by much, though.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Liiiike….”

“Like you do at the chicks in the diners and the bars. That bartender last time we were all together - the look.”

“And it’s how I’m looking at you, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm. It happened when you knew all you’d have to do was snap your fingers at her. Just like all of ‘em, when you’d know… ooooh.”

He hadn’t stepped into the space I’d created, just leaned, dropped his head to my neck, started planting barely-there kisses, and at that moment had landed on a nice spot just behind my ear.

“When I’d know what?” he asked, lazily kissing his way back around, under my jaw, then higher, to my cheek.

“Know you’d… how… it’d be a sure thing… that you were… you know… gonna get it.”

Dean brought his head around to look at me, and one of his patented, pleased-with-himself smirks was planted firmly on his face. “Well - I did get it.”

“Horrible idea and horrible jokes, I’m loving this whole thing we’ve got going.”

He dropped the smirk, turning it into something with a touch of sincerity. Something a breath away from being serious, and I didn’t quite know how to feel about it. About any of it.

“Not what I meant,” he said.

I drifted closer; he closed what little distance remained.

“That right?” I asked, and I couldn’t help it - it came out as a whisper.

And he whispered into my ear once he’d pulled me into his arms.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ve got it for you.”

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2: Several folks asked what “it” was, and so I made a post explaining - you can find that link on the original story post, via my master list.

Like I say - this is a repost leaving off links purposefully, so that’s why you’re not directed to it so if you don’t feel like looking but want to know the “secret”, just shoot me an ask and I’ll link you.

Author’s Note #3: In case you wondered, this was written for a challenge involving taking inspiration from outtakes of the show. And the ***ever so briefly on Cas was because the challenge runner doesn’t like him but I snuck him in just long enough tee-hee-hee

#Supernatural Fanfiction #Supernatural Fanfic #SPN Fanfic #Dean x Reader #Nash Writes

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mchalowitz · 6 years

Text

fic; i met the real fbi agents behind the lazarus bowl

i was so into this idea by @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm that this just spilled out of me. tagging @today-in-fic too

William pins a visitor badge to the lapel of his jacket, his hands shaking. His backpack full of equipment suddenly feels much heavier.

He leaves behind a confused guard, who had to make three phone calls to decipher where to find the X Files division and the office of Agent Fox Mulder. His childhood hero is not exactly on the tour.

For all intents and purposes, The Lazarus Bowl is a garbage piece of cinema. The sets are cheap, the acting is wooden, and the plot barely makes any sense. Its simplicity is probably why he enjoyed it so much, to the point that he would sneak into the basement after his parents went to sleep to watch the movie with violence and sexual situations every time it was on TV.

It was mind blowing to his nine year old self to find out that the Mulder and Scully from the movie were based on real people, actual FBI agents, actually named Mulder and Scully, and he immediately devoured anything he could find on them.

There wasn’t a lot to be found, really, most of it seemingly lost to time, and the advancement of technology. Much to his disappointment. The websites that followed their career closely had long stopped paying the price to keep their domain names. He found a few surviving articles, a couple posts on ancient forums under Fox Mulder’s supposed handle.

He loved their episode of Cops, watching it so many times on an old VHS recording he begged his parents to buy on eBay that the tape unwound. He actually cried that day.

His favorite novel was From Outer Space by Jose Chung, the two FBI agents in the book supposedly based on them. Aside from that, there was nothing definitive on such fascinating people.

And there should be. They were FBI agents. Who investigated paranormal crime cases. It sounded like it should be a TV show, not someone’s real life.

Discouraged from his dream to join the FBI by his overprotective parents, he jumped into another risky career by studying journalism. His fascination with Mulder and Scully developed into a general love for the mysteries of the paranormal.

He started writing about it. He went from a scrub at work, getting scrap assignments, to a popular paranormal science and conspiracy writer. He used this mild success to finally achieve his boyhood fantasy of meeting Mulder and Scully.

He rides the elevator down, too excited to recall the hesitant okay he got from his bosses at the concept. They were more responsive when he wanted to spend a night in a house supposedly filled with demons.

William takes a deep breath, tries to inhale the internal squeal at the back of his throat when he sees the nameplate on the door. Special Agent Fox Mulder. He knocks in a way that attempts to sound confident.

There’s a call from behind the door. “Yeah, it’s open.”

“Fox Mulder?”

“You’re not here to serve me papers, are you?” William shakes his head. “Then yes.”

“I’m William Van De Kamp, we’ve been emailing.” There’s no flash of recognition in the older man’s eyes. “We were scheduled for an interview? I thought you knew I was coming.”

“I personally do not believe in speaking to the press. You’ve been speaking with Agent Scully.”

There’s shuffling from the back room of the office and a redhead he’s only seen on screens appears. She’s holding a stack of files. “Mulder, be nice,” Agent Scully tells him. She holds out her hand. “Dana Scully.”

“William Van De Kamp," he says. He takes her hand, completely mesmerized. He shakes himself out of his trance. “Let me set up so we can get started.”

Agent Scully takes the chair behind the desk, banishes Agent Mulder to one of the extra chairs in front of it for his opening comments. He doesn’t have much to set up, just his recorder, and his notepad of questions. A short assessment of his subject tells him he shouldn’t inquire about filming the interview.

For a moment, William takes in his surroundings. The office is not far off from his favorite movie, right down to the I Want To Believe poster on the wall. He had the same one in his own childhood bedroom. He can barely contain himself from pulling out of his phone, snap about a thousand selfies to his friends. When your favorite movie is fucking real, followed with three alien emojis, he would include as the caption.

He’s actually about to interview them. He presses down the button on his recorder, the red light urging him on. Ask them something.

“How long have you been partners?”

“You’ll need to be more specific.”

“Excuse me?”

“FBI, romantic, estranged?”

“Whatever you’re willing to divulge, I guess.”

“I was first assigned to work with Mulder in 1993,” Agent Scully interjects, shooting her partner a glare. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“Did you have any interest in the paranormal at the time, Agent Scully?”

“No, in fact, I still don’t.”

“Don’t listen to her. She loves a good invisible man.”

“He wasn’t invisible, Mulder. He was...There is no scientific evidence to support that theory.”

William is giddy at the sight of their banter. It’s just like the movie. For a film that got so much wrong, their dynamic is perfect. It seems to be only thing it hit right on the money.

They’re both so smart, so witty, it confirms all his hopes for them. They know their field so completely, his list of questions seem idiotic in retrospect. He wasn’t expecting them to be so forthcoming, entertaining him with stories of their experiences. He’s never heard of a Flukeman before but instantly files it away to research later.

Agent Mulder is kind of an asshole. He’s sarcastic, a little brooding, and Garry Shandling definitely did his best to make his version of Mulder more likable. More generically funny, not capturing the dry wit that was punctuated with a lopsided smile, and a glance at Agent Scully to see if she found his quip as funny as he did. It’s not completely off putting, admittedly sort of charming.

Even so, his aversion to speaking to the press was accurate. He made frequent comments about his distrust for the media that makes his work into a punchline, but he seems to soften with the realization that William is not a complete hack, but rather someone with a true interest in his work.

There’s very little accuracy in Téa Leoni‘s portrayal of Scully, for the most part. She was just a shell of the real person, taking on more of the fiery-redhead-action-hero stereotype. The real person is a true genius, and while her beauty is unreal, he found himself hanging off her every brilliant word as she explained the history of the X Files, the kickback they received from the government at large, and the future of their work now that the paranormal has gone mainstream. “In this day and age,” she tells him, “Anyone with a smartphone can be a paranormal investigator.”

“These conspiracy enthusiasts of the 21st century want the spectacle, not the truth,” Agent Mulder adds.

