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emily-the-fae · 3 years

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Every Day is a Lullaby

A oneshot. This honestly came to my mind yesterday night, I do not know how well the idea turned out to be.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x OC

Warnings:probably language, blood, injury, background character death, brief mentions of sex, angst mith mix of fluff

Rated: T

Mr Ketch has many sides, likable and repulsing - but which one of his faces is truly his is sometimes an uncertainty even for him.

Harper reflects on the changes on their relationship as they get out of a hunt gone wrong. While Ketch reconsiders some of his past choices... And reasons why he is still alive.

If he's a serial killer

Then what's the worst

That can happen to a girl

Who's already hurt

I'm already hurt

The first time Harper met him was a coincidence. It was long before the whole nephilim thing, long before she found out what kind of man he was, what kind of hunter he was. Yet even back then in the span of their first couple of meetings she felt he was no good.

A stupid hunting coincidence.

Harper was not used to hunting alone. She did that to herself - separated herself from the Winchesters. However much she loved Sam and Dean, she could not bear continuously being around them, not after everything that happened. Not after Charlie. Because no matter what Dean said or how Sam reassured her - it was her fault. Charlie was a great friend. Charlie had the brightest soul. Harper was late to help her and now Charlie was no more. It was all Harper's fault.

Driving away and going head first into hunting was the outmost Winchester way of dealing with the guilt and grief. Hunting alone while slowly coming out of her lowest phase - those were the circumstances under which Harper met Arthur Ketch.

The first time it happened it was a coincidence - two hunters choosing the same target is not uncommon. Harper was already on spot and all in the fight when he arrived. "Are you insane going into a whole vampire nest alone?" - those were the first words she ever heard from him. She might have been slightly insane, but he sure was a damn psycho. To be honest if not for him she would have probably ended up dead or turned in that vampire nest that night. Harper hates being honest about it.

The second coincidence happened just a few days after the first one - she would later on doubt if it was a coincidence at all. Perhaps it was. Harper would never really know - what she did know though was that he still had a small scar left above his left eyebrow - a mark of where she hit him with the grip of her gun, thinking it was the witch that was creeping up to her and absolutely not expecting to hear a male voice swearing after her blow. Arthur had not known her for 24 hours in sum and they were already making a scene after a hunt - Harper almost pitied she had not knocked him out straight away.

What happened on the next day? He caught her in the town and suggested to team up to avoid "future confusions". Rule number one how to become friends with Arthur Ketch: hit him in the face. Harper wasn't going to become friends with him - with any hunters for that matter - but fate seldom cared what Harper was going to do anyways.

Harper definitely lied to herself when she said that they were going to be only friends or that she was going to hate him after all the British Men of Letters invasion story. She didn't. Not with the way they met in the first place: him ripping her out of the claws of the angry remnants of the vampire pack - slightly concerned greyish blue eyes and a British accent was what greeted her at dawn that day, even though mid in fight she had accepted she would not see the sun again. It seemed symbolic how he saved her from giving up, from herself. And certainly not after the way their relationship went from mutual curiosity to blind semi-professional trust. Harper did not need a "friend" to console her: if she had wanted that she would have stayed around Sam - she needed someone unfeeling but understanding enough to see through her and consciously let it be.

She remembered it clearly - three hunts into their relationship - a month after their first encounter - they were sharing a hotel room. Two beds, late night after a hunt, she lied on her side and quietly cried. It was a demon hunt. The memories were too much. Arthur came into view and stared at her for a couple of moments before walking to his own bed.

- I'd say you can talk about it when you want to, but I doubt you will ever feel the necessity, - a brief caress of his hand against her shoulder. He did not try to relieve her, he allowed her to get to her own way of coping. For that Harper was grateful more than ever. - We all have skeletons in our closets, it's the downturn of the job.

Oh, dear Arthur, we are both now aware you knew far too well what you were talking about. Harper doubted any hunter had a closet cemetery as large as Ketch's.

Yet... Even after that - the awkward reuniting with the Winchesters, being pulled away from him as she came back to her old friends and witnessing, luckily from a safe distance, how the man she grew to trust without actually knowing him, uncovered darker and darker sides of his personality. What was worst - after she refused to join the BMoL, he would continue to sometimes keep her hunting company, going on like nothing happened. Like nothing changed. Why worst? It let the image of the heartless killer that she should have seen before her now connect and combine with the image of the man who would patch her up on her darkest nights and put a firm hand on her shoulder when Harper was too deep in memory to restrain herself. His presence around her became a reassurance in itself - because he did not have to know to understand. And because he simply had not been there - looking into his eyes Harper wouldn't get reminded of the times when everything was still right, wouldn't get reminded of that one time everything went very wrong. Probably those were the main qualities that helped him win a spot in her heart. Those and his unending casual flirting.

And now? After everything was over, after his very dark side was revealed, the confessions were made and the redemption was played, what did she think of him? The hunter, turned out just a very well trained assassin - he had served the British Men of Letters, he had served Asmodeus - now here he was separated from any commanding he ever had, living a hunting life of his own and sometimes collaborating with the Winchesters. Therewere many dark moments forgotten for the sake of peace. Many more had yet to come up - judging by how Ketch treated his own history and interests of others.

" - I wonder where Mick went, he was always so nice... Nicer than you, anyways. Pity he went away all of a sudden, - Harper mentioned once after a hunt.

- He did not go anywhere. I shot him in the head just like Hess ordered, - Ketch seemed calm and cold as steel. " Sometimes Harper thought that leaving BMoL would change him, but moments like that she realized how slowly the changes - if any - would have to occur. That night she simply walked away, not saying another word.

If anyone ever asked Harper how Arthur's spot in her heart had shifted after all the mess he had caused? She would say that he never even had one... And think that truth to be told there was no flame hot enough to burn him out of her chest - his name carved on her ribs would have been easier to get rid of than the bittersweet affection she harboured for the moral wreck of a man named Arthur Ketch.

If he's as bad as they say

Then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes

I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt

Despite that Harper never dared pursue a relationship. Why? She was very sure with people like Ketch the only right strategy was not to expect them to be capable of attachment. The flirting, the sweet promising looks he would give her after a well-accomplished hunt... Harper would dream of believing them to be genuine. She was very well aware thinking him in any way genuine was a risk she was not ready to take. She knew Ketch would not mind letting that affair happen - he made that quite clear. She also knew it would mean absolutely nothing to him apart from some company and a warm body in his bed. Arthur Ketch was cold, unemotional and taught himself well not to get attached to anyone - and even if that was not true, he tried his damn best to make it seem so.

Harper sometimes hoped she saw it in his eyes: a silent "please keep safe" when they would part after a hunt, a sparking "I missed you" when they would meet once again. Arthur sometimes hoped she would see it too - very deep in his soul, deeper than he would ever be able to admit even to himself.

In other words, the outcome of the new hunt would have presented itself sooner or later anyways. They were actually quite lucky to have it present itself the way it did.

The werewolf did not seem such a hard target - away from bigger packs, alone terrorizing the neighborhood - just because he could. Problem and solution crystal clear - a hunt where one clearly sees the root of evil is a blessing for a hunter that's used to all the versions of heartbreaking stories. What Harper did not so clearly see was the gun in their opponent's hands. To be more precise: she did see it, but a little too late.

Two gunshots rang at the same time: her silver bullet hitting right into the monster's heart and his normal one - ... Ketch fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor: his left shoulder bled, the bulletproof vest, even though being pierced in the thinner area, had preserved him from being too deeply injured - but not kept completely safe from wounding.

Several seconds of silence - making sure the werewolf is not a threat anymore - realisation and fear finally hitting Harper.

- Ketch?... Ketch?!... Arthur! - the hunter was too disoriented to answer and his silence was taken as a bad sign. - Oh Lord, Arthur, no! - gone are the self-restraint and professional coldness: the moment she sees blood on his chest, she rushes to his side, forgetting about everything else in the world. She needs to make sure he will be fine. He has to be. - Arthur, please, don't die on me! Arthur! - she calls for his attention, the hunter slowly regaining his senses.

For a moment there he believes he hears Tony. This reminds him of some of his unlucky hunts from the years before, though back then he had certainly had it worse. Besides this definitely was not Tony.

Tony would have said "Ketch's down" and carry on with the hunt, eyes on the target, and when the deed was done she would pass him with a short "How is it?" - more out of politeness than genuine caring. That was exactly what she did the only two times he had been seriously injured infront of her.

- Ketch, answer me right this instant, don't you dare fading out! - panic in her voice, genuine. The idea of someone caring as much as to panic at the thought of his death seems too good to be true - for him at least. Arthur feels hands investigating his chest, checking for the wound: cold thin fingers running over his blood-covered skin. Not Tony - Harper.

- I'll live, darling, it's nothing too serious, - attempting to sound confident, but his voice is rasp. It's nothing serious, but it hurt nonetheless: the blow on the shoulder was much harder than anticipated and the bleeding needed to be stopped.

Harper looks into the light blue, borderline grey eyes - he is staring up at her, his gaze unguarded only for a moment that lets her see the uncommon softness and hope in his expression - just for a moment - she believes the things she guessed about him were true, she believes the pain visible in his eyes is true, only by accident revealed to her. The state lasts only a couple of moments - but even that is more than enough for his visible emotions to imprint into her mind.

Arthur Ketch was able to feel. Arthur Ketch could be in pain. Arthur Ketch was capable of needing help.

I said "Don't be a jerk, don't call me a taxi"

Sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat ooh-ooh

I just wanna dance with you

Hollywood and Vine, Black Rabbit in the alley

I just wanna hold you tight down the avenue ooh

I just wanna dance with you

It was a wonder that the hotel clerk did not stop them on their way - Ketch looked positively dying - Harper was quite sure there was no legal thing that could have happened to him that would have explained this appearance. This was the reason normal hunters chose motels: less suspicion. Harper briefly wondered where he got the money to maintain his former lifestyle, since he was stripped of the BMoL funding, but she guessed there were other sources on his side and he was just too stubborn to change his ways.

When they stumbled into his hotel room, Arthur made a move to drop himself on the bed, but Harper grabbed him by the collar swiftly, dragging him away in the other direction.

- Ketch don't you dare stain the sheets, they'll report us, - she mumbled, pushing him to enter the bathroom and dropping him to sit on the edge of the tub.

He would have laughed if the sudden movement had not caused sharp pain to shoot through his damaged shoulder, making him wince. Alexandra. He had wondered for so long whom Harper reminded him of and out of all moments they shared it was this that made him realise. The memory reappeared in his mind so vividly now.

"Artie, no! Don't go to your room, you'll stain your carpet! Mum will kill us!" - and the older girl held him under his arms, guiding him to the kitchen.

