#therapist not even at like. nine when she meets danny. she's not helping him through his trauma in the slightest. she's nagging.

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc prompt #this is just me torturing danny for a little bit because im stressed and i cried for an hour while i was driving so im taking it out on B #thanks for being my little stress ball danny #aha my old middle school habit of frankensteining two characters together is resurfacing again :) yall should've seen my wattpad drafts #in middle school. i had 50 of them and most of them were me combining two characters together to make one person and putting them in one au #my most memorable being skydoesminecraft and harry potter. THAT was a fun worldbuilding experience #do i think that growing up with the fentons would fix bruce/danny completely?? hurm. no. dont kid yallselves jazz is not a licensed #therapist not even at like. nine when she meets danny. she's not helping him through his trauma in the slightest. she's nagging. #she's his sister or sister-like figure before she's his therapist. would he be #*entirely* like canon bruce tho?? no. dannybruce is a mix of the both of them. but this is still the first post of the au and is more so #just me doing the equivalent of popping a stress ball so nothing is smoothed over. mostly im just trying to keep bruce's trauma prominent i #danny's character because he IS Bruce. i dont want him to just be 'danny with bruce's backstory but without any of the ugly bits'. #danny and bruce is used interchangeably because they're the same person but sorry if his personality feels imbalanced i came up with this o #the spot. was going to type more but the stress has left me. for now. watch ur back danny 👀

[spnsimpleman]

The Unknowns: Fourteen

This is a continuation for The Unknowns.  Which was a one shot and is now a long ass Prologue.  Part One.  Part Two. Part Three. Part Four.  Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.  Part Eight.Part Nine.  Part Ten.  Part Eleven.  Part Twelve.  Part Thirteen

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 6740

Lines borrowed from season one episode twenty, “Dead Man’s Blood” in Bold.

A strip of light slicing through the curtains blinded me as I turned, expecting to find Dean but the bed was empty. I was alone. I bolted up and spotted his note on the pillow beside me.

Didn't want to leave but I couldn't wake you. We’ll probably be back before you wake up but if not, don't worry, I’ll text when we’re out of the nest. There’s juice in the mini fridge and a poor excuse for breakfast on top. Relax, sweetheart. Please.

My phone was charging on the night stand beside the bed with zero new messages. I couldn't remember what time we got in last night but I was still tired and drained. I decided to take Dean’s advice but I didn't really have a choice.

I turned the water on in the shower then grabbed the juice from the fridge and chuckled at the small bag of store bought bagels on top. I opened the juice and drank half the bottle then stripped and stepped under the warm spray. What I wouldn't give to be under the fancy shower head my mother had or really what wouldn't I put up with to be under that massager spray.

I woke to the smell of bacon and coffee and for a second, I thought of Miss Mary until I remembered where I was and where she was. I threw the sheet off and shuffled into my bathroom slowly waking a little more with each part of my morning routine.

I jogged down the stairs and strolled into the kitchen. The table was set for two and my mother was just turning off the stove. “Pancakes and bacon,” she chirped as she brought the two plates over to the table.

“Thanks. What are you up so early on a Saturday for?”

“I've got work today. I was hoping to have breakfast with you before I head in.”

“How is ye ol’ nine to five?”

“I enjoy helping people and it's safe.”

I rolled my eyes at her emphasis on that last word. I picked up two pancakes and two pieces of bacon then dropped them on my plate, “not this early. Please.”

“I got a letter from your school about the fall semester. Tell me you've picked your classes already, your third year is important. You get to really branch out into the areas that you enjoy. You really liked archeology, didn't you?”

“I was good at it.” I stuffed a piece of bacon in my mouth and she frowned as I continued, “there's a difference.”

“You did really well in your psychology classes. You've always been good with people.”

“And you know how I've always enjoyed helping people that get shoved out of their comfort zone and lost.”

She smiled, “I think you'd make a great therapist.”

I focused on cutting the pancakes into small squares. “I was thinking more along the weirder lines… like people who feel lost because of things that happen to them that they can't explain. The victims that truly need help because anyone else would call them crazy.”

Her fork snapped against the table with a sharp clack. “We've talked about this.”

“No, you talked and I had to listen.”

She stared at the table, her emotions guarded. “I am not going to pay for you to waste your life.”

“Because you were so gung ho for me to help people from behind a fancy desk.”

“Yes, a legitimate business, a legitimate position for you to make a life for yourself!”

“How am I making a life for myself when it's what YOU want! That's not MY LIFE!”

She reeled herself in, her calm overriding the irritation and disappointment. “You don't even know what it's like. You might actually enjoy it if you gave it a chance.”

“I just spent two years giving it a chance and all I saw were the deaths in the newspapers. Spent all day wondering if they had a chance if only a hunter had seen the signs, had stepped in and gave them a chance at life.”

“Y/n, there are plenty of hunters…”

“Yes, and I’m one of them! Just like dad! That’s what I want!”

“With Dean!” Her calm broke and she shot up from her seat. Her whole body vibrated with anger.

