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eldritchw1tch · 3 years

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i don’t want you like a best friend: a tswift-pimms playlist

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this is the pimms playlist i spent more than a year working on from like, 2018 to the end of 2019! as such, it only contains music up through lover, not anything from folklore or evermore. @permets-2 finally poked me into posting the liner notes, which I gave up on because tumblr formatting was fighting me, so please know i haven’t actually looked at them since 2019 and there might still be missing things? idk.

this playlist is absolutely dedicated to my beloved @faiasakura, who did her own version of an all-tswift pimms playlist completely independently (we actively avoided comparing notes, lol), which can be found here!

i don’t really go here lately but i hope this is of interest to someone!

Prologue

1. Don’t Blame Me (reputation)

for you, I would fall from grace

Just to touch your face

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay

…

Lord save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Act 1: The Q

2. Gorgeous (reputation)

a crush

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

…

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

3. Treacherous (Red)

something magnetic, pulling them both in

And I'll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I'd be smart to walk away

But you're quicksand

…

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I will follow you, follow you home

4. Dress (reputation)

a shared and precious secret: love, desperate and messy and everything. But also: the scrutiny, the frenetic anxiety, the fear.

I’m spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about—

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you

5. Tied Together With a Smile (Taylor Swift)

the pressure builds; jack’s anxiety gets worse

Hold on, baby you're losing it

The water's high, you're jumping into it

And letting go, and no one knows

That you cry, but you don't tell anyone

That you might not be the golden one

And you're tied together with a smile

But you're coming undone

6. Long Live (Speak Now)

the glory, the playoffs, the memorial cup: the golden boys of hockey, on top of the world

Long live the walls we crashed through

All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

I was screaming, long live all the magic we made

And bring on all the pretenders

One day, we will be remembered

…

Hold on, to spinning around

Confetti falls to the ground

May these memories break our fall

7. State of Grace (Red)

the 34 days, inside kent’s euphoria

This is a state of grace

This is the worthwhile fight

Love is a ruthless game

Unless you play it good and right

These are the hands of fate

You’re my Achilles heel

this is the golden age of something good and right and real

8. Cruel Summer (Lover)

(that golden season and its dark underbelly)

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true

I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh)

And I scream, "For whatever it's worth

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

9. Haunted (Speak Now)

the overdose: kent finds jack on the bathroom floor

Whoa, holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

10. I Know Places (1989)

kent in the waiting room, holding on hope

Something happens when everybody finds out

See the vultures circling, dark clouds

Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out

It could burn out

…

Lights flash and we'll run for the fences

Let them say what they want, we won't hear it

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Not this time

Act 2: The Fallout

11. The Story of Us (Speak Now)

kent goes to the draft; jack won’t answer his calls

Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room

And we're not speaking

And I'm dying to know

Is it killing you like it's killing me?

Yeah, and I don't know what to say

Since the twist of fate, when it all broke down

And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now

…

The battle's in your hands now

But I would lay my armor down

If you say you'd rather love than fight

12. Last Kiss (Speak Now)

jack and kent, the same realization from opposite sides

So I'll go sit on the floor

Wearing your clothes

All that I know is

I don't know how to be something you miss

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

Never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

13. Death By A Thousand Cuts (Lover)

Starting to live with the devastation and the broken heart

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

Flashbacks waking me up

I get drunk, but it's not enough

’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

I look through the windows of this love

Even though we boarded them up

Chandelier's still flickering here

’Cause I can't pretend it's okay when it's not

It's death by a thousand cuts

14. If This Was A Movie (Speak Now)

regrets and memories

Last night, I heard my own heart beating

Sounded like footsteps on my stairs

Six months gone and I'm still reaching

Even though I know you're not there

I was playing back a thousand memories, baby

Thinkin' 'bout everything we've been through

Maybe I've been going back too much lately

When time stood still and I had you

15. Cold as You (Taylor Swift)

the grief and pain become anger and bitterness

And when you take, you take the very best of me

So I start a fight cause I need to feel something

And you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted

…

You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray

And I stood there loving you and wished them all away

And you come away with a great little story

Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you

Interlude 1: Jack

16. I Almost Do (Red)

kent doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does (but jack doesn’t either)

I bet you think I either moved on or hate you

‘Cause each time you reach out, there’s no reply

I bet it never, ever occurred to you

That I can’t say hello to you

And risk another goodbye

…

Oh, we made quite a mess, babe

It’s probably better off this way

And I confess, babe

In my dreams, you’re touching my face

And asking me if I want to try again with you

And I almost do

Act 3: Coming of Age in Vegas

17. New Romantics (1989)

vegas; teammates; living in the moment; drinking, dancing, and self-destructing

We're all here, the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back, it's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my Ace (ahh)

We need love, but all we want is danger

We team up, then switch sides like a record changer

The rumors are terrible and cruel

But honey, most of them are true

…

Heartbreak is the national anthem

We sing it proudly

We’re too busy dancing (yeah) to get knocked off our feet

Baby, we're the new romantics

The best people in life are free

18. Begin Again (Red)

kent starts to move on

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

19. The Way I Loved You (Fearless)

all the drinking and dancing and dating still feel empty and hollow; he just wants to feel again; he just wants that love back

I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

It's 2 AM and I'm cursing your name

I'm so in love that I acted insane

And that's the way I loved you

Breaking down and coming undone

It's a roller coaster kind of rush

And I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you

…

He can't see the smile I'm faking

And my heart's not breaking

'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all

And you were wild and crazy

Just so frustrating

Intoxicating, complicated

20. The Lucky One (Red)

kent parson: the loneliest boy, so alone at the top of the world

You had it figured out since you were in school

Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool

So overnight, you look like a sixties queen

…

And they tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused

'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used

And all the young things line up to take your place

—

Another name goes up in lights

You wonder if you’ll make it out alive

21. Come In With The Rain (Fearless)

(starting to move on is not the same as letting go)

I’ve watched you so long, screamed your name

I don’t know what else I can say

…

But I’ll leave my window open

'Cause I’m too tired at night to call your name

Just know I’m right here hoping

That you’ll come in with the rain

Act 4: Implosion

22. Out of the Woods (1989)

memories he can’t escape of a love like a car crash

The night we couldn't quite forget

When we decided, we decided

To move the furniture so we could dance

Baby, like we stood a chance

Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying

And I remember thinking

Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet? Are we out of the woods yet?

…

You took a Polaroid of us

Then discovered (then discovered)

The rest of the world was black and white

But we were in screaming color

23. Red (Red)

Kent decides to go to epikegster

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati

Down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin

Ending so suddenly

…

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head

In burning red

Loving him was red

24. The Last Time (Red)

didja miss me? (something tentative; something a little bit hopeful on both sides)

Find myself at your door

Just like all those times before

I’m not sure how I got there

All roads they lead me here

I imagine you are home

In your room, all alone

And you open your eyes into mine

And everything feels better

25. The Archer (Lover)

kent tries to extend an olive branch but it’s still covered in thorns

Combat, I'm ready for combat

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

…

I've been the archer, I've been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling

But who could stay?

…

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then I hate my reflection for years and years

26. Bad Blood (1989)

jack’s answer to kent’s wounded lashing out

Oh, it's so sad to

Think about the good times

You and I

…

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood

You know it used to be mad love

So take a look what you've done

’Cause baby, now we've got bad blood, hey!

27. Breathe (Fearless)

kent, driving away from epikegster

I see your face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

…

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

…

And I can't breathe without you, but I have to

Breathe without you but I have to

28. All Too Well (Red)

despite all the pain, there’s an irresistible nostalgia for what they had all those years ago—for when things were so much simpler

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

Too well

…

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still trying to find it

Interlude 2: Kent

29. Fifteen (Fearless)

a memory, a reflection

'Cause when you're fifteen and somebody tells you they love you

You're gonna believe them

And when you're fifteen and your first kiss

Makes your head spin 'round

But in your life you'll do things greater than

Dating the boy on the football team

But I didn't know it at fifteen

…

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday

But I realized some bigger dreams of mine

Act 5: Moving On, Growing Up

30. Clean (1989)

finally learning to be his own person, separate from that shared past

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

When the butterflies turned to

Dust that covered my whole room

So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh)

Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you

…

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud

But no one heard a thing

…

Rain came pouring down

When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe

And by morning

Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean

31. 22 (Red)

friends and freedom, and real joy in that this time around

It feels like a perfect night

To dress up like hipsters

And make fun of our exes, uh-uh, uh-uh

It feels like a perfect night

For breakfast at midnight

To fall in love with strangers, uh-uh, uh-uh

…

Yeah

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time

It's miserable and magical, oh, yeah

Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines

It's time, oh-oh

32. So It Goes… (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

'Cause we break down a little

But when you get me alone, it's so simple

'Cause baby, I know what you know

We can feel it

…

And all the pieces fall right into place

Getting caught up in a moment

Lipstick on your face

So it goes…

…

I'm yours to keep

And I'm yours to lose

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I

Do bad things with you

So it goes…

33. Dancing With Our Hands Tied (reputation)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

I, I loved you in secret

First sight, yeah, we love without reason

Oh, twenty-five years old

Oh, how were you to know?

…

Could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets

Picture of your face in an invisible locket

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I had a bad feeling

…

I'd kiss you as the lights went out

Swaying as the room burned down

I'd hold you as the water rushes in

If I could dance with you again

34. Wildest Dreams (1989)

[a doomed love can still be a good one]

He's so tall and handsome as hell

He's so bad, but he does it so well

I can see the end as it begins

My one condition is

…

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your

Wildest dreams, ah-aah, haa

34. Shake It Off (1989)

At the top of his game, at the top of his sport, and actually happy at long last

I never miss a beat

I'm lightning on my feet

And that's what they don’t see, mm, mm

…

But I keep cruisin'

Can't stop, won't stop groovin'

It's like I got this music in my mind

Saying it's gonna be alright

…

'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play

And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break

And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake

Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake

I shake it off, I shake it off

35. Holy Ground (Red)

Remembering with enough distance and experience to appreciate what was, not ache from it

Spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

We had this big wide city all to ourselves

We blocked the noise with the sound of, "I need you"

And for the first time, I had something to lose

And I guess we fell apart in the usual way

And the story's got dust on every page

But sometimes, I wonder how you think about it now

And I see your face in every crowd

…

'Cause darling, it was good

Never looking down

And right there where we stood

Was holy ground

Act 6: Reunion

36. ME! (Lover)

reconnection, reconciliation, re-appreciation

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

…

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Livin' in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e

37. This Love (1989)

an unexpected reawakening

Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in my mind, only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

…

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up just in time

…

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead, oh-oh, oh

These hands had to let it go free, and

This love came back to me, oh-oh, oh

38. End Game (reputation) (ft. ed sheeran as jack)

After all this time, there are things they aren’t ever going to let go of again, no matter the trouble they bring

I got a bad boy persona, that's what they like (what they like)

You love it, I love it too 'cause you my type (You my type)

You hold me down, and I protect you with my life

…

I don't wanna touch you, I don't wanna be

Just another ex-love you don’t wanna see

I don’t wanna miss you (I don't wanna miss you)

Like the other girls do

I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be

Drinking on a beach with you all over me

I know what they all say (I know what they all say)

But I ain't tryna play

…

I wanna be your end game (End game)

I wanna be your first string (First string)

I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team)

I wanna be your end game, end game

39. You Are In Love (1989)

something real; something sacred; something to build a life on

You can hear it in the silence (silence), silence (silence), you

You can feel it on the way home (way home), way home (way home), you

You can see it with the lights out (lights out), lights out (lights out)

You are in love, true love

You are in love

…

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night, he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says "You're my best friend"

And you knew what it was, he is in love

40. Change (Fearless)

when the two biggest hockey players of their generation come out of the closet—together—are in love with each other—it changes more lives than just theirs

So we've been outnumbered, raided, and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair

We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found

They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this

…

'Cause these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

This revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah

Oh, oh

41. Call It What You Want (reputation)

When it stops mattering what anyone else thinks

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressing up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn

At least I did one thing right

I did one thing right

I'm laughing with my lover, makin' forts under covers

Trust him like a brother

Yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

…

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

So call it what you want, yeah

Call it what you want to

42. Lover (Lover)

love

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

…

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever, ah

Take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

43. New Year’s Day (reputation)

love

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi

I can tell that it's gonna be a long road

I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe

Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

…

Don't read the last page

But I stay when it’s hard or it’s wrong or we're making mistakes

I want your midnights

But I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

44. Daylight (Lover)

Building a new life in the daylight

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you truth, but never goodbye

…

I once believed love would be (burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

…

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

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deans-haunted-baby · 3 years

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The Ones Left Behind

Alrighty time for some truth bombs. I’ve had almost a week to absorb the end of Supernatural and season 15 as a whole. And I think this is the moment where I need to throw in my two cents. For all intents and purposes I won’t go in-depth into 15x20 seeing as that conversation will just open up a whole other can of worms and I don’t need that headache. I have my reasons for being less than indifferent with how the Winchesters’ story concluded. So I won’t go there.

Instead I’ll be focusing all my energies on the unsatisfying conclusions of 4 particular characters. Two of which were main cast members (one that was on the show 12 years and one 4 years) while the other two (played by the same dude) were brought back after a decade long hiatus for a much-anticipated comeback only to be wasted and mangled unfairly by Dabb and his hack horde of a writing staff. Call this a follow up to my last post. If I sound bitter I am because these people don’t have a single clue on how to helm these characters, their relationships or their storylines 😠 Nor do they deserve them.

And yes I’m well aware of Kevin Tran, Rowena, Ketch and several others who got the shaft on this show. Those could be future posts for another time.

But I cannot stress this enough; ADAM MILLIGAN, JACK KLINE, MICHAEL AND CASTIEL ALL DESERVED FUCKING BETTER. There is no arguing these facts, none whatsoever. Not one of these characters deserved that exit to be the final chapter in their story. I won’t do an entire analysis of each character’s arc and role in the show as I’ve already done that in my rant about 15x19. But I will highlight how much season 15 royally screwed over these characters and tossed them aside like trash; as if none of them were ever part of/contributed anything to Sam and Dean’s history/world building of Supernatural’s universe.

*WARNING* This is going to get heated.

Before I dive into the heart of these issues I want to state this is not a “shipping post”. I don’t ship anyone on Supernatural, hopefully this blog has been pretty self-explanatory. So I have no arguments/opinions in those areas. I’ve been a fan of this series for 15 years because of the characters, the familial bonds and relationships formed between characters throughout its run. And I’m well-aware that the Winchesters are the lead protagonists of the show, no need to remind me. These are purely my own thoughts based what I’ve obtained from show canon. Let me just say I can’t get over just how much these writers contradicted and ignored what they put forth in the journeys of these four individuals. its a real headscratcher.

You mean to tell me that after TWELVE DAMN YEARS of Castiel being a rebellious warrior angel, searching for his own identity and meaning in life; making that promise to Kelly Kline about raising Jack as his own/risking his life for him. After sacrificing himself for his son a year ago, acknowledging he was satisfied with his role as a father which restored his faith; that it was all because of/for Dean Winchester?

You mean to tell me that after Michael, THE PRINCE OF HEAVEN and PROTECTOR OF HUMANITY, was locked away in a cage with a human whom he emotionally bonded with for thousands of years (10 years our time); who was abandoned, betrayed and manipulated by his neglectful/abusive father. After choosing free will and aligning himself with TFW for humanity’s sake, just sided with the Earth’s destruction because his little brother called him names?

You mean to tell me that Jack, A THREE YEAR OLD CHILD, who’s barely just beginning his life and spent his entire duration on the show wanting to be normal and not wanting to be special. Connecting and being integrated with humans; a child who’s biggest fear was outliving everyone he ever loved. Is suddenly ready to walk away from his family, his home and his teddy bear; to give up being a kid forever and run the universe?

You mean to tell me that Adam, SUPERNATURAL’S MOST INNOCENT CHARACTER and FORGOTTEN THIRD-WINCHESTER BROTHER, after being eaten by ghouls; pulled away from his mother out of Heaven, manipulated by angels, trapped in Hell for thousands of years because Sam and Dean left him there to rot. After coming back and helping his neglectful siblings save the world only to be ripped away from his best friend and THE ONLY OTHER PERSON who gave a damn about him; is sentenced to a life of loneliness, homelessness and turmoil until he dies and ends up in Hell where he’ll mostly be tortured and turned into a demon?

NO. I DO NOT AND WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS BULLSHIT!

Season 15 not only manages to contradict itself where these characters are concerned (while assassinating them before the final curtain). But the writers deliberately discarded them before giving us that *sarcasm inserted* epic solo-Winchester conclusion. Regardless of how you feel about Adam, Castiel, Jack or Michael, ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS are connected Sam and Dean’s story and part of Supernatural. And when you throw them away like they mean nothing, you’re essentially throwing away a part of the show’s history. You’re ignoring 15 years worth of story building.

As I said I’m not going to go into 15x20 for reasons, it doesn’t offend me as much as what was done before that finale. Because I think those other show exits really affect 15x20 even worse than people realize. You want to know why, I’ll explain.

Lets start off with Castiel and Jack, OH BOY! We know where they end up; running Heaven and the Earth together which is all fine and dandy. I love my Dadstiel father/son duo being an endgame family unit. But here in lies the problem, we never saw it. Not even a cameo. And technically their onscreen storyline ends at 15x18 and 15x19 which is an ugly, anti-climatic bookend to an incredibly deep relationship that had 4 years of development. First you have Castiel who completely forgets why he made that deal with the Empty to begin with. HIS FUCKING SON. Not to mention it wasn’t about true happiness it was about giving himself permission to be happy; there is a difference. And then you have Jack wandering around next episode, vacuuming up power cause suddenly he’s a machine now, acting like he doesn’t give a shit over losing his dad to an entity HE’S BEEN DREADING ABOUT FOR A FUCKING YEAR.

Towards the end of season 15 I noticed neither of these characters were acting like themselves. Their motivations, their personalities and strong ties to one another had mysteriously dissolved. Castiel became less concerned about the danger his son was facing after 15x15 (what the hell was that in 15x17?) and more about speaking when spoken to by either Sam or Dean. Does he know how Dean truly feels about Jack; proclaiming the child is “not family”? I doubt the in-character version of him would let Jack leave with Dean after that insult. Castiel’s not even worried whether or not his son is alive or safe before he makes the big confession later. And for some reason Jack (who’d become heavily suicidal) was more concerned with clinging to the Winchesters, willing to die for them, instead focusing on himself and the one person who’s shown him nothing but unconditional love and given him strength since birth. Both of these characters are canonically depressed and suffer from low self-esteem that was never resolved which makes me furious.

When Chuck killed Jack at the end of season 14, this devastated Castiel in the first half of season 15. He actually got to grieve that loss throughout the episodes and deal with his anger over it, allowing the audience to anticipate the day they’d be reunited one last time. This part of Castiel’s S15 arc also ironically mirrors Jack’s S13 arc of mourning Castiel’s death until resurrecting him. And when this son finally returned to his father, who got to rescue him, it was such a poignant moment between the two. It was a cathartic payoff after witnessing Castiel in so much pain over Jack. There was so much building up between that Dadstiel reunion in 15x11 and the Empty’s pact in 14x08; this was suppose to be a tragic yet pivotal plot-point in both Jack and Castiel’s stories. And with SPN wrapping up we all expected something BIG. Yet somehow the writers retconned the whole thing by making it all about Dean, which is such a gross disservice to these characters and 4 years of storytelling.

For instance, since 15x18 was Castiel’s exit episode, why wasn’t he allowed to hug his son or Sam goodbye one last time? Why didn’t he have more of a focal role instead of standing around majority of the episode with barely any dialogue as so much precious air time was wasted on frivolous things? Why didn’t he get one last badass fight scene with someone like Death instead of being choked out and tossed around like a powerless mortal? Why did the group need to be split up to begin with when it served no purpose either than that *ugh* moment? Why wasn’t Jack allowed to call Castiel “dad” once before the show ended? He deserved to hear his son address him as dad!