He still remembered it: the years before school, before Kendricks, him and his sister mostly alone in the house with parents constantly away. Alexandra had brought him up before Kendricks had. Alexandra had a lovely voice, she would read him bedtime stories, she would sing to him, she was kind and caring - probably the only human being in his life that ever seemed to care. When he went to Kendricks was the last time he had ever seen her... Well, alive. Alexandra was kind and caring - and that was probably the reason why she had not made it through the training. In fact her death might have been the only reason why he survived and made it to the top - having no one care about you has a benefit: you don't have to care about anyone too.

After his sister's funeral life had never felt the same and Arthur had been quite certain before that it was for the better. Now, watching Harper rush about, trying to find the medical kit to help him, he thought that he had been terribly wrong all the damn time.

How long has she known him? A couple of years, not more, but the relationship between them reached beyond the borders of friendship or companionship. That little american hunter - the first time he saw her he thought she was suicidal, the second one - bold and full of sass. The following months proved her well capable of combining both while turning out to be so much more, one of which being: to be able to love Arthur Ketch. Of course he knew she loved him - this was among those traits in her that he openly treated with polite contempt and deep down envied more than anything.

He watched Harper come to his side, sliding his hunting gear off his shoulders - her movements so gentle, her eyes filled with worry and guilt.

- I'm so sorry Arthur, I should have... - you're always sorry. You always think it is your fault and none else's. This was most probably the main reason why it was so easy for him to openly reject her feeling: they both knew she loved him, they both knew he saw it, he toyed with her so many times, being suggestive, flirting. "As long as I enjoy the physical aspects of having an affair, the emotional attachment that other people believe necessary to form is rather pathetic" - he told her once. He actually said that, those were his words. I would like to fuck you as long as you shut your disgustingly human little heart. She stared at him for a moment, her beautiful face almost successfully hiding the hurt - then turned away silently, shrugging her shoulders. He was being a jerk. Harper never stopped him from that, Harper seemed to take it all in and believe he was right, believe that her feeling for him was utterly pathetic. That it was her fault.

- It was no one's mistake, love, it was an unlucky accident. Besides it didn't turn out that awful, - he trailed off. She was cleaning his skin over the wound now, preparing to apply stitches. Arthur could sense a little shudder in her at the word "love". He was so used to saying it that he forgot about all the connotations it held. Lord, was he bad at this.

Harper continued her work silently. She felt him studying her face and prayed to be finished as quick as possible - she did not need another heartbreaking hope and she had already made the mistake of looking into his eyes that night. When the last stitch was done, she turned away to put the materials aside and sensed him straighten up behind her back - Harper felt he wanted to say something else, but she could not give him that opportunity. She almost thought he would die that night - seeing him on the floor made her blood run cold - she did not need any more pain to add to the aftermath of the shock.

- I'm going to my room, but please call me if you feel worse during the night, - she spoke, not turning to face him, ready to walk out of the bathroom. Harper felt his hand grab her wrist in a rushed movement and turned abruptly only to see him staring back at her with unguarded softness in his eyes. The only time she remembered Arthur look at her like that was when she twisted an ankle during the hunt all due to his mistake. It scared her a little to see that expression on him.

- Why won't you just stay to keep an eye on me? - his voice low, with an undertone she so often heard when he flirted with her.

- You're a big boy, Ketch, we both know that even stitching you up was superfluous, you can perfectly well tend to yourself, - a smile. Harper tried to brush it off jokingly, ready to make her leave, but his grasp on her wrist only grew stronger.

- Stay. At least for this night. Please, - the smile disappeared from her face. He sounded wounded, he sounded like he really pleaded. Harper broke away from his grasp, taking a step back.

- You don't need a... - she shook her head.

- But I do, - he stood up, taking a step towards her, not letting her increase the distance between them. His fingers came up to caress her cheek gently. - Harper, stay, - she shut her eyes, standing still and quiet for a couple of seconds, seemingly fighting back emotions.

- You don't mean this, - she said, looking up at him sharply and confidently, but in a moment, failing to restrain herself, she continues more quietly and softly. - Why do you have to be so cruel to me? - he could see tears brimming in her eyes.

They stood frozen in front of each other, her face so close to his, her eyes watering - not because of this particular evening, but because of all those times before he had behaved in similar nature. It was the first time she had so directly addressed the issue of her feelings for him. "Why do you have to be so cruel to me?" She seemed to be waiting for an actual answer. Why was she always so kind to him? Like he was normal, like he didn't hurt her? Arthur leaned down, his hand still cupping her cheek, his lips touching hers gently and firmly.

Harper closed her eyes - not as a girl would do in a pretty romantic movie - she shut her eyes, pressing her eyelids together, holding her breath, shuddering. A single tear ran down her cheek.

When they parted, though his face still stayed just a few centimeters away from hers, Harper opened her eyes again, her breath shaking.

- Arthur...

His free hand circled her waist, pulling her closer to him, as his fingers slid away from her cheek, moving behind her head, running through her hair. Arthur leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting over her neck.

- Because I hate how you make me feel like I can still have a life, like not everything is lost. I hate how you make me feel worth being cared about and able to care. I hate how you make me feel, - he said that rushed and quiet. Pressing his front to the side of her head, breathing deeply.

- And what if you are lying? What if this all is for the sake of one night? I'm tired of guessing if you have a soul or not, Arthur, I'm too worn out, - she wispered after some time, leaning her forehead into his uninjured shoulder.

- Then trust me this one time. I promise. Please.

- Why?

- Because I need you. I need you to feel alive.

Arthur felt her let out a deep breath, her petite form pressing itself to his, her arms sliding behind his back to hold him close. She raised her head, freezing for a moment before their eyes met, then leaning up - their lips meeting now less gingerly than the first time.

- Does that mean you'll stay?

- You're such an asshole, Ketch...

- I know.

Harper hid her face in his chest, sobbing quietly, her form shacking, worn out both physically and emotionally. Arthur kissed her temple softly, caressing her back, for once feeling like he did everything right. For once feeling like they had a chance.

Happiness is a butterfly

Try to catch it like every night

It's escaping from me into moonlight

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #arthur ketch x oc #this is written half at night and half on school breaks please don't judge me #i havenot revisited this fandom in such a long time #arthur ketch x reader #arthur ketch #sam winchester #dean winchester #british men of letters #angst #happiness is a butterfly #lana del rey #oneshot #songfic

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katsidhe · 3 years

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15.20 Final Thoughts

Supernatural is over, and somehow, despite itself, it did the very best it could to please me. That was always going to be an impossible task. But truly, sincerely, that finale was as close to my desires as the show could ever bring itself to come, and so, so much closer than I ever dreamed it would dare.

I am so, so glad that no other regular characters were involved (Bobby aside, but he was brief). How better to encapsulate their own emptiness? How fundamentally fitting, than in the epilogue to their final battle, wherein the entire world beyond them was erased, the wider universe is merely set dressing for them to move through. And it was so quiet this way. This finale wasn’t overcrowded or rushed. It kept its own peace. And it preserved the tangible claustrophobia that 15.19 invoked: that tangled, lovely, solipsistic, toxic conviction that these are the only two people on earth that matter.

It’s unclear exactly how much time passed between 15.19 and 15.20. I like to think it’s been at least a year, given that they’ve settled into routine and that their grief seems less fresh. (Although yes, the concept of Dean dying on his very first hunt without a resurrection available is hilarious, I must confess.) Their calm domesticity, their peace, was lovely to watch (Sam kicking the laundry machine! Sam with wet hair! Sam running! Sam cooking, Sam looking a little less bulky than usual, and happy!) But man, it really is Dean’s world, isn’t it? Even the DOG, which really, really, really could reasonably have been primarily Sam’s, was Dean’s dog first and foremost. Then on Dean’s say-so, they get in Dean’s car to drive to a pie festival for Dean. Sam is perfectly content to go along with all of it.

As if we hadn’t gotten enough delightful fanservice, we also got one last scene of Sam threatening to torture someone to death. :) what a king.

I love that Dean died to an OSHA violation while fighting a random loose end from season 1 (which, by the way, I CALLED IT, I am so proud of myself). It’s perfectly mundane. I truly and deeply do not understand anyone complaining that Dean should have gone out in a way that’s more epic. He’s been there, done that, guys, and remember how miserable it was? Now there’s no cosmic safety net. Dean died in a broken down old barn, saving some kids. Moments like these are when Dean is at his best, at his most fundamentally sympathetic: when he’s not trying to control the shape of the universe or dictate righteousness or let his anger drive himself down into a destructive spiral. He’s just putting his money where his mouth is. He’s not making a broad moral statement. He’s simply putting his life on the line to defend someone who needs defending. It is not an unworthy end. It’s so much better than going out to, god forbid, God.

Did Dean earn a lifetime of peace? The concept of just desserts is fraught. But I also don’t think it’s something Dean wanted. He wanted to keep killing things in tetanus-infested barns until he died. He got what he wanted. And while the arc of his wants has adapted over the years, MOTW hunting is fulfilling for him.

Dean’s deathbed speech was, oh man. It got me good. Like many of the things I loved in this episode, it was quiet. No desperation, no revising history (or not too much, anyway). Just, “stay with me, please. I love you. Tell me it’s okay.”

The quiet of Sam’s grief, alone in the bunker. How still his face is, until for a little bit it crumples again, and then it comes back and goes still. He’s not trying to control his reactions or press back against his sorrow. There is no work to do, nothing to avenge, no one to find, nothing to defeat. He is alone, and the washes of visible grief simply come and go in waves that he doesn’t try to fight or force.

I need the gif of him flinching at the toaster. His startle reactions are my favorite thing. He’s alone underground, there is not a living soul for miles and miles, he’s just buried his brother, not for the first time, but this time, he knows, for the last. And the goddamn toaster goes off and he cannot control the way his heart leaps up into his throat and the way every one of his muscles tightens.

Sam grows old. Sam. Grows old. Sam grows old! SAM GROWS OLD.

Ohhh my God, Sam grows old. Without Dean! Without hunting! Without Cas! With people outside that claustrophobic world, beyond the four tight walls of SPN, beyond the people approved by Dean and by Fandom, who give him peace and love and fulfillment! SAM GOT OUT. Even with the truly terrible wig the image brings me to actual tears. I cannot believe SPN would allow him to have this. I cannot believe that the show let him be happy without Dean. I want to read the set of novelizations about Sam’s recovery.