“Yes. I want to spend my life with him on the road…” she turned her back and walked to the sink, her hands gripped the edge. “Or anywhere, I don't care. I love him, mom. You've known it for years.” Her disappointment swirled with anger and sadness. I felt the lump swelling in my throat but shoved it down. “We’re good together.”

“And if you're lucky, you'll die together.”

“I can't live my life like that. I know you're scared because of how that werewolf could sense dad…”

“Stop!” She snapped, “just stop.” She turned around, her face as hard as her steeled determination, “please just give the real life a chance. Maybe Dean would settle down with…”

I slammed my hands on the table, “that's your real life, not mine! I don't want to fight with you but I know what I want! You’d know that if only you just listened! I don't want to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of my life. That may work for you but it doesn't work for me!”

The tears welled in her eyes, “your father and I worked hard to save that money for you to go to school…”

“And dad would've told me to follow my heart!”

“Not if it led down the same path that killed him! He wanted you to be safe! Losing you was his biggest fear!”

“And there are thousands more parents like him that could lose their children if not for us!”

A single tear sliced down her cheek and she scrubbed it away as her back straightened. “I need to get to work. I will not fight about this anymore. We obviously see things very differently and won't come to an understanding today. Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll see you after work.”

I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and hung my head so the water could massage my back. There wasn't enough pressure so I just imagined the extra to work out the tension. I felt like I had just run a marathon and then got hit by a truck at the finish line. The image of my mother stalking out of the kitchen flashed in my mind and I shoved it away harder.

I knew when she left that I wouldn't see her after work. I had plans to meet up with Dean but she never gave me the chance to tell her. She refused to speak with me for a month or so after she knew I hadn't gone back to school or maybe I refused her calls, I couldn't remember that part so well.

The memory usually tended to bring up the fights I overheard as a child, sometimes Dean was there and the other times I wished with everything in me that he was. It was always about hunting whether I heard the words or not, I knew. My father wouldn't turn his back on the job he knew he was made for and the people he would leave to the wolves. Sometimes literally.

I wonder if she had anything to do with John’s plan to separate us, I'm sure she would've fully approved.

The water cooled and I got out. I dried off and looked in the mirror showing its age around the discolored edges. Sure, there were no nice mirrors, countertops, and fancy shower heads but I was fulfilled. I felt good every time I helped someone who would otherwise be lost, scared, and possible dead meat or find their loved ones torn to shreds.

I understood her wanting me to stay far away from that, from a grisly end like my father’s, but he was a hero. He had taken out six wolves with John before they were ambushed not knowing about the other half of the pack. It wasn't John’s fault, they both had made an error in judgment. My dad just happened to smell stronger because of his ability or maybe John was wrong and he was just in the wrong place when the wolves busted in.

My text alert chimed and I rushed to it.  A message from Dean, Wanna check out a funeral parlor with me?

I tapped out a quick reply, you sure know how to show a girl a good time.

I’d jump into anything that would get my mind off the past, my stubborn body, and fuzzy mind.

I turned on the little coffee maker. I was going to need more than a shower to brush this exhaustion away.

~~

The closer Dean got to the motel, the more his stomach twisted. He pictured her face from last night, the agony that had ripped through her, the pain that wrapped around his head and squeezed.

He fumbled for his phone on the seat next to him then held down the number four. He didn't miss the little flicker of a light bulb although there was no mass conspiracy that got him to program her number there.

He was looking for signs everywhere now.

Pamela answered on the third ring, “what's up?”

She tried to sound calm and cool, maybe it was just him and recent events, but he felt like she was trying to hide the shake in her voice. “I know.”

“Honey, there's a whole lot you probably do and don't.”

“I know about Jessica but that's not what this is about.” He was getting distracted by a stupid number. “Something’s wrong.”

“Spit it out.”

“Ever since this case two weeks back, she’s been… drained. She sleeps a lot but doesn’t rest well and she… she just lost it last night while Sam and Dad were fighting.”

“You’re with your father?”

“Yeah, we found Danny Elkins. A vamp killed him and took the Colt.” He paused, “I’m guessing you know about the colt?”

“Of course, I do. What does she feel like to you? I’m guessing this isn't garden variety symptoms?”

“No, she’s not sick but it’s… it’s tied to Sam somehow I know it. The pain I get sometimes, the grief, it doesn’t make sense…” he had to focus on keeping his eyes on the road as it smacked him over the head. “Fuck.”

“She’s taking on his pain, isn't she? If she… of course, she did.” There was some rustling and then she was back, “there are stones in her bag, she probably still keeps them in one of the side pockets. She told me she was using them but if she’s punishing herself, she hasn’t. Two small stones that can fit in the palm of your hand, one that’s mostly blue, you called it the Galaxy stone when you were little and one that’s brown with four white bands.”

“When I was little?”

“She needs to hold them, one in each hand. Remember the meditation we did with her? Those stones will help separate and clear what’s not hers. She needs to carry them on her at all times for at least two weeks but I'd make her do it longer to help strengthen that separation. They have always had a connection but she broke a wall that needs to be replaced or she will never recover. Do you remember how I helped her?”

“She knows not to take on other’s emotions like that. She perfected that when we were in first grade.”