AND WHY THE HELL COULDN’T JACK FEEL CASTIEL��S DEATH THE MOMENT IT HAPPENED?

The show already established to the audience the significant cosmic bond these two characters shared since before Jack was even born. It was so powerful it boosted Castiel’s grace. Jack could remember who Castiel was from the womb and that he’d protected his mother. Not to mention HE FUCKING RESURRECTED CASTIEL OUT OF THE EMPTY ONCE WITHOUT GOD’S POWER. You’re telling me Jack couldn’t feel his dad being taken away forever despite how far apart they were? No, he’d feel it in his heart. Had we’d been given a scene like that at the end of 15x18 (something of substance) with actual grief shown in 15x19 maybe the episode would’ve faired better for them.

That said it wasn’t, because Jack was treated the exact same way in his final exit. Hardly any lines and just a bunch of scenes of him standing/walking around until that pathetic reveal at the lake. HE DOESN’T EVEN GET TO INTERACT WITH JAKE ABEL’S MICHAEL/ADAM which would’ve been a great follow-up to the AU!Michael storyline in seasons 13 and 14. I swear these directors didn’t give Alex and Misha any motivation during their last three episodes and it’s evident in their hollow performances. But why would they when the scripts are basically telling their characters to quickly fuck off so the brothers can have their final outing. Jack doesn’t even behave like himself after he becomes the new God. His personality is apathetic, cold, alien, stiff and way too mature for the 3 year old child so closely connected to his family/the human world. In that moment I saw Alex Calvert not Jack Kline. It’s bad enough he doesn’t get a meaningful farewell but again Castiel, HIS DAD, is a complete afterthought to this kid 🥶

And that’s what we’re left with. Forever. A frigid, hollow ending to one of Supernatural’s most healthy, touching, family dynamics. It makes you wonder what was even the point. I can’t even fully enjoy the fact that its canon Jack and Castiel are together fixing Heaven because of what the show presented onscreen as their last hurrah. It’s not sitting right and it makes 15x20 even less appealing to me.

Moving onto Michael and Adam. Get ready for this. I could rant forever about how dirty my boys were done by this show. How they were discarded in the SPN series finale recap etc. just as they were FOR THE LAST TEN FUCKING YEARS. Was there even a plan going on here or was this just everyone making things up as it went? Their ending is the most unsatisfying and cruel thing because its INCOMPLETE. There is no real closure or resolution with them thanks to the monstrosity that was 15x19. AND NO ONE CARES ENOUGH ABOUT THEM TO GIVE A SHIT.

Much as I’ve enjoyed this show for many years, it NEVER deserved Jake Abel, his talent or his time. I keep seeing so many anti posts about Dean Winchester’s final fate in Supernatural and all I can think about is “try being an Adam Milligan fan for the last decade”. I’ve had to watch this boy go through hell with nothing to show for it either than years of memes. ridicule and the show’s mockery in forgetting him. Actually he’s the ONLY CHARACTER in this series you’re encouraged not to remember 😡 Also quick question: why give us this really interesting and healthy relationship between an archangel and its vessel if nothing was ever going to become of it?

At this point I don’t know why Adam or the idea of him was even introduced way back in season 4 let alone revisited in season 5. Because the only thing I see when I look at this character now is SAD WASTED POTENTIAL. Storylines never explored. Relationships that never got off the ground. Backstory we never got to see (like for instance his past with John Winchester and his time in the cage). A character’s birthright (Men of Letters) that was never actualized. AND the unexplained factor that Adam could look directly at Michael’s true form without his eyes burning out (making him a special case). And the thing is he could’ve been a really great character, both him and Michael. They could’ve easily reached popular status just like Castiel given the chance since Jake is a freaking acting-powerhouse. We were given a taste in 15x08 just how awesome these characters could be and how they could’ve contributed so much to the story and its core group. But unfortunately it wasn’t meant to be.

Michael will never redeem himself after years of scrutiny and being made out to be some kind of unhinged monster. This show constantly enjoyed pounding into our brains how fearsome Michael was. Warned us via Lucifer (LUCIFER, PEOPLE!) that he wasn’t rational, compassionate and didn’t care about anything except war, death and destruction. And that he was incapable of feelings and emotions. This is how Supernatural saw Heaven’s Prince and guardian of the Earth. Christ, they actually did a two-year storyline about an evil Michael from the AU world who enjoyed torturing and killing while trying to destroy the universe. I want to know WHAT THE HELL THIS SHOW’S WRITERS HAD AGINST THESE CHARACTERS? Why they felt the need to bring back Jake Abel, AFTER A DECADE OF FANS WANTING THIS, if it was simply to piss all over his characters one last time before the show wrapped. This is absolutely unprofessional and childish; the fact that Jake is taking this bullshit in stride makes it all the more shameful 😡

We could’ve learned so much more about Michael’s past and his present relationship with Adam. These characters didn’t need to sit in the cage for a decade they could’ve easily been incorporated back into the show as far as season 8 or 10! And been an asset to the Darkness storyline in season 11.There were characters and storylines introduced that served no purpose. Why did we need to keep seeing characters like Charlie Bradbury or (as much as I like him) Crowley or Garth (love him too) or Lucifer or Abaddon or the Wayward sisters? I would’ve much preferred having Adam and Michael around and got to know them instead; especially after 15x08. I would’ve wanted to see what their dynamic with TFW could’ve become had they been long-time allies. Did John ever tell Mary about Adam’s existence? I’d like to see what her reaction would’ve been like had the Winchesters remembered him during that damn 300th episode. I guess that’s another loose end untied.

But because of what Supernatural did to these two characters, it forever taints Sam and Dean. I don’t think Dabb or purist fans realize this. But when new viewers come into this show about two brothers preaching important things like “saving people”, “family first” or “family don’t end in blood” they’re going to see how badly the main protagonists treated their innocent half brother. How Castiel and Jack were treated. They’re going to see the heroes of the story abandoning this kid in Hell forever with no intention of EVER rescuing him. And that’s why their final appearance leaves such a bad taste going into 15x20. Cause as much as Dabb and co didn’t give a shit about Adam and Michael they also didn’t give a rat’s ass about protecting Sam and Dean’s integrity. That’ll be a stain they can’t undo.

So through all of it, we’re stuck with the abomination that is 15x19 aka the eye-soar to an unfinished/unpolished story of two horribly disregarded characters. Michael gets the pleasure of being character assassinated right before he’s stupidly killed off instead of going out a hero or becoming the next God (as it was his birthright and the setup was there in the narrative). And Adam gets killed off-screen, OUT OF HIS OWN DAMN BODY, then brought back by Jack only to live a miserable, isolated existence since his brothers have nothing to do with him (the dog and car are more important); his best friend is dead, he has no job or money or a fucking home and he’s legally dead! Really what is there left for him besides the brutal fate awaiting in Hell when he dies?

SERIOUSLY THEY COULDN’T GIVE US ONE SCENE WHERE THE WINCHESTERS CHECKED IN ON ADAM TO MAKE SURE HE WAS SAFE?! 🤬 His last scene pretty much sums up this shit for what it is. Tragic. I feel like crying for this poor sweet boy.

Congratulations Dabb, BL and co for giving us these much deserved broken story arcs of characters you destroyed and made OOC before leaving the airways. You did your show’s protagonists justice by doing this *sarcasm inserted* after 15 years of being onscreen. I doubt these idiotic decisions are going to age well in the long run. They certainly don’t look good on the Winchesters. Anyway that’s my hot take for the day.

ALL THESE ACTORS AND THEIR CHARACTERS DESERVED BETTER.

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selfshipwritingandstuff · 3 years

Text

When Past and Present meet Chapter 4

Chapter under the cut for spicy reasons

Divine.

That's the only word she could think of to describe the feeling of being with Jack again.

„Come on", he murmured into her shoulder. „You've had a long day, and this bed is big enough for two."

She chuckled. „You'll have to let go of me first, so I can get out of my uniform."

With a small grumble, he let go. „Fine, but don't be too long."

She shed the dress so quickly, she almost ripped it in the process. Then she crawled under the covers next to him, back into his eagerly waiting arms. Jack let out a pleased hum. „That's much better. Your skin is as soft as I remember, my dear." As if to emphasize his words, he let his fingers glide across her body, from her shoulders over her breasts, waist and finally to the hem of her smallclothes.

„What about you?", she asked softly. „You're way too dressed for my taste." Then she ripped open his nightshirt, sending its tacky golden buttons flying through the room. She had never paid much attention to how Reaver was built, even when sleeping with him. But now that his body housed Jack, she found that he looked absolutely delightful. He was muscular, but still very slim. The graceful physique of someone who valued precision over brute strength. His skin was deathly pale and without any marks; no scars, no bumps, nothing. And now, he was truly perfect. She wrapped her arms around his torso, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of skin on skin, his heartbeat right next to her ear.

„Sleep, my love", Jack whispered to her, running his fingers through her hair. „You are exhausted."

„...don't want to…", she mumbled. How could she explain to him that she didn‘t want to miss a single second of his presence, no matter how much sleep tugged at her? That she wanted to hold and kiss and feel him right now?

His dark chuckle sent a rush of heat straight to her nethers. „Oh? Do I have to tire you out first?" He rolled around so she was on top of him. „Is your desire for me so strong? Or did nobody manage to properly satisfy you during my absence?" His fingers found her most sensitive spot through her undergarments. „Tell me, my sweet. How many nights did you spend fantasizing, touching yourself to the thought of me? Your beautiful, slender fingers drenched in your juices, while you imagined that it was me inside of you?"

„Jack.. oh gods", she gasped, grinding against his hand. It was incredible, how he could bring her so close with just his words and a single finger.

„Tell me", he demanded again. „All of the dirty things that went through your pretty little head while you played with yourself. I want to know every little detail."

She scoured her memories for any of her fantasies, but Jack teasing her clit was making thinking quite difficult. „I-I imagined myself tied down, yours to do with as you pleased… t-teasing me until I was b-begging you to take me. A-and I l-loved the idea of being helpless… at your mercy… and imagining all of the things you would do to me…" His breathing quickened and so did the

movement of his hand between her legs. „I-it made me so wet. T-the idea of being your little toy.“

„Tied up and helpless, hm? So lewd…"

„Jack please", she whimpered. „I need you so bad."

„Do you now?" Another stroke against her clit made her yelp. „Ah yes, I can tell. That needy little body of yours is begging to be filled."

He ripped her underwear like paper, and just the sudden brush of air against her sex almost drove her over the edge.

There was no time to lose. She needed him, right now! She tore at the lacings of his pants until finally, his cock jumped out at her, hard and ready. As soon as she positioned his tip against her entrance, he grabbed her hips and slammed her down, hitting that sweet spot deep within her.

Her lustful scream seemed almost inhuman.

„I love this“, he said hoarsely and began to guide her waist. „Your screams are music to my ears.“

She followed his movement, riding him, but the previous stimulation didn‘t leave her with much energy. „Jack, I‘m close...“

„Then come!“

Her movement became more erratic, the tension building in her abdomen, her vision growing hazy. The orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave, she tensed up and then sank down on him. Now he turned her around so he was on top, and continued; shallow, sloppy thrusts igniting her anew.

„Jack“, she groaned, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his mask. „Deeper!“

„So greedy...“ He lifted her hips and buried himself in her all the way down to the hilt. „But oh you feel so amazing!“

He picked up more speed, and with a few last, deep thrusts, he spilled himself inside of her. There was a smirk in his voice when he said:„You have no idea how much I have missed this, my sweet.“

Sleep was already gripping her, so all she could muster was a quiet „Imissedyoutoo“ before dozing off.

In the morning, she at first almost believed that she had dreamed it all. She was alone in the bed, and after a moment of regaining her orientation, she found Jack standing in front of Reaver‘s huge wardrobe, butt naked, going through his many, many clothes, but rejecting each outfit with a dismissive snarl.

„Is this really what people are wearing nowadays?“, he asked, holding up one of Reaver‘s most expensive coats as if it was something extremely repulsive.

„Since when are you so picky about clothes?“, she asked.

Jack was just about to answer, when he was, once again, interrupted by a knock on the door.

„Master Reaver? I can‘t find Daphne anywhere, I fear she-“ Barry stopped when he saw the scene in front of him. He squinted. „Master Reaver?“

Jack scoffed quietly and turned his attention to his wardrobe again. „Your Master Reaver is dead.“

Barry‘s mismatched eyes wandered over to her. „Daphne? Explain?“

„It‘s kind of a long story“, she began. „How about I get dressed and we go into the kitchen. Get ourselves some breakfast. And then I can explain everything to you.“

„Is it really necessary for you to be fraternizing with a mortal like this, my dear?“, Jack asked, slightly annoyed.

„Hey, be nice to him, yeah? Barry is the closest thing to a friend I‘ve had in centuries, and probably the only thing that kept me sane during the past five years.“

Jack huffed. „If you say so. Then go explain everything to him while I try to find something actually decent in this idiot‘s wardrobe.“

„What the hell just happened“, Barry asked as soon as they were out of earshot. „Who is this? Why does he look like Master Reaver? What HAPPENED to Master Reaver? And most importantly: What does that mean for us?“

„Us...“ she hummed quietly. „You can stay as a servant, if you want. Jack will treat you a lot better than Reaver ever did, I‘ll make sure of that. Or you can leave, and find work elsewhere.“

„That doesn‘t answer my other questions, Daphne.“

She took a deep breath. „Do you know the story of Jack of Blades?“

Barry only gave her a blank look. „Jack of Blades? The guy from that old legend, who tried to destroy Albion but was killed by the King‘s ancestor?“

„Not killed, just… incapacitated“, she corrected him. „Yeah. That one.“

„What about him?“

„You just met him.“

Barry quickly looked towards the bedroom, then back at her. „You‘re kidding.“

„Do I look like I am? The mask I bought held Jack‘s soul. I knew that from the beginning. He is the loved one I talked about in the tavern.“

„That‘s insane. That would mean that you‘re even older than Master Reaver!“

„I am, by a good century“, she replied. „I don‘t know how he did it, but Jack made me immortal back then, when I officially became his lover. So I could be with him forever.“

Barry obviously needed a moment to process that information. „And Master Reaver? What happened to him?“

„Dead, I assume. His body is Jack‘s now.“ She raised an eyebrow. „Does that bother you?“

He stared straight ahead. „I don‘t know. I never thought about what it would be like to live without Master Reaver.“ Then he looked at her again. „And you? Are you going to continue being a maid here?“

„I don‘t think so“, she said. „No idea what the future will hold. If Jack will even stay here. He never cared much about money or luxuries. And if he leaves, I will leave with him.“

„You‘d follow him anywhere, would you?“ Was she hallucinating, or was there a hint of bitterness in his voice?

Still, she answered truthfully. „Anywhere, to the end of the world, to hell and back, even beyond this plane of existence.“

He took a deep breath. „Well, if you two decide to stay, then I go on doing what I‘m always doing; serving the man of the house. And for the first time ever, the lady of the house as well.“

She patted him on the back with a fond smile. „Thank you for understanding me, Barry.“

With a somewhat agreeable mumble, he changed the subject:„So, we… I should probably get breakfast ready for Master R… Master Jack.“

„Oh, Jack doesn‘t eat.“

Barry shot her a surprised look. „Okay. Pity about all of the food in the pantry, though.“

„I mean… Jack not eating just means that you and the other servants can help yourselves to your heart‘s content. I know I will.“

„You can do that because you‘re the lady of the house now.“

„Yes, and as the lady of the house, I give you and the rest of the staff permission to help yourselves to whatever you want.“

They went on bickering all the way down to the kitchen.

#When Past and Present meet fic #fanfiction #selfship fic #spicy #lemon #Between a Mask and a Hard Place

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supertransural · 3 years

Text

thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.

#oof ok this was supposed to be a short post about a fun road trip #i’m thinking i need to get better at writing so i can turn this into an actual fic #anyways imma be thinking about this for the rest of this evening bye #spn #supernatural #destiel #cas #dean #dean winchester #deancas #bidean #baby jack #ficlet

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fandomstuff67 · 4 years

Text

This is for Suptober20 day 2: Earth

As usual, read below or on Ao3

Word Count: 1.3K

Tags: grief, death, thoughts of suicide.

Warning: It’s sad.

The cold wind bit at Dean’s nose and cheeks, darkening them with red, but he just bent his head against the chill and pulled his coat tighter around himself, continuing the short trek to the little clearing behind the bunker.

His hands were wrapped around a small bouquet of roses and when he reached his destination, he paused, already feeling tears freezing on his face and sticking to his eyelashes like glue. He blinked a few times and sniffed as he wiped at his runny nose.

“Hey, Cas,” he said quietly as he dropped to his knees and let the cold from the ground seep under his jeans.

He looked up at the gravestone, at Castiel’s name written in block letters along the granite. Dean felt a sob shatter in his chest, not even making it out of his mouth. His shoulders hunched over as a cold gust of wind buffeted the back of his jacket, snaking under his many layers to whisper against his skin.

“I miss you, buddy,” he said, his voice was jagged, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass. “I wish you were here.”

But Cas wasn’t here. Cas hadn’t made it to the end. The empty had come for him and Dean had watched his best friend’s life drain out of him in a flash of white light as black goo overcame him, only leaving the shell of his long empty vessel behind.

They’d burned his body, of course, gave Cas a hunter’s funeral, like they’d done before, but this time, Dean had insisted on burying his ashes behind the bunker. So, he’d dug a hole for the ern and placed his ashes deep in the earth. The earth that Cas had loved so much, the earth that he could never seem to abandon, that he would always come back to. Sam had told Dean that it wasn’t so much the earth that Cas came back to, but Dean. He’d said that wherever Dean was, Cas would be. But he couldn’t believe that, because if he believed it, then he let himself wonder what it would have been like to let himself be with the angel, he let himself think about how their lives could have been, if he’d just told Cas how he felt. No, it was easier to think that Cas had just loved this godforsaken planet so much that he couldn’t stay away. It had nothing to do with Dean.

And yet, every day Dean kept coming back to see his best friend. He’d clear the snow from the headstone and place a new bouquet of roses at the base of the grave, ones that hadn’t frozen over in the night. He’d tell Cas about a hunt they’d been on, or something Jack did that would have made Cas laugh if he’d seen it.

God, Dean missed Cas’ laugh.

Cas’ laugh was like the sound of a running brook that washed over rough rocks, it was the sound of the birds singing in the early morning, it was the sound of the trees whispering to each other in the wind, it was the sound of the sun setting over the ocean’s rippling waves, and it was the sound of everything Dean’s heart had ever wanted, but everything he couldn’t have.

“Sam’s thinking about retiring,” Dean said to the grave as he carefully arranged the roses against the headstone and took the frozen ones away. “I think I agree with him for once. we’ve done enough. It’s time we had some peace.”

He let his hands run over the cold petals, trying to ground himself by letting the freezing flowers remind him that he was alive. He wondered how long it would take him to freeze out here. If it was possible to just sit against the headstone and talk to Cas until his heartbeat slowed and darkness crowded at the edges of his vision.

He wondered if he’d go to heaven or hell, if there was even an option for him anymore or if he’d just float as atoms in the air. Part of him hoped that he’d end up in the empty. Even if he wasn’t awake, it would be enough just to know that Cas was there with him somewhere.

The petals had begun to melt slightly in his warm touch, stinging his hands with the bitter kiss that only frost could give. He looked up at the pale blue sky as it passed over the gray world underneath and he looked at the trees around the bunker, as their leafless branches clattered together when they shivered against the wind.

When he looked back at the grave, he let himself cave. He let the sobs rip themselves from his chest and claw their way up his throat. He let the tears melt his frozen cheeks, he let himself collapse like a supernova.

The world was spinning. Everything hurt. The ground under his knees felt like concrete, the tears on his cheeks burned like the flames of fire, and his lungs screamed for air as if he were trapped underwater, drowning, while sealife swam around him, living so easily in the world that he was doomed to suffocate in.

When he managed to suck in one gasp of air, he felt his fingers wrap tightly around the roses in his hands. He let the prick of thorns tuck themselves into the soft, pliable, skin of his palms, freeing the blood trapped there.

