#( thought i had lost em forever!! i love the theme on this blog and i am never changing it so. im glad im back in <3 )

[roachemoji]

NEW ST LIVE BLOGGING bc i lost my old thread lmao S1 06-08 (but not really i need to rewatch the end again)

Episode 6

OKAY im starting like halfway through ep 6 again

the AUTISM in the first 30 seconds of this episode starting up again lmao EL calling him a mouth breather because its the first insult she fucking hears??? Yea YEAH

GOD JOYCE IN A TURTLE NECK <- my mom (hold oni have to jump back up here because I completetly skipped the part about Jane and her mom and the connection to El and i feel like its a little too on the nose that thats who El is given how much ive seen and read about the fuckery and connections in this show so im waiting on that - unless it is just... that. AKJHD)

I LOVE DUSTIN SO MUCH WHY DO I NEVER HEAR ANYTHING ABOUT HIM LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

hes SO smart holy shit i mean they all are but his interpersonal skills are so JUST YEAH CALL THEM OUT CALL THEM OUT also his quiet "ok" when he pushes that theyre all his best friends UGH

is this the scene is this the i think im about to watch the thing i just OH MAN HE JUST CLOCKED HIM WHO STRADDLES A MAN LIKE THAT WHEN YORUE FIGHTING HELLO

damn

anyway sorry Johnathan and Nancy Platonic Soulmates Best Friends Forever im making them bracelets !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh man i was gonna mention the van that Lucas saw but i forgot also GOD DUSTIN IS THE ONLY ONE WITH FUCKIGN SENSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH boys boys boys boys boys

I FORGOT HE PISSED HIS FUCKING PANTS LMAO

JUST PISS YOUR PANTS???? oh he okay yeah i though the was actually asking him to just piss his fucking pants

DUSTIN JUST SACRIFICING HIMSELF WHY DO I NOT HEAR MORE ABOUT HIM ACTUALLY

SO what would happen if Mike had like died what would happen if those kids had caused his death like wouold they have just ran and left Dustin or pushed him off or what like AKJSHDSKAJHD

IM SORRY THE SONG WHEN EL SHOWS UP IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

El exxperiencing PTSD so vividly breaks my fucking heart like girlie i understand i understan di do i reall really do god im so sorry BABY GIRL ITS OKAY AOOIASUDSKAH SHE OPENED THE GATE DAMN gonna like swaddle her or something god

im sorry the squad of white vans going to kidnap children is a little too on the fucking nose for me

---

Episode 7

real talk could El not just explode them what if El just exploded them i mean obviously theres OTHER consequences like... killing people BUt i mean.

SHE IDNT EXPLODE THE VAN BUT I MEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT GUY IS PROBABLY DEAD SO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pausing to say something actually: How child abuse is depicted so far in the show is very scary to me in how real it feels. To be a kid in those situations, to not understand the power you weild because an adult as manipulated you into believing that you're helpless? That the only person you can rely on is them, even as they're actively harming you? Brenner being aware of the harm that El can cause him but believing so strongly in the hold he has on her and therefore he is above consequence, above harm? fucking yucky The scene of him giving her the potted flower made my stomach sink. Felt a little too close to home I know that themes of abuse are really prevelant in this show and Its really interesting to see how it affects people different but especially El, someone who'se pretty fucking clearly autistic and shows a lot of the same symptoms that i did post abuse? I thought i had more to say on it and maybei will as time goes on i just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ough okay moving on --

LUCAS!!!!!!!!! APOLOGIZING and El saying she sorry too and ALL OF THEM APOLOGIZING YEAH THIS IS BOYS BEING BOYS BABEY THIS IS!!!! BOYS! BEING! BOYS!!!!!!!

WHITE WOMAN JUMPSCARE AGAIN

i cant wait to get to the part where i understand who you (POINTS AT EM) believe she is and fully feel whatever i should feel about her and what shes done or about to do or going to do in multiple timelines or what have YOU

Mikes dad makes me want to ram my head into a wall

and BRENNER is just fucking STABS HIM STABS HIM STABS HIM

Joyce is just :3c she just!! she <3

she can.... make you fly....... and...... piss yourself

the two super powers

OUHAKJSDH i forgot they think Johnathan killed Will jesus christ i hate these two so much and OUGAKSDH GOD THANK YOU FOR AKHSDAKJH FINALLY!! THANK U IK STEVE SHAPES UP AND CHANGES HIS SHIT AND GROWS THANK GOD BUT JESUS ITS ABOUT TIME HOLY FUCK

SPIT IN HIS EYES SPIT IN HIS EYES !!!! WISH U HAD GOD NOT THEIR DND SHIT HELLOW???

the Byers,,,,,,,,,, seemed so distant before like they didnt know each other or cared but god theyre so close theyre so so close and i feel that i get that

MIKES DAD AGAIN I WANT TO HES SO FUCKING STUPID if i were locked in a room with him id put on cocomelon

HOPPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3

THE BOYS ARE ALL SO SMART I LOVE THEM OS MUCH

El is just trying so fucking hard god the liek desperation and fear or failure and guilt that she just keeps carrying itS JUST!!!!

MR CLARKS LIL DATE NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! do you ever use your teacher's autism against him and force him to info dump in the same of science.

watching them setting up the pool and knowing they probably just told them to figure it out while they filmed it <3 ALSO MIKE REALIZING HIS SISTER IS ACTUALLY COOL idk need more siblings being siblings

JOYCE IS MY MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

someone giving El the option to say no? to back out? to FEEL SAFE??? im going to lose my mind im gonan scREAM and cry and throw up!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i am BANGING MY FISTS On the TABLE

genuinely WAHT did barb do to deserve this WHAT DID SHE DO SHE WAS SUCH A GOOD FRIEND OH MY GOD

joyce joyc ejoCYCE JOYCE JOYCE fuck all yall shes my favorite character im in love with her

Do episodes that end in the upside down also not end with music @ em i cant remember this happening before bc i didnt write it down <3

---

Episode 8

LAST EPISIDE OF THE SEASON i went to get popcorn for this to pay full attention or as much as i could im goingin an dout of dissociating so bare with me i feel like im gonna have to rewatch the entire first season again bc i missed a lot but we'll get there in due time anyway onward and upward boys

OHH THE FIRST SCENE I SAW A PARALLEL TO EPISODE ONE!!! WITH JOYCE ON THE PHONE AND NOW YELLING AT BRENNER

god i love WHEN PEOPLE STAND UP TO BRENNER AND DONT BELIEVEHIS BULLSHIT

Hopper <333333

Johnathan and Nancy are my favorite best friends theyre jUST like GUNG FUCKING HO i love it

IM OAIUSDKAJHD NANCY AND HOPPER GOING FUCKING IN WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS NOT GONNA HAPPEN yall keep underesitimating these people because you got your fancy suits and you think ou have control of the situation and then you get your ass handed to you SO IM waiting for his ass to be handed to him

do NOTTTTT DO NOT DO THIS TO ME WITH HOPPER DONT THROW ME INTO A FUCKING FLASH BACK!!!!!!! NOT LIKE THIS NOT HERE GONNA BITE

if i have to watch people cut their palms to get blood one more time im gonna STOP STOP IT STOP IT STOP oh my GOD LIKE... BAK O FYOU HAND? YOUR ARM? GIRL.