“You’ve seen her. You called me because something wasn’t right.” She paused just enough to reinforce who called who before continuing, “she’s wearing herself out because she’s taking on his pain, but she's probably taking on more without even realizing it. I was worried about her after our chat at the airport but I didn’t think she’d go this far.”

“It was the case, she said she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if Sam did something he’d regret later when he found out.”

“Of course, she would. Take care of her. She’ll listen to you.” 

“I’ve been trying.”

“You’re doing great. Just keep it up and tell her she doesn’t want me to come along to keep an eye on her.”

“There's something else…”

“You gonna tell me or do I have to guess? Because let me tell ya, that game is only fun when there's stripping involved.”

“How could that be any fun for you when you know the answers?”

“Because I get them naked. Come on, you're smarter than that.” She chuckled but it felt forced, “what is it?

“Sam and dad were fighting, she got in between them and she threw them away from her without even budging. She was trying to push them away, a hand on their chests and she let out this horrible shriek… and they were literally propelled away from her at least five feet. Sam says it was more.”

She was quiet so long he thought he'd have to repeat himself but then her voice was back, calm and cool but once again, it felt controlled. “It's okay, it’s just energy. If she was trying to block them when she was weak she was probably still taking in their energy but not letting any out. Essentially instead of blocking them, she was blocking herself causing a buildup that can only be held to a certain extent. It's rare but not unlikely. It's nothing to worry about as long as she takes care of herself. She needs to get her strength and control back.”

He didn't know why he felt she was only telling him so much or maybe giving him a sugar coated version. “You’re sure?”

“Who are you talking to? You probably don't remember but she moved things when she was younger. It may have been before you met though.”

He sighed, he needed to get out of his head and trust the people he respected. “Thanks, Pamela.”

“Until next time, Chachi. If you need any help with anything, you know how to find me.”

Dean dropped the phone on the passenger seat and smacked the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. He should've seen it, should've put two and two together sooner. He knew her, he knew something was wrong. He shouldn't have just chalked it up to stress. It had been decades but that was a shit excuse.

Mr. Kowalski was droning on through the alphabet and Dean was bored out of his mind. He glanced over at y/n and noticed her head bobbing. He grinned and picked up his pencil scribbling a note, Stoopid letters.

He folded the paper then watched Mr. Kowalski for the perfect moment to toss it. It landed on her desk almost where he planned. She stared down at it but didn't move. She finally glanced up at their teacher and opened it but instead of throwing him an annoyed look, she just stared at his writing like she didn't understand.

He knew instantly something was wrong. She lowered her head to the paper and pressed her hands over her ears. He moved his chair closer to her, “hey, you okay?”

Her whimper jolted something inside and he jumped from his seat, the chair clattering to the floor.

“Dean, what are you… y/n?”

He touched her arm and she blindly turned and latched onto him, another whimper cutting him to the bone. “I'm right here. It's okay.”

Mr. Kowalski knelt beside them and tried to get her attention. “Y/n, what is it?”

“She's hurt. She's… she needs her dad.” Dean tried getting the words out but they wouldn't understand. No one understood. Her dad told him how scared people can be of things they don't understand and they'd try to take her away. They couldn't take her away!

Mr. Kowalski tried to pull her away from him, “miss Kelly will take you to the nurse. She’ll call your dad.” She tightened her grip on him and Mr. Kowalski pulled harder, “Dean has to stay in class, y/n.”

He froze, he didn't know what to do. She needed him but he was supposed to listen to his teachers, but Mr. Kowalski wanted to take her away.

She shrieked as Mr. Kowalski pried her fingers from his shirt and pulled her away. “No! Dean!”

Panic kicked through his system and he jabbed his fist into Mr. Kowalski’s wrist. “You're hurting her!”

Miss Kelly knelt down next to them, “it's okay, let's calm down.” She squeezed his shoulder as he opened his arms and y/n latched onto him again, “it's okay, Dean. Y/n, we’re just going to take you to the nurse.”

“No, she's scared and you’re hurting her!” He hugged her, tightening his arms so they couldn’t pull him away, “it’s okay. I won't let them take you.” She buried her face into his neck as Miss Kelly and Mr. Kowalski shared a look then whispered to each other. Dean whispered in her ear, “I've got you. Don't worry, I won't let anyone take you away from me.”

“It hurts… so bad. So bad.”

He rubbed her back, “I'm sorry. Your dad will fix it.”

Miss Kelly held out her hand, “come on, Dean. Let's take y/n to the nurse together.” She smiled but he knew Mr. Kowalski wasn't happy about it. Stupid dickhead.

Dean parked in front of their room next to John’s truck where Sam was leaning against the vehicle waiting. Sam walked around the front of the Impala as Dean shoved his chaotic thoughts away and got out. “What took you so… what happened?”

Dean shook his head, “I talked to Pamela, figured out what's wrong.”

“What is it?”

“She’s…” He looked at Sam and knew exactly how he'd take it but he had to tell him. He sighed, “she's done this before.” Sam's eyes widened and he waved him off, “not the throwing thing… well, little things but the…” he glanced at the room and rubbed the back of his neck before leaning back against the impala.