Their interview seems to come to a natural end with that note but he wishes there was something more. He wants to extend the experience, never having felt this ease he feels with them. There’s some...odd connection, one he knows he needs to shake off.

He’s spent so much of his life admiring these people and they actually lived up to his expectations. He’s just having a fangirl moment, for lack of a better term, and he needs to shut that shit down. Of course they would make him feel comfortable, he’s spent so long being straight up obsessed with them.

Still, he does not want to leave, not yet. He stands awkwardly at the door.

“I’m in love with Assistant Director Walter Skinner,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m sorry…whenever I can’t think of something to say…I just say that.”

"Do you have something you'd like to say?" Agent Scully asks him.

He lets out a short laugh. “I thought you guys would be awesome but I didn’t think you would be everything I wanted you to be,” he admits. “You’re like...my heroes. This is so dumb...but I’ve seen the episode of Cops you were on about a thousand times. Maybe more times than I’ve watched The Lazarus Bowl, which I know is just a stupid movie, but it lead me to where I am right now.”

Words are spilling out of him like vomit. He continues, “I’m adopted and it’s so stupid but I used to think...what if they were my biological parents, how cool would it be to go on adventures with them. I believed it so bad.” He lets out a breath he was holding in. “Okay. Now that I’ve just drained myself of every ounce of professionalism, I’m going to go. Thank you for your time.”

There's a softness in Agent Scully’s eyes that he had not been expecting when he looks up. "Mulder, why don't you give Mr. Van De Kamp your card, just in case he has any follow up questions."

"Right," he replies, an emotion he can't decipher in his eyes. He goes into his jacket, slung over the back of his chair. He pulls out a business card, scribbles something on the back. He holds it out to William.

"Hopefully I’ve changed your view on speaking with the press, Agent Mulder."

"Not quite," he replies. "Couple more interviews, maybe."

William smiles, wills himself not to glance back as the door shuts behind him. He sighs deeply, looks down at the card in his hand.

In Agent Mulder’s messy handwriting, the back reads: Believe.

#the x files #xf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #william van de kamp #i liked this idea so much so here we are kids #its a little different than the original hc but i still really liked how it turned out

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chainsawbettyloo · 7 years

Text

Title: To You, I Give My Word that I Will Return, Chapter 1 / 2

Pairing: Sidlink

Tags: Implied / Referenced (eventual) character death, reincarnation, angst with a happy ending

Summary: All mortals must die and Link is no different but in an attempt to lengthen his life until both he and Sidon can pass into the next world together, the two seek out a spirit who is said to grant wishes. However, breaking the laws of nature itself isn't something easily done and it comes with a hefty price tag

Also posted on my AO3 so if you’d like to read it there! Comments, reblogs and kudos are very much appreciated!

It was when they were standing before the mouth of the cave, the air around them cold, still and stale, that the full weight of just what they were about to do slammed hard onto Sidon’s shoulders.

Gripping tightly onto Link’s small hand, he struggled to keep his breath even as panic hammered against the confines of his ribs. A noticeable tremble quickly spread through his limbs, though whether that was caused by the sudden anxiety or the sensation that the soft, dewy ground beneath his feet was vibrating, he couldn’t tell. The tips of his fingers began to painfully tingle. Dizziness suddenly swamped him, sending the world into a nauseating tailspin that nearly brought him to his knees but Link squeezed his hand reassuringly when he began to sway, giving him the strength and will to remain upright.

“We should go back.” Link said softly, his voice audibly shaking, “This isn’t a place for us. We shouldn’t be here.”

The Hylian was trembling just as much as he was. Glancing down, he found Link’s face, pale with just a hint of green, staring up at him. His vibrant blue eyes, ringed with wrinkles, were wide with alarm. Hard, uneven breaths were being pulled through his slightly parted lips. Everything about his body language screamed that he wanted to run, to speed away from this place and head back to safety. He had already taken a step back, his legs tensed in preparation to flee. And, for a split moment, Sidon was tempted to do just that. Despite the area they stood in looking the same as anywhere else in the world, even the most unperceptive mind would be able to tell immediately that this place...it wasn’t somewhere mortals beings should walk. Just as the rumors had said: something unworldly dwelled here.

But...deep down, behind that knee jerk reaction of being faced with something so unnatural, he knew they couldn’t run. Holding steadily onto Link’s hand, he bent over, ignoring the violent lurch of nausea prompted by the sudden movement, placed a soft kiss against Link’s cold, clammy cheek and whispered, “We can’t turn back now. Not after how far we’ve come. We need to see this through.”

“And if it’s all for nothing?” The Hylian breathed.

Surprised at how cautious Link was being as he was normally the one jumping head first into any situation, Sidon replied firmly, though he didn’t really feel the conviction in his words, “Then we pick ourselves up and keep looking. But, nothing good will come from turning around now. We won’t gain anything from that.”

Link stared back at him with wide eyes for a moment before nervously shifting his gaze to the cave. It was clear that he still wasn’t reassured but, despite not wanting to have to do it, Sidon couldn’t give him anymore time to think on it. He realized that Link had a lot more experience with spirits than he did so it made sense that he would be more cautious when faced with one that could pose a great danger to them but they couldn't afford to falter here. Straightening up, he ignored his own immense discomfort, kept his grip clamped hard on Link’s hand and stepped forward, towards the cave. Link resisted for a split moment, tugging back against Sidon’s pull but quickly gave in, either sensing that the Zora Prince wouldn’t be stopped or realizing that they really couldn’t turn away from this.

Falling into step by his side, Link said in a warbling, uneven voice, “No spirit I've met in my life has ever felt like this. Even the evilest, most sinister spirits couldn't cause such sensations and discomfort. Far as I know, it shouldn’t be this way.”

Sidon didn’t reply for a few moments, all of his attention on keeping himself from face planting into the grassy ground as the feeling of vibration, dizziness and nausea got worse the closer they got to the mouth of the cave. Pulling in a deep breath, he finally managed to cough out, “We’ve known since we set out on this journey that we would not be dealing with any ordinary spirit. Whatever this being truly is, there’s probably nothing else in the world like it.”

By the time they reached the entrance, Sidon was certain that at any moment he was going to projectile vomit everywhere. Looking into the depths of the cave, there was really nothing to see but inky blackness. There was no way to tell how far it went or what was beyond the half circle line of light being cast from the world outside. Straining his ears, he struggled to pick up on any sound, any indication of just what was waiting for them inside but there was nothing, just unsettling silence. The air around them was heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe, amping up the panic fluttering wildly in his chest. Swallowing hard against the bile pushing at the back of his throat, he turned to Link, who looked just as sick as he felt, and asked softly, “Are you ready?”

The Hylian was silent for a moment before he slowly, purposefully shook his head, “No, and you aren’t either but that isn’t going to stop neither of us, is it?”

Sidon simply shook his head in response. Link stared up at him with a conflicted expression on his face before turning away, back towards the vast, endless expanse of the cave. Heaving a huge, trembling sigh, he said softly, “This had better be worth it.”

“We won’t know until we go in.” The Zora Prince responded with little confidence.

They both stood in uneasy silence for several moments, their eyes glued to the immense darkness, neither wanting to make the first step forward when a sudden, loud angry squawking sound exploded up from the depths of the cave. Jumping back, picking up Link instinctively with one arm to protect him from what could be an unseen threat, Sidon reached down with to grab the hilt of his sword and opened his mouth to issue a challenge when a voice coming from inside the cave spoke.

“Are you going to stand there all day? Or are you going to stop acting like terrified children and come in to greet me?”