He relished in the pain. It felt good, to feel something other than the black hole sucking away at his heart, other than the hand that was wrapped around his throat -cutting off his air supply, other than the aches that seemed to have embedded themselves in every part of his body, but that no pain medication could fix.

So he let the thorns dig into his palms, he let his cries be carried up through the skeletons of trees, he let himself collapse onto the ground, curling in on himself as he wished for it all to stop.

“Dean!?”

Sam’s voice came to Dean in a fog and he felt hands shaking him, so he let his eyes open.

“Shit, Dean,” Sam said as he tugged Dean into a sitting position.

Dean let his brother pull him close, he let Sam pull the roses away from his hands, he let himself be hauled to his feet and guided into the bunker.

He was shaking from the cold and his hands stung from the thorns, but he didn’t care. He just wanted it all to be over.

Sam worked silently to clean and bandage Dean’s hands and then he forced him to drink a hot cup of tea, which tasted like dirt and grass.

“Dean, you need help,” Sam said as he sat down beside Dean at the library table.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean muttered as he looked at the dregs of his tea. Dark specs floated in the water, and he thought of the empty, of the different entities gathered there, floating together in darkness. His heart clenched in his chest, knowing that Cas was one of those entities.

“You can’t seriously say you’re fine after how I just found you,” Sam retorted, bringing Dean out of his thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam,” Dean snapped, lifting his eyes to glare at his brother.

“Dean, you can’t… I know he’s gone, but you can’t do this.”

“Watch me,” he hissed.

“Dean, you’ll kill yourself-”

“Good!” It slipped from his mouth too quickly, but he couldn’t take it back now, even after seeing the horror that crossed over Sam’s face. He didn’t want to, he’d meant it. So, without another word, Dean stood and stormed off to his room, slamming the door so it echoed down the hall. He collapsed on his bed, face smushed into the pillow, while his eyes leaked with tears.

He cried himself to sleep, and part of him, the broken, hopeless, part of him, hoped that he wouldn’t wake up, hoped that he could stay in his dreams forever, because at least in his dreams, he could be with Cas.

#suptober20 #supernatural #spn #spnfanfic #spnfanfiction #my writing #prompt fic #sadness #grief #suicidal thoughts #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #the empty #earth #spnfamily #spnfandom

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nostalthicc · 4 years

Text

birthday body shots | jeff wittek

jeff wittek x reader

summary: the flirting for david’s vlog created a lot of unnoticed ignored sexual tension

warnings: sexual concepts, drinking

2k roughly

lowercase intended - flashbacks in italics

y/n was happy with the birthday dinner her friends took her to, sure it wasn’t what she expected but it was nice for once. no cameras, no skits, no flirting just a group of friends celebrating a birthday almost as if their lives were normal.

y/n did not intend to wake up this early but the light ascended through the blinds in the living room and she was closest to the window. the first thing she noticed when her eyes finally adjusted to the light was her excruciating headache, the second was the fact she was completely pushed up against the edge of the bed, next to her was someone she swore not seeing him ever again would be too soon, jack. His arm was wrapped around her waist, his warm breath fanning her face as he softly snored, it took everything in y/n to get out of his grasp. She fell to the ground with a thud, adding to her headache. Little bits and pieces of last night flashed through her head.

“i’ve never seen a party this big at davids!” y/n yelled over the music to natalie, while they both watched everyone continue to spill into the house. half of the people entering david’s they didn’t even know, the house and backyard were completely full of semi-drunk, sweaty bodies. usually, the parties consisted of the vlog squad and a selected group of other but today it seemed like all of LA decided to join this party.

natalie turned to face the girl. “yea, it was never supposed to get this big-” she signed, throwing her head into her hand, “-david kept inviting people who invited more people.” natalie didn’t think it was the greatest idea but she knew better than anyone no one could stop david once he set his mind to something, she wanted to stay responsible and be the adult but even she couldn’t deny she was tempted to party with everyone.

“hey! might as well enjoy it.” y/n shrugged. “bottoms up.”

that was the start of y/n’s night, as she continued to throw different mixtures of drinks back her mind went into a flurry and little did she know more was to come.

y/n tried dodging all the bodies of her friends and strangers scattered among the floor as she made her way to the kitchen. rubbing circles along her temples, trying to ease the pounding filling her brian a cold metal ejected itself into her foot causing her to let out a series of whispered profanities. y/n focused her eyes on the object, a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs, more memories flooded her thoughts.

“the police are here!” someone yelled, the music was shut off, hectic groups of people started to scatter around panicked, grabbing as many bottles as the could while finding a room or place to hide. erin and corinna linked their arms through y/n’s as they waited for natalie to open the door with David, who still had his vlog camera rolling- to no one’s surprise. most people knew of the stunt being pulled but played into their part of hiding, while some all lingered in the kitchen or living room along with y/n and the girls.

“look as sober as you can.” zane screeched, making everyone turn to him and shush him. “just act natural.” he bent on the pool stable, causing the cue sticks to fall on the hardwood floor, putting off a loud sound. everyone couldn’t help but start to giggle at the typical ‘zane’ move but all the noise seised when david made his way back into the area, a camera pointed at the birthday girl. his eyebrows were furrowed, a confused look plagued his face.

“they’re asking for you, y/n.”

natalie soon walked in with four officers following behind her, y/n’s heart was beating fast, she was sure everyone could hear the wild pounding coming from her chest. the men’s eyes scanned the room before landing on their target. they made their way over to y/n, motioning for erin and corinna to move. she started to feel smaller and smaller as they approached her, the intoxication wasn’t helping her fear either. she went to speak but her mouth felt dry.

jason decided to break the silence. “there has to be some mistake.” he said, while still keeping his distance. “what exactly did she do?” he asked playing right into his part, although he did feel a little bad for y/n, she looked petrified, he couldn’t help but internally laugh at her stature.

the officer who was standing directly face to face with y/n ignored jason, he grabbed her chin, pulling it to the side while shining a blinding light toward her eyes. another one of the men dragged a chair behind y/n, staying next to it. “i don’t think you’ve had quite enough to drink.” he mumbled, causing y/n to furrow her eyebrows together. “can you please sit at the end of the chair with your hands behind your back.”

y/n complied, not wanting to get into more trouble than she around was in, the previous officer grabbed both of her hands before looping the handcuffs through the chair and onto her wrist, his breath was hot on the back of her neck, his body heat radiating causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand tall.

“it’s your birthday, correct?” y/n nodded. “we have you here for a couple of reasons, one a noise complaint and-” his paused felt like an eternity to the girl “- for being too damn fine!” he yelled as they all ripped their shirts open, displaying their very tones abs. y/n’s eyes widened as confusion still clouded her mind, she was still shaken up with the previous events.

the music was turned back on and the lights started flashing, many people who were recently hidden have rejoined the party. david had the camera pointed straight in her face as the ‘officers’ started to dance around and on her. “happy birthday, peaches!” everyone screamed, bursting into fits of laughter.

“david julian dobrik! i am going to kill you!” y/n squealed, a look of anger mixed with amusement written on her face along with amusement. “Oh my god!” the strippers pulled off their pants, all matching in peach emoji underwear right in y/n’s face. the men continued to grind themselves onto her while she giggled uncontrollably, enjoying herself a little bit too much. when she was finally uncuffed and done with the lap dances she remained dancing with her strippers and throwing back drinks.

more bits of the night resurfaced as she starred at the cuffs, a smile made its way onto her face as she reminisced her night. she continued on her journey to find medicine. when she finally made it to the living room she cringed at the mess and destruction caused by the party, bodies, red solo cups, food, and pieces of glass were scattered across the floor. a bottle of Fortaleza Blanco tequila caught her attention when she heard shuffling coming from the kitchen, pulling her attention away. she made direct eye contact with the person who the tequila reminded her of. jeff.

“jeff, come one. it’s my birthday! let my one wish come true. dance with me.” y/n whined, pulling on jeff’s arm to pull him away from the corner of the room. he allowed the small girl to drag him away from his secluded spot, she was right, it was her birthday and he was more than happy to deliver. once they got to the dance floor jeff watched as y/n started twirling around and swaying to the music like no one else was in the room, she grabbed onto his hands trying to get him to dance with her, jeff gave in once again, resting his hands on her waist moving to the beat along with her. he turned her body so y/n was facing away from him, into a more intimate stance, her back hitting his chest. it’s just for the vlog. she gladly accepted the new position, grinding her ass onto jeff. they continued dancing for what felt like forever until they heard stassie’s voice over the music.

“body shots!”

y/n was quick to drag jeff over to the bar, where their friends and some others were gathered, many bottles of tequila were position on the counter, along with salt and limes. y/n’s flared with excitement while she admired all of her options.

“me and y/n are going first.” stassie shouted, pointing at the birthday girl whose eyes were still trained on all the treats. “pick your poison.” y/n chose the classic bottle of Fortaleza Blanco, taking a fairly large swig of it before handing it to stassie who did the same, she pulled off her top before bouncing on the pool table.

y/n turned back to jeff. “do the honors.” she whispered before joining her friend on the table. a lime was set into both of their mouths, along with salt placed in a line from their cleavage to their collar bone, madison took the tequila, pouring a fair amount onto both girl’s stomachs. they were surrounded by a big circle of people either wanted to watch or get a turn at the action. zane was first to jump into the pull table, right as stassie’s feet, pointing to david’s camera with a big grin on his face. jeff’s inner debate quickly ended when he found himself jumping onto the table, everyone erupted into cheers and hoots. just for the vlog.

y/n tried to keep her breathing a bay, she watched as best as she could as jeff climbed over her body, getting closer to her stomach. his lips parted as he met her eyes, the air seemed to thin, the music around them started to fade, they felt like the only two people in the world. after a few seconds of their staredown, jeff eventually lowered his head to y/n’s torso, getting every last drop of the bitter drink, he then climbed farther up her body now face to face with her chest, he licked up the line of salt, his tongue leaving a burning sensation on y/n’s skin. he wasted no time to before he was face to face with y/n, their soft lips met as jeff sucked the juice from the lime, he picked it out with his teeth before spitting it somewhere long forgotten, he then connected his lips back to y/n in a long-awaited, lust-driven kiss. everyone once again cheered at the two but it was only background noise, y/n and jeff were caught in bliss while they moved in sync with each other. y/n was first to pull away out of breath, her heart was pounding in her rib cage as his eyes pierced into hers. definitely not for the vlog anymore.

“hey.” jeff said, moving the fallen out of his face before going back to rummage through one of david’s many cabinets. “i’m looking for ibuprofen or something but he literally has nothing.” y/n smiled to herself before walking over to the island, opening a drawer full of miscellaneous items, humming in triumph when she found the bottle of pills she was looking for. she shook the pills in jeff’s directly.

“you mean these.”

he rolled his eyes, getting two glasses down and filling them with water. he sat them down on the counter closest to y/n, she handed him two pills before taking hers. “fuck, i can’t remember anything.”

“anything?” jeff asked.

“maybe a few things…” she trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip, her mind going into a battle trying to decide if she wanted to indulge in the conversation at the moment. “do you wanna go to the beach? i just woke up next to my ex and need to clear my mind and you’re the only one awake.” she started gnawing on her lips once again. “and i think we should talk.”

#vlog squad #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek imagine #jefft wittek #vlog squad imagine #david dobrik #jason nash #erin gilfoy #corinna kopf #carly incontro #natalie mariduena #stassie #zane hijazi

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elderkale · 3 years

Text

chapter four

tell me we’ll never get used to it - chapter four

Sometimes, when it got to be too much—when she felt like the walls were closing in on her, when she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of the blood in her ears, when she couldn’t close her eyes without seeing blood and broken bodies and her—she would run.

Not anywhere in particular. Just run.

It was freeing in a way that little else was; to let go, and let her legs take her where they pleased, for her panting for air to drown out the voices in her head and the burning in her muscles wash away the tingling at the tips of her fingers. To just go, and let the world be someone else’s problem for once. At the very least, it let her move, and that was better than nothing.

Running, running, running. Always running. She never seemed to get any further, though.

Sometimes, she felt like she could keep running forever, until the stars imploded and the sun gave out, and the only limit was how far the universe could stretch. Other times, it was like she was being driven up a treadmill on her last legs, and the only thing keeping her up were adrenaline and what passed for will and whatever thing was chasing her.

Today, it was the latter.

She collapsed to her knees with a gasp, lungs rattling as she dragged in breath after breath. Her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, and she realized they were covered in scratches. Her face, too, probably.

She fell on her face and rolled over, throwing her arms out beside her. Her skin would be splotched with dirt, she knew, and her clothes, too, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

Besides, dirt was good. Told you things. Hid stuff. Crunchy.

She closed her eyes, letting her breaths even out and her chest stop heaving. Content, for the moment. It would be over soon, she knew, and she would have to stand up and trudge back to her flat and the rest of the world, but, for now, that was what she was. Content.

She let her mind drift as she played with the earth beneath her fingers, sifting through the pebbles and the loose soil. She could hear the branches overhead rustling in the breeze and the air was bitter with the sharp scent of pine. Elsewhere in the woods, an owl hooted, and the bushes nearby rustled.

Something dropped onto her forehead, sticky and warm. She twitched, wrinkling her nose as she rubbed it off. Water? But it hadn’t been raining—

Oh.

She stared at the streaks of red smudged across the back of her hand. Another drop fell onto her wrist, and she watched as it slowly rolled down her arm, staining the hem of her sleeve.

She looked up. There was a man in the trees—or something that had once been a man, at least. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that that’s what it was, anymore.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Hi,” she said before it had even finished ringing. “There’s a body.”

No ID. Of course there wasn’t any ID.

Or clothes, for that matter. Theta made a note to check Missing Persons. She could only hope Mr. Doe wasn’t a recluse.

Or maybe he was. There’s appeal in that, isn’t there? Easy. Is easy what you want?

Nah. Easy doesn’t cost anything. No one goes to this much trouble for nobody.

So. Who are you, Odysseus?

There was a loud clattering noise, not unlike a box of tin cans being hurled out a window, and a screech of metal on metal that set Theta’s teeth on edge. Martha stood to the side, directing a group of SOCO who stood around a tree, steadying a ladder.

She knocked on his door, and it creaked open.

Branches, huh? Would’ve thought you’d go for thistles. Or is that the point?

Bet he was loud, wasn’t he? Rude? Bit of a dick? Or maybe he wasn’t. After all, you’re not normal, are you? You know it. He knows it. Knew it, at least. Somehow. Some way.

Pity. A mockery of kindness. That’s a theme, is it? Mockery, I mean.

But not quite?

“That’d be difficult, wouldn’t it?” asked Jack. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and his greatcoat buttoned all the way up to his neck. “The sticks, I mean.”

Theta huffed, breath misting in front of her. “I’d say so, yeah.” She licked her lips, chapped by the chill night wind. Her tongue brushed a scratch to the corner of her mouth.

Big lengths to go to. You don’t strike me as an overachiever.

“He’d have needed tools, then. Supplies. Pretty big ladder, too.”

“Mhm.”

What are you trying to prove?

“What do you think?”

“Big ladder,” she repeated. “Yep. Imagine carrying that through the woods.”

“Killer backache,” Jack agreed. Theta glared at him, and he put his hands up. “Okay, okay. But I meant about the body.”

Theta rubbed her wrist, absent-mindedly tracing the path his blood had made. “Fresh,” she said. “Fresh enough, at least. The blood wasn’t even congealed I found it—” she paused for a second. Jack raised an eyebrow, and she continued. “There’s no way he’d have been able to position him like that after rigor mortis.” Theta glanced at the removal team. Two officers held onto the bottom of a ladder, and another was making their way carefully up it. The rest stood in a small circle around them, watching. Absurdly, it reminded Theta of show-and-tell, or maybe the world’s weirdest fairy circle. Maybe. Did people stand in fairy circles? Probably not. “Two hours at the most, I’d say. Maybe more?” She shrugged. “I’m not forensics. Ask Martha.”

He gave her a look. “He worked fast,” he concluded. “Planned.”

Theta shrugged. “Or he knew how to relax the muscles. Or he kept him warm. Or maybe he positioned him while he was alive, or killed him here.”

Jack groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “So, basically,” he said into his palm, “what you’re saying is we’re looking for a either really pissed-off masseuse or an art major with serious anger issues.”

“If you like.”

Jack dragged his fingers through his hair. He looked tired, more tired than usual. But it was—Theta checked her watch—two a.m., so she supposed that was fair. Behind him, SOCO-with-short-arms hopped up and down, holding a saw by the tip of the blade up to SOCO-on-the-ladder. They looked to be struggling.

Jack sighed. “Body,” he repeated. “Arms out, legs together, stabbed through with sticks. . . remind you of anything?”

“No.”

“No, it doesn’t?”

“No, he’s not a martyr, Jack,” said Theta. “He didn’t die for our sins, either.”

What are you to me, a god without a voice?

“You’re sure?” He glanced over his shoulder skeptically. SOCO-on-the-ladder had finally gotten their hands on the handle, and was sawing at the branch the body had been stuck on. The rough, grating noise made the hair on the back of Theta’s neck stand up, and she dragged her palm roughly across the inside of her pocket.

“Yep.” She nodded.

Jack tugged on his ear and cast a weary glance around the scene. With a final creak and splintering crack, the branch was severed. SOCO-on-the-ground began shouting, and SOCO-with-short-arms and SOCO-with-the-lopsided-mask dragged a tarp to lay beneath the tree. SOCO-on-the-ladder yelled something, and threw the saw to the ground. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“What?”

Jack ground the tip of his cane against the dirt. “It’s late,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She stared up at him. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Go home.” He gave her a quizzical look. “What, what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. Just—” Two SOCOs walked by, pushing a stretcher, Johnny covered awkwardly with a cloth that didn’t quite do the job. The wheels rattled against the forest floor and there was a flurry of squawks as what birds hadn’t been scared off by the earlier commotion took flight. “I mean, first on scene, right? You don’t want to ask me anything?”

“You’ve already told me everything,” said Jack, brow furrowed. His expression cleared as it dawned on him. “Wait, are you asking me to interrogate you?”

“What? No.” She jammed her other hand into her pocket. “Just—”

“I mean,” a lecherous grin spread across his face and he wiggled his brows, “not that I wouldn’t mind—”

She smacked his arm and the leer vanished, replaced by a pained wince. “Stop it.”

He rubbed his arm, grimacing. “You’ve found bodies before,” he said. He frowned. “You okay?”

“Hm.” She rolled her heel against the ground, flattening the earth beneath it. “Yep.” She moved her foot, and the dirt sprung back like a sponge. “Yup,” she said. “Gonna head home now.” She turned and marched away, back the way she came. Branches were hanging limply where she’d broken them, leaves scattered over the ground and bushes drooping sadly where she’d burst through. She winced. There was a reason she always found another way back.

“You need a ride?” Jack called after her, but she was already gone.

“Another body.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Is that a follow-up, or unrelated?”

“Everything’s related.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Guess so.” She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Theta peeled her hands away from her face and craned her neck to peer at him. He looked back, annoyance evident even upside-down. “Do you actually care?”

“Would you answer the question if I said yes?”

“Don’t need to. Already have.” She swung her legs over the back of the couch and sat up straight in one swift, fluid motion. “Why were you there last week?” she asked, blinking away the dark spots. “At the library?”

“Do you think it’s the same person?” he asked. “The copycat?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It fits,” she said. “Whoever killed these people was careful. Too careful. The Master’s never been this cautious, ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have to be. Desperate, too,” she added. “Younger, I’d say, smart enough, thinks he’s smarter than he is. Trying to make himself more important. Miming manipulation. Why were you there?”

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did you ask Jack?”

“Not that,” she said. “I know how you got there. Why, though?”

He tapped out a beat on his armrest and, right as Theta was sure he was going to change the subject, said, “Because I wanted to.”

“Why?” she pressed.

He shrugged. “Call if a whim. An impulse. I was curious.”

“What, about a dead body?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Sure,” she said. “But it’s my job. It’s not yours.”