“When we first started school, she had a really hard time because she didn’t know how to keep the other kids separate from her. She got overwhelmed because she felt every emotion of those around her as if it was her own and her body couldn't keep up. It got really bad one day. We ended up in the nurse’s office and they called our parents. The nurse said she probably had the flu but they couldn’t really find anything but a high temperature. Pamela came and got us because Dad and her dad had left for a hunt that morning. She taught her how to keep other people separate.” 

He anticipated Sam’s question, “think of it like the veil but in her head. The other emotions need to be kept on the other side of the veil so they can’t affect things on this side except the strong ones but that’s what her blocks and filters are for. There has to be a wall that makes the difference between feeling them and experiencing them.”

“Why didn’t you affect her? Or our parents?”

“Pamela said something about family links or something, I think it was something her dad did but I don’t remember I wasn’t really listening to that part. I just wanted her to get better.”

“So, she’s taking on our emotions now? I thought that was part of your bond?”

Dean nodded, “with me, yes. I guess the bond helps manage it with me.” He met his brother’s worried gaze, “but she dropped those blocks with you, she’s been feeling every pain and scrap of grief you’ve been going through since New York, maybe longer. Pamela thinks she could be taking on more than that too. I just…” Sam shoved his hands into hair and turned away. “Dude, you need to calm down.”

“I’ve been hurting her.”

“Sammy, that’s the very reason she’s been taking it on because she feels… she didn’t want you handling the burden alone but even with our bond and leaning on me… it’s not enough. It taxes her body too much. Pamela reminded me about these stones that help her get that block back on your connection.”

“My connection?”

“Of course. She's been connected with us since we were kids but there's always been that wall. Just let me do this and then I’ll go to the funeral parlor and you and dad can resolve the shit from last night. I can help her put the block back up but she’ll still be weak.”

Sam nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “okay. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I was terrified last night and I was pissed that you two screaming at each other hurt her but… you have every right to be upset. You and dad have shit you need to work out. That you needed to fix years ago but you’re both too damn proud. Do it for yourself, okay? That will help her.”

Y/n opened the door and glanced between them, her smile fading and the bags under her eyes glaring and more apparent. Sam waved, “hey. I’m gonna help dad. I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, her brow scrunching together, “okay.”

Sam smiled then walked toward the other room with a slight shake of his head before spinning around and rushing over to her, crushing her in a hug. “I love you.”

She patted his back as her eyes closed. Dean could feel the swell of mixing emotions; happiness, grief, guilt, but the one that topped them all was... calm blue waves with a rush of her… it was love.

He was shocked but finally understood what she meant by love feeling different for everyone and different situations.

“I love you too, Sammy.”

Sam backed away then headed to John’s door. Dean took Sam’s place but kissed her instead. He walked her backward into the room and kicked the door shut.

When he broke the kiss, she looked up at him in question. He still couldn't hide anything from her. “What is it? I thought we were going...”

“You broke the cardinal rule, sweetheart.”

“What are you..?” She took two steps back and he shook his head. Her eyes widened and she looked down, her arms crossing over her chest. She took another step back, guilt swirled in his chest as her legs hit the bed. She sat on the edge, “I guess it makes sense. I deserve it.”

“You never deserve pain.” He moved over to her bag and rummaged through the compartments as she began to ramble.

“Every time he hurts it’s because of me. I can’t help him but it’s my burden too. I should share… I should help him even if it's just a little.”

Handling the burden alone. His own words echoed in his head but he wasn’t surprised. She felt too deeply for those she loved, he should've seen it.

His fear from last night, his desperation for her to show any sign of life, the thought of losing her licked at his chest like a wildfire. “Do you hear yourself? You didn't put her in danger, the demon did that! You saved her. She doesn't blame you!”

He pulled his hand from her bag and turned to her. “You've got to stop. You've got to. I've been feeling the crazy stuff and I couldn't figure it out until I talked to Pamela.” Her eyes widened again then she dropped her head into her hands. He walked over, knelt in front of her, and lowered his voice, “you know this can't go on.” He pulled her hands away from her face and held them in his own, gazing into her eyes, begging her to listen. “Pamela warned you, we don't even know exactly what it could do. Last night could be the best case scenario.”

“You mean throwing them?”

“I mean you shutting down. You scared the shit out of me because I couldn't feel you. If you hadn't said anything I would’ve lost my damn mind in that street.” He pulled her off the bed and hugged her to his chest, “how many times through the years have you told me I'm not to blame? That it's not my fault?”

“But I am...”

“Damnit, woman,” he pulled back and cradled her face in his hands, “you saved her. You continue to save her every day you don't give that demon an inch. Look at it from my eyes. If only I could see me through your eyes, right? Well, I see a woman who knew the consequences but stuck with it because even though it was hard, it was the right thing because it kept Jess safe, it keeps her alive.”

He gazed into her eyes and felt the struggle waging inside her. “We rarely get to set the terms but in the end, he’ll have the woman he loves. That makes it worth it and I can say that with a lot of damn confidence because it's my endgame. If I go through all of this shit and I get to spend my days with you then it's all worth it. But if you tear yourself apart, not only is he going to be devastated but I… I’ll be nothing without you.” He pressed his forehead against hers, “please, stop. Please y/n, you've got to take care of yourself first or you'll be no help to anyone and neither will I.”