‘Old crone’ was the first thought that crossed Sidon’s mind as he listened to that voice. Besides the very obvious anger and annoyance, there was a deepness, a huskiness that gave off an aura of a voice not often used. Granted, that wasn’t all that surprising given he was relatively certain that no one had stepped foot inside of the cave for a very long while. Releasing the hilt of his sword, he carefully set Link back down, ignoring the annoyed look he received from the Hylian, most likely in response to the rough handling, steeled himself and took a step forward into the cave.

The vibrations running through the ground got worse as they moved deeper into the darkness. Keeping his grip on Link’s hand tight enough that he was certain that it had to hurt but unable to allow himself to loosen it out of fear that if Link’s hand were to slip away, he would lose him in the darkness, he tried to force his eyes to focus but there didn’t seem to be anything to see. Nothing was in front of them except for endless darkness. Soon, they had completely cleared what little light had been bleeding in from the outside, leaving them completely swallowed up by the suffocating black. Trying his best to ignore the thrumming of his heart, the vibrations coursing through his body and the very disconcerting sensation of being able to feel the blood rushing through his veins, Sidon led Link deeper inside, focusing all of his attention on each step and the uneven pace of the Hylian’s breath.

“I’m impressed.” The old crone voice spoke up once more after they had been walking for what felt like an eternity, all hints of anger and agitation now gone from their voice, and instead replaced what did sound like genuine astonishment, “Most don’t even make it a few steps past the mouth, but here you are! For all your hard work, a little relief.”

Abruptly, faint blue lights began to glow along the walls of the cave, casting off a dim, ethereal light. Wincing slightly in the sudden illumination, Sidon was relieved to find that he could now see an actual path laid out in front of them. While they took a moment to let Link catch his breath, the Zora Prince turned around on the spot, examining the inner workings of the cave. Little fungi that looked vaguely like mushrooms were the source of the light - stretching along the wall and floor of the cave, he quickly realized that they were everywhere and each one was giving off a tiny speck of light that, when combined with all the others, was creating the soft glow.

“Fascinating.” Link breathed, striding over to one of the walls. Reaching forward, he tentatively poked one of the mushrooms, before turning back around to Sidon, shrugged lightly and held out his hand for the Zora Prince to take. Gratefully doing so as the cave was still unnerving him and he didn’t want to be separated, even for a moment, from his little Hylian, Sidon took another few seconds to let his eyes fully adjust before once again heading forward.

For a long while, they walked in silence, only pausing now and again so Link could catch his breath. The vibrations, feelings of unease and nausea only worsened the deeper they went, until Sidon could barely keep the contents of his light breakfast in his stomach. Walking a straight line was becoming tougher by the moment; his shoulder kept bumping into the side of the wall as he staggered and swayed like a drunk man. Link wasn’t faring any better. In fact, he was doing significantly worse than the Zora Prince. The effects of the cave were obviously taking a heavy toll on him. Even in the dim light, Sidon could see how pale he was, the sweat streaming down his face and the visible tremble radiating throughout his entire body. In the quiet, heavy, stale air, all he could hear was how labored Link’s breath was becoming.

He was hesitant to pick him up and merely carry him to their destination as, despite the Hylian’s age, he hated being treated in such a way. However, the choice in whether or not to do so was made for him when Link suddenly went down to his knees with a startled ‘oomph’. Dropping down beside him, he gently took hold of the Hylian’s shaking shoulders and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Link gasped, his voice raspy and uneven, “Just give me a second.”

“Link, love.” Sidon murmured, “Be honest with me.”

The Hylian was silent for a moment before he bowed his head, wiped sweat from his mouth and sighed, “These legs aren’t going to take me much further.” Chuckling weakly, he slowly shook his head, “Who am I kidding? I don’t think I can even stand up.”

“It’s fine, Link.” Sidon replied soothingly, brushing back a strand of sweat soaked grey hair, “Rely on me just a little, okay?”

Link was still for a moment before heaving a big, overly suffering sigh. Raising his head, he settled a tired gaze on Sidon, smiled slightly and said, “You tell anyone about this, and you’ll sleep alone for the rest of eternity.”

Laughing softly, he leaned forward, gently bumping their foreheads together, “Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

Pushing back into the contact, Link sighed once more, nodded and said, “Alright, pick me up. We’re going to see this through, goddamn it.”

Still smiling lightly, Sidon slipped one arm underneath Link’s shaking legs and the other around his back. With no effort at all, he lifted him up, quickly made sure that he was as comfortable as he could get before continuing forward. He had barely even taken one step when the old crone voice spoke up once more.

“That’s far enough.” she said with an air of disinterest, “I’ve seen all I need to, so I think we’ll just do what we need to here.”

Confused, Sidon opened his mouth to ask what she meant when suddenly, the illumination given off by the mushrooms brightened to a blinding intensity, forcing him to shut his eyes against the vibrant assault. It lasted for less than a second, turning the world into nothing but a white blur, before fading out. Slowly opening his eyes, blinking rapidly to force away the black spots and red blurs obscuring his vision, Sidon was startled to find, once he could see again, that no longer were they standing on the never ending path but instead, were inside what looked to be a cavern of some sort.

The walls stretched up high above them, extending to the point that he couldn’t even see the ceiling. Etched into every inch of the rocky surface were intricate designs, none of which he could discern as to what language they were or how they could have gotten there. Before them, standing in stark contrast to all the rich brown of the earth, was a large pond. The water was a beautiful shade of crystalline blue but even after moving forward far enough that he could easily peer down into it, he couldn’t see anything. It was as though there was a blue cloud swirling about underneath the surface, obscuring whatever was done there.

“We’re here.” Link whispered in disbelief and amazement, “We actually made it.”

“So you did.” The old crone voice spoke.

Bubbles began to appear in the middle of the pond, growing vastly in number with each passing moment until there was a massive mountain of them. As they grew, the vibrations became worse, getting to a point that it felt like his bones were going to be rattled out of his body. His teeth chattered together, sending a rumbling through his skull that made his brain ache. Struggling to keep himself upright, Sidon held tightly onto Link and watched in panicked awe as the bubbles rose and rose until they all popped simultaneously, revealing just what had been making them.

He had never seen a spirit before, though Link had told him tales of the ones he had encountered during his days of heroing. But...nothing Link had ever described looked anything like the spirit now in front of them. The being, halfway emerged in the turbulent waters, wasn’t immediately recognizable as male or female. Their body seemed to be constructed from the bones of multiple different creatures, all fused together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. Running in curving, swerving, unpredictable lines along the length of the amalgamated form were the same blue fungi that had been previously helped them find their way. Against the stark white of the bones they cast their eerie glow, causing the entire figure to radiate a unhealthy, unnatural light. Looking at them, Sidon was reminded vividly as veins, left exposed in the absence of skin.

But perhaps most disturbingly of all was the spirit’s face or rather, lack thereof. Where their face should have been was a massive wooden mask, decorated with the same details that were on the walls and floors of the cavern. There were no noticeable eyes to speak off but looking into those black, endless holes where they could have been, Sidon could tell that something was looking back at him. At the bottom of the mask was a massive, circular hole, ringed with the same fungi which were pulsating gently. Just as the eyes were empty, so too was the mouth - it was nothing more than blank space, filled with something that looked like it had mass but he couldn’t accurately describe, even to himself, what he was truly seeing.

Skeletal hands were clasped reverently in front of their exposed chest bone, though Sidon immediately noticed that it appeared that the spirit had two sets of arms. The other of which was resting easily on the sides of the pond; one finger on the left hand was tapping against the rocky floor, though the movement didn’t seem to come from impatience as the spirit gave off the disconcerting air of indifference and introspection.

“Be proud of yourselves, young ones.” The old crone voice spoke, but it didn’t seem to be coming from the spirit in front of them. Rather, it sounded as though the voice was coming from everywhere, like the entire cavern was speaking, “It has been a very long time since anyone has stepped foot in this chamber.”