“Not exactly a crime, is it?”

“What?”

“Death,” he said. “Being curious about it, that is. Causing it. . .” He twisted his face thoughtfully. “Not so much.”

“You know, most people would be less calm around a body,” said Theta, hooking a foot over her leg. “Especially one that looked like that.”

“You weren’t,” he said.

Her nails skated up her shin, catching on her trousers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

“That night,” she said. “Well, day. Week? Not sure, sort of lost track of time.” She shook her head. “What did you do?”

“When?”

She clenched her fist, fabric bunching in her hand. “I think you know.”

The corner of his lips twitched minutely. “And I think you know.”

“Right, wrong question.” She dug her nails into the bundle of cloth until they throbbed. “Why?”

He clicked his pen. “What’s death?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “No. Not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He spread his hands innocently. “It’s just a question, Theta.”

“Answer mine first.”

He pursed his lips and dropped his hands. She held his gaze unwaveringly. He exhaled hard, nostrils flaring. “Because I wanted to,” he said stiffly.

“Why?”

He dragged his teeth over his tongue. “Try explaining an urge to a three-year old.” He shrugged. “Because I could. Because—” He shrugged again. “Don’t know. I’m the one asking the questions here.”

Theta dragged a breath in through her teeth and sagged back against the couch. “Jack,” she said slowly, “says death’s like a bramble. It clings to you, and holds, and leaves traces no matter what you do.” Or something along those lines. He’d been on his fourth beer, and slurring more than a few words.

“I know what he thinks,” said Koschei.

She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s all metaphors, right?” she said. “Can’t exactly get the answer wrong.”

“What’s your metaphor?”

She ground the point of her tooth against her tongue. Metaphors. Easy enough, right?

“It’s like a drug,” she finally said. “It lingers.”

“Do you think?”

She wet her lips. “It’s there,” she said. “Somewhere in the backdrop. In your memories, in you. It’s not something you can just wave your hand and get rid of. It’s. . .” She tapped her finger against her thigh. “Background noise. Something. You never stop chasing the high.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sort of?”

“Sort of?”

“Sort of. Is.”

“Background noise,” he repeated.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What do I think?” She nodded. He shrugged. “Could be any of those. Means different things to different people, right?” He titled his head by a fraction. “Everyone sees something else.”

Theta plucked at her sleeve. “I did miss you,” she said.

“You could have bothered to show it.”

When she left, she definitely did not slam the door shut behind her.

He remembered Theta, in the way a dried-out riverbed remembers the water, or a house remembers a master long since passed, or the Earth remembers space. Gone and far away, but always there, hovering over his shoulder.

He remembered towering stone walls, and empty classrooms, and fields and forests that stretched for what felt like miles. He remembered tires crunching down a gravel road, and chasing dandelion tufts under grey skies and even greyer clouds.

He remembered rocks scraping against his cheek, and the tang of iron, and watching as the river carried a pale, slip of a form downstream.

He remembered blood beneath her nails and holding her hand under a sky full of stars.

Manipulation. She would know.

It’s like a drug. It lingers.

God. Talk about ego.

#tmwnguti #back on my greek mythology bullshit #masterversary #doctor who #dw #thirteenth doctor #the doctor #the master #dhawan!master #thoschei #spydoc #murder #dead body #fanfiction #writing #fanfiction update #day late because my wifi is ass

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eleventhdoctorsangel · 4 years

Text

Give me a sign

Summary: Kelsee has been friends with the lothbrok boys for basically her whole life. But the youngest lothbrok has hated her forever. Ivar goes out of his way to make her life a living hell. But a horrific incident during the senior trip changes the relationship between kelsee and the lothbrok forever.

It was here. It was finally prom night. I stayed the night at Sigurd’s again so Mom, Lagertha, Hegla and Torvi could help me get ready for the big night. Aslaug came into Sigurd’s room around 9 this morning and woke me up so I could take a shower before we went out for breakfast. Once we girls got done eating breakfast we headed back to the house so the process of getting ready could begin. Torvi did my nails she decided to on some fake nails. The fake nails she had pick out two of the nails for each hand were black with a snake skin style French tip while one was the other way around, another was just the snake skin, and the last was black with a snake printed on the nail. I absolutely loved the nail they were so cute. Once Torvi got done with my nail Lagertha started on my hair. She curled my hair then took three strands of hair from each side then she lead them into a single braid that used some of my hair and left the rest free. Then Helga started to do my makeup. The inner of my eyelid was a slimmer gold color and my outer lid was black then there with hints of red in there. She also did wings with the eyeliner. Then it was finally time to put on the dress. Helga and Lagertha helped me into my dress as Mom went to go get my shoes that she wanted to surprise me with since I wasn’t with her when she went to go buy them. Lagertha was zipping up my dress as mom walked back into the room with a box in her hands. “I was out the other day and when I saw these I thought of you.” Mom said as she opened the box. I looked inside of the box to see the cutest boots ever. There were black with a two inch heel. “I love them thank you mom.” I said as I took them out of the box. “Oh you’re welcome dear.” Mom said smiling as I went to go sit down at the end of the bed so I could put them on. After I put on the boots I stood up fixing my dress. “Now don’t you look beautiful.” Lagertha said. “Well I’m going to go see if Sigurd is ready.” Mom said. I nodded. Lagertha, Helga, and Torvi left with mom leaving me alone. I paced back and forth waiting on to hear that if Sigurd was ready or not.

I checked myself in the mirror a few times before mom came back into the room. “Come on sweetie he’s ready.” Mom said. I nodded. “Don’t be nervous sweetie you look great.” Mom said as she took my hand leading me out of the room and down the stairs. I saw that Sigurd was at the bottom of the stairs waiting on me. I picked up my dress as I went down the stairs so I wouldn’t trip and fall. When I finished coming down the stairs I let go of my dress so it would fall freely to the ground. I couldn’t help but smile as Sigurd came up to me. “You look beautiful.” Sigurd said as he placed a kiss on my cheek. “You don’t look to bad yourself there.” I said. Sigurd put on the corsage which seemed to be Jack Skellington themed. I couldn’t help but smiled as he slipped it on my wrist. Mom came over and handed me the one I could pin on Sigurd suit. “Alright picture time. Come on Ivar you and your date too.” Mom said showing the camera. Mom took pictures of Ivar and his date first, then pictures of Sigurd and I, then she wanted to get pictures of Ivar and Sigurd, then pictures of all the brothers and lastly she wanted to get pictures of me with everyone. “Can we go now mother?” Ivar asked as he rolled his eyes. “Alright. Alright you kids are free to go.” Mom said as she put the camera down.

Since Ivar and his date were riding with us it was a little more complicated to pick a placed to go for dinner before the prom. Well it was just mostly Ivar and Sigurd that argue over the place to eat. It was decided that we would go to a TGIFridays. That was chosen between Me and Ivar’s date so the two brothers would stop fighting. I liked Ivar’s date who I learned that her name was Freydis. She was the sweetest girl. She seemed to be head over heels for Ivar but he didn’t seem to share in the same feeling. Which made my heart just break for her. She told me that she was hoping that Ivar would ask her to be his girlfriend but it hurt her that he hasn’t yet. I told her that Ivar was just a hard shell to break and just to give him time. She seem to be a little relieved when I told her that. She also told me that she wishes Ivar would treats her the way that Sigurd treats me.

Dinner was nice. Sigurd and I talked to Freydis a lot since Ivar didn’t seem to he mostly glared at Sigurd and I. Once we got to the location where prom was taking place Sigurd came over to my side of the car and opened the door for me as he helped me out of the car. Sigurd grabbed my hand and with my free hand I grabbed my dress so it wasn’t dragging on the ground as we walked inside. The closer we got to the building I could hear music coming from it. I looked back to Freydis and Ivar. Ivar was holding her hand but he seem not liking it. Once Sigurd and I enter the building we went to the dance floor where it was semi crowded. We danced for about twenty minutes before we went to sit down to catch our breath. Sigurd gave me a quick kiss before he went to get us something to drink. I looked over to Ivar and Freydis who were still sitting down. Poor Freydis looked bored out of her mind. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. No one should spend their prom night miserable. “Here you go baby.” SIgurd said as he sat a plastic cup down in front of me. “Thanks. Is that all Ivar is do all night just sit there looking like grumpy cat?” I asked as I took a drink of my punch. “Knowing Ivar yes.” Sigurd said laughing a little as he took a drink. “I just feel bad for Freydis. You should ask her for a dance.” I said. “Why would I do that?” Sigurd asked. “Because you love me. I’ll even ask Ivar if he’ll dance with me.” I said. “If he won’t dance with her what makes you think that he would dance with you.” Sigurd said. “I don’t but I can at least try.” I said smiling as I took another drink. “You’re going to be the death of me.” Sigurd said as he rolled his eyes. “Please go ask her?” I asked giving him my puppy eyes. “Alright I’m going.” Sigurd said giving me a quick kiss as he got up walking over to where Freydis and Ivar were sitting. I watched as Sigurd asked Freydis if she wanted a dance with him. She smiled and got up from her seat taking Sigurds hand. She looked at me and mouthed a thank you I smiled and nodded. I decided to go over and have a few words with Ivar. I grabbed my cup as I got up from my seat and walked over to Ivar.

“Can I sit here?” I asked as I pointed to Freydis empty seat. Ivar gave me a slight nod. I took it as a yes and I sat down in Freydis seat. “You know you should dance with her at least once Ivar.” I said. “Why would I listen to you?” Ivar asked as he looked at me. “If you did you come because it obvious that you don’t want to be here?” I asked. “It’s none of your business.” Ivar said. “Fine you don’t have to tell me but have to at least try to make this night fun for Freydis because if you don’t I will kick your ass.” I said. I could have sworn I heard Ivar laugh. “Fine. I don’t want to explained that and why your dress got bloody to mom she would killed both of us.” Ivar said. “Yeah she would.” I said laughing. This made Ivar laugh a little. I watched as the song ended and Sigurd and Freydis walked back over to us. “Remember what I told you Ivar. Please just do it.” I said. I got up giving Sigurd a kiss. “Thank you.” I whisper in his ear. “Anything for you.” Sigurd whisper back. “Freydis would you like to dance with me?” Ivar asked. Freydis looked shocked but nodded. Ivar got up from his seat walked over to Freydis took her hand and lead her to the dance floor. “What did you say to him?” Sigurd asked as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “I told him if he didn’t dance with her at least once I would kick his ass. He didn’t want to explain that and how my dress got bloody to mom because she would kill us both.” I said. “Yeah that is probably true.” SIgurd said as he took my cup away from me and took a drink from it. Sigurd and I both watch Ivar dance with Freydis. He still danced with her even after the song ended shocking both of us. “What you said to him must of stuck.” Sigurd said. “I know. Ivar has never listen to a thing I’ve told him before. I don’t know what changed.” I said.

No ones POV

A the night went on Sigurd and Kelsee spent the night dancing or talking with their friends enjoying their night. Kelsee would often look ver to Ivar and Freydis to make sure that Ivar was keeping his word and trying to make the night for Freydis. But unknown to the three of them that Ivar would always looked at Kelsee when he knew that no one was looking. But it was hard when Freydis was trying not stop to get Ivar attention. Ivar would never tell anyone this but it was Kelsee that he wanted to be at prom with not Freydis. But Sigurd had to go and take her any from him. Ivar has been in love with Kelsee from the moment they met. But when she never showed the same feeling back it created a bitterness in Ivar. It wasn’t until Ivar was a little older that he realized that the reason that she never showed any feeling towards him was because of Sigurd. Sigurd was the reason that the two couldn’t be happy together. The reason that he was at the prom with Freydis and not Kelsee. He had to make some kind of plan to get back at Sigurd for ruining his life but how would he do it. He had to come up with a plan and fast. Eventually it was time to announce King and Queen. It was announce that Sigurd and Kelsee had won. Of course it came to no surprised to Ivar that the two had won. Once the school saw that those two finally became a thing they went nuts. Ivar smiled as he watched as the crown was placed on Kelsee’s head. This scenario was one that Ivar as thought about and what if this turned out like Carrie. Pig’s blood dumping all over poor Kelsee completely breaking her heart seeking comfort from him. But when it didn’t happened Ivar watched sadly as Kelsee and Sigurd did the King and Queen dance all the wishing that he was the one dancing with Kelsee.

Overall Taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer

#modern vikings imagine #sigurd imagine #ivar imagine #modern!ivar imagine #modernivar!#modernsigurd! imagine #modernsigurd!#vikings imagine #kelsee's works #Do not reblog unless it's from me

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tibbinswrites · 4 years

Note

How about Dean/Cas #33. Canon or AU. All is good to me. 🙂

Hiii!!!! Thank you so much for your request! So this one has taken me so long and it’s not super on topic with the prompt. I had a plan but got very distracted and this happened instead. Hope you like it ^_^

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #33, #77, #78, #170 and #502

I also have 2 prompts waiting for: #20 and an addition to #170 and after I’ve done these I will be closing prompts for a little while. Sorry! I’ve joined up for a Big Bang which I’m super excited about and I’ve never done before so I really need to turn my focus to that at the moment.

ANYWAY! On with the fic!

Prompt #33. Tomorrow

In this life there was never a guarantee that you would get anything more than what you had right now. There was also never a guarantee that you wouldn’t lose what little you had. This was a lesson that Dean had learned too many times to count. Could it be counted as loss if your hold on it was tenuous at best? What about a dream? A wish? A distant maybe? Those were never certain, he’d never had them, so why, when they were on the brink of vanishing forever, did it feel like grief?

Watching Cas leave had felt like that. The anger gloated in his gut while the rest of him mourned. He hated that the one constant in his life now was his rage. It hadn’t always been this way; back when hunting had been enough for him, before John had died. That was then the anger had really come into its own, he thought; solidified from all the disappointment and potential for closure that would now never come. He might have been able to say a final goodbye to his father the previous year, but there had been so much still left unsaid between them and Dean hadn’t decided if the John that had appeared had even been the John he knew, or just something conjured as part of the wish. Questioning the reality of things in Dean’s life was ‘in’ at the moment.

He was working on it, he was. In between Purgatory and worrying about Jack and looking for ways to kill God and meeting his alternate self he was working on self-improvement. He’d apologised to Cas and that had worked out. He was trying to joke with the guy more, make him laugh, or at least ease the worried crease between his eyes a little. It hadn’t worked so far.

But now, Jack was sobbing at the kitchen table, apologising over and over for every slight he’d ever made. He had his soul back. And Cas and Sam were gathered around him, forgiving him each time he mumbled a ‘sorry’. Dean went to fill a glass of water and placed it in front of the kid before stepping back. Sam rubbed Jack’s back soothingly while Cas kept up a stream of affirmations and comfort but Dean could only watch. He’d been working on his anger, but the wound of what had happened to Mary Winchester was still raw, tangled up in a bunch of other feelings like the mess that was their phone charger station. Dean wasn’t sure he’d forgiven Jack yet, but seeing how sorry he was… well… that helped.

Jack had looked up at him a few times, blue eyes wet and shiny with remorse as though he wanted Dean to say something. Dean knew that he should, he knew that he should swallow his pride, kneel down to eye-level and tell Jack that he still cared about him, that he was still family. But he knew that wasn’t what Jack wanted to hear and it would eat him up to mutter a forgiveness he didn’t feel, even if it might be the only thing that Jack really wanted to hear.

Cas sent him a couple of pointed glares, but he retreated instead, leaving Cas and Sam to calm the kid down. Sure, the first few hours of having his soul back would be messy, but once he adjusted to having feelings again he’d be okay, or at least as okay as the rest of them were. Besides, Sam was the one with first-hand experience of losing and re-gaining your soul, he was the best person to be in there right now. Dean just awkwardly standing around wouldn’t make any of them feel better.

Xxx

It was a few hours later that Cas came to find him.

“He’s still very upset,” he said by way of a greeting when he walked into the garage. His voice was hard, almost accusatory. Dean didn’t turn around. “We could have used you there.”

“I’m not exactly good at that whole… area of things, Cas. I’m sure you and Sam did a better job than I could have.”

“It’s you that Jack needs forgiveness from,” Cas fired back. “And more than forgiveness he needs reassurance that you don’t hate him. You disappearing doesn’t exactly alleviate that fear.”

“I don’t hate him.” Dean said, uncomfortable. He was working on Baby, nothing major, just inspecting every inch of her to make sure his and Sam’s alternate selves hadn’t done any damage. They hadn’t, but the work got his hands greasy and kept his mind calm and that was all he needed right now. Meeting himself from that other world had thrown him, probably more than it should. Thinking about it now, maybe sending them off to Brazil hadn’t been the best plan. They weren’t exactly done defying God, having a couple of decoys could come in handy, and if they were loaded enough to afford a private jet, two sets of pilots, top-shelf scotch and whatever the hell they’d been wearing they couldn’t be completely useless as hunters. The other John Winchester might have spoiled them (and if that thought didn’t just sit in his stomach like sour milk), but if he’d started HunterCorp and it had gone international, they had to have done a decent job of proving themselves, because he was pretty sure that any John Winchester in any world still had to be a ball-busting hard-ass when it came to hunting. Plus, they were still alive.

Then again, they couldn’t exactly stay here. If Chuck did come to check up on them then their usefulness as stand-ins was blown. Plus… it would just be weird. There had been a strange mix of relief and jealousy when they had talked about their life back on other-Earth, a bit of longing for that kind of ease and lightness that he knew he’d lost years ago, but then again, they had come through the rift alone, no Cas, no Jack, no family, and despite their toasts to their father, the grief there had been perfunctory at best. Their whole world was gone and they had barely seemed to care. So their lives might have been shinier and easier, but at least his life was full.

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Cas grumbled with all the heaviness of a parent who had been trying to comfort their child for the past several hours. Then, in a tone much sharper, “and I’m not an idiot.”

Dean turned. Cas was glaring at him, which Dean wasn’t exactly surprised at, but the glare contained something else too, a spark of real fury, not the watered-down version Cas more often than not used.

Dean folded his arms. “On this particular day, you were.” He insisted, folding his oil-streaked arms across his chest. “Going to the Empty, Cas? Really?”

“Oh, like going to Hell was a better plan.”

“Me and Sam didn’t have to die to get there!” Dean heard his voice get louder with each syllable.

“I didn’t—” Cas began.

“Almost is too damn close,” Dean interrupted. Dropping his arms where his hands balled into fists.

“Well my plan is the one that worked.” Cas said. Dean watched as his shoulders pulled back, Cas was gearing up for a big fight. Well fine, if this was the hill Cas wanted to die on, that was just fine with him, ’cause this time he was right, dammit. “You and Sam walked right into Jo’s trap while I got the location of the occultum.”

“You think this is about results?” Dean asked, his voice deadly quiet now. “You think I give a crap that it worked?”

Cas frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Dean let out a breath and dragged a hand through his hair. “You really are an idiot.”

“Stop calling me that!” Cas advanced on him, blue fire in his eyes. “I was the leader of a garrison of angels. That means I was the best. And I got there because I am an expert strategist. I understand how wars are fought and won. I saw the flaws in Jo’s story when you didn’t and I took steps to make sure that your mistake didn’t cost us the occultum and ultimately gave us a fighting chance in this war. I procured the thing that returned our son’s soul and still you call me stupid, you belittle me, you refuse to respect my choices. Why do you insist on trying to make me smaller than I am?”

“Why do you insist on trying to leave me every damn chance you get?!” Dean shouted back, though Cas’ words had hurt. Not least because they were true, or at least, they would certainly seem to be true, if you didn’t have access to the inner workings of Dean’s head. “Did your great intelligence factor in what would have happened to us if you hadn’t made it back, what would have happened to me? You keep doing this. You keep throwing yourself away as though you’re some kind of red-shirt. So yeah, you’re an idiot. Because you might be smart and you might be an expert in strategy and you might be the size of the goddamn Chrysler Building but one thing you’re not is disposable. And I don’t care that you were right. I don’t care that your plan worked. I don’t care that we got the occultum because of your hunch. All I care about is that you died today, and you seem to think that that’s an acceptable risk.”