STEEVEEEEEEEEE are the lights gonna start blinking girl please pleas eplease srteve please can he help kill please bro Im HIS big brown eyes hello hwa the fuck

SO Tumblr deleted... everything after this and im kinda upset man i got like 20 minutes left in the episode not even and it just wiped out 90% of me going balls to the fuck wall about El exploding people's brains and how much i love Joyce Byers and how they gotta stopputting me through so much emotional turmoil when it comes to Hopper and his flash backs

I think im gonna rewatch the last episode to give a better genuine reaction bc i kinda spaced out at the end and dont super know whats going on now askdhj

#bo posting #bo.txt #stranger things #oougHSKDHGSJF #AH

[hauntsdestruction]

genuinely very happy to have finally remembered the email for this account! almost a year later :’)))

#█ ▌ 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩. / ooc. #( thought i had lost em forever!! i love the theme on this blog and i am never changing it so. im glad im back in <3 ) #( now i am going to finally going to change my muse list bc i want to remove / add a few muses !! )

[arcanalogue]

Death and the Maiden, Cooking Edition: Pomegranate Tiramisu

Fahwad Khan, IMPERMANENT (THE POMEGRANATE SKULL) 2014

Pardon the long post, but I just don’t know where else to go with this. And even in terms of recipe posts it will be annoying because there’s the dreaded backstory — but I’m sharing in honor a friend who passed away, so I guess if you feel terrific about skimming past all that to get to a cake recipe one minute faster, no one can ever question your commitment to gastronomy. 

So here’s the deal. Back in 2011 I was hosting a monthly variety show that featured numerous components: film, live music, burlesque, PowerPoint presentations, arts & crafts, really ANYTHING. 

My friend Cas Marino wanted in on the action; he was a performer, but he was so much more than that. He was performing life, quite vividly; he was a cancer survivor who’d never stopped transforming. He played serious dramatic roles in productions all over New York City, he was happy to dive into a drag revue, he would host salons and get-togethers in his Midtown apartment, and on top of everything else, he was working on a blog called “The Food Daddy,” which was entertaining to read even if you couldn’t cook. As you’ll see below, everything he touched became infused with his humor and personality.

He’d appeared in a number of my shows, usually in drag inspired by that night’s theme. Here he is on the night we read excerpts from Elsa Lanchester’s then-out-of-print memoir. 

Here he is, drinking milk right out of the carton on the night we did a whole show about the trope in fiction about women who transform into cats. (I’m telling you, dear reader, I was truly living my best life as a producer!)

This was all in a lovely professional downtown establishment, so naturally I was interested in bending every possible rule past the breaking point. So when Cas asked if he could make food for my entire audience, I said YES... and then went to inform the venue so they could explain why it was completely against the rules. (In this instance, they had their own cafe on-site that was strictly kosher, and they could not risk confusion or contamination with outside food.) 

I don’t recall exactly how we pulled it off, but Cas began showing up at my events armed with enough food to serve 75 people (the theater’s capacity). Do you realize how incredible that is, reader? Sometimes we’d sell out, but sometimes we’d only have 15 folks in the audience, half of them comps. Cas believed in me so hard, he planned for a sold-out show every time. He would have been offended if we ran out of kibble with even one person left to feed.

The food was always on theme, so when I did a show about America’s First Ladies, he combined vintage recipes from Barbara Bush and Rosalynn Carter to make Bipartisan Buffalo Chicken Sliders, which he served dressed as Eve, the original “first lady,” mostly naked and covered in vines.

As you’ll read below, he agonized over the perfect thing to serve at our “Death and the Maiden” show.  At one point, it was going to be mini-eclairs filled with pomegranate cream and tipped with an almond fingernail. He finally settled on this original tiramisu recipe that knocked us all COMPLETELY OUT. And I ate the leftovers out of my fridge for days, because letting even one serving go to waste felt like a desecration.

Look, I’m telling you he could COOK. He once described his culinary style to me as “tragically indulgent.” His fantasy (like so many others at the time) was to parlay his food blog into an actual cookbook someday. 

Sadly, Cas did not live to fulfill this particular dream. In 2014 his cancer returned, and he faded away right before our eyes. From his hospital bed, he wrote me: “I have to survive this just to write about it and do a one-man show where I cook and feed and we all laugh and sob and go ‘Mmmmm that's fucking good’ and it just becomes a big audience/artist participation evening of sharing where I am the only one who gets to talk.”

That same year, I managed to recreate his Pomegranate Tiramisu and serve it to friends as my birthday cake; for a couple years afterward, I would look the recipe up on his website and fantasize about making it again. The ingredients weren’t cheap, and it required more kitchen space than I had in NYC. 

And then the worst thing happened: at some point after Cas’s death, the domain expired and his blog went 404, and ONLY THEN did I realize I hadn’t scribbled it down anywhere. People say “the internet is forever,” but hell... even Tumblr users know differently. 

I spent a few more years being very depressed about this, imagining the recipe was lost forever, but it turns out someone had managed to preserve the blog’s contents, and at long last it fell back into my hands. BACK FROM THE DEAD! Not unlike the Bride of Frankenstein herself.

So I’m going to let Cas take it from here, dear reader. Thank you for letting me bring him back to life for a just few minutes, performing for you, feeding you. Knowing that would’ve meant everything to him. From one of his last messages to me: “I have no designs on sainthood. But I know I still have shit to accomplish in this world, even if not a physical member of it.”

Knock ‘em dead, Cas!

“The Food Daddy” - Pomegranate Tiramisu

This recipe was created by me to fit the bill for the recent “Meet the Lady” performance (which, if you’ve not heard or read, is a monthly variety show that really rather defies description), titled “Death and the Maiden”.

I toiled with possible ideas that had to do with death and maidens, figuring most easily that a “death by chocolate” offering would at least use one of the title words. Then lady fingers came into the thought process because, well, if you dismembered a maiden you’d have two byproducts: death, most notably, and lady parts — including, but not limited to, her fingers.

Lady fingers naturally led to Tiramisu fantasies, but I didn’t want to go the traditional route. And after discussing it and brainstorming, I got smacked in the back of the head with the realization that the mythical Persephone — a maiden — kidnapped as she was by Hades — who, by way of his being the god of the underworld, was death its very self in semi-human form — ate nothing but pomegranate seeds during her detainment in hell.