“We didn’t do much.” Link spoke up easily, clearly not as disturbed by the appearance of the spirit as Sidon was.

The old crone chuckled, “No, I suppose you didn’t. Truthfully, I could have put you through many trials to test just how strong your bond to one another is but…perhaps today, I was feeling generous. Or maybe it's more accurate to say that I'm quite impatient and wanted to see, sooner than later, how this would play out. Curiosity is a devil, but in this instance, it worked well in your favor so be grateful. Now, then,” the spirit abruptly leaned down, bringing their masked face close to where Sidon stood, “onto why you are here.”

Slowly, the masked face of the spirited tilted until it was nearly horizontal. Looking into that immense, suffocating darkness immediately brought back the feeling of intense nausea to Sidon’s stomach. Swallowing down the bile that was rising quickly up into his throat, his hold on Link unconsciously tightened, prompting his little Hylian to wrap on of his small hands around Sidon’s and squeezed gently. While the touch was comforting, it didn’t do much to alleviate the suffocating feeling of discomfort. Every inch of his skin was crawling, riddled with goosebumps. More than anything, he longed to look away from that assaulting gaze but he held firm. Despite given no real indication of what would happen if he did, he could deeply sense that looking away now would ruin their chance.

“A Zora and a Hylian. Not a rare combination but still, not one you see often.” The old crone suddenly spoke, their voice thoughtful, “But not only that, the Hero of Light who bravely slew the blight that would have overrun this world with darkness, and the next King of Zora’s Domain, destined to….well, no spoilers, you get the point! You two make quite the match!” They stated with a loud, exuberant chuckle.

“However, it is because of the love that you are here. Hero,” the spirit said softly, “you are nearing the end of your life. You have lived far longer than Hylians normally do, but you do not have anywhere near to the same lifespan as a Zora. Soon, your life will fade away, just as it must for all mortal beings. And with your passing, you will leave behind the Zora Prince, who will continue to live on for centuries after you have taken your last breath. ”

Cold coursed through Sidon’s veins, pouring into his chest and stomach, freezing his joints and muscles in their vicious assault. His heart clenched painfully, as though someone had reached inside, wrapped their hand around the pumping muscle and squeezed hard enough to crush it. The mere mention of Link passing on into the next world...it was enough to bring him to his knees in panic and terror. In his arms, Link was still relaxed and unbothered, though a quick glance down showed a very obvious flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

“You’re both afraid, as expected of mortal beings. However, neither of you fear the inevitably of death itself. Death is something you accept and do not wish to fully escape it.” The crone tilted their head the other way, gazing down at them with that endless, violating stare, “Rather, it is the concept of leaving one behind while the other still has years upon years of their life left to live that frightens you. It is the idea of watching someone you truly love, who you are so deeply devoted too pass on and knowing that it will be eons before you will see them again. And that is why the two of you are here. To ask me to delay the oncoming end of the Hero’s life...at least, until the point where you two can pass into the next world together. Am I mistaken?”

“No,” Sidon breathed, his tongue numb and heavy, “you are not. That is why we’re here. Please, name your price! What would you have us do so that we won’t lose one another?”

The spirit slowly, thoughtfully nodded, “Normally, I wouldn’t even stand to listen to such hogwash. Mortals must die - that is simply how it works. Delaying that, putting it off for a silly reason such as fear or love, is asinine to the point of hilarity.”

Sidon felt his heart sickeningly sink into his stomach. Despair bloomed inside of his chest at the mere thought that all their hard work, all of their hopes were to be dashed. Opening his mouth to protest, though there were no words in his mind or on his tongue, he was stopped when the spirit raised one hand in a halting gesture. Link’s fingertips touched his cheek, ripping him back into reality. Turning his head, he gazed down uncertainly at him but when Link smiled reassuringly in response, put a finger to his lips in a ‘shushing’ motion before turning back to the spirit. Sidon felt a hint of courage battling against the despair at the sight of Link's unwavering conviction. Pulling in a deep breath, he held it for a moment, counted to five and let it out slowly. Still not feeling completely calm but much better than he had been, he followed Link’s gaze up to the spirit and waited for them to continue.

“You are not the first to come to me with such a wish nor will you be the last.” The spirit spoke up softly, twining their two pairs of bony fingers together in front of them, “There have many others who have stood in the exact same spot where your feet are now and asked the same: we want to be together forever so please, don’t let us be separated…” the spirit’s voice trailed off, their head tilting once more to the side, “Selfish, silly, childish requests, looking to beat reality at it’s own game and were nothing more than flimsy masks for the true request: do not let death take us for we are afraid.”

In an abrupt, startling motion, the spirit swooped down, bringing their masked face far closer to Sidon than he would have ever liked. Fighting the urge to jump back, he held his gaze, refusing to look away, even though it felt like his flesh was being striped from his bones and that spirit, that beast could see so deeply into him that the very core of his being, his essence of his true self was being laid bare. Link gripped tightly onto his arm, though whether it was to keep Sidon from falling over or to keep himself steady, he couldn’t tell.

“You two, however, aren’t asking for complete freedom from death but rather...an extension on life. Your request entails death simply being asked to wait a while before you both willingly surrender to it.” To Sidon’s relief, the spirit leaned back, tilted their head inquisitively before chuckling softly, “Would you believe in the of millennials that I’ve existed, not once has such a request been brought to me? I must admit...even I am curious to see how this could play out. So, why don’t we make a deal?”

“A deal?” Link asked, his voice tinged with hopefulness.

The spirit slowly nodded, “Understand that I cannot simply grant this wish. If you were asking for me to change your hair color to blue or make that pretty bird in the town over to fall in love with you, then certainly. Pay a small fee and watch it be granted but what you are asking is to defy the nature of reality itself. While I can grant your wish, you must prove that you are worth such an effort, such a kindness. Hero, you have done this world, this time a great service, more than you can ever imagine and for that reason alone am I even considering actually doing this. You have proven yourself time and again, but you must do it once more in order to grasp hold of your desire. The same goes for you, Prince. Are you willing to accept that?”

“We are.” Sidon and Link answered in unison, their voices firm and unwavering.

Chuckling, the spirit continued, “I suppose that was a silly question, but it is always best to make sure. Very well. This deal comes with terms. If you agree to them, I will set this into motion. If not, I will leave you at the mouth of this cave, with no memories of our conversation and all knowledge of my existence wiped from your minds. Do you understand?”

“Yes, we do!” Sidon answered strongly, taking a step forward. Panic, excitement and dread filled his chest, whirling around in a massive cacophony. This was what they had been spent years researching and looking for. Now that it was directly in front of him, he could scarcely believe it was actually happening.

“Very well. These be the terms: the Hero of Light must die. This current life he leads will come to a close like it would with any other mortal. By his side, you must remain, Prince, until the very last hint of breath has left him. Three days after he has passed into the next world,” the spirit held up a bony hand with three fingers extended, “take his body to where you first laid eyes on one another and burn it until nothing but ashes remain. Do not gather them up as you would with any other but instead leave them where they fall. With the next moonrise, return to where you burned him. In the place where his ashes lie, you will find a flower with five petals." The spirit's hand opened completely to show all five ivory fingers, "With each anniversary of the Hero’s death, you must return to the flower and pull from it one petal until none remain. When that time comes, the flower will wilt and the Hero will be reborn.”