Of course this was the only way for Sam to get unwound, and of course it had to happen offscreen in flashes. Thank god for the ambiguity. There’s so much potential there, years and years, we were simply told: and at some point Sam’s life gets better, at some point his mental health improves and he feels safe enough to start a family, with someone, and at some point he has a child, and he dies peacefully, he dies loved and with people who love him, and dammit I’m getting weepy again.

Sam quit hunting. Not in a sudden jolt. We see him leaving the bunker on another job. But when he leaves the bunker, he leaves for good. He has so much knowledge, but he does not preserve the Men of Letters. He does not honor their legacy of extermination and experimentation. Maybe he gives someone else the keys, for the books. Or maybe he’s digitized it all, and maybe it’s done.

Maybe his wife is Eileen, or maybe it’s Amelia, or maybe it’s Piper or Cara or maybe it’s someone new. Maybe it’s not even a woman. And maybe she’s a hunter, but I hope she isn’t, and when Sam tells her, haltingly, in fits and starts, the bare outline of the truth, she looks at him and she believes him. And she understands the shape of the trauma he carries, even if Sam can’t quite speak the details, and maybe Sam goes to therapy. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he wakes in pain and fear for many years, but over time, it dulls.

Sam’s son is still a young man when Sam is on his deathbed, probably in at least his eighties. Think about the mountain Sam had to climb to reach that point. How many years and years of work did it take before Sam felt safe enough to want a child? How long for him to gently conquer his terror at the legacy his blood might carry: Lucifer and Azazel are dead, he knows this, but how long before he lets himself believe it enough to permit the risk? And then he raises his child, not in fear and loneliness, but with love and support and care. And he makes sure his son is protected, that he knows to salt his thresholds and ward against demons, but his son will not suffer the way he suffered.

Maybe he untangles his thoughts about Dean, maybe he learns that to feel angry with his brother is not to betray him or to dishonor his memory, maybe he comes to a more complex understanding of their relationship. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he simply enshrines Dean, and Dean’s memory becomes ever more golden and untarnished, and the Impala becomes truly an altar. The details of how Sam carries Dean with him—the watch, the car, the absurdly large photos, his son’s name—perhaps these are played straight, and perhaps Sam never finds a more nuanced love. In the meta sense I think we are certainly meant to think this. We are meant to see Dean deified here, canonized into a saint. We are meant to view Sam’s fifty more years of life as worship, as a dedication and an offering.

This is the long shadow of the finale. These are the things untouched by necessity and by design: this is Dean’s apology in 15.18, this is Sam not wanting an apology, and not wanting to hear Dean offer one. This difficult work was always and inevitably going to be elided. But there is so much time, decades and decades, offscreen, for Sam to come to a quieter peace.

I think he can do it.

I think Sam can do anything.

I’m crying again.

I really didn’t think I would cry much about the finale. I thought I would cry at the concept of the show ending, but not at what the ending was. I didn’t think any details would actually affect me. But then Sam got old. I am truly and genuinely hung up on the canonical image of Sam finding peace. Good god. He had GLASSES. Help.

My chief complaint (aside from that absolutely awful Carry On cover, why oh why, they should have just played the original again), if I felt at all like complaining at the moment, would be how happy this ending is. But I can’t begrudge Sam that. I can’t even get too mad at the scene that I was SO SURE I would despise: that of Sam and Dean content in a Heaven that is now apparently Great, Actually (even though a prison dimension with an open floor plan is still a prison dimension, but hey, I guess we humans can’t leave earth either). Supernatural clearly wanted Sam and Dean to not be facing down an abyssally bleak afterlife, and I think I’d be complaining about the lack of bleakness a whole lot more if it didn’t have the (perhaps unintended??) side effect of giving Sam even more freedom from Dean than SPN already deigned to give him. Sam isn’t in a shared cell with Dean. He can be with his friends and his wife and his son.

One of the fundamental questions of SPN is, would Dean ever let Sam go? And it’s a question that the bulk of s13-15 has rendered moot with Sam’s growing passivity, and one that 15.20 neatly dodged. And I’m glad it did, because I wouldn’t have liked whatever 15.20 had to say on the matter. This deflection feels true to the spirit of what the show has become.

It was impossible for Sam to find peace while Dean was still alive. And on its own that kind of says everything, doesn’t it? And Sam is still forever denied the peace he truly longed for. Sam didn’t want death to force Dean’s hand. Sam wanted Dean to want to let him go. But the only way Sam and Dean could heal is apart. The potential of their relationship on earth becoming untangled is forever precluded, explictly. And yet Sam’s freedom is validated, Sam is allowed what he sought in season 1 and season 8, Sam is something beyond a hunter and Dean’s brother, and the show let him be, the show let him grow.

Supernatural said Sam Rights, and the world shook.

#spn spoilers #sam and dean #15.20 #final thoughts #sam and romance #sam and peace #just leave me here to die #I did not realize how relieved I'd be #I do not believe how much tension has left me #at the realization that I liked this ending #and of COURSE there are so many people complaining about sam's peace #but guess what!!!#this isn't season 8!#this time the show agrees with ME!#SAM HAS riGHTs!

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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TWILIGHT TALK IS PROHIBITED | MILO & EDDIE

PLACE: Eddie’s apartment TIMING: A looong time ago SUMMARY: Milo begrudgingly helps Eddie with his research on vampires WRITING PARTNER: @specterchasing CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug tw, addiction tw, substance abuse tw

Eddie’s legs bent at the knees underneath the coffee table as he opened a tattered leather-bound book placed atop the reclaimed wood. A bottle of vodka and a pitcher of lemonade sat close by, ready to refill his and Milo’s glasses when the time came. Jack White sang softly in the background; a song about youth and friendship. Eddie put it on tonight’s playlist with Milo in mind, hoping it brought him some added familiarity. He imagined his undead friend didn’t encounter much of that anymore, death made a habit out of confiscating comfort.

His glasses slid halfway down his nose as he skimmed the text only for him to quickly push them up again in mild irritation. “It’s in here somewhere,” he mumbled. Eddie’s elbow rested on the table with his hand pushing hair away from his forehead. He looked more dishevelled than usual, a common occurrence when he shifted into research mode. Most people didn’t get a chance to see him like this, not that they made an effort to.

“Got it,” he announced, letting his hand fall from his face. “Older, stronger vampires may have additional skills such as enthrallment, transforming into mist or bats, and throwing their voice,” Eddie read the text out loud before looking up at Milo. “Like I said, vampires are basically party city magicians with an allergy to sunlight. That’s why they do so well in Vegas.” He punctuated his sentence with a sip of his drink.

Teaching Milo about vampires felt strange all things considered, but he needed to bring the subject to the forefront. The more normal it felt to talk about, the more likely Milo would be to tell him the truth—or, so he hoped.

He studied Milo’s face for a moment and suddenly grinned. “I just realized we match tonight.” Eddie tapped the frame of his glasses. Why vampirism didn’t negate eyesight problems was beyond him, but he liked the emphasis they put on Milo’s eyes.

Sprawled lazily on Eddie’s couch, cocktail in hand (if you could call lemonade and vodka a cocktail), Milo felt more at home than he had in weeks. He was comfortable, content just to enjoy his friend’s company, even if the subject they were studying wasn’t exactly one he was able to enjoy. Taking a sip on his straw, still scanning the book resting in his lap, the only way he was managing to stay so calm was by putting some distance between himself and the information. If he read it quickly, and made no effort to actually process what he was reading, then he may as well be reading a math book, or a book on structuring essays. Part of him wished, more than anything, that Eddie wasn’t so determined to learn more about vampires. Literally any other supernatural creature and he could throw himself into the research. But his subtle coping strategy needed to be enough for now. The alcohol dulling his sense of anxiety, and the resurfacing memories of his violent death, he focused on the sound of the White Stripes, unable to believe Eddie remembered how much he enjoyed them.

“What is it you’re looking for again?” He asked, pulling a few pages of loose notes out of his book, setting them carefully on the coffee table so they wouldn’t get crumpled. “I’m telling you, Rio made me watch Twilight and it has all the information you could ever need.” Grinning at Eddie, taking in his tousled hair, and the glint in his eye that he only ever seemed to get when he was searching desperately for information, he felt a rush of affection, followed by a familiar wave of guilt. It still plagued him, the voice in the back of his mind telling him he should be honest. But it wasn’t an option, there were too many things holding him back. The most recent being the sense of normalcy his friend somehow helped him sink into. Would they still have that if suddenly Eddie was asking about his diet, and his fangs? His aversion to sunlight? Even with Orion things were different. Rio was a hunter, they were clinging to the same lifeboat. Eddie was human. Perfectly, beautifully human. And sometimes, when he was with him, he managed to feel human too.

“Oh, hilarious.” he deadpanned, sitting up a little straighter to glance over at what Eddie was reciting from. “That is such bullshit, there’s no way anybody can actually turn into a bat.” At least, he didn’t think there was. Honestly, he was starting to wonder whether anything might be impossible. “Also humans can throw their voice so, you know… not that impressive.” He added, taking another long sip of his drink. Confused for a brief moment, he only realised what Eddie meant when he pointedly tapped at his glasses, and he laughed sheepishly, pushing his own further up his nose. “Yeah, yeah, I know… the nerd Milo is back. I lost my glasses the night I-” He broke off, his grip tightening on his glass as he realised how close to tipsy he was. Maybe he should slow down a little. “I got- I got way too drunk…” He finished his sentence, playing off the comment as casual. It wasn’t technically untrue. “Woke up in an old building... glasses nowhere to be seen.” He caught Eddie’s eye, offering him a smile to counter the dark truth behind what he was saying. He couldn’t think about that right now, he didn’t want to think about that. “I finally picked up a new pair… I took a photo of you to the opticians and told them I wanted to be as hot as you are. They gave me a set of your frames.”

“I’m thinking about getting a sign that says any and all Twilight talk is strictly prohibited within this apartment,” Eddie mused, but a telltale grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He liked that Milo still made jokes, even about this. Take away his sense of humor and he wouldn’t be the same person Eddie spent years trying to impress. He tried not to think about how important Milo’s attention used to be almost as much as he tried not to let it matter that much again. His efforts were fruitless, of course, but he liked to pretend he had a say in the matter.

Bullshit. Eddie laughed at the response, delighted to fall back into their old routine so effortlessly. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point I’m trying to make,” he said, referring to Milo labeling vampires as unimpressive. “Vampires aren’t that different from humans. Higher vamps, at least. Blood and shadows, big deal. They’re still just like us in the ways that actually count.” Referring to Milo as human was easier than he thought it would be, maybe because that’s what he’d known him as for so long. “I’ve known plenty of people who like their steaks rare and prefer working night shifts, it doesn’t mean they’re monsters.”