If this doesn’t spell fucking dessert, I don’t know what does.

Herewith, my scaled-down recipe (in scope, not in structure or composition; I doubt you’ll need to serve 75 people with yours, though even at half-size this will serve a small army). You can pare it down even further if you feel such need, or instead of making it into one big sheet cake, assemble several smaller ones (I found this worked BEAUTIFULLY in loaf pans) and send them straight to the freezer for future enjoyment.

A few other flexible considerations: I made mine in a full-size deep steam table pan for presentation and food service purposes. These things measure roughly 20 x 10 x 3.5”, but you can use the smaller (12 x 9 x 2.5”) disposable aluminum half-pans for this recipe, or as stated above, any other configuration of sizes that suit your needs. If you want to unmold it and slice it after freezing, line your pans first with cellophane wrap. After just a minute or two out of the ice box, you’ll be able to lift it out of the pan (perhaps with the help of a hungry friend) by the ends of the cellophane, place it on a cutting board, and have at it. Tres artistique, even weighing in as mine did at about eight pounds. This last conclusion required me getting on the scale both with and without the final dessert in my arms and subtracting the first weight from the laden number, which could have been quite a site, as I generally refuse to step on a scale until I’ve removed every last stitch of clothing including my socks, and spit out any spare saliva and shaved every last facial hair so NOTHING will add even a bazillionth of an ounce to my readout, lest I suffer a deep fit of depression. And being depressed when you’re holding what turns out to be 8 pounds of really good cake is a recipe for emotion-eating disaster. But I staved off the need to feel slimmer than normal in light of the facts that (a) I was mid-movie shoot that week, and thus had to maintain a larger-than-usual mane of face-hair for my role; (b) spitting near food meant for others would be gross; (c) being naked around the same food would be even grosser; and (d) the tile floor in my bathroom could be a bit chilly, so why risk taking off my socks?

Socks, spitting, scanty clothing — nothing could have made this less enjoyable. The audience that night devoured what was served to them, and all but attacked the leftovers on the way out of the theater. I had sent samples of this creation to my usual team of taste-testers for input as part of the development process, and perhaps the most poignant and fitting critique came from my dear Mom who, just having started a new diet regimen, had the following to say during our brief check-in on the phone:

“Hello. This is your mother. Fuck Weight Watchers, and Fuck You.”

I love you, Mom. And not just because you loved this surprising new take on an old favorite.

60 Lady Finger cookies

4 Cups Pomegranate juice

1-½ Cups plus 2 Tbsp. sugar

1 Packet unflavored gelatin

4 Egg whites

1 tsp. Cream of Tartar

1 Cup Mascarpone cheese 

3 Cups Crème Fraiche 

1 Tbsp. Corn starch

¼ Cup water (or as needed) 

½ Cup sliced almonds

¼ Cup Pomegranate seeds (or dried sweetened cranberries) 

(Reserve 6 Lady Fingers for garnish.)

In a saucepan, mix pomegranate juice with 1-½ cups sugar, and sprinkle gelatin on top. Stir or whisk until gelatin is dissolved with no lumps remaining. Bring mixture to boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until sugar and gelatin are fully dissolved. Reduce heat to medium-low and continue to boil, stirring often, for 10 minutes. Remove from heat and set saucepan into a larger bowl filled with cold water. Stir frequently and change cold water bath often, allowing juice reduction to cool as close to room temperature as possible.

In the bowl of a stand mixer or with electric beaters, whip egg whites with cream of tartar until stiff. Remove to a separate, clean mixing bowl (preferably chilled in the freezer) and set aside.

In stand mixer or large mixing bowl with electric beaters, mix mascarpone with 1-½ cups of cooled juice reduction until well blended. Beat on medium-high for one minute. Add 1 cup of the crème fraiche and blend until smooth. Finally, fold in beaten egg whites, half at a time, just until fully incorporated.

Assembling the tiramisu: Here’s where Food Daddy starts getting anal (but this works easiest, so just shut up and do as I say. Love you!). On your prep surface, set your plate or bowl of unpackaged lady fingers (you don’t want to be messing with cellophane and plastic bags and such mid-project here); next to that, set your remaining juice reduction; and next to that, set your cake pan.

Working from left to right (or for my Hebrew or dyslexic foodies, right to left), dip a lady finger lightly in the juice by placing it on the liquid’s surface, flipping it over with your fingers, then removing it by hand and placing it in the cake pan. Working quickly, repeat this process, building a tightly packed layer of side-by-side, row-by-row, lightly soaked lady fingers on the bottom of the pan. Nobody will see the inside of the tiramisu in its entirety, so if to make a uniform layer with few gaps you need to rip a finger here or stuff a finger there, I won’t tell a soul if you have to be a bit forceful or creative.

Spoon half of the pomegranate mousse mixture over the bottom layer of lady fingers. Using the back of a spoon or a rubber spatula, spread the mixture evenly. Lift the pan and drop it gently a few times on your work surface, just to make sure all the gaps are filled and big air bubbles are removed.

Repeat with a second layer of dipped lady fingers, and then a second layer of pomegranate mousse, again tamping pan to release air bubbles and distribute the filling evenly. Top with one final layer of dipped lady fingers.

Spread the top with the remaining 2 cups of crème fraiche, tamp pan to settle the layers, and set aside.

Pour remaining juice mixture into a measuring cup, and add enough of the water, if needed, to make 1 cup of liquid. Return to saucepan, and stir in the corn starch and the remaining 2 Tbsp. of sugar until starch is dissolved. Place pan over medium-high heat, and bring to a boil to thicken. Remove from heat.

In a food processor or with a cutting board and knife, coarsely chop the almonds and the fruit, then add the reserved lady fingers and pulse (or chop and crumble) until the whole thing looks like somebody pawed at a poor helpless berry-nut muffin until there were no big chunks left.

Sprinkle the crumb mixture evenly over the top of the tiramisu. Drizzle with the pomegranate syrup mixture.

Chill tiramisu at least 2 hours in refrigerator before serving. For overnight storage or longer, cover with cellophane wrap gently pressed against the top surface.

This will “cure” and the flavors will blend and the whole combination really pull together if left refrigerated for two days. For storage beyond that or to deal with leftovers, this freezes BEAUTIFULLY. Just allow to come to room temperature before serving, or enjoy it “semi freddo” by removing from freezer and slicing wide, inch-thick slices, laying each on its side on individual serving plates and eating it cold and firm. A dollop of additional crème fraiche and a sprinkling of chopped almonds (did I hear someone say “mint sprig”?) sure would make this anything but a “leftover” dessert.