“However.” The spirit said flatly, in direct response to the immediate, obvious excited reaction that inspired in Sidon and Link. “While he will be reborn, he will not remember anything. Nothing of his past life, nothing of who he was, and nothing of you, Prince. He will be reborn far from Zora’s Domain, into a life that is simple and kind. When that happens, it will be his decision whether or not to leave.” The spirit chuckled dryly, “Knowing the Hero, that is one thing you won’t have to worry about as I can't see even being reborn into a good, peaceful life would weed out that explorer's spirit within in. If he chooses to leave the life he was reborn into, it must then he his decision whether or not to journey to Zora's Domain. You cannot seek him out, Prince - you must wait for him. If you so happen to stumble across one another outside of Zora’s Domain, then consider that a blessed meeting. However, There is no telling how long it will take for that to happen. Decades upon decades could pass before you meet again. If it even happens at all - there is no guarantee as no one, not even I, can predict what will happen once this has been set into motion. But if the threads of fate lead you two back to one another, Prince, you will remember him but the familiar eyes that will be looking back at you will hold no recollection.”

Leaning down, their mask just inches from touching the stone floor, the spirit focused that strange, black gaze onto them and breathed, “And this is where the trial that will deem whether you are worthy of such a wish being granted truly comes into play. If Link falls in love with you once more, if the bonds that are so deep at this moment are reconnected, his life will not expire until your heart ceases to beat, Prince.”

“And if I don’t?” Link asked, “What happens if I were to decide to remain in the life that I was reborn into? What happens if I fall for another?”

“Hero,” the spirit slowly spoke, their voice somber, “there is no better punishment I could inflict than to force the one you love to wait and wait and wait for you to return; wait until his own breath is stolen away by death, wait until there is no more time left to be had. What would be a more suitable punishment for defying the will of the world itself and then throwing away such a precious gift than to make the Prince watch as the one he has waited so long never returns?”

“And what if I fail?” Sidon asked quietly, “What if the blame lies with me, and not Link?”

“If you fail to remove the petals from the flower, Link will simply not be reborn.” The spirit waved two of their hands dismissively, “Though, this might be a good time to inform you that if you miss a year, you can just wait until the next one. It’s one more year to wait but you won’t be out of luck forever. If you fail entirely - say, you die sometime in those five years, Link will not be reborn. However, in the time that Link in his reborn state walks the earth, if you give your heart to another, all the memories of his love for you will return, while yours will vanish. He will rush to Zora’s Domain, only to find you in the embrace of someone else with no recollection of who he is.”

The spirit leaned back, clasped their hands in front of their chest, tilted their head slightly and said, “Those are the terms and the consequences if either of you fail.”

“And what of payment?” Link asked shakily, “What do we owe you if we accept this?”

“Nothing at all. Watching how all of this plays out is more than enough payment. I believe I mentioned it before, but curiosity is a beast and it wants to be satisfied.”

Both Link and Sidon remained quiet for several long moments, the weight of the decision before them heavy on their shoulders. Squeezing Link tightly to his chest, Sidon tried to work out everything in his head but it was all jumbling together, he couldn’t straighten out and pinpoint out one aspect without a thousand other thoughts screaming endlessly in the background. Realizing he was probably not going to get anywhere by just staying quiet, he turned his attention back to the spirit and asked, “May we have time to talk this over?”

“Certainly.” The spirit responded, “I do not expect decisions like this one to be made on the fly. Nor would I ever encourage that. Take your time and think. I will leave this realm for now to give you peace and quiet. When you have made up your mind, stand at the edge of the pond and drop in one pebble. I will return to hear what you have decided.”

With that, the spirit quickly submerged down into the depths of the water, taking with them the sickly light and vibrations, and leaving behind a welcoming, beautiful still silence. Letting out a long, shaky breath, Sidon slowly sunk to the ground, set Link down in front of him, reached up to cup his face in his hands and leaned forward to press a firm kiss against his lips. Trembling arms immediately encircled around his neck as Link pulled himself close, his cold lips pushing back into Sidon’s. Brushing his thumbs along the curve of Link’s cheeks, he breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the Hylian’s sweet, familiar scent and let his mind focus on nothing but the sensation of Link’s soft lips against his own, his smooth skin underneath his fingertips and the breath brushing along his face.

They remained close for several moments, drawing strength from one another before they slowly pulled back, locking eyes as they both let out a long breath. Reaching up, Link covered the back of Sidon’s hand with his own, nuzzling his cheek gently against his palm. Leaning down, the Zora prince peppered little kisses along Link’s forehead, not at all bothered by the salty taste of dried sweat. The Hylian’s body was still minutely trembling, though he was certain that was more due to exhaustion than anything else.

“Well, that was surprisingly straightforward.” Link said with a husky chuckle.

“Is it normally not that way?”

Link tilted his head thoughtfully before lightly shrugging his shoulders, “Actually, most spirits I’ve met weren’t at all difficult and very honest with their intentions. I guess I was just expecting asking a spirit to pretty much defy the laws of nature wouldn’t go as smoothly.”

“I’m just glad it did. Something like this could have turned nasty easily. Are you okay?”

“Yes, a little tired but that’s nothing new. And you?”

“Shaken, disturbed and still an inch away from losing my breakfast.” Sidon replied honestly, prompting a soft chuckle from Link.

“I’ll cook you up that fish dish you like so much when we return, as reward for standing strong.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do so if you weren’t here with me.” The Zora Prince sweetly stated, pressing yet another kiss against Link’s forehead.

“And I wouldn’t have made it at all if it weren’t for you.” Link breathed in response, shifting closer to him.

Looping his arms around Link’s back, he tugged him into a warm embrace, burying his face into his fragrant smelling hair. Running his fingers up and down the length of the Hylian’s spine, he said softly, “The terms have been laid before us. What do you want to do?”

“So much is being left up to chance.” Link replied carefully, after several moments of silence, “The only thing we know for certain is that I will be reborn. Everything that would come after that - there’s no way to tell.”

“It’s unusual to hear you be so cautious.” Sidon said.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be but…” Link hesitated for a moment before slowly continuing, “if something were to go wrong, it would be you who would suffer for it. The spirit said it themself: there is no greater punishment than making you wait and watch for the rest of your life. It frightens me, Sidon. The thought of something happening, something beyond my control and you are left with your eyes towards the horizon, spending each day wondering if it’ll be the one that I finally return. What if I never do?” The Hylian suddenly chuckled, though it was a low, sad sound, “Now, I understand how Zelda must have felt on the day she had to put me in the Shrine of Resurrection.”

“She knew you would return, Link.” Sidon said softly, reaching down to cup Link’s chin. Gently lifting his head up, he smiled down into the face of his beloved, “There was no doubt in her mind that you would come back and save Hyrule. My love, there have never been any certainties but we still move forward with hope in our hearts.”

Link searched his face for a moment before quietly asking, “You want to do this?”

Sidon nodded, “This is a chance for me to spend the rest of my life with you. Of course I want to take it.”

“Even knowing that we may never meet again? Knowing that you could spending the rest of your life waiting?”

“Yes.” The Zora Prince replied firmly, “There will always be possibilities that everything could go wrong but we have never allowed that to stop us before. I would rather take this chance and risk the punishment, knowing full well that serendipity might lead you back to me than to let it slip us by and spend the rest of my life with the knowledge that we could have done something festering in my mind.”

The Hylian broke their shared gaze, his head dropping but Sidon gently lifted it once again. Leaning forward, he bumped their foreheads together and whispered, “Just as Zelda had faith that you would return and save us all, I too have faith that you will find your way back to me.”

“And love? Do you have faith that when our paths cross again, our hearts will reconnect?”

“There is no doubt in my mind.” Sidon replied confidently, “Do you not think so yourself?”

Link was silent for a moment before quietly answering, “I do...I think that if we were to do this, the biggest hurdle would overcome is simply finding each other once again. Falling in love once more sounds like the easiest part of this entire thing.”

“Then?”