Eddie took another drink, deeper this time, and felt the alcohol swirl his thoughts with heightened efficiency. So far, he’d been taking it easy. Eager as Milo was to see him drunk, Eddie didn’t look forward to the behavioral shift. People thought he came on too strongly sober; they had no idea how much he held back until he had a few drinks in him.

The story Milo told left Eddie with questions. It made sense and sounded legitimate enough, but a nagging thought induced suspicion. Before he could press, however, Milo blindsided him. His cheeks burned even though he knew full-well it was sarcasm. “It’s not healthy to set unrealistic standards like that for yourself,” he replied, trying not to show his embarrassment. “It’s a good look though, even if it doesn’t compare to the original.” He gestured to himself with a flourish of his wrist, quickly avoiding eye contact by taking another drink.

“Honestly, I’ve had enough of that franchise to last me a lifetime… or two lifetimes.” Milo admitted. “But the jokes are too good… I can’t stop myself, it’s becoming like, a legitimate problem.” For someone who supposedly didn’t enjoy the series, he couldn’t seem to stop bringing it up. He enjoyed the way it made people laugh. The way it made what he was feel more trivial, and light-hearted. Not failing to notice the way Eddie’s lips curved as he struggled to repress a smile, he decided immediately that all talk of Twilight definitely wasn’t prohibited within his apartment. “You think vampires are unimpressive?” He raised his eyebrows, settling back down against the couch cushions behind him. “Maybe don’t say that to any big scary ones.” He was careful with his words, not wanting to imply he was human any more than he needed to. It felt too much like lying when he looked into Eddie’s eyes. And considering he himself was far from a big scary vampire, he figured it was a fair comment to make.

Faltering a moment, genuinely taken aback by Eddie’s perspective, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. This was Eddie. He already knew the way he saw the world, he had seen his many, many Youtube videos. If anybody was going to sympathise with the supernatural, it was the boy sitting opposite him. But it still meant more than he could know. Especially after Dani, and her harsh, unforgiving worldview. Stopping himself, before he could say thank you and completely give himself away, he took another drink to delay his response. Allowing a few beats of silence to pass, he composed his expression, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “Yeah… I agree.” He admitted, curious to hear more about the bloody steaks. “Is this a werewolf reference?” He asked. “Look, if we’re changing the species you need to give me a heads up, otherwise I’m going to get lost.”

Glancing up at Eddie, his face flushing red, the scent of blood became stronger as it rushed to the surface of his skin. Pointedly ignoring the shift, focusing instead on the strong, almost overwhelming scent of vodka, it wasn’t too difficult for him to stay grounded. “Hm, maybe you’re right. The hair is probably unattainable.” He laughed at his own joke. “And honestly, probably responsible for 70 percent of your views. You know that, right?”

“Becoming?” Eddie teased. “You’ve been talking about that series since high school. I’m starting to think you’re a genuine Twihard.” He remembered the comments about sparkling vampires, remnants of a time when Milo had some innocence to spare. Eddie’s smile faltered at the thought. He had so many questions, so much pent up anxiety over what happened to his friend. Did it hurt, were you scared, are you safe now? His concern contributed to why he wanted Milo around so often. Keeping him close meant no slayers. If hunger struck him, Eddie had that covered simply by being alive. “You see any big scary vampires around here?” Eddie asked, glancing around the room with a smirk. Milo didn’t need to know how worried he was, not yet.

Eddie watched as Milo chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what he must be thinking. Talking about vampires, especially their moral standing, couldn’t have been easy. He hoped he wasn’t the only one reminding Milo that he still deserved his place in the world. When he agreed, Eddie let out a breath of relief. It felt like he did something right. “You’ll get lost either way, Summers,” he said with raised brows.

“There’s more to me than my hair and my viewers know that,” Eddie corrected him pointedly. “I also have an irresistibly cherubic face and endless sex appeal.” By some miracle, he managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds after his shameless display of egotism. He meant it as a joke, for the most part. Tonight should have been about vampires, he supposed it was for a moment, but vodka had other plans. “And there’s the first sign I’ve already drank too much,” he asked, grinning apologetically.

“Fuck you, I hadn’t even seen it back then.” Milo laughed, unable to deny what Eddie was saying. Technically he did bring it up whenever Eddie decided to talk about vampires, but to make him laugh. In the same way he was trying to amuse him now. Laughing again, the irony of Eddie’s question was too great to ignore, and he made a show of scanning the room. “I do not.” He agreed. “Unless you’re a vampire and you’re just not telling me?” There it was again, the guilt weighing on his shoulders. It shouldn’t be hard to keep the information to himself, to be selfish. He had always been selfish. But something about it this time felt so wrong, as though he genuinely had no justification. Eddie was a good person, who fought so hard for what he believed in. And here he was, not-living proof of the fact that his friend was right. Eddie’s years of facing ridicule and skepticism weren’t for nothing.

Pulled out of his thoughts by the following comment, he offered a tired smile. “Yeah, that’s probably true.” He admitted, struggling not to dwell on how lost he already felt. In every element of his life, he was lost. A few people were trying to show him the way. Luis, Harsh, Rio, Macleod… and it definitely made things easier. But when he looked to his future he still just saw an endless nothing. A terrifying void. He wasn’t sure when, or if, that was ever going to change. “At least you’re with me though, right? You’ll keep me safe from the steak-eating night dwellers?” He teased, hoping to make light of the situation. He didn’t want this, he wanted to avoid thinking about what he was, and just enjoy Eddie’s company. Not for the first time he wondered whether he really should have insisted on studying another creature.

His smile growing as Eddie continued to joke about his hair, he finished what was left of his drink. As far as he was concerned, the more alcohol there was in his system, the easier it would be for him to stay in the moment. To pay attention to his friend without getting lost in his thoughts each time something managed to trigger an emotional response. “Oh, I think it’s a sign that you haven’t drunk enough.” He countered. “I want to hear more about your sex appeal.”

Eddie let out a clap of laughter at his friend’s rebuttal. Something about hearing Milo say ‘fuck you’ never failed to amuse him. With how much his parents hated cursing, it felt like a minor act of rebellion even hearing language like that spoken so casually. “Definitely not a vampire,” Eddie said through pursed lips. He wished things were easier for Milo, that trust would come more easily to him, but he understood why that wasn’t the case. “Believe me, I wouldn’t last a single night as one with the way I run my mouth.” He meant it. Eddie had a lot of respect for any supernatural creature who managed to survive a world hellbent on either denying their existence or ending it.

When Milo led the conversation towards his safety, Eddie felt a pang in his chest. The comment had been light-hearted, more of a joke than anything else, but it hurt to know he couldn’t admit to how badly he wanted to protect him. Not that he could even if he tried. In a way, he already failed once. “Exactly,” Eddie replied with a firm nod, trying to keep his tone as light as Milo’s. “Stick with me and your future will be completely free of steak dinners and shadow stalkers.”

He wanted the conversation to flow more freely, to not get so wrapped up in his thoughts. Maybe Milo had a point, maybe he hadn’t drunk enough. Eddie poured more vodka and lemonade into his glass and immediately downed half of the mixture. “It’s already fully on display, I dunno what else you need to know,” he said with a laugh.

The background music changed to something he didn’t remember putting on tonight’s playlist.

Uh, let's go to the beach-each

Let's go get a wave

They say what they gonna say

Have a drink, clink, found the Bud Light

Bad bitches like me is hard to come by

Eddie cleared laughter out of his throat as he wobbled to his feet. “Are you drunk enough to dance?” His brow raised provocatively as he looked down at Milo. “Because I am,” he announced in a sing-song tone.

Milo grinned, his eyes shining as he imagined that particular Youtube video. “I can almost see it now,” he said, dramatically raising his hands so that he could project a title into the air before him. “My Name Is Eddie Carridine, Vampires Are Real. Oh, And I Am One.” Pretending to think for a moment, he wrinkled his nose. “It’s not as catchy as your regular titles, maybe you could make a pun instead. Keep it short and sweet, y’know?” Watching his friend as his expression seemed to falter, Eddie’s smile slipped incredibly briefly, though he still managed to catch the shift. What could be bothering him? He almost wanted to ask, but with the atmosphere once again becoming lighthearted, and fun, he wasn’t about to risk bringing the mood down. Especially not when they were both drinking, that was very obviously a terrible idea. Smiling affectionately at the mention of being safe from other supernatural creatures, he momentarily forgot about Eddie’s demeanour. It was so obvious he meant every word that he said. This was someone who, despite only just reconnecting with him, genuinely wanted to fight for his wellbeing. He swallowed his emotion, refusing to show how overwhelmed he was by the sentiment. “Do I want to know what a shadow stalker is? Or did you just make that up?” He half teased, a laugh escaping him when Eddie insisted his sex apeal was on full display. “Shit, you’re right.” He pushed his hair back away from his face, leaning forward to pull the pitcher towards himself so that he would be able to refill his empty glass.

Sadly he didn’t get the chance to, because he was quickly interrupted by an unexpected change of song. Even without his sensitive hearing, it would have been jarring. The iconic lull of Jack White’s voice was suddenly replaced by loud bass, and fast paced rap. The woman’s voice was loud, and unique. She carefully warped her words in a way that was instantaneously recognisable. “Uh, Eddie… your terrible taste in music is showing.” He laughed at his own joke, only spurred on when Eddie unsteadily jumped to his feet. Staring up at him, an expression of disbelief written across his features, he struggled to keep up his act of indignance. He was well on his way to being drunk, but was he intoxicated enough to warrant dancing? To let Eddie in on the fact that he secretly knew every word of Starships by Nicki Minaj? “Oh, jeez…” He muttered, abandoning the pitcher to pick up the bottle of vodka, taking a long drink straight from it before shooting his friend a look that told him, no, he wasn’t drunk enough, but yes, he was about to join him. He only ever danced to amuse people, to make them laugh. And this felt like the perfect opportunity to do exactly that. So he got to his own feet, the bottle still firmly in his hand, and began to dance in the same way he always danced; like a white guy in a 90’s music video desperately trying (desperately failing) to look cool. The moves were easy, and undeniably enjoyable. No matter who he was with, they always seemed to spark joy in his company.

Milo’s levity managed to uplift Eddie’s mood. When puns were mentioned, his eyes immediately lit up. “How I Died In Vein,” he offered with a laugh. “In parentheses—Not A Type-O.” Admittedly, his title suggestion made more sense in written form than it did when said out loud, but he figured an explanation would be overkill. Joking about vampirism led him to hope the concept might be on the table for normalization.