“It is,” came Cas’ immediate response, though his tone and his eyes had softened a little during Dean’s tirade. “Dean, the world is at stake here. Of course I will give my life for it.”

“You don’t have to be so freaking eager.”

“I don’t have a part in Death’s plan,” Cas said, as argumentative and stubborn as ever, despite the bitterness in his words. “Just as I didn’t have a part in God’s plan. You, Sam and Jack are the ones who will get this done. But I will not just stand back and let you fight it for me. This is my fight too!”

“So fight,” Dean said, stepping forward so he and Cas were almost chest-to-chest. “Don’t give up. Don’t go diving headfirst into the Empty without a proper plan that we all agree on. It’s because Billie hasn’t factored you in that I am terrified, Cas. I can’t lose you again, I can’t do it. I barely made it through last time. Hell, technically it’s only because of Billie and her plan that I lived to see you again. But if she says that you don’t have a part, screw her. You’re with us. You’re with me. To the end of this thing and not a moment before.”

He was so close. Cas’ eyes mere inches from his own, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Cas looked down to track the movement. And it was then that Dean knew, knew what he had been so scared to know all along: that feeling in his chest when he looked at Cas, the glow that drew him in, he knew in that moment that Cas felt it too. And it suddenly didn’t matter that they were fighting, it didn’t matter that Dean had all kinds of issues about his being into guys thing. It didn’t matter because Cas didn’t care, and Cas cared about the important stuff. So he leaned closer, his eyes slipping closed as he did so. Because tomorrow would bring with it more problems, more plans, more arguments; because Cas was brilliant, he was smart, he was resourceful, he would do what he thought was right whether Dean approved or not. He was fierce and so, so soft and he was right there.

He felt a hand on his chest and he blinked. Cas’ face was right next to his, something painful but determined in his expression.

“Not a moment before.” He whispered against Dean’s lips before he took a step back.

And if those words held an extra significance, Dean couldn’t fathom it, but they were an apology and a promise rolled into one, and they were more than Dean deserved at the best of times. He nodded an apology of his own and reached up to trace the line of Cas’ cheekbone. Cas leaned slightly into the touch.

“We’ll talk?” Dean asked. Because Cas was a sneaky bastard and he was hiding something, something that he wasn’t quite ready to say just now.”

Cas sighed heavily and nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

#supernatural #fanfiction #spn fanfic #Destiel #prompts #prompt #writing #TibbinsWrites #season 15 spoilers

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h4rin · 4 years

Text

rich kids(bang chan, college au, fluff with angst ending) - 7.1k

You hated the flu, but you hated Christopher Bang more.

The acting major was cocky, and why shouldn’t he be? His family is loaded, his grades never drop below an A, and he’s hot. He could have six dollars to his name, have absolute shit grades, and still get any girl he wants, because, again, he’s hot.

Well, almost any girl.

On your first day of college, two years ago, you ran into Christopher Bang. And you immediately decided you hated him. He literally ran into you, running away from his friends for some reason, making you spill your nearly-boiling hot chocolate all over yourself. Luckily, you were wearing a black shirt, unluckily, you didn’t have a break for four hours. He just smiled at you, looked you up and down, and continued running away.

“What the fuck was that?” you mumbled to yourself.

Of course, two years later, here you were, another hot chocolate in your hand, this one decidedly cooler. Across from you sat Christopher Bang, only a small table in between the two of you. He said nothing, studying your face and absentmindedly stirring his caramel macchiato. You take another sip of your chocolate, giving him a death glare. He blinks, and stops stirring his drink.

“Do you want your notes?” Your glare falters.

“I really need them.” Your voice is quieter than you meant for it to be, kind of gravelly as well due to the flu still working its way out of your system.

“Then you have to date me.”

“I don’t need to pass this class,” you mutter, pulling your chair out and grabbing your drink. Chris’ hand shoots out to grab your wrist, his eyes as clear as ever, looking straight into yours.

“Sit.” You purse your lips, sitting down again. His hand leaves your wrist after another second.

“I’ve liked you since I met you, which was, what, two years ago? I’ve taken classes that have jack shit to do with my major, just so I can try to get closer to you, but you’re still cold, even after all this time.” You keep your face as stiff as possible, knowing that he’s telling the truth. His lips curve into a slight smile.

“You don’t get sick a lot, do you?” You shake your head cautiously. He looks down at his hands, still smiling. “Like I said, if you want your notes, you have to date me.” Before you have a chance to say anything, he looks at you with an ice-cold stare. “It’s not forever, if you don’t fall in love with me, of course,” he flashes his signature smile, “but for one month. One date for every page of notes I took for you this week.”

Your mouth threatens to fall open. “Eight dates?!”

He smiles back at you. “Eight dates.” Chris leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee and scrunching up his face at the bitter taste. “This can count for one, if you want.” That’s why he payed for your drink…

“Fine.”

He cocks his head. “Hmm?”

“I said, fine. I’ll date you for a month.” A gentle smile graces his features.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me for long.” You roll your eyes slightly, already regretting your decision. “Alright, our first date is this Friday. I’ll pick you up at seven, wear something nice.” He pushes his chair out, grabbing his coffee and looking you up and down. “Can’t wait to see you, babe.” He winks at you, setting a paper down on the table before walking out of the cafe.

You angrily sip your hot chocolate. “What the fuck just happened…”

True to his word, you get a text that Friday just a few minutes before seven. “You ready?” “Five minutes.” You are ready, of course, with a small amount of makeup and the nicest outfit you own on, but you need five minutes to convince yourself that this isn’t going to go to shit, that he actually did take notes, and that this is actually happening. Three minutes later, you pull yourself off your bed, get your shoes on, and walk out of your door.

Chris is waiting there, leaning on the wall next to your door, playing a game on his phone. His hair is perfectly styled, like it usually is, and he wears nice, but somehow casual clothes. He locks his phone, looking you up and down. “You look nice,” he comments. You ignore his words.

“Where are we going?” He smiles at you again.

“If I told you, that’d take all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?”

“If you kidnap me, or kill me, or both, I’m going to be so pissed off.”

He rolls his eyes slightly. “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re safe with me.” You refuse to show it, but his last sentence made something stir in your heart.

He takes your hand gently in his, and leads you down the hallway. Once the two of you exit the building, he quickly walks over to his car, parked near the curb, and opens your door for you. The leather seats most likely cost more than your whole outfit, which makes you uncomfortable. You deal with it anyway, because this date can last, what, two hours at most? And it’ll end with you getting a page of notes.

You close your door, and Chris walks to the other side of the car, sliding in smoothly. He starts up the car, and the two of you are quickly gone from your dorm building. The ride is smooth, and not terribly awkward. A song you’ve never heard before plays through his speakers. You don’t say anything, but you don’t get on your phone either.

“Alright, this is it. We’re gonna be on the twentieth floor.” You look out your window to see a towering building, twinkling lights coming from every window that you can see. Anxiety bubbles through you, and your fingernails dig into your hand without you noticing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Chris finally turns to look at you, and the smile on his face immediately drops. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” You trail off. There’s no point in lying to him, even if your nervousness wasn’t evident on your face, your voice gave it away immediately. “It’s dumb.”

“Tell me.” His voice is gentle, not demanding, but pleading.

“I don’t like heights.”

“Oh, okay.” Chris starts the car again. “Do you like burgers?”

You look at him strangely. “What?”

“Burgers. There’s a little diner closer to the dorm building, the Peacock diner? They have the best burgers I’ve ever had. Do you like burgers?”

“Y-yeah.” You nod slightly, a tiny smile on your face. “I like burgers.”

He smiles widely. “Good.” He takes off again, and this time, the ride is even less awkward than before. The two of you still don’t speak, but there’s more of a warm atmosphere.

He parks outside of the diner, and this time, you have no qualms about the place. A neon peacock hangs above the windows of the place, and the whole building has a slight blue glow. It’s largely glass, very obviously fifties themed, and there’s only a few people inside, mostly workers. You and Chris are overdressed, but you don’t really mind.

He looks over at you before he stops the car, checking to see if you’re nervous about this place. Seeing no sign of discomfort on your face, he quickly slides out of the car, and before you can even open your door, he’s done it for you. He holds out a hand, which you reluctantly accept, using him to pull yourself out of the car. He doesn’t let go of your hand, even after you close the door, and leads you to the entrance of the building.

“Hey, I’m gonna take my usual both.” The waitress, a woman maybe five years older than you, nods at him, grabbing two menus and handing them to Chris.

“I’ll come get your drink order in a few minutes.”

The date is surprisingly painless. True to his word, the diner has the best burgers you’ve ever tasted. The fries are slightly greasy, but still crisp, and somehow, the ketchup that you’ve had a million times before tastes better than ever coming out of a glass bottle. The milkshake you ordered ended up having some Irish cream in it, and while you don’t end up plastered, you’re definetly a little tipsy by the time you’re finished with it. Chris laughs at you, but not in a mean way.

“I think I should take you home,” he laughs, putting his credit card away after paying for the bill. You don’t say anything, focusing instead on standing up and eating your last fry. He takes your hand again, this time holding it a little tighter, and walks you to the door.

He makes sure you get into the car carefully, and puts on some soft music, just loud enough to keep you awake. He glances over at you every so often as he drives back to your dorm, and takes your hand again to help you back to your room. He keeps your hand in his, more of a habit at this point than anything else, and before he lets you go back inside, he kisses your forehead.

“Drink some water, okay? And do you have tylenol?” You nod, wanting nothing more than to sleep at that moment. “Alright.” He smiles softly. “I’ll pick you up for our next date on Tuesday.” He slips a piece of paper into your hand.

You nod, sleepiness mixing with the alcohol to make you slightly loopy, and enter your room, almost immediately collapsing on your bed. You stay there for a minute before drinking some water and plugging your phone in, falling asleep as quickly as possible.

Tuesday comes before you know it, and Chris texts you around noon. “Study date, I’ll bring pizza over in an hour.” It isn’t a question, but you really don’t mind at this point. An hour later, Chris knocks on your door, two large boxes in his hand and his backpack slung across his shoulders. The two of you eat pizza before starting to study, a comfortable silence filling your room.

“How did you fall behind so quickly?” he asks, cocking his head slightly as he pulls out his notes.

“Maybe if someone would give me all the notes from when I had the flu…” You cock an eyebrow at him, but he just smiles.

“I almost forgot!” He hands you a sheet of paper from a black folder, filled with his handwriting, but nicer than you’ve seen it before. “Your notes.” He smiles at you, but you just glare at him, less cold than before.

“Thanks.”

The next several hours are filled with studying, Chris still refusing to give you the notes he’d written out for you. He helps you figure out where you went wrong on your old homework, helps you think out the questions on your old quizzes, and even guides you on your current homework. “You’re really smart,” he casually comments, keeping his eyes on your laptop as you turn in the last missing assignment. “If that idiot would just give you the notes you were missing, you’d probably have an A.”

You roll your eyes at him, not bothering to comment but silently agreeing. He yawns and stretches. “Can I just spend the night here? It’s so late, and my dorm is so far away.” He lays down on your floor and pouts. You glance at the time on your laptop before looking back at Chris.

“It’s seven in the evening, and your dorm is right down the hall.” He grins at your comment as your eyebrows draw together at it.

“How do you know that?” he asks, as you ask, “How do I know that?”

“Woow,” he mutters, just loud enough so that you can hear. “You must already be in love with me, huh? It wasn’t supposed to happen until our sixth date, though. Damnit, [Y/N], you ruined my plan.” He huffs at you, smiling after. “Alright, I’ll head out, then. I’ll see you for our next date on Friday, right?” He pushes himself off the ground, stretching again.

You nod, silent. He smiles at you again, walking himself to your door and letting himself out.

Once he’s gone, nothing really changes. You stay in the same position you were in before, thinking. How do you know where his dorm is? Do you like him? You shake your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and telling yourself you’re almost halfway through with your dates. You pull yourself off the couch you’re sitting on, putting the pizza boxes in the trash and getting all your work off the ground and back into your backpack.

As you’re going back to your room, you notice a black folder still on the ground. Eyes widening, you reach for it, hoping that it’s filled with the notes that would free you from Christopher Bang.

Of course it isn’t. “You don’t think I’m that dumb, do you?” the only other paper in the folder reads.

You hate Christopher Bang.

The week passes by quickly, and as much as you will yourself to get sick again, you are unfortunately healthy by Friday. As you exit your last class of the week, you’re surprised to see Chris standing outside. “God, you took forever,” he mumbles to you, smiling all the while. “Come on, this is gonna be fun. You’re not allergic to anything, right?”

He grabs your hand while he’s talking, leading you off to his car again. You shake your head, afraid of what’s to come, but at this point, you trust Chris. Just a little bit, but more than you did on the first, or even second, “date”.

It takes you less than ten minutes to reach your destination, another cafe. “You must really like coffee, huh?” you ask, not really meaning for him to hear it.

“No, not really.” He opens your door for you, holding out a hand. Without thinking, you accept. “I figured I would like it when I started college, but I still can’t stand the stuff. This place has great tea, though. I think they have hot chocolate as well.”

The two of you enter, and are greeted by the sound of a small bell and a half dozen meowing cats. “Oh my god,” you breathe, not expecting to have gone to a cat cafe. You glance over at Chris to see him smiling at you. You quickly look away.

The two of you take a seat near a window, where a black cat is purring loudly and laying in the sun. A small mouse toy is in between its paws, just under its chin. Chris tells you to wait for a second, getting up to grab the two of you drinks. A brown cat makes its way towards you as you wait for him, rubbing against your leg. It lets you pet behind its ears fairly quickly, purring quietly. It ends up jumping on your lap before Chris gets back, carrying two paper cups, a small amount of steam emanating from both. He sets one down in front of you, taking a sip from his.

“Now,” he tells you before you even have a chance to pick up your cup, “they don’t have hot chocolate, but this is chocolate tea, which they said was really good. If you don’t like it, they have a bunch of coffee and other teas.”

You take a small sip of you tea, and end up liking the flavor. It’s definetly different from hot chocolate, but it isn’t bad. Without noticing, a small smile spreads on your face, and Chris reflects it, sitting down in his own chair. A loud meow echoes from his feet, and when he looks down, his face lights up even more.

“Cornbread!” he exclaims, picking up a fat orange cat. “[Y/N], this is Cornbread! He was a rescue at the shelter I used to work at. I can’t believe he’s here now!” He beams at the cat, and the cat beams back. He puts Cornbread down on his lap, where he purrs loudly. For the next few hours, Chris pets Cornbread, and you pet...whatever the brown cat’s name is.

By the time you finish your tea, it’s a little bit cooler than the room. An employee apologetically comes up to the two of you, explaining that they’re about to close. “Oh!” Chris exclaims, ears and cheeks turning slightly red. “I really didn’t mean to keep you for this long, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, a small but genuine smile. You pick the cat off your lap, who meows slightly uncomfortably before sauntering away from you. Chris kisses Cornbread’s forehead setting him on the floor. Cornbread looks up at Chris lovingly before walking away as well.

“Shall we?” Chris holds a hand out to you, and you don’t hesitate before taking it.

The drive back to your dorm isn’t awkward. The conversation continues from where it was in the cafe, and you find yourself slightly disappointed when you’re back to your room. “I’ll see you Tuesday, right?” you ask, before Chris can say goodbye.

He smiles at you. “Yeah, of course. Movie night?” You smile back at him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.” He places a kiss on your forehead, handing you a sheet of paper before letting you go back into your room.

You find yourself counting down the days until Tuesday. Why Chris chose a day when the two of you don’t have a class together, you’ll never know, but it’s another thing you hate about him. Because, you still hate him, right? You have to, right? You’re thinking too much.

Chris greets you right outside of your classroom. “Alright, I have as many Disney movies as I could buy in time in my car. We have enough to watch nonstop Disney movies for three days. Let’s go!”

“Chris, I have classes tomorrow!” You find yourself being dragged by him to his car. He pouts back at you.

“Alright, fine,” he sing-songs. “I’ll let you go to bed around midnight, okay?” You smile up at him without thinking. “What movie are we starting with?” He doesn’t seem to notice your smile, so you look away, smile fading just slightly.

“Hmm…” You pause before getting into his car, thinking for just a second. “Aladdin?”

He smiles at you before getting into his seat. “Aladdin it is.”

Almost seven hours later, you’re so close to falling asleep and your third hot chocolate isn’t really helping. The two of you are nearing the climax of Inside Out, and you’re more focused on your eyes staying open than the movie. That is, until you hear sniffling next to you.

“Chris?” you mumble, waking up more. “What’s wrong?”

He wipes at his cheeks, swallowing hard before turning to you. There are streams of tears still running down his cheeks, making them raw and red, and his eyes are glassy. His lips are puffy, hinting that he had been biting on them, as if trying not to cry out loud. “Uh,” he sniffs again. “It’s dumb, this part of the movie always makes me cry.” He wipes the streams of tears with the back of his hand, wincing at the feeling.

“Hey, no, it isn’t dumb,” you reply gently, pausing the movie. “Do you want to talk about it?” Chris looks away from you, and even in the gentle blue glow of the television, you can see his cheeks turning red.

“I don’t really know how to talk about it, though,” he responds, tears slowing down. He crosses his legs on top of each other on the couch, turning to face you fully. “I really don’t know why it makes me cry, it just does.”

You nod. “I understand that. It’s a sad point in the movie, and the fact that he doesn’t come back can be really jarring. I cry in Brave, when Merida thinks her mother is going to be a bear forever, and it doesn’t even turn out that way.”

Chris laughs slightly. “Really? I didn’t think you would be the type to cry at Disney movies.”

“It’s just that one! I really don’t cry during any other movie.”

He laughs again before letting a comfortable silence fall across the room. “I think I’m feeling better now, do you want to finish the movie?” You nod, hitting play and leaning back into your seat.

After another second of thought, you scoot a little bit closer to Chris, who is now entirely focused on the movie, a small smile on his face. There’s still plenty of space between the two of you, but it’s less of an uncomfortable distance now. You can almost feel the heat radiating from Chris.

The movie is over before you know it, not that you were paying attention. You couldn’t get your mind off of the man sitting next to you, and you don’t like it. You were constantly caught between getting a little bit closer to him and to moving back to your old spot, but by the time you thought you had reached a decision, the end credits were rolling.

Chris yawns. “What time is it?” he asks, not giving you a chance to answer before he checks his phone. His eyes widen and his yawn ends abruptly. “Oh my god, [Y/N], it’s two in the morning. I swear, I didn’t mean to keep you up this late, I’m so sorry-”

You cut him off. “It’s fine, I had a nice time. I don’t have a class until eleven, anyway.” You yawn back at him, tiredness hitting you all at once. “I am tired, though, so I’ll see you later?”

He smiles at you, nodding slightly. “Yeah, on Friday. Dress warm.” He offers no further explaination before getting off of your couch, stretching slightly, and letting himself out the door. You find yourself almost disappointed that he didn’t kiss your forehead, but you shake those thoughts out of your head. You’re just tired. You don’t notice the paper on your couch until the next morning.

Friday comes too quickly. You do your best to not let yourself get overwhelmed by your coursework in the few days since you’ve seen Chris, but your mind keeps wandering. You try to push the feelings down, telling yourself that you only have three dates left, no, three /pages left to get from Chris, and then you don’t have to talk to him again, and then you can just stop talking to him. If you don’t see him, whatever feelings you think you have for him will go away, right? You’re thinking about him too much lately.

Chris is at your door before you know it. The sun is just starting to go down, and you’re dressed comfortably, a coat over your hoodie, just in case it gets too cold. Chris still hasn’t told you where the two of you are going, and you’re nervous. At this point, you trust him enough to know he wouldn’t put you in immediate danger, at least not on purpose, but you still remember the restaurant from your second date. You really don’t want a repeat of that.

“Where are we going?” you ask Chris on the way down to his car. He smiles at you in response, placing a single finger over his lips.

“It’s a secret,” he responds, sending you a wink. “You like chicken, right?” You cock your head slightly, trying to figure out where he’s taking you.