“I don’t think I could go to my death with an easy heart, knowing that I’ve turned down this generous offer. You’re right, despite the risks...we’ve been given the opportunity of a lifetime, turning it down would be stupid. If this is a chance to be with you once more,” A large, beautiful, vibrant smile spread across Link’s handsome face, “then I will gladly take it.”

Returning the smile with one of his own, Sidon yanked his beloved Hylian close once more, peppering little kisses along the crown of his head, “No matter what, we’ll find each other again. I swear to you that.”

Link snuggled closer, his arms twining around Sidon’s midsection before squeezing tightly. There they stayed, in one another’s embrace for what felt like an eternity, simply drinking in the other, allowing their warmth to mingle together in a comfortable, safe cocoon of limbs. It was Sidon who broke the silence surrounding them.

“We need to inform the spirit of our decision.”

“Probably a good idea!” Link replied with a laugh. Easily untangling himself from Sidon’s embrace, he scooted backwards and clumsily clamored to his feet. It took a mighty amount of willpower on the Zora Prince’s account to keep himself from reaching out to steady Link as he righted himself. Standing himself, he took a moment to sneakily ensure that the Hylian was okay before striding over to the edge of the pond. Dreading the return of those sickening vibrations, as well as the spirit themself, Sidon knelt down, picked up a small rock that lay nearby and, after a quick look back at his beloved Link to get a confirmation that they were ready, dropped it into the water.

“Have you made your decision?” The old crone’s voice suddenly spoke, echoing throughout the chamber at a loud enough volume that it made his ears ring. Both him and Link jumped in surprise, their heads swiveling about as the source of the spirit’s voice was nowhere to be found.

“We have!” Sidon called back, hope blooming in his chest that he won’t have to come face to face with that disconcerting spirit once more.

“Do you understand the terms as I have stated them?”

“We do!” Sidon and Link said in unison.

“Do you accept the terms as I have stated them?”

“We do!”

“Very well, then. Zora Prince, Hero of Light and Time, you are asking for nature itself to be defied and for that, you may incur agony to come down onto your heads but keep hope in your hearts as the desire you have for time to be reset will be granted to you. Now! To seal this deal and set it into motion, step forward and offer to the water a drop of blood. One each from both of you. Be forewarned! Once your blood has been given, you cannot take it back.”

Without hesitation, though his heart was thundering in his chest, slamming against the confines of his ribs with enough force that it was almost painful, Sidon stepped closer to the water, pulled his sword from its sheath and easily sliced open his palm. Crimson blood instantly poured out of the wound, sliding along his skin and dripping down onto the dusty ground. Something warm brushed against his side. Glancing down, he found Link standing beside him, holding out one of his small hands. A little regretfully, Sidon cut a smaller slice across the palm of Link’s hand, making sure to be a lot more gentle than he had been with himself. As usual, his stomach clenched with cold nausea at the sight of his blood but he quickly swallowed away his unease. Slipping his sword back, he bent down slightly so he could press a gentle kiss against Link’s lips, he whispered, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Link replied, his breath brushing along Sidon’s jaw.

Taking a step back, Sidon offered his uninjured hand to his beloved Hylian, who smiled gratefully and took it quickly. Together, they stepped to the lip of the pond, held their bleeding hands over the water’s surface and watched silently as a pristine drop of blood delicately formed, held onto their skin for a suspended moment before slipping away, down into the blue. Sidon had been expecting grandiose to happen after their blood had been taken to the water, like for there to be a tiny explosion or for the spirit to come bursting out from the depths of the lake, his and Link’s blood swirling around them as the spirit drunk it through the open void of their mouth but absolutely nothing happened. As they watched, the red of their blood vanished into the depths of the water. When the last trace of it was gone, the spirit softly spoke, “The deal has been sealed. I will bring you back to the mouth of the cave. Once you leave, we will not be in contact again. Do not ever try to find this place again, do you understand?”

“We do.” Sidon replied solemnly, sorely wishing he had brought some bandages so he could fix up both his and Link’s wounds.

The spirit was silent for a moment before they spoke up once again. When they did, their voice was noticeably softer, kinder, “Not often do I find myself concerned with the end of stories like these but to you, I offer the sincerest hope that fate will be kind to the two of you. Remain strong and steadfast throughout the ordeal you will face. The bond you two share is powerful and it is not one easily broken.”

“Thank you for your kind words.” Link said sincerely, “We won’t let you down.”

An audible snort echoed throughout the cavern, “Bold words but they are to be expected from the Hero of Light and Time. Now, goodbye. May the light guide your way.”

With that, there was another intense flash of light, just as bright as the one that had preceded their arrival into the cavern. Throwing his injured arm in front of his face to block out the brightness, Sidon held tightly onto Link’s hand and waited for it to subside. When he could finally see again, he discovered the spirit had been true to their word: he and Link were standing at the mouth of the cave, looking out over the army of trees that were assembled before them. To his surprise, he discovered that the sun hadn’t moved an inch - it still hung lazily in the exact same spot it had been in when they had first entered the cave. However, that wasn’t the most surprising thing. What was was that when he stepped out of the cave, rejoicing at the feel of the soft grass underneath his feet, there was no hint of the oppressiveness that had swamped them before. The heaviness, staleness and vibration were all gone, leaving behind an almost unnatural peacefulness.

“It doesn’t quite feel real yet, does it?” Link suddenly spoke up.

Turning around, Sidon gazed down at him, smiled slightly and slowly shook his head, “It doesn’t but this,” he held out his injured hand, “proves it, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Link replied back with a small smile of his own, “perhaps we should head back so we can clean these up?”

“Probably a good idea. You also promised me that fish dinner.”

“Yes, yes, after I’ve gotten my hand bandaged up and taken a nap. Which I think the both of us could use.”

“Sleep does sound lovely.” Sidon replied, quickly realizing just how exhausted he was. It felt like someone had tied rocks to his limbs and filled his skull with sludge. He was certain that tonight, he was going to sleep like a rock.

“Sidon…”

“Yes, love?” He responded, jerking himself out of his thoughts.

“I will find you again.”

The hard, determined expression on Link’s face momentarily stole his breath away. Staring into this unwavering blue eyes, the intense, immense love he had for his little Hylian overwhelmed him, nearly bringing him to his knees as his heart fluttered in his chest. He always found it amazing how, regardless of how much time they spent together, Link almost managed to sweep him off his feet with the simplest and easiest of gestures. Feeling the slight smile on his face widen, he strode over to his beloved, leaned down and whispered, “There is no doubt in my mind that you will. Fate has deemed that we be together and not even the rules of nature or the march of time itself will keep us apart. I will wait for you and when you are before me once more, I will absolutely resist the urge to kiss you until you’re breathless.”

Link laughed softly, reaching forward to gently tug on one of Sidon’s fins, “I’ll trust you to sweep me off my feet again.”

“Leave it to me.” Sidon breathed, dipping down to press an intimate, warm kiss against Link’s lips, “On my pride as a Zora, I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again.”

“I look forward to it.” The Hylian replied teasingly, returning Sidon’s kiss with a quick one of his own, “Now, can we please go back? I’m exhausted, sweating and starving.”

“Of course. Do you want me to carry you?”

He expected Link to give him an annoyed look before marching off but, to his surprise, Link appeared to consider it for a moment before heaving a long, suffering sigh. Drooping his shoulders, he nodded, “Probably a good idea. This took more out of me than I originally thought.”

Not pushing the conversation any further as he didn’t want to embarrass his little Hylian, Sidon bent down, gathered Link up in his arms and straightened back up. Link wrapped one arm around his neck, bumped his forehead against Sidon’s cheek and whispered, “The reality of this is going to hit us hard when we try to sleep tonight. We’re going to realize just what all of this means and that is when the fear, the dread is really going to come down onto us.”