#death and the maiden #pomegranate #tiramisu #recipes #cooking #cas marino

[cxruscxte--archive-blog]

300+ FOLLOWER FOREVER (Speech && mentions under the cut)

Inhales

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

OK BUT

WHAT ???

I can’t believe I already have 300 followers!!! I don’t think I can say anything more that I haven’t said in my last follower forever. I love every single one of you to no absolute end, you guys! It’s a stupid thing to say, but I do not think highly of my portrayal of Angie, she’s much sadder than she should be hahaa,, but all of you have done such a great job of making me feel better about it, like following me or wanting to interact with me. All of it makes me feel like my Angie isn’t as bad as I think it is! You’re all absolute sweeties and I keep making more friends as time passes. It feels amazing here, even if I do encounter a few bumps along the way!

I know I take a long time to make replies and I probably should be writing up ask replies instead of doing yet another follower forever, but oh WELL WHAT CAN YA DO

Like before, I’ll tag a few of my good acquaintances (BC I DON’T KNOW IF YA’LL CONSIDER ME A FRIEND–) and pat their backs virtually for being nice to me.

BUT BEFORE I DO SHOUT OUT TO MY NON-RP FRIEND

@bettynayo | BBY I LOVE YOU ??? YOU’RE LIKE THE ONLY PERSON I’M GONNA CALL A FRIEND HERE BC I’M FAIRLY CERTAIN WE’RE FRIENDS HHHA—I’LL NEVER FORGET THAT FAITHFUL NIGHT YOU SENT ME THAT DRAWING OF KOA AND I ACTUALLY STARTED CRYING??? I will literally never get over that ok, your art is super beautiful and I love it and I love you most importantly and you’re like always there and hHHH A A we totally need to do a skype call someday bc we can sing Hamilton songs I’ll scream “TO THE GROOM” at you bc that’s the only line I know out of the hour I listened (That’s a lie, I can probably sing You’ll Be Back from memory) you’re my Shinnaga, musical, Kenichi Suzumura, relatable daily struggle™ and most importantly – my hentai art friend and I absolutely love you ok REMEMBER THAT LET’S NEVER STOP TALKING MY DUDE IN 60 YEARS WE CAN BOTH SIT ON BENCHES OUTSIDE IN OUR OWN ENDS, FEEDING THE PIGEONS AND CHATTING ON FUTURISTIC TUMBLR

Ok now that this little shite is over with FOR MY MAIN ROLEPLAY BNITCHES

@zxtsubxu | I felt like I had to mention you first idk why. YOU MAKE ME FEEL PAIN—literally let’s just kill each other with angst,, I love your writing and I never thought that ?? I could ship ??? Mastermind Eggo and Idorru Anggg ??? LITERALLY WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME (jkjk Ily)

@mxgicxlrxd | HI GIN ur a good Himiko and we never actually had a thread but oH WELL HAH A maybe one day when we both manage to finish our replies. But for real tho, I absolutely love you, you’re really great and UR THE SHIT UR MY HIMIKO UR A GOOD I LO VE Y O U BEEEEPIPIPI

@not-a-suspicious-guy | Goldy, MY DUDE- I have to make you a reply im sorry omg don’t hurt me,, but okay really, you’re like a super great Amami and your writing is top notch™ PLUS UM ??? YOUR ART ??? WHAT THE HELL GOALS ???? listen, you actually made me love Amami even more than I did before and I don’t understand,, let us both sit in a problematic chair position as we pray to our one and only lord Ran Through A Mommy (remind me to marry u in 8 years btw)

@kxaito | NGL I ALMOST FORGOT TO MENTION YOU I’M ADDING YOU LAST MINUTE—I was like “GASP SHIT PEYTON–” it’s no follower forever without everyone’s favorite Kaito ; ) you’re really nice and like I hope we’re both gazing at the same stars right now ah our love shan’t die—what am I even talking abt soRR Y SORRY UR THE STAR BAE and your Kaito is so ?? good ??? if it wasn’t for you I’d probably wouldn’t be wallowing in despair for Kaito rn GEE THANKS

@pseudxcode | WE’VE NEVER HAD A THREAD EITHER OOP but ur great, ur art is great, please, if I talk good shit abt u will you let me kill all the magical girls and present their corpses to Chihiro (JKJK) srsly tho, your Chihiro ??? more like GOOD SHIT™ and we should probably make an actual thread ( ; ) magical gals)

@hcnorcoded | UM AHRI AHRI A H R  I !!!!! MY FIRST FRIEND!!!! THANK ! YOU ! FOR ! EXISTING ! You’re an absolute beauty and so is your Ishimaru, I love you x25 and just ?? just ??? kudos for being such a beautiful human being and actually taking your time and talking to Living Breathing Trash Can Em,, I’ll be the Rin to ur Pana (KAYOCHIN)

@positivepianist | POSI YOU ARE MY GOLDEN HUED SWEETHEART AND I JUST ?????????????? BNITCH WHY ARE YOU SO GOOD TO EVERYONE ?????? whY ARE YOU SO GOOD TO ME WHAT ??? I don’t deserve your super duper preciousness and you totally deserve the love people give you and the more you apologize the more I’m like “the hell are you apologizing for you’re the best human here you’re super puRE DO NO T” I want to hug you a lot you seem so huggable + ur Kaede is just the best Kaede and I just I WANT TO HUG UR KAEDE TOO

@docilexdisguises | DEST YOU LITERALLY JUST MADE A FOLLOWER FOREVER THANK U FOR MENTIONING ME AND LIKE LISTEN the world needs to know abt the Ikea thing we have. Magical girl group verse ??? nah that’s shit. Lost in Ikea group verse??? HERE’S WHAT’S MCHECKING LIT FAM THAT’S THE SHIT MAKE IT KNOWN – no but seriously, your Tsumugi is great, it made me warm up to the actual Cosplay Trash no matter how infuriated she makes me feel lma o—

@relixum (and ur other blogs im too lazy to mention) | it us !! the uncoolest kiddo squad !!! I haven’t talked to u in like a week and I feel bad for doing that lmao oops—but seriously, I love your writing !!! your Hinata is the perfect Hinata and I love how you portray him ??? idk what it is buT YOU HAVE SOMETHING THAT MAKES YOUR HINATA SPECIAL !!! Maybe it’s because ur a special human too hohoho—alright but seriously (ALSO IMMA MENTION IN EVERY FOLLOWER FOREVER BUT THE SALT && PEPPPER AU–)

@ahogerobotto | at this point, all my compliments are drained and idk what to say anymore and AAAAAA—Sai, your Beep Boop Robotto is super good and you too are super great and I swear to god, you’re making me love Kiibo more like I just ??? uGH AAAA I blame you for my emotional pain for Kiibo hahA