“Are we going to KFC?”

Chris laughs loudly, but it isn’t mean, and starts up the car. “Nope, and even if we were, I wouldn’t tell you!” Soft music comes out of his speakers, and you find yourself relaxing as the two of you take off towards the setting sun.

The sky is streaked with pinks, purples, blues and oranges, and you find yourself watching the clouds go by as Chris drives, the two of you in a cozy silence. As the purples and blues start to take over the sky, Chris stops the car suddenly. “We’re here,” his gentle voice breaks the silence.

You look down from the sky, and are faced with a small body of water. A river, maybe? You’re not totally sure, but it’s pretty, nonetheless. You can see only one person in the distance, a small gazebo a few yards away from you. The gazebo has a perfect view of the water, shimmering like glitter as the still-setting sun hits it perfectly. “Oh, wow,” you almost whisper. Chris smiles softly, not saying anything but grabbing a picnic basket and a blanket out of his back seat.

You find yourself following him, despite him not saying anything. You can faintly hear some owls hooting, although you can’t quite figure out where they’re coming from, and the constant burbling sound of the water makes you relax. Chris sets the blanket down on the floor of the gazebo, placing the picnic basket in the middle of it and turning his phone’s flashlight on, flipping it upside down so the two of you can see a little bit better.

“Cheddar or mozzerella?”

“Cheddar,” you respond. Chris hands you a carefully wrapped sandwich. You unwrap it, taking a hesitant bite, and you’re a little bit surprised at the taste. You don’t know what you expected, but the herbs on the chicken mix really nicely with the cheddar, and you’re almost hungrier after you finish the sandwhich than you were before. “Did you make these?” you ask, reaching into the basket for a second one. Chris cracks open a bottle of water, taking a sip before replying.

“Yeah, was it okay?” You nod enthusiastically, taking a good-sized bite out of your second sandwich. The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, and by the time you finish, you’re starting to fall asleep. You hadn’t realized how little you’ve been sleeping lately, but it makes sense. Chris had been keeping you up late, both in person and in your thoughts.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles, and as if on cue, rain starts pouring from the sky. “It wasn’t supposed to rain today!” he yells, more at the sky than at you. You scoot closer to him anyway. “Alright, so, we can run for the car, if you want, or we can just stay here. The rain shouldn’t be able to get us from in here.”

You think for a second, then decide that you should probably stay put. It’s safer than risking driving in the heavy rain, anyway, you wouldn’t be able to see much at all. You explain so to Chris, and he nods, wrapping an arm around you. “To keep you warm, yeah?” You will yourself not to blush, leaning into him ever so slightly. Chris pushes the picnic basket off of the blanket, and wraps it around the two of you. With the sound of the rain surrounding the two of you, even though you don’t mean to, you find yourself falling asleep easily.

Chris did too, as you find out the next morning. The sun isn’t directly in your eyes, but it’s getting there. You don’t try to move, but Chris pulls you closer anyway. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, pressing his nose into your neck.

You yawn, pushing at him slightly. “Come on, we gotta get back to the dorms. This can’t be good for our backs.” You stretch as best you can, wincing at the dull, aching pain that comes from your back almost immediately.

“Ah, fuck.” His voice is husky with sleep. He yawns loudly, nostrils flaring slightly with the effort. “Mm, yeah, you’re right. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’m sorry.” He lets you go, and you shiver a little bit from the loss of warmth. The air is cold, and you can still hear rain dripping from trees and the roof of the gazebo.

“It’s fine,” you reply, taking the blanket from him and wrapping yourself up in it. Chris stands up, stretching and letting out a small groan as he does so. He picks up the picnic basket before offering you his free hand, which you accept, using it to pull yourself up. He doesn’t let go as the two of you walk back to his car in a sleepy silence, and neither do you. You only release his hand when you need to get into the car, and even then, you take a second longer to let go than you would have a week ago, or even just a few days ago.

The car ride is full of music slightly louder than Chris usually plays. “To keep us awake,” he claims, eye bags on full display as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

“If you crash, and I die, I’m going to haunt you,” you promise.

“How would you haunt me if we both die?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks the question, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“I’ll just annoy the living hell out of you for all eternity.” As he approaches a stop sign, he looks at you for a second.

“That sounds like heaven.”

You roll your eyes, looking away from Chris and hoping he does the same before he sees the small smile on your lips. The rest of the ride is about as silent as it can be, and when you finally get back to your dorm, Chris keeps his hand on your back the whole way to your room.

“Does your back hurt too bad? I really didn’t mean for us to stay out there all night, I’m sorry.”

“You already apologized, and it really isn’t that bad. I just need a nap in my own bed, y’know?” He nods.

“Alright, I’ll see you Tuesday? You only have two more papers to get from me…” He pouts at the realization. “I’m gonna have to make these count, aren’t I?” He cocks his head a little bit at you, pout deepening as he hands you a sheet of paper.

You smile up a bit at him, before remembering how you were before the “dates” started. You don’t like how quickly your feelings towards him changed, but you don’t think you can go back to being as cold as you were before. Your smile fades slightly, but you don’t frown, exactly. Chan laughs quietly at your changing expression. “I’ll see you then,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He walks down the hall, raising his hand to his lips for a second before he turns around, sees you still standing there, and ducks his head, walking just a little bit faster.

You feel dizzy by the time you fall asleep in your bed.

Tuesday is there in the blink of an eye. Chris promised the day before that he wouldn’t make you go out for the last two dates, just to avoid what had happened the Friday before. He asked what kind of movies you liked, as well, because he had chosen the genre the time before. As a joke, you told him horror movies, but he had taken you seriously and refused to let you change your choice.

You weren’t awfully scared of horror movies, but it turned out Chris was. Not even ten minutes into the movie you had randomly chosen, he was clinging onto a pillow, arms twitching with every change of the camera angle. “Okay, maybe we should go back to Disney…” Chris reaches for the remote slowly, unable to take his eyes off the television.

You grab it quickly. “Nope, I’ve decided I love horror movies.” Another five minutes later, Chris is even more petrified than he was before. He’s moved from clinging onto a pillow to clinging onto your arm, squeezing tighter with every little noise coming from the screen.

“This isn’t even the scary part,” you whine, “this is a flashback!”

“It explains where the scary stuff came from, though, and is therefore scary!” He yelps as the camera switches angles again.

You manage to get through two movies with minimal bruises before Chris decides that he’s too tired to watch another one. “And...I have a class tomorrow, I’ll need my sleep.”

“Chris, we’re in the same class.”

“Maybe I have one before!”

“You’ve told me several times that you don’t.”

He fakes a huge yawn. “I’m really tired, [Y/N], I can’t hear you over all my sleepiness.” He flashes you a grin before getting off your couch. But…” He pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I’ll give you the last one on Friday.” He smiles softly at you before walking out the door.

You unfold the paper, looking at the notes Chris carefully wrote for you. You don’t know if you didn’t notice before, or if he didn’t do them on the first few sheets of notes, but there are a few little doodles in the margins. A little dinosaur(or is it a lizard?), a few Chinese characters, and a shark are all you see at first, but then you spot a little heart near the bottom right corner. The middle of it is scratched out, but you can tell something was written there before. You smile, not sure when he drew the heart, or what he even scratched out, but thinking that it’s cute nonetheless.

You don’t have an issue getting to sleep that night.

You want Friday to get there as soon as possible, but you also keep willing it away. Time, unfortunately, doesn’t care what you want, and all too quickly, it’s Friday. A knock on your door greets you around six in the evening, and you almost race to the door. Chris hadn’t messaged you all day, and you were getting a little bit worried. You open your door to find Chris with two bottles of vodka the size of your head.

“Are you ready?” he asks, grinning wider than you’ve ever seen.

The night starts off slowly enough. He puts on one of the Disney movies you hadn’t gotten around to yet, and Googles a drinking game for it. Halfway through Sleeping Beauty, you’re absolutely plastered. You don’t know how you hadn’t blacked out yet. Five minutes into Big Hero Six, you finally black out.

You wake up to the sound of the Shrek home screen repeating. Your head is pounding, your pillow is warm, and something warm and heavy is pressing against your back. You’re laying facedown in your pillow, and you inhale deeply, silently begging your headache to go away. It does not. You inhale again, slightly confused by the scent of your pillow.

Instead of the usual, vague scent of vanilla that you’re used to, this pillow smells slightly like green apples, lemons, and mint. It somehow goes together. You’re about to force yourself to fall back asleep, figure out why your pillow smells weird later, when you realize your pillow is beating in time with your head.

Ah, shit. You fell asleep on Chris. You attempt to pull yourself off of him, but his hand is resting comfortably on your back and will not let you move a muscle. “Chris,” you mumble, just the act of moving your mouth causing a new wave of pain to rush through your head, “wake up.”

“Mm?” He gives himself a moment to wake up slightly before he notices anything is wrong. His eyes open slightly, looking directly into the sun, before they squeeze shut again. “Oh, shit,” he groans quietly, before laughing at about the same volume. “We got plastered last night, didn’t we?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Shit, neither do I.” He turns his head to the side off the couch, looking down on the ground. “Both of my bottles are empty, so I guess we did.” He laughs a little bit again. “Ah, fuck, my head!” he groans.

“How do you think I feel?” you mumble, turning to bury your face in the couch cushions.

You don’t see his eyebrows furrow with worry. “Have you ever been hungover before?”

You laugh loudly. “Not this badly!” Chris pulls his arm off you.

“Alright, stay here.” He carefully slides himself out from under you, leaving you to lay on the warm couch. He groans a tiny bit as he walks to your kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring you water. He walks back quickly, tapping your shoulder gently and setting the glass on the ground. “Hey, are you still awake?”

You groan in response, turning to face him. The sunlight is shining onto his back, encasing him in shadow and making him glow like an angel. “Drink this,” he says, handing you the glass of water, “I’ll go find some pain killers.” He wanders off after you take a sip, and you’re thankful that he gave you a lukewarm glass of water, rather than a water bottle from your refrigerator. You don’t think you could’ve drank cold water.

He’s back in a minute with two white pills. “Take these, go back to sleep. I’ll go get food.” You do as he says, not wanting to be awake anyway, and by the time you wake back up, Chris is sitting in a chair across from you, messing around on his phone.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he says as he notices you’re awake. He sets his phone down. “It is two in the afternoon.” You only groan in response. “Are you still not feeling better?” Concern is evident in his voice.

“My headache is gone but my body…” You groan again. “I feel like I’m made of sand. Do you know what I mean?”

“I...don’t, but I understand the feeling. Eat something, you’ll feel better.”

He’s right, and by the time you’re finished with your food and your milkshake, you’re starting to feel like a person again. “Aren’t you glad we did this on a Friday?”

“Chris, I’ll be honest. I could have never done this, ever, in my life, and I would be perfectly fine.”

He laughs, and the sun seems a little brighter. “But now you have the experience!”

You roll your eyes, wincing afterwards. You thought you were better, but everything is still sore.

After checking to make certain that you’re really feeling okay, Chris grabs his coat and heads towards your door. “Oh!” he exclaims. “Almost forgot.” He pulls a sheet of paper out of his coat pocket, folded and slightly crumpled, and leaves it on your table. “I’ll see you on Monday, [Y/N].” He grins at you one last time before he walks out the door.

You fall back asleep.

The rest of the weekend is kind of a haze. Saturday is dedicated mostly to sleeping, trying to get rid of the awful feeling that keeps sticking, no matter how much water you drink, and Sunday is more focused on studying. Now that you have all eight pages of your notes, you’re more caught up in the class. Chris really fucked you over, only giving you one page at a time, but you’re kind of happy he didn’t just wait until the last date to give you them all. Sunday night, you go to bed, hoping for a text from Chris, but...there’s nothing.

Which isn’t too strange, he isn’t very good at texting, no big deal.

The next morning, you go to your lecture, and scan the classroom. It seems like everyone is there, the class being as full as usual, but you don’t see Chris. You’re sure you’re in the right classroom, recognizing the desks with various designs carved into them from years of bored students, and you’re sure you’re in the right class, knowing your time and your lecturer, but you don’t see Chris. You shoot him a quick text to check if he’s okay, but if he sees it, he doesn’t reply.

After your class, you wander around campus a little bit, looking for his car. You see it parked outside the coffee shop you first met at, but when you go in, the place is nearly deserted. You ask the barista if he’d seen anyone fitting Chris’ description come in, but the freckled boy hadn’t seen anyone.

It’s weird.

After a week of not seeing him, you start to get a weird feeling in your stomach when you think of him. It’s like the butterflies that you got before turned against you, making your guts feel...sick. You start to forget about him, to distance yourself from the warm feeling that he gave you, to make yourself stop thinking about all of the forehead kisses he’d given you, to stop thinking about the music that he’d always play in his car, to stop thinking about the warmth that he emenated, physically and emotionally, but it doesn’t work very well.

Eventually, you see him. Outside of the coffee shop where you met in the first place, and where you had your first “date”. You make eye contact with him, and start to smile, but he rolls his eyes, looking away. You manage to walk towards him, grabbing his wrist before he can run away from you. “Chris, what the fuck?”

“What?” He cocks an eyebrow at your anger.

“You just...quit talking to me.” The hurt is evident in your voice, and you’re glad the coffee shop is almost empty.

“Yeah? So?”

“That’s a dick move.”

He smiles sarcastically at you. “I never said I was nice.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Didn’t you say you liked me? Isn’t that why you took notes for me?”

He snorts loudly. “You believed that? God, do you believe everything I say? Are you that desperate for attention?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You blink rapidly, trying to hide the tears threatening to escape from your eyes, but they fall anyway. You clench your jaw.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, sunshine, I’m living my best life.” He flashes a grin, one that would’ve made the butterflies in your stomach go insane a week ago. “Clearly there’s something wrong with you, ‘cause you can’t take a hint.”

“You’re a douchebag.”

“Didn’t I just tell you I’m not nice?”

You angrily exhale, your heart beating out of your chest and tears now freely falling from your eyes. “I’m done with you.”

“I’ve been done with you for weeks. You’re pretty boring once someone gets to know you, did you know that?”

You don’t dignify him with a response, walking away immediately.

You may hate the flu, but you hate Christopher Bang more.

#bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #chan angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #writing

47 notes · View notes

dontdietwd · 4 years

Text

Days 230 to 238

TRIGGER WARNING for suicidal thoughts and attempt.

Day 230 was the day I was gonna die.

Not day 73 as they all thought, as Daryl thought.

No, it would be on day 230. A whole 157 days later. And oh the irony… It was not walkers who’d kill me. It was not people.

It was me.

My legs were weak and trembling when I got up from bed. Disuse, after 10 days unmoving in bed, weakness for eating so little all this time. Honey was there. She never left my side. She hopped down from the bed with me and followed me out. I managed to leave though the half opened door. I didn’t know whose house I was in; it didn’t look like anyone of theirs. I couldn’t care less, though. I entered the bathroom, leaving the door opened and saw Honey lay down there, sleepily watching over me. I avoided the mirror completely and sat to pee. It was a real clean bathroom; someone’d been taking care of this house. And of me.

I wouldn’t bother them anymore.

Getting up, I accidentally took a look at the mirror. I saw a ghost. That wasn’t me, not anymore. That face wasn’t mine, those protruding cheekbones, those hollow eyes. Sam was gone and she’d been for a long time now.

Of the three small drawers on the counter, I opened the first. Just a few bathroom things, toothpaste, two toothbrushes and scissors. I stared at in in there for a long minute. I could use it. I could split open my wrists and die the way the world made us all now, bleeding. But as I looked at myself in the mirror again, I made another decision.

My dreads dropped cut off to the ground one by one. I took my time, holding each in my hand for a long moment before cutting it off as close to my scalp as I could. I wasn’t crying, but tears rolled down from my eyes anyways as my head felt the loss of the weight I’d been carrying there for so long. Dropping the scissors on top of the pile of brownish yellow dreads, I rubbed my hands in my hair, feeling the shortness. It was uneven and pointed in several spots.

Honey followed me quietly out the door. I was on Circle Street, one of the houses that’d been empty, I recognized now. It was chilly and I hugged myself, looking up and taking a short, shallow breath. It was late night, probably near morning, and everything was quiet and dark. I walked slowly to Main Street and stopped halfway there. Ahead and up in the platform, Merle was on guard, smoking a cigarette and looking out. He didn’t see me. Honey was just as silent as I was when I entered Merle’s house, dark and empty. Passing by his kitchen, I saw a pack of Morley’s and a lighter on the table and took them with me as I went straight to his bathroom, knowing what I was looking for. As predictable, it was a mess and didn’t smell good, but I didn’t give a shit. Inside a drawer I found his shaving machine. I knew he’d have one, he always kept his head clear of hair.

Lighting up a cigarette after too many months felt bitter sweet. It felt good, my addiction to them happily satisfied, but the fact that now I could smoke didn’t pass unnoticed. I took a long, deep drag with my eyes closed, feeling a little bit of lightheadness as I puffed out.

For a while the only noise was of the machine. Staring at the mirror, cigarette between my lips, I shaved it all. Right to the scalp. I could see I had small cuts and scars in there I didn’t even know of. It’s just how life was now. Once I removed at trace of hair, I turned it off and ran a hand over my head. That was better. No hair. Not the same Sam anymore.

I didn’t let Honey follow me out. She whined but didn’t bark when I closed her inside Merle’s house. I walked away with my chest tight because I knew she’d follow me anywhere and I wanted her safe, so she couldn’t come. I walked silently to the gate, the Morley’s pack on my pocket and yet another cigarette lit between my fingers. It was time for the change of guard at the gate so I was able to slide out without Merle or Mikki noticing me. At that moment I was like a shadow.

I had no weapons, no car, just a pack of cigarettes and the roads. I walked slowly and silently, like a ghost. On my feet, a pair of sneakers, not made to walk for too long. On my scalp, the cold air of the minutes before sunrise send me chills to my entire body. I didn’t care.

It was so many things amounting to this decision… The end of the world, no hope, people who had gone so bad they’d stab pregnant women in the belly. My group gone… My Village running well without me. They wouldn’t need me leading them anymore, not this ghost. They’d be fine. Daryl gone, I was never gonna find him again. And now… Did I even want to anymore? He had mourned me and the baby. He had suffered his loss already. How was I supposed to find him, make him hope the baby was fine and then tell him he was gone? He’d suffer it all over again. I didn’t want to make him go through it. I didn’t want him to feel what I was feeling. It’d been months, he’d be moving forward now, only with the memories but probably with no pain now. Maybe… Now I didn’t even want to find him, and the wish to do so had kept me going all those months. Three things had kept me going: my baby, the plan to build a place, and finding Daryl and the group. I had one failed, dead. One achieved. And one I didn’t want anymore.

Nothing else to fight for.

It was day already when I reached a street with a few stores. I don’t know how I got there, and it didn’t matter. I entered the first store, a little raid out grocery store and walked around. My feet crunched stuff on the ground, broken grass, shelves, making noise I usually wouldn’t make. I rounded the cashier counter. There was money still in there. Under it, there was a locked cabinet. I knew from my old times the kind of things stores kept locked. It was probably what I was looking for. It was luckily a pretty weak lock because I was able to burst it open with a piece of metal fairly easily and, sure enough, there it was.

I left the store with three bottles. Tequila, whiskey a vodka. No wine, which would’ve been my choice, but whatever. On the parking lot in front of the stores, an abandoned car. It wasn’t too dusty, so it probably wasn’t there for too long. There was a couple of walkers coming from around the stores. I ignored them and sat on the driver’s seat, closing and locking the doors from the inside. The cd player in there still worked and there was a cd on the glovebox, entitled in a handwriting Greatest Songs of All Times. Good, let’s judge what people thought were the greatest song of all times.

It started very well with Bohemian Rhapsody. Tequila accompanied it. The first gulp burned my throat and brought tears to my eyes, my taste bugs aching, my brain making connections it hadn’t done for a long time. It wasn’t as pleasurable as I thought, so I took a second gulp, and it felt a little bit better. By the end of the song, where I shriekly sang with the lyrics, making different voices aloud, it didn’t even burn anymore.