Sidon didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he began walking forward, back towards the small settlement that he and Link had started their short journey out from. While he had no doubt that tonight, when the world was still and quiet, and their minds were about to drift off into slumber, they were both going to come to the realization that they were about to break a rule that was not meant to even be bent, and at the end of their stories, they could easily end up drowning in despair rather than happiness. But still…

“We won’t regret it, though.” He glanced down at Link and asked, “Will we?”

“Nope.” Link replied easily with a small smile, “Not at all.”

Though he was confident that he wouldn’t ever regret this decision, fear still whispered at the back of his mind. The thought of losing his little Hylian, his beloved Link, of being permanently separated from him...it made him feel as though he were drowning. However, he shoved it viciously away, not allowing him to think on what was going to be or what would be. Right now, all he wanted to focus on was getting Link back to that settlement, them both taking a nice long, warm bath and then deciding whether food or sleep would come first. He wouldn’t allow himself to think about Link’s death or what would come after until after they had had time to sleep.

After all, he needed to remain strong. If he couldn’t stay steadfast now, when the prospect of Link’s death was nothing more than a far off event, he didn’t know how he would be able to handle his actual passing, as well as the years of being separated from him, waiting for him to return. Pulling in a deep breath, he let his mind focus solely on the feeling of Link in his arms and shoved aside all thoughts of what was to come.

#breath of the wild #prince sidon #prince sidon x link #sidlink #sidon x link

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super-not-naturall · 7 years

Text

Dine and Dash

SPN Fanfic

-In an attempt to find a connection, Y/N and Sam have a conversation over lunch but run into some trouble along the way.-

(Eventual) SamxReader

2,706 Words

Warnings: Canon Supernatural violence, some jealousy, a mean waitress, some judging of John Winchester’s parental capabilities.

A/N: This is part 5 of Poisonous Soul! I cannot believe I’ve already posted 4 parts to this story. It’s insane the amount of love and support I’ve been given by you guys and I just want you to know that it does not go unseen. I see you every time you like something, or reblog it, or add a tag or comment - and I am so thankful for each and every one of you. (Okay, I’m done being an emotional mess.) As always, feedback is appreciated!

*I do not own any supernatural character and/or gifs I use

The drive to the Diner is filled with comfortable silence as Sam focuses on the street signs. Classic rock floats through the car’s speakers at a low volume and every once in a while, Sam will speak up to get further directions.

“Is this it?” His voice pulls my eyes away from the passing trees to the small diner sitting on the corner of the street.

“Yeah, this is it.”

Brother’s Diner is quiet today, there are only two other cars in the parking lot and none of them from this century. Dean’s Impala fits in nicely.

The bell rings above my head as I open the door, signaling mine and Sam’s entrance to the waitress.

A woman diverts her attention from an elderly couple and gives us a wide smile, “You can sit wherever you’d like, sweetheart.”

Her gaze lingers on Sam longer than I’d like, and I begin to wonder if the sweetheart was for him or me.

Grabbing Sam’s elbow, I lead him to a small booth on the other side of the dining room where we would have a little bit of privacy.

“Is it always this empty?”

I shrug my shoulders and slide into the booth, ignoring how the lumpy cushion beneath me does nothing to make my seat more comfortable.

“I don’t come very often.” I reply, picking a menu up off the table, “I’m usually too busy with school and work.”

I scan through the lunch options, but the only thing that sounds good to me right now is a plate of French fries.

“Hi, my name is Kathy, and I’ll be serving you today.” The waitress’ chipper voice announces from beside me. “What can I start you off with today?”

I look up to find that her eyes are focused on Sam who is still looking through the laminated menu in front of him.

“Sam?” I prompt, giving his leg a slight nudge from underneath the table.

He glances up and gives the waitress the most adorable smile I have ever seen, “Uh, sorry. I’ll just have a water for right now.”

I wish I could roll me eyes at the way Kathy is swooning, but seeing Sam flustered is cute as all hell and I’m practically melting into the cracked, pleather seat across from him.

“What about you, Y/N?” Sam asks, obviously trying to take the attention away from him.

“Oh, I’ll have a Mountain Dew.” I smile at Kathy, but I don’t get as nice of a look as Sam did.

She sashays away from our table, obviously putting more sway in her hips than I would think is comfortable.

“So tell me about yourself.”

“What?” I turn my attention back to the beautiful man in front of me.

Sam is smirking, seemingly amused with the way I can’t focus on anything for more than two seconds.

“Tell me your story. I figure the best way to find some type of connection is to see if any part of our lives matches up.”

“That makes sense,” I nod, trying not to laugh at how this feels like an awkward first date. “Well, my life is really boring. I grew up in a small town in upstate New York where the cows outnumber the people. Went to the same high school with all the same people, graduated and haven’t spoken to them since.” I pick at the nail polish on my thumb while trying to think of something more to say, “Uhh, my parents are still together, living their happily ever after as a maintenance supervisor and a social worker.”

“Social worker?” Sam saves me from trying to think of something else to add to my uneventful life, “Is that why you’re getting your social work degree?”

“Partly.” I shrug, “I mean, I guess it was probably a huge factor on how I was raised and how I turned out, but even if my mom was a plumber, I think I’d still feel this huge need to help others.”

Sam’s lips curl up into a bright smile, “I understand that. A lot of what Dean and I do is to help people.”

I open my mouth to respond, but am interrupted by the clanging of glasses as Kathy sets down our drinks, followed by a not-so-subtle glare in my direction.

“So what can I get for you, Sammy?” Kathy twirls her black locks around her finger and pouts her lips slightly.

Sam clears his throat, looking as awkward as I’m feeling right now. “It’s Sam,” He informs her with a tight smile, “and I’ll just get a salad.”

“What type of dressing?” She leans in forward, making sure to give Sam every opportunity to stare at her chest.

If there wasn’t a small pit in my stomach filled with jealousy, I might be laughing at the ridiculousness of our situation.

“Doesn’t matter,” He says, clearly looking uncomfortable.

“I’d like the chicken tenders and French fries with honey mustard sauce,” I say, trying to distract her from Sam for a couple seconds. “And make sure there are a lot of fries; I love fries.”

Her blue eyes assess me for a second before muttering, “Obviously.”

I feel my jaw physically drop as she walks away from our table.

“Well, she’s not getting a tip,” Sam speaks up, his eyes shining a tiny bit brighter than normal.

There’s a silent beat between us before we both crack up laughing.

It takes a couple minutes for us to settle down, and I have to wipe the tears from my eyes before saying anything else.

“Does this happen to you often?” I ask, looking towards the waitress who is now leaning against the counter giving me the stink eye.

“What? Rude waitresses?” Sam takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs, “Doesn’t it happen to everybody?”

“That’s not what I meant, Sammy,” I smirk, but he just rolls his eyes in response.

“It happens sometimes, I guess.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit uncomfortable again. I can’t help but find that sheepish grin of his so damn attractive, making me wonder if I’m just as bad as the waitress.

I decide to save Sam the embarrassment and steer the conversation away from the waitress ogling him from afar.

“So what about you? What’s your story, Sam Winchester?” I stir the ice in my drink; a habit I formed when I was younger and haven’t been able to shake. Whenever someone sets a cup down in front of me, my hands instantly go to the straw for something to play with; it’s probably a bit unsanitary if I’m being honest with myself.

“I was born in Kansas, but I don’t remember much of it. Our mom was killed when I was a baby and Dad became obsessed with finding the thing that killed her, so Dean and I grew up hunting.” Sam had mentioned before that he had been raised as a hunter, but he never went into detail; not like this.