And now, a line-up of Shinguuji’s

@hominumfabula | RIGHT UH I HAVEN’T SAID HI TO YOU IN AGES BUT YOU’RE STILL A SUPERB GUUJI and u too are a superb human being, you’re nice and you’re a meme and idk what else to say you’re a Golden Trash Can™ I can’t keep coming up with new shit abt u, ur just rlly good and remember that ok

@xshinguuji | there’s too many Shinguuji’s for me to even talk abt anything extra hhO—buT SERIOUSLY you’re super good and you’re a real sweetie ???? I’d hug you as much as I’d hug Posi tbh and I’d also hug your Guuji ??? he’s a sweet boi™ (probably takes it from the equally sweet mun

@shinguvji | confession time, I actually just spent 20 seconds trying to remember your url name bc I’m typing it all in word and I just ??? “wait what’s Iggy’s Guuji url heck” but seriously I just ??? I’m sorry about Foodfight, I’m sorry you have to live through that bullshit bUT I’M NEVER GONNA LET YOU LIVE IT DOWN AFAFSAFSDAS srsly tho your Guuji’s great, you’re great, I’d let you be my bath demon any day and I’ll share all my Kappa facts with you

BABES I FEEL LIKE I DON’T TALK TO ENOUGH AND I FEEL LIKE I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO CALL YA’LL MY GOOD BNITCHES BUT MAYBE IN THE FUTURE—

@malchancevilain | ARE WE FRIENDS OR ???? Idk I like you and we need to meme around more and make like 1252835923582 inside jokes so I’d be like “OH LOOK IT’S A GOOD TOGAMEME” and I mean you’re still a good togameme BUT ARE WE LIKE ACQUAINTED ENOUGH FOR ME TO SAY THAT WITHOUT BEING WEIRD OR—OK BUT SERIOUSLY thanks for like thinking of literally everything for the magical girl verse thank u bby

@snappshot // @cantatory | ok so RIVAL GROUP ASDASDAasf we need to plot more so I could write that magical girl starter for u aaaaaaaaaa—ok but rlly ur great, ur muses are great, we need to talk more hhhaaha

@nullverum | im too lazy to mention ur oc blog bye- BUT INHALES – YOU’RE T OXI C I’M SL I PP ING UND E R srsly ur good keep being a meme

@gambogeish | I WASN’T SURE WHICH CATEGORY YOU BELONG TO AAAAA but seriously, I enjoy talking to you and hhh thank you for the beautiful image of Saihara with a magical girl skirt (Marilyn Monroe vent scene with Saihara tho haha wink wonk)

@thirdtimemasterpiece | hhHH I DON’T KNOW IF I SHOULD CONSIDER YOU A SUPER FRIEND HH—BC I CONSIDER EVERYONE A SUPER FRIEND BUT IM NOT SU R E – but ok uh thanks for getting the MH theme permanently stuck in my head ??? // your Angie is good tho u are the senpai I shall learn from you

HEY HO I THINK THAT’S ALL ????

#|| follower forever. #bettynayo #mxgicxlrxd #not-a-suspicious-guy #zxtsubxu #kxaito #pseudxcode #hcnorcoded #positivepianist #docilexdisguises #relixum #ahogerobotto #hominumfabula #xshinguuji #shinguvji #malchancevilain #snappshot #cantatory #nullverum #gambogeish #thirdtimemasterpiece

[auideas]

Ask the Admins 10.0

@genosha-meiuqer: This is to Admin M -- Out of curiosity, do you drive anything like a War Boy?

M: Yes. That is actually a problem I have irl. I drive far too fast. Haven’t gotten pulled over yet though! (knock on wood)

Anon asked: Describe yourself in one adjective.

Chamomile: Talkative

M: Witty

Syren: Enthusiastic

Jynn: Resilient

Vox: Amiable

Anon asked: Do you have other sister blogs or affiliate blogs about writing? Or maybe you can rec us other writing blogs? Not that auideas is not awesome, loving this blog! Just, you know, want to follow other blog. Thanks! Loving your aus btw!

Chamomile: We have @nsfw-auideas​, which has been inactive for a while since I became uncomfortable running it and the other admins sort of dropped of….but for blogs that inspire me, I always love @writing-prompt-s​ because they give me ideas for prompts with their prompts (if that makes sense, lmao) and also from fanfiction/fanart. I get //so// much inspiration from fanfiction/fanart.

M: Yeah we have our NSFW blog, but that’s pretty much it, and I don’t really have a lot of time at the moment to look at other blogs, so this is definitely one for the other admins to answer.

Syren: I second what Chamomile mentioned, and I also get a lot of inspiration from @inell​ who is a writing machine in the Sterek fandom. It's insane how many stories she churns out, and they often help me mindlessly brainstorm, if that makes any sense??

Jynn: I get a lot of inspiration from @otpprompts​!

Vox: @otpprompts​ and @writing-prompt-s​ are two other really great prompt blogs! ( ≧▽≦)

Anon asked: curious about the new assistant admins. mind doing information pages for them like you did for the admins?

Chamomile: Here’s all of our pages: Chamomile // M // Syren // Jynn // Vox

Anon asked: When I'm grown, a martyr I will never be. I won't cry for you. I won't suffer for the things you do. I won't cry for you, see. Even though I understand you, Kankri.

Chamomile: this is a sin

M: get outta here

Syren: *Castiel voice* I don't understand that reference.

Jynn: I had to actually go back and find this song again for Chamomile so I just have to say how dare you make me relive that.

Vox: This ask has 6een marked as triggera6le and will 6e taken d9wn by Kankri Vantas. (ง •̀_•́)ง

Anon asked: So I know that this blog is SFW, but do you mind if I use your prompts in a NSFW story?

Chamomile: That’s totally fine! Whatever you do with our prompts is totally up to you.

M: ^^^^^

Anon asked: Have you decided what theme you'll be using? I remember a while back one of the admins asked what the followers think about the current theme.

Chamomile: Oh yeah, we got this solved a long while back. If anybody has a theme that they think is really nice and that we should try out, then send it to us!

Anon asked: What is your opinion on "Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life"?

Chamomile: get out

M: leeeeeeeave

Syren: I am daily surrounded by meme trash and could probably recite it perfectly if I tried. I am only slightly ashamed.

Jynn: I'll never forget it. That being said, I never want it in my presence ever again.

Vox: You scream, I scream, we all scream for Dank Memes™

Anon asked: I finally talked to my future college roommate. Accidentally ignore her email for a week tho... Not really off to a great start?

Chamomile: I can’t tell if this is a prompt or you telling us about your day but my advice would be to get her a card that’s like “I’m sorry I ignored your email for a week” and then some candy or whatever else she likes.