“Are you telling me you don’t know what a shadow stalker is?” Eddie feigned disbelief. “As their name suggests, they lurk in the shadows and demand unsuspecting passersby to answer three riddles. If you get two out of three answers wrong, they legally become your step-dad.” Surely, Eddie didn’t need to tell him shadow stalkers weren’t real after that but, if his description didn’t give it away, the impish grin he wore would.

When Milo started dancing in all his whiteboy glory, Eddie nearly doubled over in laughter. “Don’t make your body do that, it deserves better,” he said through his sudden bout of hysterics.

“Wow.” Milo reacted with obvious sarcasm, choosing not to comment on the fact that the wordplay was actually pretty clever. He wasn’t about to give Eddie the satisfaction. “I hate it. I hate everything about it.” Raising his eyebrows as he was questioned on Shadow Stalkers, it was only after the mention of step dads that he realised his friend really was just teasing him. He laughed, shaking his head at the prospect. “Shit, I argue with my actual dad too much to want a second one.” He admitted. The last thing he needed was two paternal figures lecturing him on his behaviour. Enjoying Eddie’s smile, he held his gaze, offering him a grin that came incredibly easy. He was grateful to move past the subject of vampires. At the very least in a serious context. And it felt good, being able to relax again.

Throwing in a few extra moves when his friend told him to stop dancing, a genuine peal of laughter managed to escape him, somehow managing to catch him off guard. It was unlike the laughter from before, that felt natural but still very much controlled. This laughter escaped him without his permission, the irony far too great to ignore. “You’re the first person to tell me my body deserves better because of my dancing.” He explained, thinking back on every time somebody had said those exact words to him. Usually followed by the mention of rehab, or detox, or health retreats that sounded suspiciously like sobriety cults. “I can do better, you know? But dancing well is nowhere near as fun, and it never manages to get the same reaction so… don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying it.” He grinned, his cheeks aching with just how genuine his smile was. There weren’t many people who could make him feel comfortable, who could make him feel safe, and at home, and at peace with who he was. Eddie Carridine might just be one of them.

#c:eddie #milo and eddie #alcohol tw #substance abuse tw #drug tw

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

To the Ends of the Earth 14

Supernatural

A/n: Supernatural AU. OOC Gabriel. Smut warning

Link to Chapter 13

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

______

Walking into the garage, you stopped the moment that you saw Dean leaned over Baby. You wanted to get out of the bunker unnoticed. Dean looked up as you threw your handbag into the passenger seat.

“Hey, where are you going?

You turned to your brother.

“On a drive...alone.”

Dean straightened up and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Did Gabriel and yourself have a little tiff or something?”

You rolled your eyes. A little “tiff” was one way to put it. You knew that Gabriel was throwing a lot of his venom at you because of Lucifer but you were not going to put up with it. When your brothers drove you nuts, you didn’t take your frustrations out on Gabriel. Hell, you were practically ready to kill Adam and Gabriel wasn’t the first in your line of fire. That was Adam’s job. Adam caused the problem and he was repeating the rewards of his behavior.

“Yeah, something like that. I won’t be gone long.”

Dean nodded before handing you a revolver that he had hidden in the garage.

“It has angel killing bullets. Before you give me a go-to-hell look it's not for Gabriel. I just want you to be safe if some shit head tries to attack you while you are out.”

You raised an eyebrow before looking back to your brother.

“You aren’t going to give me some kind of lecture about going out on my own?”

Dean shook his head.

“Won’t do me any good anyway. Besides, you’re a good hunter. We both know that. If anything happens, pray to Cas...or that guy you're with. What do you want me to tell him when he stops acting like a baby and wants to know where you are?”

You shrugged.

“Tell him that I went to get milk.”

Dean chuckled. He turned and went back into the house after giving you a wink. Sure, Gabriel would believe that you went to get milk. That was totally believable.

What do I care?

Dean thought with a giggle and went off in search of his third cup of coffee.

You, meanwhile, sped down the dark Kansas streets with the radio blaring. To your surprise, the phone hadn’t rung one time. You figured that Gabriel would have called as soon as you left the bunker. When he didn’t, you shrugged. Maybe he was still off being a baby, as Dean put it.

Being a baby...that was probably a harsh way to put it. The understanding side of your brain kicked in. Seeing Lucifer again had to be a huge kick in the balls for Gabriel. He never said it but you had the feeling that his brother’s departure from heaven still affected Gabriel to this day. The moment that you saw the expression of disappointment in Gabriel’s eyes...you understood everything. The two of you had not sat down and had one conversation in the time that he had returned. It was mostly snide remarks and comments about the other that wasn’t fixing a damn thing.

Your mind went to your own brother, Adam. Since the time that he had come back, the two of you were still not getting along. You sighed. From the moment he “died” you had prayed in some vain hope that he would come back. If Adam could just come back from the dead, you would fix everything that went wrong between the two of you. Now, here you were not fixing a thing.

Granted, not everything was your fault. A lot of it was Adam too. He didn’t want you to be happy with Gabriel. You tried to understand things from Adam’s point of view but you just couldn’t. If the shoes were on the other foot and Adam found some angel girl...you would be happy for him. Clearly, life was too short.

(meanwhile)

Dean stood in the kitchen with a tub of ice cream in his hands. This was the best part of his day!

“Oh ice cream, you have what I need.”

He said gleefully.

“That is just disturbing.”

Dean almost dropped his ice cream the moment that he heard Gabriel’s voice. He spun around to see the archangel staring at him with an expression of disgust on his face.

“Son of a bitch, Gabriel! Can you stop sneaking around here?! I am going to tell Y/n to put a bell around your neck or something! You made me drop my spoon!”

Gabriel shrugged as Dean threw his now dirty spoon in the sink and went in search of another.

“Sneaking is my specialty. Would you like a bowl or something? You are comparable to a caveman.”

Dean snorted.

“Me eating ice cream out of the carton is disturbing to you? I am sure that you have seen a lot worse than me eating ice cream this way.”

Gabriel grinned.

“Oh yes. I have. I destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah without blinking. That was probably a disturbing thing to witness.”

Dean winced. Gabriel had a pretty decent sense of humor but when he got on the holier than thou train; he could get downright righteous.

“Yeah, well…that makes me feel so much better about you dating my sister. I’m glad that you aren’t that archangel anymore.”

Gabriel smirked. He could still be that archangel if he wanted. If he remained with Michael and Raphael (not to mention the other angels that followed him around looking to be “herded”) it would be more than easy to be that angel again. Putting what you were on the back burner wasn’t an easy task.

“Dating is a strong word about what Y/n is to me. I don’t care what people do anymore. Clearly, it doesn’t change a thing. If you aren’t out murdering other humans or being a raging lunatic then do what you will.”

Dean was a little surprised to hear those words come out of Gabriel’s mouth. He didn’t even want to think about the word wife.

“Sounds like you have come a long way in the course of a few months with my sister.”

Gabriel shrugged.

“Maybe it was the finding out that everything my father taught us was a lie. Everything that I knew...isn't right. Anyway, none of that matters now. Where is Y/n? I was an ass to her.”

Dean walked to the refrigerator and put the ice cream back in the freezer.

“She went out. I gave her a gun with angel killing bullets. If anyone messes with her I don’t doubt that my sister will cap their ass.”

Gabriel groaned and disappeared. Dean sighed.

“He’s wasting whatever grace he had built up going after her.”

(back with you)

You flew down a road with music blaring. Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you were feeling better by the moment. You had to agree with Dean. Sometimes a nice long drive could fix everything.

Looking ahead, you frowned seeing someone standing in the middle of the road.

“What the fuck?”

You muttered before slamming on your breaks. The person didn’t move as you came to a stop about 6 feet from them.

“Son of a bitch...dumb ass motherfucker needs to use their brain.”

You muttered before getting out of the car.

“Hey! You can’t just be standing in the middle of the road like that, moron. That is how you get killed!”

When the man looked up, you almost screamed. It was Michael. He gave you that dark smile that haunted your nightmares from the first time that you had met him.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You frowned, feeling that surge of nervousness wash over you mixed with a feeling of anger.

“What’s up, sparkles?”

Michael frowned, looking obviously confused.

“What’s up? Sparkles? Is that a greeting?

You chuckled.

“It's the nicest greeting that I could come up with. I think that you should leave, we aren’t nice to archangels in these parts.”

Michael smirked.

“That isn’t what I have been hearing. From what I have heard, you make archangels feel very welcome. Maybe that is why my brother is staying nestled between your harlot legs.”

You scoffed.

“Dude, just say hoe. No one says harlot anymore. Way to make yourself sounds ancient as fuck. Furthermore, Gabriel stays because that is what Gabriel wants. I don’t think that you know your brother as well as you think. Gabriel doesn’t do a damn thing that he doesn’t want to do.”

Michael didn’t smile or make any facial expressions.

“I don’t think that you know my brother as well as you think that you do. Gabriel is not your little play toy. He has a job to do. It's best that you let him go and do it. I don’t care about what imaginary bond that you believe that you have….”

“I saw his wings. You, of all people, know what that means.”

Michael frowned.

“It isn’t possible. My father would never pair one of his sons with a filthy human...especially one of you Winchesters.”

“Jeez, Michael. We aren’t that bad! It sounds like you didn’t know your father that well after all. I am going to make it simple for you. Gabriel and I are together. You and that shit head brother of yours are going to have to find some way to accept it.”

Michael snarled. He raised his hand to snap you out of existence.

“Enough!”

Both Michael and yourself turned to see Gabriel a few feet behind you. Boy, did he look mad! His golden eyes were glowing in fury as he kept his focus on his older brother. You glanced back at Michael, who looked as stunned as you did.

Quickly looking back to your lover, you couldn’t help but worry how long his grace would hold out. If he went completely empty against Michael, neither of you would stand a chance. You put your hand on your side to find the gun that Dean had given you.

“Not yet.”

Gabriel muttered as he wrapped his arms around you. He gave you that little playful smirk that made your knees weak.

“Hey, sugar.”

Gabriel said with a smile. One arm went around your waist while his other hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“Gabriel, stop this!”

Michael snapped. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to his very angry looking brother. Gabriel laughed coldly before turning his attention back to you.

“Everything will be just fine, sugar.”

He tilted your face to his before leaning down and kissing you. Gabriel could feel the rage going through Michael as he wanted with a sneer on his face.

This kiss was different from the ones the two of you had shared before. Gabriel was more commanding. This was more like kissing the archangel that you read about. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment.

“Gabe…”

You moaned happily in your mind. Gabriel smiled against your mouth as he sucked at your bottom lip. The moment that his wings wrapped around you, you could have come apart in his arms. This was by far one of the most erotic and intimate moments in your relationship and Gabriel wasn’t even inside of you. Maybe it was the fact that he was proving to the chief asshat in charge that your bond wasn’t a joke?