Aretha Franklyn got me screaming Respect as I kept on drinking. I was already dancing on the seat when Elvis sang Hound Dog. Numb, thinking nothing, wondering why the fuck had I ever stopped drinking in the first place. I felt like a professional singer but probably sounded terrible screaming Hit the Road, Jack as I stared as the walkers by my window. I didn’t even know I knew the lyrics to Under Pressure but I sang it all, the herd of walkers all the noise attracted my audience. I was Lennon singing Stand by Me, I was Michael singing Smooth Criminal, I was Aretha again saying a little prayer.

I was everyone, except for Sam. I wasn’t there.

I couldn’t even see anything outside anymore. The walkers were all over. In front and behind the car, right and left and even on top, and even if there weren’t so many, I would be seeing anything, my head fuzzy, nothing making sense. No pain. Nothing hurt anymore, I was just singing and drinking and dancing.

Numb. Gone.

* * *

Day 236

The world was a mess of blinding light and deafening noise, all spinning and blurry, making my head turn and hurt. It felt like it’d explode. I had no clue what was happening, where I was, whose voices were those. Was this what being dead was like? I remembered trying to be dead, had I succeeded?

“Daryl?” was the first word I was able to say, my throat rough and lips chapped. He’d know what was happening, he’d help me. He had my back. Except…

No, wait. No, no… I was still alive. Daryl wasn’t here. My baby was dead. And how the fuck did I get out of that car? I was supposed to stay in there forever, until I died of drinking, of hunger, of walker bite, anything. How was I here? And where was here?

“Welcome back, Sam…”

Merle? Calling me Sam? He never did. Sugar, darlin’, goldilocks, sweetass, anything on his redneck vocabulary, but never Sam. It made me force myself to focus on his face, my head exploding at the effort, until I was able to see his expression.

No smile, no jokes. He was sitting in a chair by my bed, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were sunken. By my side on the bed, Honey moved her heavy body closer, resting her head on top of my stomach. My much smaller looking stomach…

“What happened?”

“Got back home after watch and found the dog in. Hair all over the place. Knew you’d been there so went looking for ya. Gone… Got Mich and went out looking for ya. Found a shit ton ‘o walkers surrounding a car, music on, all the goddamn dead from miles around going at it… Had to make more noise than ya to get part of’em away and kill the rest, but got to ta. Out like a rock, vomit all over. Ya lucky ya didn’t breathe that shit in.”

Lucky… I snorted, looking away from him to the ceiling.

“Ya don’t think ya got lucky? Fuckin corpses were this close to breakin’ in and eatin ya alive!”

“It’s what I was there for, Merle,” I told him firmly but my voice felt weak. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

“That what ya wanted? What you was tryin’ to do?”

“Yes. It was. You risked yourselves with all the walkers to get me out but you shouldn’t have. Ain’t worth it.”

“Ya talking shit right now, sis. Ya not on yer right mind.”

I shook my head and turned to my side, giving Merle my back. “Just… Leave me alone.”

He took long seconds to move, silence filling the room behind me. Honey snuggled with me and I threw an arm over her body. She smelled clean… Someone had been taking care of her. Good, not even Honey really needed me anymore. Better for her. I eventually heard Merle get up and slowly leave the room. I was glad to be left alone, I just wanted to sleep and nothing else, but it wasn’t even a minute until I heard movement again. I looked over my shoulder at the door and saw Michonne standing there, holding the door handle. I said nothing, just stared back at her. Her face was sad, pitiful, lips tight because I knew her, she was trying to suppress something she wanted to say.

I looked away, staring at the wall again.

“Do not pity me, Michonne,” I told her and the bitterness in my voice scared even myself.

“I don’t pity you, Sam. I understand you.”

“If you understand me you should’ve left me there.”

“You really think I’d ever leave you to die? Just like that?”

“Yeah, great. Thank now. Now just leave me the fuck alone. All of you”.

She did leave after a moment, taking a wile just like Merle had, and I knew nothing else after that. I fell asleep, Honey’s warm body comforting me, and must have been there for hours. I was miserable, smelling, in dire need to pee but with no wish to get up at all. I might just do it right there. I had small, quick dreams as I slept, more like flashes of image. The baby in my arms. The man’s knife coming in my direction. Daryl screaming at the farm. Walkers all around the car. Honey getting eaten by the dead. My image on the mirror, no enlarged stomach. Myself alone and naked in the woods.

Andrea came in eventually. She looked just as depressed as the others had as she took a seat on the chair by the bed. She said nothing for a while, and I didn’t move to look at her behind me. I was probably going to fall asleep again, ignoring her, when she spoke.

“You wish you were dead right now, don’t you?”

Ok, this started different from the others. I said nothing.

“You wanted to die, and they stopped you from it. From going on with your choice.”

Oh. Oh, okay. She’d gone through it. She’d tried to die before and someone stopped her. Slowly, I turned in bed to my other side and looked at her. “Dale stopped you,” I said.

“He did. And I hated him for it. You all heard… He had no right to take the choice away from my hands. He made me stay alive and keep feeling all those things I was feeling. Things I didn’t want to feel anymore…”

Damn straight.

“They hurt too much… The fear of all in my bones… The need to seem strong because this need had always been part of me… To prove I was strong. It was overwhelming. And the loss… My little sister, such a good person, so much better than myself, just gone like that, turning into one of those things… I couldn’t bare it, I wanted to be dead and not feeling. And he took it away from me.”

Tears had escaped my eyes even though I didn’t really cry. I knew it, and now I understood her completely. I hadn’t, not really, back then.

“But then…” she started again. “It got…” she stopped to think of her words. “Less painful. Slowly, gradually, so slowly sometimes it felt like nothing in my feelings was changing, but over time… I’ll never forget her, it will never stop hurting that she is dead and everyone else I knew from before probably is too. It never will… But I learned how to live with it, how to move forward. And who I am now… Things I’ve learned, how much I feel I’ve changed, and most of it all is thanks to you, would never have happened if Dale hadn’t stopped me that day at the CDC.”

I closed my eyes, tired. Of course she’d get to this, saying I shouldn’t hate them for saving my life.

“You hated him, Andrea,” I said weakly.

“I did. It’s why I understand what you’re feeling for both Merle and Michonne now. I get it, I’ve felt it. But it passed. If I ever see him again, I’ll tell him that no matter the things I told him back then, I am grateful now. Because all the things I’m living now, learning, growing, building in this place? I’d have nothing of it if he’d let me blow up that day. I wouldn’t have this family we’ve built. I wouldn’t have built this good relationship I have with Merle, I wouldn’t have you and Michonne as my chosen sisters. I just didn’t know it back then.”

All her words made sense, if I was rational about them. But I wasn’t. All I could feel was this pain inside my chest, drowning me, and I couldn’t see how one day I’d be glad to be alive again. I just couldn’t see it… I said nothing, just wishing she’d go and let me fall asleep again.

“I know you don’t see it now,” she moved on. “If someone told me those things back then, I would either. But you will… One day you will. You just gotta stay alive until you get there. Just say alive one more day, one at a time.”

I didn’t see her get out, because I kept my eyes closed, thinking of those last words.

Just one more day. One at a time.

* * *

Day 238

“Alright, time to get the fuck up!”

For the first few seconds I had no idea what was happening. My blanket was pulled back roughly from me, coldness startling me like hell, and then hands were grabbing me, pulling me up and off the bed like I was a puppet. When I registered it was Merle getting me off the bed and could muster any kind of reaction, he had pushed me all the way to the kitchen already.

“The fuck you doing?!”

“I’m getting ya out of that shithole you dug yaself into! Out, now!”

Things were spinning, my head hurt, I felt like vomiting. I wanted a drink and I recognized I was probably in withdrawal all these days, my body shutting off and depression making me sleep though most of it.

“Get off me, Merle!” I shouted at him, trying to get him to let go of my arm.

“Ain’t gonna happen, sweetcheeks! Ya comin’ with me.”

He dragged me out to the street. I was barefoot, wearing a thin camisole, bald, probably looked like hell, but still I fought him. I kicked and screamed for him to let me go, he was hurting my arm as he made me walk with him. I saw the others around looking at the scene, shocked, but Merle didn’t mind them. He rounded the house, dragging me to the woods area, straight in the direction of the side hedge, my bare feet on the dry earth. In any other moment of my life I’d been able to fight him off, defend myself, but now my mind was blurred and it was like I didn’t know any self-defense movement, nor would I have the energy to do them if I did. So I just yelled, cursed at him, called him all the names I knew. Soon he stopped and turned to me, both hands strongly grabbing my shoulders to make me look at him.

“Shut up now!” he yelled. “Ya sad, bottomed down, I fuckin’ get it!”

“Then let go of me!!”

“But while ya been in bed drowning or out there drinkin’ and tryin’ to get yaself killed, we all been here! Watching over ya! Taking care of the Village! Keeping ya and the place safe!” and then he roughly turned me, making me look away from him, his hands still holding my arms from behind, “and getting your boy a proper resting place!”

Then I saw what he wanted to show me. Where he had dragged me to.

My baby’s tombstone.

I stopped struggling and stared at it, unable to look away. They were unbelievable. It was so well made, so carefully thought and built with the little tools we had these days. The stone was made of concrete and stood over a mount of earth with fresh grass starting to grow on it, a rectangle of stones pained in white and fresh yellow wild flowers adorning it.

Merle let go of my arms.

On the stone, they’d written it in the same white paint.

Jack Dixon-Danes.

My dad’s name. Daryl’s name. My name. Jack Dixon-Danes.

Merle said nothing else, just stood there behind me, out of my sight but solid. I slowly sank to my knees and let myself fall to the ground as I stared at it. They’d done this for him, carried him out there, paid their respects, buried him. It had to be hard for them too…

“Jack…” it came out a whisper and it made Merle move. He lowered himself to the ground by my side, a little behind, crossing his legs.

“We had to choose it for ya… Michonne knew your dad, said you’d like it.”

I nodded. She was right. The woman knew me back then, knew me well now. I hadn’t chosen the name before, deciding to choose when I saw him, but Jack had been one of my main options. I closed my eyes, allowing tears to spill. My heart had been thundering ever since Merle woke me up, and it was now slowing down, calmer. Even so, I allowed myself to cry, mourning the loss of my son, permitting the pain to come to the surface. I’d been avoiding it for too long.

Merle held me as I cried, pulling my back to his chest, firm and unmoving for a long, long time, and he kept saying things. He told me how he knew nobody was suffering more than I was but they were all mourning too, and to make it worse they had almost lost me as well. He told me how important I was to all of them, how I was family, his sister, and that Jack was a Dixon and I had taught him that being a Dixon was not a bad thing. He said he had a missing brother and a nephew in heaven already, couldn’t lose me too.

It was amazing how transformed Merle was. And I, apparently, had a part in it.

After crying out all I had to cry right now, and after a while I was just sniffing quietly, looking at Jack’s name and still near Merle, my back no his chest, my head fallen on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Merle…”

“I know ya sorry, darlin’. But ya ain’t gotta apologize.”

We got up from the ground what felt like hours later. I was sore and weak. Strangely, for the first time in all those days, I felt hungry. I had more important things than eating to do right now, though. Merle left me in front of Andrea’s house, giving me a kiss on the forehead before heading away. I watched him go thinking of how lucky I was to have such a brother now, an inevitable comparison between the Merle he was for the entire time I knew him before, and now. Feeling my eyes welled up and my nose prickling, I turned and limbed the few steps to the porch of Andrea’s house and knocked.

As if she’d been waiting for me, Andrea opened quickly. Seeing me there, she smiled with her lips closed, a breath coming out and tenderness all over her eyes. I extended a hand to her and she took it with no hesitation, and then I led her out to the front yard and to Michonne’s place right by hers. Still holding Andrea’s hand, I knocked and, again, it was like she was waiting for me, opening in a second.

Michonne had the same tenderness in her eyes seeing me there, but instead of a smile on her lips, hers trembled with emotion and she pulled me to her, hugging me tight and crying. I let it go as well, sobbing with her. There was something about being held and feel the empathy of a woman who also had lost a child. She understood. She knew how I felt. Miranda would know too. This thought, as terrible as it was to know both women had suffered it, comforted me somehow. I was not alone.

Andrea, Michonne and I spent the night together that day, at Michonne’s place. I was hugged by Andrea too, her height making my head rest on her breasts and she shushed me tenderly like a mom would. We sat together at the table, had dinner and desert, then tea, and talked a lot, with no stopping. I told them all I was feeling, deciding not to hold anything back. I told them I’d wished to die and hated Michonne and Merle for saving me. I told Andrea what I understood what she’d gone through months ago when she was the one who wanted to die, and that her telling me so a couple of days ago had helped more than she thought. I told them I didn’t even really want to find Daryl and the others anymore for fear of telling him what happened to Jack, for being terrified of seeing him suffer. I told them I still didn’t know how to move on with life now and that maybe I’d never know. I told them how much I wished that tea was wine. I told them I loved them, thanked them for being there for me, thanked Michonne for going out there to save my life, told them they were my family.

And the three of us cried a lot that night, and fell asleep all huddled up in Michonne’s bed.

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minimoefoe · 4 years

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My Favourite Doctor Who Episodes (Series 3)

I’m doing a full Doctor Who rewatch right now and I thought I’d make a list of my favourite episodes from each Series (and throw in some honourable mentions and general thoughts too). This just a bit of fun, feel free to let me know if you agree/disagree! The faves aren’t ranked, they’re just in Series order.

Watched: 05.04.20 - 08.04.20 Posted: 08.04.20

Series Three Favourites

The Runaway Bride - I love Donna with my whole heart. Calling the Doctor a Martian. The pocket rant. Trying to get Donna to jump from the car to the TARDIS. “Yes, you look lovely!” The Doctor seeing/thinking about Rose wherever he goes. “This wouldn’t fit a rat.” The way the Racnoss talks. Watching this ep really makes me realise how much Donna changes during Series 4. Her arc is great and then it get’s ripped away from us! I’m still bitter.

3x01 Smith and Jones - Space Rhinos! “Judoon platoon upon the moon.” Martha being tf do you mean you’re an alien and then “Oh my God, you really are.” Radiation coming out of the Doctor’s shoe?? Sucking blood through a straw. Okay, Bella Swan.

3x10 Blink - ICONIC. The weeping angels will forever be my faves. @ Chib bring them back. Sally Sparrow, love her. Martha working in a shop to take care of the Docter, yet again. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey.

3x11 Utopia - Chantho, love her. Professor Yana being excited about a doctor turning up. Other than the not so low-key sexism, he’s so cute. Hell yeah, Capt Jack is back. Jack and the Doctor talking about Rose. The moment Professor Yana is realising who he is gets me so pumped. The Master!

3x12/13 The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords - When Jack, Martha and the Doctor are trying to hold that door shut. The three of them on the run. Martha being like stfu I’m phoning my parents. “Are you asking me out on a date?” The Master just generally being a murderous legend. Martha saving not just the Doctor but the whole planet!!! Martha telling the Doctor she can’t travel with him anymore, living her best life.

Series Three Honourable Mentions

3x02 The Shakespeare Code - Bicon William Shakespeare. The butterfly/grandad banter. “What if I kill my grandfather?” The Doctor being genuinely a bit confused about why Martha might be carted off as a slave. The Doctor is extra oblivious to Martha’s feelings in this ep. Talking about Rose while led in bed next to Martha?? Insensitive as fuuuck. Elizabeth I hating the Doctor, I’ve never noticed that before but I was like ayy. Expelliarmus.

3x07 42 - I really like episodes where the Doctor and co are on a ship with no escape. And when the crew are like ‘There’s literally no way you could have got here. How tf are you here?’ It’s my fave. Martha saving the Doctor like the absolute legend that she is. Martha’s mum is really annoying. Loved when Martha screamed at her and then looked back at that guy like uhhh.

3x08/09 - Human Nature/The Family of Blood - These could be faves but I have to many Series 3 faves, I had to demote them. Scarecrows don’t just scare crows, they scare me. John Smith is such an innocent boy, I just wanna protect him. Martha looking after the Doctor, yet again. That boy is scary af. Martha being sad the Doctor didn’t fall in love with her.

[general thoughts under the cut]

General Thoughts

- Series 3? Did you mean: Martha Jones saving the Doctor’s ass for 13 episodes.

- The absolute disrespect Ten has for Martha is insane sometimes, even for the Doctor. Like, we all know the Doctor is a bit oblivious and he is pretty love sick during Series 3 but God, I feel so bad for Martha. I feel like him just talking about Rose sometimes would be fine but there are moments where he basically says to Martha, ‘You’re rubbish, I wish Rose was here.’ And I’m like??? Ten is rude.

- When Martha screams or shouts something her voice gets really screechy and it’s goes right through me. It’s literally one of those noises that makes me anxious. She does it quite a lot and even though I hate it, I like that she is loud and stands up for herself.

- Series 3 has a lot of references to Harold Saxon that I don’t think I’ve ever really noticed before. Like, I’ve noticed a couple before but during this rewatch I was like mate Harold is bloody everywhere. Maybe it’s because last time I watched this Series I wasn’t really into the Master so I wasn’t paying attention.

- Imo, there is no denying that the Doctor treats Martha badly but I don’t think there is ever really a time where he leads her on to make her think they could possibly start a relationship which I feel like is a thing people say he does quite a lot. If anything, I think it’s just that Martha fancies him so anything he does she wants to see it as a flirt but it never is. Like, he goes on about Rose so much, surely Martha can see he isn’t interested in her that way. He wants Rose.

- Martha is strong as fuck like, she fancies/loves the Doctor and he hasn’t even looked at her twice and for the most part, she really isn’t bitter or angry about it at all. It basically just makes her sad. And yet she still is out there fucking saving his ass every 5 minutes. Martha is great.

- Was going to put Gridlock on this list but I can’t just be putting every episode as a fave. I do love it tho. Mainly for the old lesbians, the kittens and the face of boe.

- Series 3 has some incredible episodes. I honestly never really thought much of it because Martha has never been my favourite companion but honestly, I’ve gained a lot of love and respect for her during this last rewatch.

- The Doctor and the Master’s relationship is so interesting to me, I could watch them interact with each other for the rest of my life and never get bored. Like, after all that shit the Doctor is like don’t worry mate, I forgive you. Come live with me. They’re such a mess. I’m obsessed.

#doctor who #tenth doctor #martha jones #the master #simm!master #dw #doctor who series 3 #nataliechats #i cant be bothered to reread this so there might be some typos

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starfxckersinc · 4 years

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people frequently get asked about who’s influenced them as musicians, but are there artists out there that you’ve heard and your response is like “I never ever want to sound anything like this”

There are plenty because, though I’m pretty easy to please musically, I’m not very good as a genre person and I tend to cherrypick the best artists and then throw away the rest as imitators. For example, there’s plenty of punk bands that I think are just regurgitations of better/more interesting bands, and I’m always afraid that I’ll sound like them instead of clearly being influenced by bands that I like. For example, I would never attempt to write anything that sounded like The Sex Pistols, The Dead Boys, Flipper, The Dead Kennedys(whose politics I respect but whose music isn’t anything I haven’t heard before), etc., I don’t want to write anything that sounds like three washed out chords and a slimy masculine voice complaining wanting to kill himself or hating the government- I like both of those topics as songwriting topics(huge fan of The Stooges and Nirvana obviously) but there’s a particular ineffectiveness in the way those bands deliver them that just leaves me cold, and especially in the case of the Pistols, just kind of embarrasses me. You have to have some level of charm or originality when you say the same thing over again and the problem with a genre like punk is that you can easily bend its DIY no talent necessary charm into something that excuses laziness instead of encouraging ingenuity, therefore I only actually like a handful of bands that fall under the punk umbrella as opposed to every obscure Real Punk Band™️ that ever existed. I wouldn’t have done well on the Olympia scene lmao.