M: Lol man that did not happen with my current roommate - we actually sent each other our first introductory emails at the exact same moment even though I was across the country. Thankfully, we’ve clicked very well, but I would recommend not getting on their bad side right away, or that’ll make your year not so much fun.

Syren: Dude, I am the worst person at communicating possibly ever. I have lost friends because I forget to reply to them for months, no joke. I've found the best way to make it up is to be as sincere with your apology as possible. I've learned not to make excuses. Don't sweat it!

Jynn: I'm glad you reached out to your roommate, good job! I'd go with Chamomiles card and candy idea.

Vox: -looks at the messages I have in Line that are months old- -l a u g h s- Oh honey.

Anon asked: Do you (admins and assistants) know how to make gifs? Also, how do you pronounce "gifs"? "Jifs" or "gifs".

Chamomile: I have no clue on how to make a gif, and I pronounce it like “gift” without a “t”.

M: Gifs. Hard G. I will fight you on this.

Syren: I have no clue how to make a gif, though I've been thinking about learning (barely any gifs out there for When We Rise). Hard g.

Jynn: There are tons of gif makers online, I also have an app for that. I pronounce it “Gif” with a hard G

Vox: I LOVE making gifs!! They’re super fun. Also I use both alternatively.

Anon asked: how do the admins like the new assistants? And how do the assistants like the admins?

Chamomile: I think they’re pretty great! Everybody has been really good with getting their prompts in the drafts so admin m and I can approve them. No real problems.

M: Two thumbs up from me! I can now feel more stress about my school and social life than about this darn blog...

Syren: They're all generally fabulous people and make me feel welcomed. I'm the youngest of the bunch, but that doesn't change anything. Also, I have a habit for apologizing for everything, and they always assure me that it's all good and that they've all been there.

Jynn: Chamomile, Em, and I have actually all been friends for upwards of a couple years now, and I've contributed to the blog here and there before so it hasn't been super different for me tbh.

Vox: If I could put emojis into replies, this right here would just be a string of sparkles and hearts. Everyone’s been really nice!!

Anon asked: I haven't been on this site since forever and I just got back. Nice to see more prompts that I can add to my growing list of things I want to try writing :) (Also, "Runaway" and "So Sad, So Sad" are some of my favorite songs! :D )

Chamomile: Eeeeee! Thanks for loving the blog! Also I know right, I have some pretty good music taste if I do say so myself ;)

Anon asked: Knowing that someone else uses Japanese emoticons makes me really happy. ＼＼\ (۶ÒワÒ)۶//／／ Where do you get yours from, Vox? An app, website, or other?

Vox: Yaaaaa, kaomoji are super funnnnn!! ☆⌒(*＾-°)v I have a Japanese keyboard on my phone so I automatically have a bunch of them readily available.

Anon asked: Choose five of the blog's followers that you've talked to a fair amount and say what story genre you think they would be a character in, and if they would be a protag or antag.

Chamomile: Instead of choosing just five, I went with all of them. Here’s the link

M: I willllllll do this over break - expect a post on my admin blog!

Anon asked: If life was a standardized test, you would be "Answer B" because I always turn to you when I don't know what to do.

Chamomile:....that’s actually really sweet?

M: Omfg.

Syren: This would be really cute if the thought of standardized tests didn't throw me into a panic over upcoming midterms, SATs, and ACTs

Jynn: Awwwwww!

Vox: I’m in various stages of oh god and that’s so sweet and lol my name is actually Bee so this is kind of great, are you flirting with me anon, winkwink. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Anon asked: What do you call a flirty Greek? A Socratease

Chamomile: The King of flirty Greeks is Mithridatetease (Mithridates)

M: Get out.

Syren: As long as they don't have an Oedipus complex, they can tease all they want

Jynn: More like MithriDATEs

Vox: Has war flashbacks to Greek myth lectures. Sweats nervously.

@all-made-of-stardust​ asked: So I love your blog, and I especially love all your Never Book quotes. I was wondering - what's your policy on using those quotes? Can I directly use the whole quote? Should I change it a bit? Should I not use it at all? There's several quotes I have been thinking about using, and I just wanted to make sure I was doing it right.

Chamomile: hey there! This is a pretty popular question, but our policy is that you can change it however you want (adding in words, changing pronouns, etc.) but don’t repost it anywhere without crediting us. Cutting our parts is also totally fine. If you write something inspired by TNB, or has a TNB quote in it, make sure to shoot us a message and we’ll make sure to add it to the follower’s works page!

@ihaveatheoryabouttimetravel​ asked: What exactly is the never book?

Chamomile: Hey! I’m the creator of The Never Book (TNB) and here’s the long version of how/why I created it (link), but the short version is that TNB is supposed to be a collection of writing prompts to help inspire you to write. Some of them are very dramatic, while other ones are humorous, and other ones are meant to be cliffhangers that make you want to write what happens next. The name “The Never Book” is supposed to imply that all of these quotes come from a story that has never been written, meaning that they’re free game for prompts as well as to make stories out of.

Note: I’ve entertained the idea of trying to write a piece of fiction with a ton of TNB quotes crammed into it. Might try to get around to that if anybody is interested.

Anon asked: Is it okay to Writer's Block shame a friend who has an almost complete first chapter for 57 different fanfiction pieces???

Chamomile: #me

M: Shame us all

Syren: I'm too fragile to be bombarded like this

Jynn: I'm being called out.

Vox: First of all how dare, it’s only 56. (ง •̀_•́)ง

anon asked: tbh between chamomile and m i really thought that chamomile was younger. i have been surprised but not unpleasantly so             

Chamomile: I’m definitely shorter and rounder than admin m, but I’m older by like, a year and a half? Something like that?

M: I am the alpha.

anon asked: assistant admins, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor?

Syren: Blue Moon (it's an upper Midwest thing I guess)

Jynn: Chocolate

Vox: Mint chocolate chip

#admin m #admin chamomile #admin syren #admin jynn #admin vox #ask the admins #ata #faq #this has been a public broadcast #long post

[kaz2y5-imagines]

Castle On the Hill

Title: Castle on the Hill

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Word Count: 3,038

Theme song: Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran

Request: Hiii Kazzy! I love your blog and I've noticed that you like Ed Sheeran (I love him too) and he released Castle On The Hill today and he's given so many feels so I was wondering whether you'd be interested in doing a dean/reader based on it with them ending up together? I'd love to see what you'd be able to do with that but only if you want to. If not, just know you're an amazing and your Riptide, Stolen Dance and Red String Of Fate series have changed me forever <3 <3

x

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

-------------------

Dean is nine years old and he’s home. Or at least as close to home as he has these days, and running wild along the very top of the hill that looks down over to his Uncle Bobby’s house.

“Dean, slow down!” Sam yells from somewhere behind him, still running up the other side of it.