She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, “he's going to hate me.”

“Sammy could never hate you.”

She shook her her head and choked, “I'm sorry.”

He pressed his lips to hers and she leaned into it. He felt the moment her filter dropped and realized just how much she had been hiding from him. Everything she had been feeling from Sam and the consequences slammed into him with a force that knocked the air from his lungs but he held on, he wouldn't let go.  

That familiar wave of love washed over him soothing the worst of the heavy emotions. He felt his own surge of hope and relief bounce back at him with hers enhancing it, strengthening it somehow as their energies spun together dancing in a way that felt new and yet had a rush of nostalgia.

I’m so sorry. Her voice was a caress in his head.

Please don't block me.

She nestled into his chest and gripped his shirt in her hands. I promise.

He kissed the top of her head, “Pamela told me about two stones that will help you and that meditation.”

She nodded, “in the back pocket on the left.”

He walked back to her bag and pulled the two rocks out. The galaxy stone and the four stone. How did he forget that one? “We need to get that block back in place before we go anywhere.” He rubbed his sternum as he turned and headed for the bed she was climbing onto, “if you can.”

She looked up at him as she crossed her legs in front of her and rested the backs of her hands on her knees, “thank you.”

He grinned as he placed the two final pieces in her palms then kissed her forehead, “I’m mainly helping myself here. I can't lose you.”

“Still. Thanks for taking care of yourself,” she gave him that brilliant smile lighting up her tired eyes before she closed them.

He watched her chest rise from a deep breath then slowly fall. He stood there for a few moments then felt compelled to sit behind her. He took his jacket, boots, and jeans off as quietly as he could and then climbed onto the bed carefully. He moved behind her until his chest pressed against her back as much as it could. He slipped his arms around her and rested his hands over the stones encasing them in their palms.  

Her pulse thumped against him, thrummed inside him, and his began to slow and match it. Her concentration remained elsewhere but he was right there with her, their energy still moving back and forth.

He closed his eyes, felt their chests rise and fall together, their heart beat out the same rhythm and suddenly, he was eighteen again and she was dancing her fingers on his chest as their bodies synchronized on a level he hadn't understood.

Does it ever feel like… this charges your batteries? More than anything else?

For the first time in days, maybe weeks, he felt light, and good, and right.

~~

Dean held his breath and threw John’s vamp-away crap on the fire listening to him talk about the vamp they had tied to a tree exactly like he had warned of creatures doing to him and y/n.

He glanced at the woman and almost saw Y/n. The itch to get back to her flared again. He shouldn't have left her at the motel but dad said it was safer for her because they didn't get her scent and if they found out who she was, who her father was, it would be worse.

She was so exhausted after repairing the block she couldn't even make it to the funeral parlor. That was the only reason he went through with it and now he was questioning whether that was the right move.

Dean tore his gaze from the fire and turned to the conversation behind him.

“You can't treat us like this.” The edge in Sam’s voice told him he missed something.

“Like what?”

Fuck. Maybe it was good she stayed behind.

“Like children.”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

Dean’s frustration rose. “Dad, all due respect but that's a bunch of bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what we've been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few trips yourself. You can't be that worried.”

“It's not the same thing. You know this demon is more than the normal hunt and y/n knows it too. I don't expect to make it out of this in one piece. Your mother's death almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I can't watch you lose someone like her, either of you, or her lose you.”

Dean stared at his dad, “you know. You know about the bond.”

“Yeah, I know. You two have been like that for a long time, at least now I know what it is. Missouri saw a deep tether between you two when you were as young as six or seven. I thought she was just talking about you being so close not anything more but I saw it when you were older. It scared the shit out of me that it would get you both killed.” He stared into Dean’s eyes, “that’s why I pulled you out of her room that night the way I did. I thought I could stop it for a while until things were safer. If I could keep you two apart long enough...”

Sam scoffed, “Jesus, Dad.”

“Don’t.” Dean placed his hand in front of Sam but it didn’t stop him.

“How could you…”

“Because I know what it feels like to lose someone I love that much but… it was nothing like what you two have and I owed her father. I promised to keep you three safe.”

Dean’s temper flared, “it's never been just you! We’ve been trying to keep her safe, she and I have been trying to keep Sam safe and they’ve always looked out for me even when I didn't want them too! Don’t you get it? It’s not just you. It never was.”

A sad smile softened John Winchester's face. Dean wouldn't believe it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes for the second time in close to twenty-four hours. “I’ve been learning that recently. But I still have a part to play and that demon is on to me. I’m not letting it know about you three until you need to make a move.” He turned toward his truck, “you do your job and get her out of here.”

~~

I sat on the end of the bed beside our bag as Dean and I both rolled the last few clothes we had out. They had told me what happened when they went to help John get the colt and I was glad I hadn’t gone, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“What is it?” Dean asked, stuffing his jeans into the bag.