Gabriel was the first to move away. He gave you a small smile before shoving you behind him. Gabriel turned his attention back to Michael, who looked ready to scream.

“Hello, brother.”

Michael’s eyes rolled to his brother’s face.

“You bonded with a human.”

Gabriel nodded before looking a bit annoyed.

“True. Father told me that it would happen thousands of years ago. I didn’t think he was right but look where I am now. If you think for one moment that I am going to sit back and let you lay a hand on her, you are very very wrong.”

Michael growled again.

“Do you see a possibility where this is going to work out? You are both entirely different species. Gabriel, you know what happens when angels fall in love with humans. You were there when we killed the fallen angels that took human wives. Now here you are following in their footsteps. What are you going to do when your whore becomes pregnant? Do you think that I am going to stand by and watch a Nephilim be created?”

Gabriel smiled, coldly.

“There is already one that you don’t know about. Clearly, it wouldn’t affect your stupid ass much.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers sending Michael tumbling backward.

“Don’t you ever call my girl a whore again.”

Michael struggled to stand up. He gave Gabriel an ice-cold glare.

“Gabriel, you are insane. You will both go to hell! I’ll never let you back in heaven again!”

Michael vanished before Gabriel could launch another attack.

Gabriel looked around carefully. Something told him to keep an eye out for Michael. A sneak attack seemed like such a Michael thing to do. When he didn’t show back up, Gabriel turned back to you. He smiled looking at the worried expression on your face. Your green eyes were wide as Gabriel reached out with his wings and pulled you to him.

“Hi princess.”

He said with that shy smile that won your heart in the beginning.

“Hi, darling.”

Gabriel kept his wings around you. Maybe it was to keep you safe from any sneak attacks or to keep your bodies together. At the moment, you didn’t care. You were enjoying every caress that Gabriel had to give you.

“I owe you an apology for earlier.”

Gabriel said with a smirk. He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to each finger tip.

“It's fine, Gabe. Just so you know, I didn’t come looking for Michael. His stupid ass was just standing in the middle of the road like a moron.”

Gabriel nodded.

“I saw the whole thing. No one said that my brothers were smart.”

Gabriel lowered his mouth back to yours. You wrapped one hand in his leather jacket while the other stroked up his back. The moment that you stroked over his wing joints; Gabriel shivered. He groaned against your mouth and involuntarily rocked his hips into yours.

“You know what I want now.”

He said as his voice deepened a few octaves. You glanced over your shoulder making sure that there were no signs of life.

“We’ve never had sex in the car before.”

Gabriel gave you that devilish little smirk that got him whatever he wanted from you.

“We are about to now.”

He quickly hid his wings before walking to your SUV. Opening the door, he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Come here, princess.”

You didn’t hesitate before quickly joining Gabriel. The moment that you shut the door, you were naked. You quickly looked back to Gabriel, who sat looking at you with that cocky grin. Swallowing, you let your eyes fall down the archangel’s body. The muscles in his chest and stomach tightened as he ran his hand over his hard-on.

“As much as I would love to have that pretty mouth on me; I don’t think that I can wait. Touching my wings like that has turned me into a needy mess. Don’t make me ask you twice to come over here, sugar. I know that you are wet.”

You sat motionless a moment before practically diving on the archangel. He knew exactly how to turn you into a needy wet mess with only a few words. Placing a knee on either side of Gabriel’s body, you took him from tip to base without any regards in adjustments. Gabriel groaned, muttering something in Enochian.

The pressure between your legs intensified as Gabriel used his grace to press down on your clit.

“Gabe, you tease.”

You muttered. Gabriel laughed as he squeezed your ass.

“I should call you a tease for feeling me up in front of my brother. It was hot though.”

You smiled against his mouth as Gabriel increased his pace.

“Would you like to see a new trick?”

You asked, between kisses. Gabriel shook his head.

“If it involves me not being inside of you at the moment then no.”

You shook your head. There was no way that you were about to pull away from your archangel now.

“Oh, sweet boy I am not going anywhere.”

You carefully spread your legs to your side so that you were in a split position. Internally, you thanked Dean for talking you into getting the bigger SUV. This would make for a good thank you note for Dean later!

Gabriel’s eyes flashed bright gold as he went deeper, if possible. You clenched your eyes closed as his cock pressed firmly against your cervix. Rocking your hips, you enjoyed every deep thrust that Gabriel had to give you. You leaned down and pressed your mouth to his neck. Gently biting down, you felt Gabriel’s cock twitch.

“Put your wings out.”

You moaned softly against his neck. Gabriel whimpered “lord help me” in Enochian before fulfilling your request. Reaching behind Gabriel, you wrapped your hands around his wing joints. The moment that you gently yet firmly pressed down, Gabriel’s torso lifted from the seat. His arms wrapped around your body. He pulled you as tightly to him as possible.

Gabriel slammed his hips upward. His thrusts became deeper and more frantic. Your head fell backward with each perfectly timed thrust.

“Gabriel!”

You whimpered his name making the archangel moan.

“Sweetheart, don’t stop. Keep messing with my wings! Don’t stop.”

Gabriel whispered the last “don’t stop” knowing that there was no way that he was going to be able to hold on much longer.

You stroked your hand up his spine continuing the assault on his wing joints. To say that you were pleased with all of the desperate moans that Gabriel was making was an understatement. Normally, he liked to be in control but today it was different. Today, you were fulfilling one of his darkest dirtiest fantasies.

“Harder, Y/n, Pull harder! I need to come.”

Gabriel groaned. You wrapped your hands around one of his wings before tugging. Gabriel buried his face in your neck and bit down. The moment that your body tightened around his, Gabriel couldn't hold on any longer. He came hard inside of you as he bit down once more.

“Not done.”

Gabriel muttered as he increased his pace to fuck you through his own orgasm.

“Come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you come apart. I filled you up now come for me, sugar.”

Gabriel slammed his hips into yours once more. Between the pressure on your womb and Gabriel’s erotic whispering; you came hard.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t feel Gabriel ease out of you. He gently pulled you into a lying position so you were snuggled on top of him and against his chest. Gabriel stroked his hand through your hair as you came down from your high.

“You okay?”

He asked, softly. You nodded, feeling unable to speak for the moment. Everything was perfect for the moment. You lay snuggled against his body having no will to move. If you didn’t feel so thoroughly fucked, you could ask Gabriel to make love to you again. His cock was still hard against your stomach, making your own core twitch.

“I’m perfect.”

You finally managed to say in a soft voice. Gabriel chuckled and leaned down to kiss your head.

“I think that you’ve given me a wing kink. That was intense.”

You giggled, moving your legs to adjust in the back seat of the SUV. Gabriel didn’t even have to tell you that it was intense. You could feel the results of your love making leaking down your thighs.

Closing your eyes, you wanted to savor the moment as much as you could. The next few moments were quiet and peaceful. As you began to drift off in Gabriel’s arms, you began to think about Michael’s comments about Nephilim. Gabriel and Michael had killed other angels for making Nephilim. Raphael’s comment about Gabriel having a “villainous side” came back to mind. Would he take that villainous side out on you if something did happen?

“Gabe, what happened with the whole Nephilim thing?”

Gabriel’s body tightened underneath yours. The hand that was stroking yours stopped in mid-motion.

“I think that you know that answer to that, Y/n.”

Gabriel said, idly. You slowly sat up and perched yourself on Gabriel’s waist. The archangel groaned as your wetness pressed against his still hard cock.

“I don’t know anything. Gabriel...what if…”

Gabriel’s eyes opened. He gave you that scowl that told you he was getting annoyed.

“If what?”

You looked around as if looking for someone overhearing the conversation at hand. Suddenly, you felt very naked and vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you had the most passionate, mindblowing sex ever! It also didn’t matter that Gabriel has seen you naked hundreds of times. You felt like a bug under his unblinking gaze.

“What is going to happen if I get pregnant?”

Gabriel shifted his arm underneath his head. He didn’t look the least bit worried or concerned with your sudden fear.

“It isn’t going to happen.”

You frowned. Here came the archangel.

“I’m sure the other angels thought the same thing before their lovers got pregnant too.”

Gabriel’s golden eyes narrowed.

“I said that it isn’t going to happen. Now get off of me, woman.”

You quickly did as you were told before Gabriel pushed you off. The expression on his face alone told you that he was absolutely livid!

What you didn’t know was Gabriel was internally panicking! He had been pretty good about making sure any unplanned pregnancies didn’t happen. The last thing that he wanted was to be creating a Nephilim that he would have to spend the rest of forever protecting. His mind went to Jack for a moment. His nephew was a good kid but he wasn’t Gabriel’s responsibility. You were his responsibility and anything childlike that came out of you would be his responsibility. Gabriel wasn’t strong enough to be protecting a nephilim at the moment. The night’s activities had drained him of what grace he had recharged.

“You definitely didn’t do a damn thing to protect her just now.”

Gabriel’s mind supplied. He mentally kicked himself when he thought about the sex the two of you just had. This had been the most sensual not to mention intimate sex ever and he didn’t think one bit about stopping a damn thing.

You, meanwhile, had already redressed. Gabriel sighed, looking at you. You were upset and it was his fault. Again, his temper had gotten the better of him. This time it was for good reason. Gabriel was not meant to be a father. Being bonded to you was the most that was meant to happen!

Gabriel sighed, thinking back about the Nephilim situation from the past. You didn’t have to be a part of that nightmare, Gabriel did. This was before God told Gabriel about his own future with a human wife. Gabriel didn’t care then. Now he wasn’t so sure...

Gabriel stood behind Michael as he stared down the fallen angels and their wives. He knew the expression on their faces...fear. It was painfully obvious that the beings in front of him were scared for their lives. Maybe not only their lives individually but the lives of the family that they had created. Gabriel wanted to feel sorry for them but he couldn’t. They had broken the rules. Rule breakers had to be punished and this was one of the most deadly and dangerous rules to break!

As Michael went on and on about the rules that the angels before them broke; Gabriel focused on their pitiful expressions. Right away, Gabriel noticed an angel that he never expected to go rogue standing before him. Eli looked petrified (and with good reason. Gabriel thought). The woman at his side clung a small toddler. The child looked around, not understanding what was going on or his parent’s fear.

“You’re all going to die for breaking one of heaven’s most clear rules. Angels and humans do not mix. Creating what you all have created is wrong….it's an abomination and a sin against nature.”

Michael said, coldly. Eli focused his attention to Gabriel. The archangel was his leader against the darkness. If anyone could save him and his family, it would be Gabriel.

“Gabriel, please…please do something.”