“I can’t slow down, I’m a ghost, Sammy! You gotta catch me!”

“Uncle Bobby just yelled for us! Dad’s back! I’ll race you home!”

Dean turns his head to look toward his brother’s voice, but he doesn’t slow his brand-new-tennis-shoed feet.

“No, Sam, come on. We just started—“ his words are lost, though, as the tip of his sneaker hits a rock and down he goes, falling to his knees on the edge of the hill where gravity takes over completely. He tumbles down the side of it, his small body picking up enough speed that the hands he has thrown out in front of him do little to slow his descent, and he comes unceremoniously to a skidding stop in the dirt at the bottom in a small cloud of dust that fills his nostrils.

“Wow. I’ve never seen anyone do that on accident before.”

Dean looks up and finds himself staring up at you. Your hands are on your hips and you’re appraising him with a golden halo of sunset light behind you, framing your fly-away hair. Dean opens his mouth to reply, surprised when only a small whimper comes out as he tries to stand at the same time and finds that his leg isn’t quite complying. A glance down at it reveals his jeans are torn on both knees, the skin there and on his palms scraped bloody and pocked with small rocks.

“Here,” you say, offering him a hand. He wipes his own on the front of his shirt, ridding it of some of the dirt before taking the help from his new, uninvited companion.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” he says, as he stands to his feet. His right leg is ginger when he tries to put weight on it and you frown a little before taking his arm and slinging it around your shoulder.

“Where’s your house?” you ask. He points back up the hill with a slight grimace, but you nod once and start a slow path with him in the fading light.

“We were playing ghosts,” Dean says, though you hadn’t asked. You glance over at him and nod in understanding.

“Did the ghost get you?”

“I was the ghost!” he says, affronted.

“I’ve never seen a ghost fall down a hill like that,” you say with a giggle, but stop with the look he gives you.

“Does it hurt bad?” you ask, back-tracking. Dean stiffens his lip and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t hurt at all.”

“One time,” you start, “I was on the swings at school and I’d made a bet that I could jump the farthest out of everyone, even though mom says I shouldn’t make bets. And I was going so high and I jumped at just the right time so it felt like I was flying, like in a dream, but I landed on my arm and I had to wear a cast for part of last year. It’s even in my school picture. My teacher signed it and she drew a smiley face like she does when I get a good grade on the spelling tests.”

“You broke your arm?”

“Uh-huh. But you know what?”

“What?”

“I won the bet,” you say with a grin, and Dean is smiling back, and the pain in his leg has faded away from the forefront of his mind for a moment. You help him hobble the rest of the way back to his Uncle Bobby’s in silence, save the sound of your feet over dead grass, and he unwraps his arm from around your shoulder when he gets to the porch. You stand at the bottom and watch him use the railing for support as he makes his slow way up it.

“Thanks,” he says, remembering his manners just when he’s made it to the front door. You smile widely at him in response, and there he goes again, smiling right back. You turn away, run a few steps before turning to look over your shoulder.

“I’m Y/N,” you call back to him as an afterthought.

“Dean.”

“Bye, Dean!”

It’s almost dark now, and he watches you run under the fast-arriving night with your hair flying out behind you, and he thinks of what you said, of how you felt like you were flying when you’d jumped. He watches you now, running fast and growing small, until he hears the heavy clunk-clunk-clunk of his father’s boots coming down the hall toward the front door, and Dean turns away, to head inside.

——————————

Dean is fifteen and he’s running. He cuts a path through the sparse, November-deadened woods with the twigs and branches making some serious attempts to grab at his flannel shirt and stop him. He’s put himself just ahead of you and he takes the brunt of their clawing scratches. You run behind him, laughing, breathlessly yelling at him to slow down. He throws a grin over his shoulder at you but doesn’t slow. Your hand is in his and you can’t recall which of you initiated that, but Dean gives your hand a squeeze now and without a word, the two of you go from running to a full-on sprint, fast as you can until you break through to the clearing—your clearing—and come to a stop.

Your hand falls from his and you lean over, elbows to your knees, to catch your breath.

“Think we lost ‘em?” you ask. Dean does a small turn of the area and you listen with him. Nothing.

“Told you I knew a shortcut.”

“And I told you that fake ID was crap,” you say with a laugh, standing up straight again. “I knew you were going to get caught.”

With a grin and a flourish, he pulls the item in question from his jacket pocket, along with a couple of minis and a small bottle of whisky.

“Did you steal those?” you ask, eyes wide. He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but his grin widens at the look on your face.

“Hey, I tried to give them money. It’s not my fault they weren’t going to sell to Ted Nugent.”

You roll your eyes with a laugh, about to comment on his alias choice when the rest of your group comes breaking into the clearing. A couple of friends from your school, and Sam just behind them. You all converge in the middle, patting backs and relaying stories of how you’d lost the small town cops chasing you, and then Dean is uncapping and raising the whisky, toasting loudly to your new job and your first paycheck, which would have paid for the drinks if the liquor store hadn’t had it out for Ted Nugent. Your group dissolves into laughter and the passing of the bottle, and the night begins.

——

Dean finds you later, after the half-moon is high in the inkwell sky, and two of your group have already had too much, thrown up, and tapped out for the night. You’ve made your way up the hill and you sit with your arms around you, listening to the noise of your friends laughing below; their words and stories are just far enough away to be indiscernible. They are a blended familiarity in the dark.

Dean finishes climbing the hill and takes a long, slow breath before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You cold?” he asks. You smile up at him and shake your head.

“Think the whisky’s keeping me warm.”

He takes a seat beside you and pulls his knees up to draw his arms around.

“How’d you like it?”

“Whisky?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, it’s terrible,” you say, eliciting a laugh from him. “Yeah, it’s really bad.”

“Well, I got the cheap stuff,” he says. You elbow him softly and laugh with him.

“My first drink and you go cheap?”

“I didn’t want to use up your whole first paycheck,” he says, looking to you with a grin. “Speaking of which.” He pulls the cash you’d given him earlier in the afternoon from his pocket and hands it to you.

“For next time,” you say with a nod.

“Next time,” he agrees. You look up at the sky again and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the futility of trying to hold your next question in.

“Which will be when, do you think?” you ask, giving into it.

Dean’s followed your gaze skyward and he blinks up at the stars before shaking his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if dad knows. He just…drops us off,” he says. “Could be next week, could be next fall.” Your stomach drops at the thought of a whole year before seeing him again.

“Why can’t you just stay with your Uncle?” you ask, blurting the words before you can stop yourself. “You’d be able to stay at one school, you’d have friends here. You could—“

“I can’t, Y/N. It’s family, you know? We have to stick together,” he says. You chew on the inside of your cheek, nodding, and the sky swims in your watery eyes. You feel Dean look at you and he shifts immediately, turning to face you more fully and reaching a hand out just halfway before stopping.