“It’s good I didn’t go. I mean they mate for life and their connection was probably like ours. Being around her while she watched him die…” I looked down at the shirt in my hands. “It would’ve been hard. I know they’re monsters and they were killing innocent people but… I know what that feels like. To watch someone you love dying, just because they are… it wouldn’t make that feeling different, you know?”

The door opened and I was grateful for the distraction. John strolled into the room glancing between the three of us and something was different. He seemed lighter somehow and I had to wonder if the difference was just me but then he spoke something that didn’t add up with the emotions definitely coming from him. “You ignored a direct order back there.”

“Yeah, but we saved your ass.” Dean practically growled and I grabbed his hand.

John smirked then nodded. “You’re right. It scares the hell out of me. You three, you’re all I’ve got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So, we go after this damn thing. Together.”  

“Dad.” It slipped out of my mouth and all three men looked at me, “John.” I frowned looking down at my hand in Dean’s before taking a breath and meeting John’s gaze.

I could feel the way the word hit him, felt it swirling in my chest alongside my own conflicting emotions of confusion but understanding. He was pleasantly surprised and yet felt guilty, of course. The one thing I’d felt from the eldest Winchester since I was six years old. “You told me…” I glanced at Dean, “he told me you knew… about our bond. Back in Arizona, you told me that Dean and I were like a spotlight. Were you talking about the bond?”

He glanced between Dean and I then nodded. “Yes. He told you what I said about Missouri?”

I nodded. “So, she really saw it?”

“She said, and I quote, those two will be a force to be reckoned with but forces like that, they shine brighter. They are gonna need all the protection they can get.”

“Why didn’t she tell us that?” Dean barked.

John shook his head, “she placed protection blankets or something over you and she said that Pamela would’ve taught you enough and probably placed a few protections on you. I saw a few of them over the years so I knew she wasn’t off.”

“Like what?” Dean was still burned by the revelation but his tone had softened.

“That bracelet you’re wearing right now, it was a gift from Pamela, right?”

“Yeah, african tribal bracelet.”

“And she told you it was for good luck?”

“And protection.”

John grinned, “that one is genuine, probably at least thirteen hundred years old or more. Protection not only against misfortunes, illness, and disease but darkness with evil intent. The Momento Mori I’ve seen you wear, used by monks for meditation helps you two stay balanced but it also has a few demon repelling qualities to it.” He glanced over to Sam, “you’ve got some too.”

He pushed his watch to the side just an inch and pulled a black bracelet a lot like Dean’s closer to his hand. He stared at it as he rubbed it with his thumb. “Those around you that knew protected you in every way they could without adding more fear to your lives.”

A memory surfaced and I touched my necklace.

The aroma of bacon and pancakes filled the air and Mary turned around with two big heaping plates. She set them on the table with a smile, “want to be my little helper again?” Her blonde hair was loose and curly. Her bright blue eyes smiled.

“Can I?”

She placed her fists on her hips, “I never refuse help from a strong young lady besides…” she leaned down and glanced around then whispered, “we’ve got to stick together especially with how outnumbered we are in this house.”

I giggled into my hands and she waved me over then handed me silverware to place. I was leaning over the table setting the last fork down when my necklace fell out from under my nightgown.

Mary put the orange juice container on the table and leaned down to look at my necklace. “This is really pretty. Do you ever take it off?” She looked me in the eye for permission and I nodded.

I watched her examine the charms in her hand and glanced at the black bracelet on her wrist. “My daddy told me not to. It's very special.”

“Yes, it is. Just like you, huh?” Her smile was warm and genuine but there was a sadness I couldn't understand.

“Thank you, miss Mary.” Her strong, warm arms wrapped around me and I felt so much more than special.

“You’re so very welcome, sweetheart.”

I swam up from the memory and stared at John, “when did you find out that Mary was a hunter?”

His gaze shot up to mine and a small smile flickered along with a confusion or panic I couldn't grasp before it was whisked away. I could feel Sam’s eyes on me too, felt the connection clawing at the wall wanting with such desperation to be full again. I slipped my free hand in my pocket squeezing the stones as I did the same with Dean’s hand and I focused everything on John.

I was shocked when the needy connection was no longer distracting me but damn near knocked out when I realized John Winchester was blocking something. He learned how to hide things.

“Not long after. Her family was well known in the community.”

I nodded picturing Missouri’s sweet smile as she hid things and told me it was for my own good. From her, it was commonplace, Pamela too, but John? I wanted to ask who taught him but Sam cleared his throat.

“Mom was a hunter?”

John looked at him, “yeah. She quit when she decided she wanted to start a family with me.” His gaze dropped to his wrist and he chuckled, “mostly quit. Something that’s been in your family for generations like that, I guess it’d be hard to put behind you.”

“Wow.” The neighboring bed creaked as Sam dropped onto it. I wished to reach for him but Dean squeezed my hand and I could almost picture him shaking his head in my mind.

I watched John, “who taught you to block?” His head shot up as Sam and Dean had trouble deciding who to look at.

“You know already.”

“Missouri or Pamela?”

“Missouri. I couldn't risk the demon getting in there but I can't block everything. Just the important stuff.”