Also, there are plenty of artists I look up to who do shit musically that I would never want to repeat even if I like their work. I like Nick Cave a lot but let’s be honest, his ego is 90% of his music and he’s more of a writer than he is a songwriter. I understand he’s following in the footsteps of artists like Cohen and Dylan, and I think arguably even Tom Waits, but all three of those artists could respect when they were doing page-writing and when they were writing a song. Nick doesn’t seem to have that filter....And I’m not even opposed to doing spoken word songwriting myself, but once again, I’d want to do it more in the style of Harry Partch because that’s more interesting to me than like....Moody piano. He can make his own particular style work for him obvi but when that happens it’s because his emotion overrides his naturally deadpan tone, so something like Skeleton Tree is an honest to God masterpiece that I couldn’t touch in my lifetime, while The Boatman’s Call is painful to listen to unless it’s the right day. Regarding my own music I’m working the best I can to have an actual Singing Voice, because I think it’s easier to convey emotion if you’ve got more than three notes, and when I sing something and it sounds like Nick Cave I basically never want to sing again.

Iggy also does plenty of stuff I wouldn’t want to repeat- I think he’s a very passionate, excitable person without a whole lot of musical talent, so he does his best work when he has a musical force behind him that can actually give him a platform for his natural abilities(i.e., spontaneous lyric writing). However, when he doesn’t have a musical force to bounce himself off of he seems to be sort of stuck when it comes to what he’s able to accomplish. Despite him denying it I think he’s Very aware of his own image/what’s expected of him, and I think it’s a little bit hard for him to divorce himself from that, so in terms of ‘trying new things’ it takes him three albums to break into something interesting instead of someone like Bowie, where it was two at most ever in his career. Not a single good, well respected artist from the 70’s was able to handle the 80’s(because of how nasty and wealth-oriented they were, look at what mainstream rock music turned into) and Iggy gave it his best shot and got some decent work out of it- However there was a lot of backwash from that period that I wouldn’t ever want to sound like. This remains true throughout the 90’s as well, though once again there ARE some good songs, they come from him being able to break away from who Iggy Pop is supposed to be into what he wants as an artist. I that if I manage to have a career in music I would want to A) never have a solid image or expectation from a crowd and B) I would want to have a good enough grasp on music to be able to support myself without needing somebody behind me.

Beyond all of that analytical shit, there’s also bands that I just fucking hate, which I’m sure are more along the lines of the answer you expected instead of 3 paragraphs that took me an hour altogether.

THE MOST IRREDEEMABLE BANDS IN MUSIC HISTORY

- The New York Dolls. You know who likes the New York Dolls? People who like every single Cool Obscure Punk Band, and all of the hair metal icons who also don’t have anything original to say, any musical talent, or any creative power whatsoever. The New York Dolls paved the way for straight men in the 80’s to dress up in terrible drag and continue the grand rock n roll tradition of fucking pubescent girls. They are not glam rock and they barely qualify as punk. They’re proto glitter metal. The New York Dolls are not fun because they’re trashy, they’re just kind of sickening to be around.

- Dave Matthews Band

It’s a running joke in my household that I, and my drum prodigy brother(therefore placing him on a high enough pedestal to have musical opinions), hate this fucking band so much it’s unreal.

- The Rolling Stones

I don’t actually hate the Stones I just hate that I’m supposed to like them for doing essentially Rock, the cornflakes kind. They’re a late 60’s rock band. That’s all they are. They wrote You Can’t Always Get What You Want and it began my history with depression. Thanks Mick Jagger.

- The Melvins

Obviously bitter because they’re less popular than Nirvana despite pioneering the grunge genre, I’d be way more willing to hold them up as underappreciated geniuses if A) I found their music anymore interesting than any other early/proto grunge(I don’t because I’m not a cisgendered hegerosexual man), and B) Buzz Osbourne wasn’t so insufferable. I really can’t even judge them musicially because I just don’t like Buzz that much.

- The Smashing Pumpkins

The Smashing Pumpkins can actually write tunes and I’m actually very curious/eager myself to test out their version of dream pop(Less Mazzy Star, more My Bloody Valentine), but oh my God Billy Corgan’s singing voice. I mean, Billy Corgan himself, but holy shit. I know I ragged on Iggy and Nick but they’re tolerable as artists because they’ll openly admit to not being particularly good vocally(which I think Iggy is honestly too hard on himself for but that’s a different paragraph altogether). Billy Corgan can’t admit that he’s just not that talented, and I know Courtney praised him for writing hooks when everybody else was writing noise because the rich college kids didn’t have to worry about making money, and that’s fine, but once he started Making money he could’ve afforded to experiment more(and I’ve only heard the band’s first two albums but like. Oh Mellon Collie and the infinite hit factory) but I don’t think there was ever somebody willing to divorce themselves from the norm inside Billy Corgan. And obviously I hate him for being a fuckhead. So there’s that.

- The White Stripes

Meg White is cute and cool and has anxiety issues like mine but good lord I don’t like Jack White, and worse than him I don’t like their music. I don’t like the incredibly derivative ‘pop blues’ riffs, I don’t like their senseless half-worded lyrics, I don’t like their ‘we listened to the Stooges so we can play three notes forever and that’s valid creatively’ attitude. To be fair, I think that’s all more Jack than Meg, but however the chips fall I experience their music with slightly more interest than I experience a commercial.

Thank you for this ask!

#aberdeen spoken word #THIS IS SO LONGGGG BITCH

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mittensmorgul · 4 years

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Aah, 12.09. Good timing, tnt loop.

Sam and Dean trapped in a place that's "not supposed to exist." They are literally trapped in a cage where Dean was finally driven to make the only choice left open to them-- his deal with Billie.

Then there's all of his communication issues with Cas. Cas has been looking for them for weeks [Cas voice: six weeks, two days, and ten hours]. But he doesn't so much hear a single word of them during that whole time. Not even Crowley's contacts have any idea where the Winchesters are. No prayer even worked (or Dean-- or even Sam-- never bothered trying, at least not that we saw. But Dean's "prayer" or whatever to Billie DID work... she found him immediately... *something something cutting off all other options until they have no other choices blah blah blah* This is what Chuck has always done to them, and I do think Billie had a hand in this iteration...). Dean literally using the line "Well, what we have here is a failure to communicate." (well, not to Cas, but point stands), after Sam had called Dean out on his choice NOT to tell Cas about his deal with Billie over the phone.

Then (thanks to 14.18 this is even more freshly painful, because of Cas's memory/flashback of Mary establishing their earlier attempts to get to know one another when they felt mutually exiled from the bunker after 12.03 for their own personal feelings). The progression of their interactions over the weeks that Sam and Dean are missing fits into the EXACT same diagram of Dean and Cas's interactions over the course of s15 so far. Well, without all the history and emotional baggage and years and years of close personal interactions that make the s15 situation so horrifically painful now. This all occurred within the span of a single episode. Dean and Cas's issues-- built on 11 years of prior relationship-- have spanned more than half a season (going back to 14.17 where these dominoes started falling).

When Mary first arrives at the bunker after Cas realizes Sam and Dean are missing, she is ANGRY. And Cas is the only one there to be angry AT.

MARY: You left them. CASTIEL: No, I… Dean told me to go. The woman-- MARY: The one you lost? CASTIEL: I didn’t. I… I thought that she-- MARY: Stop making excuses. [Cas looks down, and Mary sighs heavily] MARY: Why… if they needed help, why didn’t they call me? CASTIEL: You were out. MARY: [sighs] How did we let this happen, Castiel?

Mary's anger stems mostly from the fact that SHE DIDN'T KNOW ANY OF THIS. Which is different, admittedly, from the source of Dean's anger in 14.18... Dean SHOULD HAVE known, he admitted to Sam that he DID know. That his anger was mostly self-directed, but he lashed out at Cas for "going off on his own to solve the problem without them anyway," in Dean's mind.

But this is the same issue to Cas, because they hadn't involved Mary in 12.08 because she was "out," they didn't want to drag her back into the hunting life that she was apparently struggling so hard with. It was apparently one of her main reasons for leaving them after 12.03, and then LIED TO THEM FOR WEEKS about what she was actually doing-- attempting to reconnect with her old life both with John AND through John's journal (i.e. her hunting life). In a similar fashion, this is what Cas has been doing for Dean (and Sam) since s6, right? Trying to do whatever he could to keep them out of the "bigger cosmic drama" so they wouldn't have to do those terrible things. (and this will continue to be an issue going forward-- disappearing to Heaven in just a few episodes, stealing the Colt to try and kill Dagon and the unborn nephilim, absconding with Kelly and cutting all connections with Sam and Dean... and then in 14.17 going off to attempt to find a way to contact God directly to "fix" Jack's missing soul without telling Sam and Dean about any of it... ostensibly to spare them ever having to know how bad he suspected things with Jack had become). And it all horrifically, terribly just made everything worse. No matter how hard Cas tries to protect the Winchesters, it always seems to just make things worse.

(I'll argue that killing Billie in 12.09 was inadvertently the BEST thing he's done, and Billie would likely agree, because it gave her the power to do what she's been planning ever since then...)

But when she and Cas meet again a few weeks later, Cas has had no further success at finding Sam and Dean. And he hasn't even been able to carry on hunting in their stead. He's lost his confidence in himself. He's... broken by his failure to protect them. And most importantly, Mary APOLOGIZED. First words out of her mouth after SHE reached out to CAS.

MARY: Thanks for meeting me. I just wanted to say [clears throat] I’m sorry. I was angry, and… Sam and Dean, that’s not your fault. CASTIEL: No, you were right. I should never have left them. I… Have you heard anything? MARY: All my law enforcement contacts are retired, or… dead. [sighs] I’m trying, but… You? CASTIEL: [shakes his head] MARY: I keep telling myself they’re fine. They’ve only been gone-- CASTIEL: Six weeks, two days, and ten hours. MARY: We’ll find them, Castiel. We will. Until then, we just… We’re doin’ our best. CASTIEL: Are we? Did you hear about the murders in Lancaster, Missouri? MARY: No. CASTIEL: The women with their throats ripped out, the blood drained? MARY: Vampire. CASTIEL: I saw it on the news and I thought, that’s the sort of thing Sam and Dean would investigate. They would roll into town, save the day, kill the monsters. But with them gone… I tried to work the case. I tried. [bitter little laugh] But… I don’t know what I did wrong. I… I asked questions, but maybe they were the wrong people, or the wrong questions, and I just-- I never found it. Never found the monster. Never even got close. And three more women died before I left town. Before I ran away. MARY: So we go back. You and me. CASTIEL: No. No, I’d only get in your way.

It's so similar, and yet so entirely different, from what Cas has done since he chose to walk away after 15.03. He "ran away," yes. He went off and tried hiding, learning to fish. But when he stumbled across a suspected monster case, he asked the RIGHT people the RIGHT questions, and no one else died. He killed the monster, saved and healed a boy, and made the choice to go back.

In 12.09, Cas resorted to sitting in the bunker library, in the dark, alone, rather than face his own failure. Mary took care of the monster he couldn't kill on his own, and that only made him feel worse. Until he was able to turn around and save all three Winchesters:

DEAN: Cas, what have you done? CASTIEL: What had to be done. You know this world-- this sad, doomed little world-- it needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I will not let you die. I won’t let any of you die. And I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me. To everything. Yeah, you made a deal. You made a stupid deal, and I broke it. You’re welcome.

Sacrifices sometimes have to be made, though. The loop has continued to play into 12.10 as I've typed this, and Cas's talk with Ishim is currently my background noise:

Ishim: Now, Mirabel, some angels think of Castiel as a hero. After he left us, he had his own flight to command. Balthazar, Uriel. Great soldiers. Both dead now, of course. You had a hand in that, too. So is he a hero? Is he a spanner in the works? I don't know. Castiel: I am not a hero. But sometimes doing the right thing requires sacrifices. Ishim: True, but it just always seems that it's other angels sacrificing for your good deeds. Their wings, their lives.

Because isn't this just what Cas has had to face on every front, for years? Doing the right thing, making sacrifices (and being willing to sacrifice himself-- and anyone else-- over and over again if it means Sam and Dean don't have to)? And regarding Lily-- who will eventually find her own redemption through helping Cas (and Sam and Dean) heal Jack in s14-- what is the Truth and what Cas was manipulated into believing because of Ishim's lies and jealousy was the cause of all of this from the start. Cas has struggled with understanding the machinations of Heaven for eons, through the failures of Heaven's plans, through the failings of his fellow angels, and finally understood that it was all a reflection of Chuck-- and Chuck's clear failings. Cas, unlike Dean, understood Chuck's revelation in 14.20. It was more a confirmation of everything he's suffered through forever (but especially since he'd gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition on God's orders) for Cas, rather than a shock.

What Cas doesn't yet understand is how badly that revelation shattered Dean's entire mindset and everything he'd ever believed in.

And what Dean doesn't yet understand is that Chuck's revelation hasn't changed anything, not fundamentally, and that Cas was right-- they are real, even if everything else is just Chuck's manipulation. That Cas's choices all along have been real, because all along he's chosen Dean again and again.

Good things do happen, Dean.

Not in my experience.

(or maybe not in any way Dean has yet been able to understand... gah these idiots really need to talk...)

#spn 12.09 #spn 12.10 #spn 15.07 #spn 15.06 #spn 15.03 #spn 15.01 #spn 14.20 #spn 14.18 #spn 14.17 #spiders georg of the tnt loop #s15 meta rewatch #that's what free will is #then on top of that we have all the obsession vs love themes in Lily Sunder that reiterate the central themes of s11 #and which will become the background noise of dabb era #grand unification via love theory #in the end it's always love that saves everything...

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foxymuses · 4 years

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do it! share the spn opinions!

aight, but i aint gonna go super into detail here, okay, and i’m putting it under a cut just so people who don’t want to SEE THE SALT can avoid it, so this is your LAST WARNING don’t read further if you’re easily offended/have strong feelings about spn. also, i say it several times, but it should be enforced here that just because i dislike a character on the show does not mean i dislike someone’s portrayal. oftentimes, the tumblr rp world writes characters better than shows do and it redeems these characters in my eyes, so. keep that in mind

i can’t stand sam at all. i think he’s a whiny bitch baby and he gets far too much love in the show. i prefer the later seasons when dean becomes the plot focus. this isn’t because i like dean better (but i do), it’s honestly just so... like sam’s writing is so off putting and it grinds me. i usually skip episodes that are sam focused, and i very much can’t stand most of s3 and s4. i also don’t like soulless sam at all *** i usually adore sam rpers. this isn’t to say i hate the character. i hate the way he’s written in the show, but how tumblr people write him is the Right way and i love them for it

i Strongly Disliked s6 and s12. i can’t even tell you what happened in these seasons aside from a vague recollection. s8 is also a bit of a fog, but that’s mostly because s9 is when i started watching the show on tv so i sort of skipped through s8 to be ready for the premiere.

i will forever be salty that they did dean dirty at the end of s5. having him go to say yes then essentially being all ‘jk sam asked me not to so i wont’ will forever irritate me. like. they were all ‘no dean, you can’t say yes to michael’ and ready to lock him up for it, but then literally like an episode later were like ‘nah it’s cool if sam says yes though, whatever’

sort of following that, i really hate that sam is oftentimes implied to be the ‘stronger’ or ‘nicer’ brother. i think he’s a huge hypocrite and like. he causes so many problems, and he’s so mean to dean a lot of the time? but dean would do anything for him? that’s annoying

i did not like mary being brought back at all. that was random and made super little sense to the overall plot, and i did not like how she was written

i also don’t like jack. he seemed a kind of... mmm there’s a word for it. but like the writers seemed to just throw him in for the sake of a plot line, and he’s annoying and i don’t like how OP he is. again, most jack writers are better, but within the show realm, he annoys me to no end, as does the immediate like... love for him that everyone but dean has, and the pushy insistence that everyone shoves at dean to like jack as if he’s not the spawn of the devil

i dont even think this is controversial, but how they handled demon dean was Disappointing, and great part of the reason i stopped watching in s10 and didn’t catch up until i learned dean got possessed by michael FINALLY. but that disappointed me too, so. here we are, living on my blog with my own rules about the possessions and shit

can we talk about how dean’s ptsd is never addressed at all.

uh, john was an abusive asshole. no forgiveness here. there’s no excuses ‘he was a drunk, he missed his wife, he wanted dean to survive’ no, he was an abusive asshole that royally fucked dean up for good, and i will have none of the john apologist bullshit here, thanks. bobby was more a father to dean than john ever would’ve been

don’t really care for the claire arc all that much. i like her with jody, and i like jody’s little family with alex too, but the arc for claire is just.. really odd

donna is incredibly annoying. i’ll keep saying it, but tumblr writers do her so much better. show donna just. ugh.

i wrote a post about it once, but the episode i Hate the most is on the head of a pin, and i won’t super go into detail, but that whole episode is s shit show and i Do Not acknowledge it happened, thanks

I THINK THERE’S MORE BUT I’M BLANKING

the samulet and handprint both still exist, thanks. there’s a post about it somewhere on one of my blogs that i should bring out again

can we stop treating dean as either an angry fisticuffs player or an overall childish goofball? he has more to him than that

i’m still bitter over the ruby arc, honestly. it annoyed me in all the wrong ways. we can just assume that i’m fine with ruby writers at this point, nothing i say in this list pertains to writers on tumblr, just the show

the god is chuck thing is fine, but the whole direction the show took with it after amara is just fucking bananas. i mean sure, what else could they end on other than a fight against god, but still. fucking bananas. lets go back to the days of ‘maybe chuck is god’ in like s5, yknow?

um can dean and cas just kiss now? or how about like several seasons ago, but starting in like s11, even though i adore cas a lot, he started to get a little irritating. again, show writing, not tumblr writing. but he kinda started to become like... high and mighty and it does not mesh well with things, i think

ben is dean’s son, i dont care what you say.

um im trying to go through the seasons in my head to remember things that annoy me and are controversial, and aren’t just things that spn needs to fix, like andy’s death (still bitter)

what was that crowley and blood addiction shit that happened in like s10 or something? what was that supposed to be? was that supposed to mean something i am so confused

um are the ghostfacers even still alive, like this isn’t salt, i’m just genuinely concerned because if they are, why aren’t they in more episodes please

yo, maybe because i write pride and chronos and whatever, but the treatment of non-chrisitan deities is absolute Shit, thanks. like i get that the show is going for the christian religion is the Main thing, because most people get it, but like. as someone genuinely interested in religion, the utter disdain for other religious entities or even the idea that all demons are bad demons simply because demons is ridiculous. show some love to other entities. like for fuck’s sake, you can’t just kill the god of time? what the fuck? some of these gods were around long before any recorded history of the christian god, so i guarantee you at least half of them could kick god’s butt and call it a day.

s9 mark of cain dean was the best, that’s the end of that argument

wtf with the gabe storyline what even, gabe deserved better

imma go so far as to say lucifer did too, that was a bunch of nonsense. all of it that happened after s5, it’s all bullshit

actually the only angel that deserved what they god was metatron, thanks, the asshole.

also can we talk about death, like. dont get me wrong billie is cool, but i want my original pizza-loving death back please, he and dean had a cool thing going on. also tessa, can we bring back tessa

honestly rowena annoyed me in the beginning. she grew on me, but i feel like a lot of her character was forced.

the dean and pie thing has gone a little too far at this point

*claps* i *claps* don’t *claps* like *claps* sam! literally half the things in this post are me dancing around this idea, but most of my salt for the show stems from my dislike of him.

idek the general opinion on this, but i did Not like the crazy cas & meg situation. like all of that. it was weird. i mean i didn’t even really like meg, to be honest. but that whole arc was fucking weird, and that relationship (one kiss?) felt super forced.

actually can we stop having cas just. fucking switch personalities all the time? s4 cas was the best.

dean does Not put sam above everyone else. he will try to save sam, yes, but sam is not the most important person to dean, and dean will not choose sam above cas or bobby or charlie or jody or literally anyone.

IM RUNNING OUT OF THOUGHTS BUT I KNOW I HAVE MORE so. we’ll come back to this.

#;;fox answers #oops spilled the salt #i don't apologize for anything #Anonymous #delivered

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