“Maybe I am a little cold,” you say, and you take advantage of the few seconds you have of Dean looking away as he shrugs out of his coat to wipe at your eyes. He drapes it over your shoulders, running his hand up and down your arm a couple times.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, voice low. You shake your head just barely.

“A couple sips. It was really gross,” you reiterate, laughing in spite of yourself. “Why?”

And then Dean is leaning forward, right toward you and you don’t even have time to be nervous because you’re closing your eyes as if you’ve done this a hundred times, and meeting him in the middle. It’s short—just a second or two of his lips on yours, before he pulls away and blinks at you. You’re warm from the whisky, or his jacket, or the kiss, or some combination of the three, and wonder idly about the goosebumps along your arms.

Dean stays silent but he moves his hand closer to yours, just so that his thumb is brushing over your wrist. You lean into him, allowing yourself to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Is this where we met?” you ask suddenly. Dean’s quiet a beat longer before he shakes his head.

“It was a little farther that way,” he says, pointing ahead of you.

“Well, you’d know,” you tease. “You saw that spot from every angle possible.”

“I was six.”

“You were clumsy.”

“I did it on purpose,” he tries, but you shake your head and then rest it on his shoulder.

“Nope.”

Slowly, Dean leans his head just slightly to rest against yours, breathing in your shampoo smell.

“I’d stay if I could,” he says, quieter now. None of your words seem right and so you say nothing, just turn your hand palm-up and twine your fingers with his. You both face out toward the small town below your hill, with your friends on the other side, and you and Dean sitting on top overlooking it like silent royalty to the summer-night kingdom, and only cricket song between you.

——————————

Dean is thirty-three and he’s tired. That can’t be right, though, can it? Because there’s something in his eyes, in the way he carries himself, the way his shoulders seem to hunch over some now, that speaks of so many more years than that.

“You’re getting old,” you say suddenly. He turns his faux-offended look full on you, eyes narrowed so that you have to laugh.

“That means you’re getting old too, smart-ass,” he says, barely suppressing his grin.

“Yeah, but I look good,” you say. Dean rolls his eyes, but nods his acquiescence.

“You always look good. And that dress…”

You look down at yourself, running your hands over the dark fabric.

“Wish it was for a better reason.”

“Yeah, Bobby would’ve hated this. Always hated the big funeral thing. He said they were more for the living than the dead,” Dean says, looking around the kitchen.

“He wasn’t wrong.”

You’re reminded of the few times you’d had dinner there, always regaling Bobby with the story of Dean’s tumble until Bobby was laughing belly-laughs with Sam, and Dean was scowling in his embarrassed, little boy way.

Dean pulls you from your thoughts by pushing away from the counter and going for the fridge, pulling a six pack of beer from it and tucking it under his arm.

“Come on,” he says, pushing the back door open and holding it for you. You glance to the living room where a few people are still lingering over drinks and small plates of food.

“We can’t leave. You can’t leave.”

“Sam’s got it. I can’t be here anymore, I’m friggin’ suffocating,” Dean says, and you can’t deny him. You follow him out into the fresh air.

You walk close to Dean for a few minutes in silence. It’s an otherwise quiet day; days in Sioux Falls usually are. You make it about a half a mile down the road before Dean offers you a beer. He hesitates to take one for himself after you decline.

“You can drink,” you tell him. He considers the beer in his hand and then stops abruptly. You stop, too, and back up a step to stand beside him once more. He lost his jacket earlier, about five minutes into the funeral, and he stands now with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, standing on the side of the dirt road looking east. He seems to be lost in thought and you reach out to him, placing your hand gently on his forearm and saying his name just once.

“We’re losing a lot of people, Y/N,” he says, not looking directly at you.

You let your hand fall to your side and wait.

“But Bobby…I always thought he was invincible, you know? Like…well, like dad.”

You nod. There’d been no funeral for that, no get-together. It was something you’d learned in a phone call during that interminable stretch of time when Dean hadn’t visited.

“Who else?” you ask.

“Ash,” he starts. “Pamela.”

You stand, not looking directly at him but shifting just so he can feel your arm brush his, so he knows you’re there.

“Ellen,” he says.

“And Jo,” you offer, almost a whisper.

“And Jo,” he confirms. You felt a pang of empathy for her, having only heard a few stories in passing. She must have felt the same as you; always waiting for Dean to come around again, even if it was only for a day.

“And now Bobby,” Dean finishes. He runs his hand down his drawn face with a heavy sigh. “We just keep losing people and there’s not a damn thing I can do.”

“You’ve still got Jody,” you tell him. She’s still back at Bobby’s right now, probably doing more hosting duties than her fair share. Dean gives you a small nod.

“And that Garth guy? He’s still around, right?”

Dean lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, he’s still around.”

“And Sam,” you add. It’s at this that Dean finally looks at you, and all at once you see that little boy you’d known and this too-old man in front of you now. It’s jarring and you’re struck by it, by him, and how he’s become such a part of your life, fleeting as he’s been.

“And you?” he asks. You smile at him, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“And me.”

He offers his free hand to you and you take it without question.

“We should go back,” he says.

You bite down on your words, on your offer to come with him when he and Sam hit the road again. It’s not the time. Besides, you know that he’s just listed every reason why he wouldn’t allow it; that ever-growing list of ones he’s lost and how he’s not willing to risk adding your name to it. You can feel yourself squeezing his hand too tight, as though you could keep him there with you this time, but he says nothing about it. And you remind yourself that he’ll always come back.

——————————

Dean is thirty-eight and he's pushing the Impala to her limits. Sam is barely able to read the sign that they fly by as they race down the two-lane blacktop.

“Dean, slow down!” Sam chides, righting his computer on his lap as he types out an email back to Jody.

“No can do, Sammy,” Dean says with a grin.

“You’re going to get us killed.”

“No. I know these roads,” he replies. His phone chirps in his pocket and he pulls it out, unlocking the screen and looking down just long enough to see the picture you’ve sent. You’re smiling wide, holding the phone out to show the small townscape panorama down below you as you stand tall on your hill. There’s two words in a text below the picture.

With nostalgia in his veins, Dean pushes down on the gas to see if he can get anymore out of his car. The sun is setting and Dean’s got a bet with himself that he can get to you before the moon does.

“I know these roads,” he says again, mostly to himself now. “And Y/N’s waiting.”

They cross the city limits and Dean feels it in his heart, unstoppable like rolling down a hill. Like flying off a swing-set and it feeling like flying.

Dean is twenty, he’s thirty-eight, he’s seventeen, he’s nine years old, and he’s home.

#dean #dean winchester #dean one shot #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fan fiction #spn fan fiction #dean fan fiction #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #supernatural #songfic #song fic