“It was too dangerous to settle down somewhere, so we practically lived in cheap motels and the Impala.” Sam lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

I hesitantly reach out and place my hand over his; when he doesn’t pull away, I let my fingers intertwine with his.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say with a grimace, trying to imagine what it would be like not having a stable place to live. I’ve lived in the same house for 21 years, my parents always providing me with a safe place to stay and food to eat; I couldn’t even begin to understand what Sam went through as a child.

He gives me a sad smile and shrugs, “It wasn’t all bad; I had Dean. He basically raised me, actually.”

But he shouldn’t have had to, I want to say, but I just nod and take a sip of my soda.

I don’t know Sam well enough to start pointing fingers at his father, especially when I don’t know the whole story.

I look towards the jealous waitress in search of our food but find that she isn’t anywhere in sight. Instead, a lanky redhead stands in her place, blowing a pink bubble and keeping her eyes trained on our table.

I want to believe that maybe this new waitress has taken over Kathy’s tables and is scoping out her customers, but her stare is too intense and I’ve learned not to ignore the feeling in my gut.

“Sam,” I turn to the hunter and smile as if nothing is wrong, “that waitress is freaking me out.”

He doesn’t even glance in her direction, just nods.

“I noticed her too,” He informs me, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a twenty-dollar bill, “I think it’s time to leave.”

He leaves the money on the table and begins scooting out of the booth, but before he can stand to his full height, the redhead is there.

“Leaving so soon, sugar?” She has a thick, southern drawl and is smiling just a bit too much to be normal.

“My friend is sick.” He points at me, not too far off from the truth.

My chest is tight and my stomach is twisted in knots; I may actually end up vomiting on the tile floor.

She wouldn’t attack us in front of other people, would she?

Her cherry red lips curl into a smile that does more to set me on edge than comfort me.

I look back over to Sam whose jaw is set tight in defiance, his body rigid and yet ready to pounce at the first sign of danger.

Her eyes dart between Sam and me, seemingly weighing her options in her mind: let us go or attack.

Her decision is made as the black in her pupils bleed out, spreading to make even the whites of her eyes the same color as tar.

She reaches her hand out as if to touch me, but Sam is on her, already anticipating her actions.

The patrons of the diner turn their heads in time to see the red-headed demon rake her nails across Sam’s face, breaking open the skin and drawing blood.

Sam’s lips lift slightly as he lets out a snarl, drawing a blade out of his pocket and lunging toward her.

Her high-pitched laugh fills the diner as she flicks her hand, sending Sam flying into a booth across the way.

The wooden tabletop snaps in half from the force of his body landing, producing a loud crack.

Sounds begin surrounding me: silverware clattering, screams, chairs hitting the floor, the bell ding-ding-dinging as innocents flee the scene, and yet I’m frozen in place.

“Did you really think you could beat me, Winchester?” The demon asks in an amused tone, “You? A human?” She barks out another laugh; I flinch at the sound.

Sam grunts, trying to fight whatever invisible force is pinning him to the ground. “What is this about?” He asks her, “Why are you here?”

“Oh, me?” She points to herself, strutting closer to him with a smile, “I’m just here for observation. Technically, Azazel said I shouldn’t come, but I’ve always been a rebel.”

Something flashes in the corner of my eye, dragging my attention away from the disaster unfolding before me and to a small, metal flask on the floor. The silver glints in the light, showcasing an engraved cross on the front of it.

Did that fall out of Sam’s pocket?

I bite my lip, looking back over to where the demon has Sam still under her control.

Will she notice me if I move?

I watch as she crushes the air in her fist, but Sam let’s out a guttural scream, sending all hesitation out the window.

Either she doesn’t notice me or doesn’t see me as a big enough threat to waste her time on, because I’ve got the flask in my hand and am unscrewing the cap.

I look inside, but it just looks like water to me.

What the hell, Sam?

Maybe the water will cause enough distraction that Sam can do something. . .

Fuck it, there’s nothing left to lose.

I face the demon, who has her back to me, and splash the water on her.

Smoke fills the air as if I’ve burned her with acid; she lets out a shrill scream and turns in my direction. I suddenly wonder if I may have made the wrong decision.

What the hell is in that water?

“YOU BITCH!” She snarls, but I just whip more water at her, hoping the first time wasn’t a fluke.

More smoke and screaming, this time I hear Sam reciting something in Latin from behind her.

She looks like a wild animal with her teeth bared and eyes wide; whatever Sam is doing must be working because she shudders and falls to her knees.

“WAIT!” She yells, turning her head to Sam, “I have information-”

Sam’s hazel eyes lift to meet mine, questioning whether he should continue or not.

I widen my eyes and hold up my hands in a gesture I hope translates to Don’t look at me, what do I know about this shit?

“What information?” His eyes drift back to the demon, stopping whatever Latin voodoo magic he was performing on her.

“I know what she is,” She gasps, looking towards me. “I know what she is to you.”

My heart stops.

This is it. This is proof.

This wasn’t a mistake. They don’t have the wrong girl.

I can’t hide anymore.

“What do you mean?” I speak up, earning a warning glance from Sam.

I ignore the bitch-face he is directing towards me and step forward, “What do I have to do with any of this?”

Her lips turn up in a cool smile, “What don’t you have to do with this?” She asks me, “You’re the most important pawn in this game . . .”

Sirens echo from outside, getting louder by the second.

Sam and I look at each other with matching panicked expressions; I cannot get arrested.

I’m about to say something along the lines of Hey, let’s get out of here before we get our asses thrown in jail for assault when the demon’s head tilts back at a sickening angle.

She opens her mouth wider than I would think is humanly possible, and I watch as thick, black, smoke forces itself from her body and toward the ceiling.

A soft thud pulls my attention to the waitress who slumped forward after expelling the last of the smoke, and has landed on her stomach.

“Sam?” I look up at him with wide eyes, worried that we might have just witnessed this woman’s murder.

Without saying a word, he crouches down and puts his fingers to her throat. His bangs obstruct my view of his face, but his body seems to relax just the tiniest bit before looking up at me and saying, “She’s still alive.”

Within seconds, he’s standing and his long legs are crossing the distance between us.

“We need to go. Now.” His hand takes mine and he leads me out of the diner and to the Impala, but I practically have to run to catch up with his stride.

It’s only after we have sped out of the parking lot and made it a safe distance away from the diner that I feel safe enough to speak up.

“Sam?” I ask him quietly, wary of the way his jaw is locked tight; barely resembling the soft and kind man who had sat in my room and held my hand earlier.

I reach out and softly touch his shoulder. He looks over at me in surprise, but I think I may be even more shocked than he is at my act. I have no clue what’s possessed me to do that, but for some reason, it just feels . . . right.

His features soften and he gives me a small smile, “Yeah, Y/N?”

I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure what I could say right now that could fully explain everything I’m feeling.

I’m exhausted, scared, relieved, confused, and somewhere inside of me, there’s excitement as well.

I don’t tell him this, though. Instead, I just say the first thing that pops into my head.

“We never got those French fries.”

-Part 6-

Forever Tags:

@energeticallyem @27bmm @impala-dreamer @lipstickandwhiskey @jotink78 @babypieandwhiskey @wheresthekillswitch @notnaturalanahi @mysteriouslyme81 @mrswhozeewhatsis @hannahindie @pinknerdpanda @keepcalmandcarryondean @sammy-moo @my-favorite-fiction67 @trexrambling @a-strange-world @mogaruke @keelzy2 @morganwinchester79

Poisonous Soul Tags:

@halfwaytoneptune @curlyblondexoxo @deaths-damn-fruit-basket @messy-buns-and-shotguns @oneshoeshort

#poisonous soul series #poisonous soul #dine and dash #samxreader #supernatural #spn #reader insert #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sammy #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #sammy winchester #reader-insert #demons #series

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