Gabriel’s sullen expression didn’t change as he looked at his subordinate.

“You know heaven's laws. They aren’t here for some of us to follow and some of us not to. Regardless of your affiliation with me, you know the punishment.”

Michael turned to Gabriel with a pleased smile.

“Take care of the problem.”

Gabriel nodded. He didn’t give Eli another chance to speak before waving his hand and the whole group in front of him vanished with a pained scream...

Gabriel pulled himself from the memory before turning to look at you. You had already started driving back toward the bunker silently. Gabriel sighed. He knew that his temper had won again. You wanted the truth. You deserved the truth....

“Look at that...I have fallen too.”

________

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aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

Reading beyond the veil: Paranormal book Recommendations From the Pros

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Don’t cross the streams. Never take your hands off a Ouija board without first saying “Goodbye.” The undead has to be invited in. Kill it with fire. Shoot it in the head. Wolfman’s got nards.

When it comes to the entertainment of the unexplained, or paranormal pop culture, humans live in a world(s) populated by all manner of preternatural, supernatural, otherworldly, and extradimensional phenomena. But entertainment also tells us there are rules that bring order to the abnormal – whether it’s a ghost or demon, alien or sasquatch, werewolf or vampire, or even a troll or fairy.

Yet behind every silver bullet solution that makes it into a script, there is typically a wealth of academic study that’s both complicated, and sometimes contradictory. From folklore to grimoire, anthropology to parapsychology, researchers have attempted to document and take a serious look at topics slightly askew from the norm. They are the real-world counterparts of Dr. Spengler, Dr. Van Helsing, and Father Merrin.

(And, perhaps unlike those fictional “experts,” many researchers would likely tell you the more they read up on these topics, the clearer it becomes there is more unknown than known, and more theories than rules.)

With that in mind, we reached out to a few notable figures and esteemed colleagues within the paranormal community to offer reading suggestions that go beyond what pop culture tells us about the unexplained. The following list is a guide for those inspired by the movies and TV shows to take a longer look through the veil, under the bed, at the stars, and into the forest.

Amy Bruni

(Host/Executive Producer, Travel Channel’s Kindred Spirits; Author, Life With The Afterlife):

ESP, Hauntings and Poltergeists: A Parapsychologist’s Handbook by Loyd Auerbach

“While I think it’s highly important to have a library of paranormal books, and to form your own research and investigative methodologies, I almost always recommend Loyd Auerbach’s ESP, Hauntings and Poltergeists: A Parapsychologist’s Handbook as a must have.

It was published in 1986, and is widely cited as one of the books that inspired many of today’s most well-known investigators to investigate the way they do. A good number of Loyd’s methods and theories still ring true, as well as his healthy dose of skepticism. It’s not the type of investigation you see on television, that’s for sure, but it’s got some great ideas to help distinguish between what could be an actual haunting vs a perceived haunting.”

Grant Wilson

(Host/Executive Producer, A&E’s Ghost Hunters):

Morphic Resonance & The Presence of the Past: The Memory of Nature by Rupert Sheldrake

“Rupert Sheldrake, Ph.D., and former research fellow of the Royal Society, guides us through his journey to discover if our memories exist outside ourselves, and how that idea could affect our view on how the entire universe operates. Sheldrake gently opens the mind to this idea with solid thinking, educated speculation, and sound experimentation. More than just a mental exercise, his theory proposes that all self-organizing systems, from crystals to human society share a common memory which guides their collective form and behavior. Basically, the more people learn something, the easier it is for others to learn. Which, if true, would have huge implications in the field of paranormal research, not to mention the fields of biology, chemistry, physics, psychology, and sociology. If our memories are collectively shared and stored outside our own brains, are ghosts simply some sort of manifestation of shared memories? I recommend this book to anyone looking to draw their mind out of the box we so comfortably live in and reshape how we think about well, pretty much everything.”

Jeff Belanger

(Author, Writer/Researcher, Ghost Adventures; Host, New England Legends podcast, and TV series):

Confessions of a Ghost-Hunter by Harry Price

“Published in London in 1936, this is a must-read to see how far paranormal investigation has come (and how little it’s actually changed in almost a century). In the book, Harry Price (1881 – 1948) explores some of his favorite cases, how to test a spirit medium, spirit photography, and he delves into his methods of investigating including equipment, trigger objects, interviews, and theories. Harry Price is the original ghost hunter.

Read it for free online here: https://archive.org/details/in.ernet.dli.2015.218596/page/n9/mode/2up

Ghosts: True Encounters with the World Beyond by Hans Holzer

Parapsychologist Hans Holzer (1920 – 2009) helped usher the paranormal into the mainstream with his many books and media appearances. Originally published in 1997, Holzer profiles some of his favorite cases and the first-hand experiences encountered by the witnesses he interviewed. By 97’, Holzer had reached the age and point of his career where he believed he pretty much had everything figured out. Though I don’t agree with all of his theories or ideas on the afterlife, I tip my hat at his confidence on spelling out the unknown.”

Bryce Johnson

(Actor; Co-host, Bigfoot Collector’s Club podcast):

Where the Footprints End, High Strangeness and the Bigfoot Phenomenon Volume I: Folklore by Joshua Cutchin and Timothy Renner

“What in the hell is really going on with Bigfoot? Is this just a flesh & blood creature like most think, or is there something more “paranormal” taking place? It’s a great question, and one that Cutchin and Renner (both outside-the-box thinkers) tackle head on. It’s hard to deny that these guys are onto something, and after having read it, I don’t think that I can ever go back to thinking that Sasquatch is just an unconfirmed North American Wood Ape. Instead, what if the big guy/gal is more like a wilderness poltergeist? A “Wildnesgeist” if you will. A term coined by the authors. And while the term does not exactly roll off the tongue, it certainly could help explain the strange lights and orbs, sudden dematerialization, telepathic mind-speak, and the countless varieties of size, shape and colors reported with Bigfoot sightings. Books like the aforementioned are an integral piece of the puzzle if we ever wish to get to the bottom of what is really taking place on this strange planet of ours, and perhaps what Vallee did for the UFO phenomenon, Cutchin & Renner could do for the Bigfoot Phenomenon. Overall Rating 4 Bigfeet out of 5!”

M. Belanger

(Comparative religious studies author, The Dictionary of Demons; Paranormal Investigator, Paranormal State, Portals to Hell):

Poltergeist by Colin Wilson

“For those doing research into ghosts and the paranormal, Colin Wilson should be on your bookshelves right next to Hans Holzer. In addition to his landmark eponymous survey, The Occult, Wilson produced numerous books exploring psychic and paranormal phenomena over his decades-long career. My personal favorite is Poltergeist, which explores the concept of destructive hauntings. Extensive, cross-disciplinary research is a hallmark of Wilson’s work, and this book is no exception. Poltergeist includes theories about what these “noisy ghosts” really are, explores psychological and supernatural implications of their manifestations, and recounts numerous documented cases of the phenomena from the ancient through the modern world. Throughout the book, Wilson blends perspectives from psychology, anthropology, folklore, and mythology together with dedicated reporting of modern experiences. I keep my copy next to Harry Price’s book on the same subject.

The Phantom World by Augustin Calmet

“For a deeper dive into the folkloric roots of many of our modern beliefs about ghosts, hauntings, and even vampires, it is worth the search to score a copy of Augustin Calmet’s treatise on the apparitions of spirits and on vampires, often titled simply The Phantom World. This chunky tome covers a wide variety of hauntings, retelling experiences as they were relayed to Calmet himself, often through other members of the clergy. As a French Benedictine monk, Calmet was viewed as an authority on the supernatural and the miraculous, and although he does not apply much in the way of critical analysis to the stories he receives, the fact that he was able to record and publish these tales at all makes up for what modern readers might consider a fairly superstitious nature. As with Glanvill’s Saducismus Triumphatus, it is important to keep in mind that clergy effectively filled the role of paranormal investigators during the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries, collecting, verifying, and disseminating the accounts of their parishioners. Without their writings, credulous as they may in hindsight seem, we would have little access to any record of these strange and frightful encounters. Calmet’s work is of special value because it is one of the fist treatises to collect a wide variety of European vampire encounters, including some of the stories that have proven seminal to vampire folklore as we understand it today.

Demoniality by Lodovico Sinistrari

The final volume I would recommend for modern investigators is a slim treatise produced by another member of the European clergy, this time a Franciscan priest by the name of Lodovico Sinistrari. Sinistrari is arguably where we derive most of our beliefs about incubus and succubus demons, and he collects both his theories on these creatures and several compelling tales in his book, Demoniality. It is a quick and fun read — if, like me, learning about demons is your definition of fun.”

Margee Kerr, Ph.D.

(Sociologist; Author, Scream: Chilling Adventures in the Science of Fear):

On Monsters: An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears by Stephen T. Asma

“Hailed as “a feast” (Washington Post) and “a modern-day bestiary” (The New Yorker), Stephen Asma’s On Monsters is a wide-ranging cultural and conceptual history of monsters — how they have evolved over time, what functions they have served for us, and what shapes they are likely to take in the future.”

Richard Estep

(Author, Haunted Healthcare; Travel Channel’s Paranormal Night Shift):

This House is Haunted by Guy Lyon Playfair

“In a field that’s chock full of sensationalist books, Guy Lyon Playfair’s This House is Haunted is a breath of fresh air. One of the few comprehensive accounts of a poltergeist-type haunting that runs from the very first incident through to the end, Playfair’s book is a masterclass on how to investigate the paranormal. There’s no drama, no theatricality; seasoned investigator Playfair and his partner, Maurice Grosse of the Society for Psychical Research, examine the strange goings-on in a small house in Enfield with a critical eye, always seeking out rational explanations and debunking whatever they can. This House is Haunted works as a page-turning narrative, but also contains a wealth of information for today’s paranormal enthusiast. As such, it deserves a much wider audience.”

Brian J. Cano

(Paranormal Investigator; Travel Channel’s Paranormal Caught on Camera):

The Encyclopedia of Ghost & Spirits by Rosemary Ellen Guiley

“To me, this is a must-have in any serious paranormal library. It references an impressive amount of material, and I use it often. There may be a name or concept that sounds familiar to me and when I need a refresher, it’s the first tome I reach for. Invariably, as I turn the pages, I get sucked in, and end up delving into many other entries. It’s like an academic supernatural “choose your own adventure”!

How to Hunt Ghosts: A Practical Guide by Joshua P. Warren

“This gem of a guide is perfect for anyone looking to get their feet wet in paranormal investigating. It is thoughtful, comprehensive and delivers the necessary information for anyone to begin doing the work while walking the fine line between skepticism and belief. I’ve recommended it many times over the years and the guide has held up to this day.”