Hope bubbled up at the idea. If we could teach Sam to hide things, to lock them away like I had learned to do with difficult memories, Sam could hide Jess. How had I not thought of that before? But then I remembered how long it took me to learn, how difficult it was to lock away a single difficult memory. I shoved it away as Dean’s concern flickered along my senses.

“Are you kids ready?”

I met Dean’s gaze then we both looked at Sam. We nodded then stood up with a brightness in the air that was more than just camaraderie or a shared goal. It was like we could finally see that finish line we’d been pushing ourselves toward all our lives. It wasn’t just invigorating, it was a fucking amazing miracle drug.

“Let’s go.” We said it in perfect sync and it gave me an extra kick of excitement.

John glanced between the three of us and turned for the door, “that was creepy when you were kids, now it’s just plain scary.”

Fifteen

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[theconservativebrief]

Every week, we pick a new episode of the week. It could be good. It could be bad. It will always be interesting. You can read the archives here. The episode of the week for July 15 through 21 is “Austerlitz,” the seventh episode of HBO’s Succession.

Have you opened your heart to the gospel of Succession? Since the show premiered on HBO in June, it’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about. In terms of the network’s programming, it feels like a more dramatic counterpart to Danny McBride and Jody Hill’s brilliant odes to contemporary Americana, Eastbound & Down and Vice Principals, the latter of which my Vox colleague Todd VanDerWerff described as “so dedicated to its own vision that it might make you laugh, and then make you want to throw up about five seconds later.”

All three shows are working with a similar set of tools. The characters are inherently unlikeable to the point that it’s startling to realize you’ve come to care about what happens to them, largely because the line between laughing with and laughing at them becomes so tenuous. They’re painfully funny, with the operative word being “painful.”

It’s just that Succession (created by The Thick of It’s Jesse Armstrong, if you needed any indication of the show’s pedigree) happens to be wrapped up in a more prestige-y looking package, and is working toward its central tragedy from the dramatic end of the scale rather than the comedic.

It’s that sense of cognitive dissonance that has largely allowed for Succession to fly under the radar. The show tells the story of a family-run media conglomerate wrestling with the question of who will take over if or when the patriarch chooses to step down. It looks too serious for how funny it initially is, but that humor is ultimately just as much of a defense mechanism as the brittle fronts put up by its characters, breaking apart and revealing deeper layers as the show tilts into disaster.

The show is a lot more fun than it might look. And it’s much more complex than the thinly veiled Murdoch family analog its advertising might lead you to expect.

As the first season has progressed, the series has grown into one of the most deftly executed dramas currently on TV. The show’s sixth episode, “Which Side Are You On?” ended in heart-pounding fashion with Kendall Roy’s (Jeremy Strong) failed attempt at staging a coup against his tyrannical father Logan (Brian Cox).

The sequence might as well have been a nightmare: Kendall was forced to dial into the meeting instead of attending in person, running through stalled traffic while on his phone (leaving his supporters to wilt under Logan’s gaze) and trying to interpret the stony silences on the other end of the line. The result — Logan remaining in power while Kendall was fired from the family business and left listlessly roaming the streets of New York — was blood-curdling.

That episode’s follow-up, “Austerlitz,” is a little less immediately showy, but it’s a neat microcosm of what Succession is, as well as perhaps the clearest example of how the show expertly strikes a balance between humor and heartbreak. If you’re not a Succession believer just yet, here are three reasons you should be, as explained by the episode.

“I want to have your back, and, uh … there’s also my back.” HBO

Arguably, none of the Roys are people you want to root for — despite being family, they can’t even root for each other. When Logan calls his kids together for family therapy (which turns out to be for positive PR rather than any actual inclination toward healing), one doesn’t show up, and the others can barely stifle their laughter when he says that everything he’s done has been for them.

This dynamic could easily become tiresome to watch, but the personas that Succession’s characters flaunt, whether it’s Kendall’s “business bro” posing or his younger brother Roman’s (Kieran Culkin) unrelenting penis-centric humor, have gradually been peeled back, transforming my desire to see these idiots get their comeuppance into genuine emotional investment. It’s a turn that would fall flat if the cast wasn’t so uniformly great. Their bad behavior, while not justifiable, comes from a place that any viewer should find at least a little familiar.

Granted, some characters are easier to care about than others. Siobhan Roy (Sarah Snook), tellingly nicknamed “Shiv,” is the most appealing (or least odious?) of the bunch, largely because she’s the only Roy child who seems to have secured any significant measure of independence from Logan.

Instead of going into the family business, she’s gone into politics, and when the two begin to overlap, her frustration is tangible. She doesn’t want to be defined by her family’s name, but it’s not her choice to make. And Snook is a master at playing tough to the point that when Logan finally reduces Shiv to tears in “Austerlitz,” it comes as a shock.

To that end, “Austerlitz” serves as a showcase for each character’s human flaws and insecurities, as the pretext of a family sit-down brings every character together under a single roof and holds a magnifying glass to the bonds between them. Even Shiv’s less self-possessed siblings — Kendall, Roman, and Connor (Alan Ruck), the eldest and least effective son — slowly start to feel more like human beings as the show makes clear just how badly Logan has broken all of his children. Watching him try to “win at therapy,” in Shiv’s words, is uniquely frustrating, and when the proceedings fall apart, there’s a sense of loss in the air rather than satisfaction.

Sweet, simple cousin Greg. HBO

Part of Succession’s emotional turn also comes from the way it deploys laughs. Armstrong uses cringe humor in abundance, first inviting us to draw a morbid kind of enjoyment from the antics of the Roy children before slowly pivoting to have us feel guilty for being complicit in their misery. But that’s not to say that the show isn’t also just plain funny.

In “Austerlitz,” for example, when therapy begins to break down, the therapist suggests everyone unwind by getting in the pool. The kids immediately tell him that doing so is out of the question because Logan can’t swim. “He doesn’t even trust water. It’s too wishy-washy.”

Moments like these are regularly punctuated by the way the show is shot, with little zooms in and out on the characters’ faces that are commonly used on shows like The Office or Brooklyn Nine-Nine, but rarely on “prestige dramas.”

Then there’s the way Tom (Matthew Macfadyen), Shiv’s fiancé, follows her around like an overeager puppy, pressing her for details on how therapy is going. His interest is both personal and practical: He works for her father. Though he knows it’s not a good time to try to angle for a better position in the company, he can’t help it — not that that should come as much of a surprise, given that his attempt to cheer Shiv up during the second episode of the series, which saw Logan hospitalized, was to propose to her in the hospital hallway.

Though Tom otherwise takes a back seat in “Austerlitz,” I’d be remiss not to mention that his rapport with cousin Greg (Nicholas Braun) is the most consistently funny part of the show. Their status as the two outsiders to the Roy family — Greg is the black sheep cousin from Logan’s (practically estranged) brother’s side — immediately puts pressure on them in an environment that’s already close to its boiling point.

Unlike the people they orbit, they don’t come from money, making their vying for some kind of status all the more obvious. Greg phones his mom for advice, and Tom can’t stop trying to needle Shiv about how to best impress her family.

Tom loves Shiv, but he loves the power that the Roy name bears, too. As such, though he ought to be able to find common ground with Greg as another (relative) beggar at the feast, Greg also constitutes a threat to his position.

Tom is, to put it mildly, absolutely horrendous to Greg, subjecting him to near-constant verbal abuse (which he plays off as a joke, a tactic Greg is finally getting wise to) and using Greg as a pawn in his attempt to climb the Royco ladder.

It’s a demented relationship, but Macfadyen is so good at playing a sociopath, and Braun is such a delight, that it’s impossible not to laugh while watching as they navigate everything from a corporate “death pit” to eating ortolan, a delicacy that was also notably featured on Billions as a marker of wealth, as it involves consuming a protected species of songbird whole (and which Tom gleefully tells Greg is “kinda illegal”).

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Of course, Succession’s humor has become all the more precious as the series progresses. “Austerlitz” is particularly grim, as Kendall’s journey to family therapy takes him on a detour into a drug den, first. Early on in the season, it was established that Kendall is a recovering drug addict, and that his marriage fell apart as a result of his drug abuse and his commitment to his work — or perhaps more accurately, to his father.

His relapse is crushing, as is the knowledge that it is in equal parts due to just how low he’s been laid by getting fired from the company (and then being sued by his father for his insubordination), and to his father planting stories about a relapse in the tabloids.

When Kendall finally arrives at the New Mexico ranch where his family is gathered, he’s high out of his mind. He’s smiling throughout the ensuing confrontation with his father, but there’s no semblance of happiness in his attitude — there hasn’t been through the entirety of the show thus far.

“I was born lucky,” he says, but he knows the Roy silver spoon is a blessing and a curse. Like Shiv, he’s inextricably tied to his family despite how ill-suited he is for the shark tank it is, and he’s finally realized that the reason (or one of the reasons) that Logan seems to hate all of his children is that they were born with luxuries that he had to earn.

Strong is giving perhaps the most impressive performance on the show — every scene of his brings to mind the devastating finale of The Thick of It, in which spin doctor Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi) finally decides he has nothing left to say — and is most clearly shepherding Succession toward the Greek tragedy it now seems it’s always been.

Tension is brewing between the Roys, and it’s clear that something horrible lies ahead, especially now that they all know they’re capable of stabbing each other in the back. Thanks to his father, Kendall has become a man with nothing to lose, which, for once, actually makes him dangerous. That is, if he’s able to keep from falling prey to his own monsters.

We’ve known from the start that the Roys are horrible people; what makes Succession so impressive is that it has managed to make their turning against each other so difficult to watch. It’s hard to imagine what would constitute a “happy” ending to the season — if one is even in the realm of possibility.

Despite how much we’ve learned about the Roys already, there’s still a lot left to unravel. To wit, in contrast to what the Roy children said about their father earlier in the episode, “Austerlitz” ends with a shot of Logan slowly swimming in the pool as his children depart one by one.

Succession airs Sundays at 10 pm on HBO.

Original Source -> HBO’s Succession has quietly become my favorite show of the summer

via The Conservative Brief

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