Buy How to Hunt Ghosts: A Practical Guide on Amazon

Ryan Sprague

(Author, Podcast Host, Somewhere In The Skies; Co-host of Mysteries Decoded on the CW):

Communion by Whitley Strieber

“In the 1980s, author Whitley Strieber was best known for his horror novels such as The Hunger and Wolfen. But below the surface of his fictional works was a story so visceral and bizarre, that it would change the course of his career thereafter. This was the 1987 best-seller, Communion. Many are familiar with the now-famous book cover of a beige-colored alien with big, black orbital eyes. But the contents of the book is what truly stays with readers. The story of a man struggling with fractured memories of being taken in the night by what he calls “visitors” and experimented on. The raw and traumatic string of events is what packs the biggest punch in the book. But even stronger are the bigger questions to be asked of this supposedly true story: If we are not alone, and we are being visited, what do these visitors want, and to what lengths will they go for their true agenda? Communion is well written, brutally honest, terrifying, beautiful, and profound in the most alien of ways. It ushered in the alien abduction controversy for many years to come and has ingrained itself into the annals of both pop culture and UFO history forever.”

Buy Communion on Amazon

Lynne S. McNeill, Ph.D.

(Folklorist; Author, Legend Tripping: A Contemporary Legend Casebook):

Aliens, Ghosts, and Cults: Legends We Live and Lucifer Ascending by Bill Ellis

“These two books present a folklorist’s perspective on the kinds of traditions and phenomena that paranormal investigators are interested in. His perspective highlights that folklorists aren’t looking to debunk or prove anything — they simply want to understand the cultural role that these ever-popular topics are playing.”

Buy Aliens, Ghosts, and Cults: Legends We Live on Amazon

Ty Gowen

(Paranormal Investigator, Haunt ME):

Ghost Hunter by Hans Holzer

“This may not be an obscure text in paranormal circles, but that doesn’t make it any less important. Holzer existed in a liminal time for the paranormal, when the obscure community was in the direct center of a century-long shift between the popularity of the Spiritualism of the late-1800s, and its Hollywood resurgence in the mid-2000s.

This book chronicles some of Holzer’s cases while researching in NYC, as well as providing his commentary. This commentary is particularly important to those studying the field. We’re able to get a snapshot of what early research and curiosity were like, before it was tainted by the entertainment industry. It can be a bit dry, but that is part of the appeal; the book isn’t meant to dazzle or secure ratings. It might not be for everyone, but it was definitely a gateway book for me.

Honorable mention (because it’s fiction) is Ghost Stories by Roald Dahl. He read 749 short stories and narrowed it down to 14 for his book, and they’re great! Who knew the guy who wrote BFG was so macabre!”

Buy Ghost Hunter on Amazon

Aaron Sagers

(Creator, ParanormalPopCulture.com; Paranormal Journalist, Paranormal Caught on Camera, Paranormal Lockdown; Co-Executive Producer/Host, Paranormal Paparazzi; Co-Host, NightMerica Podcast):

The Mothman Prophecies by John Keel

“Journalist John Keel remains a giant in the paranormal field, and for me personally, he was the first person whose work I discovered that connected the dots between multiple phenomena. He’s described by some as a UFOlogist, but I think he’s so much more. Before it was a 2002 movie that did wonders for the Chapstick brand, The Mothman Prophecies was Keel’s 1975 book that documented strange sightings around Point Pleasant, West Virginia – which culminated with the lethal collapse of the Silver Bridge in 1967. Yes, this book discusses the winged thing (Cryptid? Demon? Alien? Ultraterrestrial?) eyewitnesses described in Point Pleasant, and gives historical and folkloric context to it, but Keel goes deeper into the story. Though he does have his own conclusions, the author’s journalistic approach, and open-mindedness, served as an inspiration and starting point to me within this strange world. For a second helping of Keel, I’d recommend Operation Trojan Horse.

Buy The Mothman Prophecies on Amazon

A History of Ghosts: The True Story of Seances, Mediums, Ghosts, and Ghostbusters by Peter Aykroyd

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Notice that last name? Yes, Peter Aykroyd is the father of Dan Aykroyd, aka Ray Stantz, Ghostbusters co-writer, UFO aficionado, and entrepreneur of the metaphysically themed Crystal Head vodka. Dan inherited his love of the paranormal honestly, coming from a family of prominent Spiritualists, and in this book, his father discusses the Aykroyds’ role in the belief system popular in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Though it can be a dry read at times, and is not a collection of spooky ghost stories, History takes the reader on a tour of an era of living room seances, mediums, charlatans, eccentric characters, and famous names. I also think there are a lot of parallels to the age of Spiritualism, and the one we’re in now, where reality-TV paranormal programming continues to be a popular genre, and many people seek life answers in the supernatural world.”

Buy A History of Ghosts: The True Story of Seances, Mediums, Ghosts, and Ghostbusters by Peter Aykroyd on Amazon

The post Reading beyond the veil: Paranormal book Recommendations From the Pros appeared first on Den of Geek.

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angelsandacceptance · 3 years

Text

Wishful Thinking

“It just doesn't make any sense, Dean. I mean, why would Uriel tell me you remembered Hell if you didn't?” Sam asks for what seems like the thousandth time.

The girls roll their eyes in synch at the boys’ antics. They all sit at a table in a bar, drinking various things, as well as picking apart a plate of fries.

Dean downs another shot. “Maybe because he's a dick. Might have something to do with it.”

“Maybe, but he’s still an angel.”

“Yeah, an angel who was ready to level a whole town. Look, I don’t know what-” “Radical,” The waiter says, coming up to their table right at that moment. “What else can I get for you?”

“Uh, I think we’re good,” Sam says.

“Speak for yourself,” Chase says. “I’d like whatever dessert you’d recommend, unless pie is an option. Pie is life. And I’ll take another few rounds of these,” she finishes, pushing a couple of now empty shot glasses towards him.

“A few more meaning?”

“Six.”

The waiter, looking slightly startled, walks away.

“Sam, honestly, I have no idea why Uriel told you what he did, okay?” Dean says, finishing what he was trying to say earlier.

“Right,” Sam says, unconvinced.

“What?” Dean asks.

“You gotta see it from our point of view, Dean,” Chase says. “You’re not sounding very believable. Right, Harley?”

“I think if Dean isn’t ready to talk about it we shouldn’t pry.” Harley answers.

“I’m fine talking,” Dean says gruffly. “I just don’t remember anything.”

“Okay. Fine. Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't remember a thing from your time down under,” Sam says, continuing to grill him despite Harley’s efforts.

“I don't remember a thing from my time down under. I don't remember, Sam!”

“Look, Dean, we just want to help.”

“You guys know everything I do, okay? That’s all there is.”

“Outstanding!” The waiter exclaims, coming back over with a tray. “Here’s your dessert and drinks, and is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Dude,” Dean says, looking at the waiter.

“Look, bros, you’ve got to try our ice cream extreme. It’s extreme.”

“Uh, no, no extremities please. Just the-”

“Check? Awesome, alright!”

Sam huffs, causing Chase to smile. He’s always hated getting interrupted. “Thanks.”

“Alright, so where do we go from here?” Harley asks once the waiter has disappeared.

“I'm not sure. Uh, looks like it's been pretty quiet lately. No signs of demon activity, no omens or portents I can see,” Sam says.

“Hey, some good news for once!” Chase says, throwing back the second shot already.

“Yeah, just the typical smattering of crank UFO sightings and one possible vengeful spirit. Here, check this out. Uh... Up in Concrete, Washington, eyewitness reports of a ghost that's been haunting the showers of a women's health facility.” Dean chokes on his drink. “The victim claims that the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs. I can see you're very interested.”

“Women, showers,” Dean says. “We got to save these people.”

“Really, Dean?” Chase asks in disgust. “At least be better at pretending you want to actually just help.”

“What?” Dean asks in feign innocence. “We gotta help ‘em.”

***

“I'm not surprised the spirit world chose to make contact with me. I'm something of a... natural sensitive.” Candace, the victim, says.

“I can sense that about you, Candace, that whole... sensitive thing.” Sam responds.

“So, what did you say you're calling your book?”

“Oh, well, um... Well, the working title is... ‘Supernatural.’ Yeah, We've been crossing the country, gathering stories like yours. But, anyways, you were telling us about your encounter.”

“Yes. Well…” Candace sighs, “Once I saw the apparition, that's when I started to run.”

Sam and Chase notice a peculiar couple making out across the divider. Peculiar in the sense that the woman was way out of the man’s league. Sam keeps staring confused while Chase quickly adverts her gaze and scrunches her nose, a habit of hers whenever she’s uncomfortable. Chase elbows Sam because despite being weird, there isn’t anything paranormal about the couple.

“So the ghost chased you?” Chase asks.

“Not just that. It knew my name. It kept yelling, "Mrs. Armstrong! Mrs. Armstrong!" And that's when I hit the stairs and fell.” Candace responded.

“You fell?” Sam asks. “It didn’t push you?.”

“Oh, I don't – I don't know. I mean, I think it did. Maybe?”

Chase rolls her eyes. ‘Great.’

“Did you feel like it meant to hurt you, like it was violent, or anything like that?” Chases questions.

“It was a ghost. I'm lucky to be alive. Anyway, I was at the bottom of the stairs, and that's when it got weird. It helped me up.” Candace says slightly chuckling.

“Say again?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. It helped me up. And it kept saying over and over, ‘Please, don't tell my mom.’”

Chase snorts at this, earning a look from Candace. “Sorry, that’s just an odd thing for it to say.”

“It is weird,” she agrees.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Weird.”

***

“You take the stairwell and I’ll take the showers.” Harley says, getting out of the Impala.

“Come on, why can’t I take the showers?” Dean asks, getting out as well.

“Um… I don’t know because you’re you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, slightly offended.

“Look Dean. It’s not happening, period.”

“You know you’re hot when you know what you want,” Dean says, sneaking up and hugging her from behind.

“No amount of flattery or affection is going to get you into those showers.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Dean relents, letting go of Harley, pouting.

***

Harley and Dean sat on the steps of the fitness center waiting for Sam and Chase. Dean had found a newspaper and was looking through it. The headline said that a local man had won the lottery.

“Well, you pick up anything?” Sam asks them.

“Nada,” Harley sighs.

“Yeah. I'm not surprised. I kind of got the feeling back there that crazy pushed Mrs. Armstrong down the stairs.”

“I got to tell you, I'm pretty disappointed.” Dean adds.

“Of course you are,” Chase says rolling her eyes.

Dean and Harley got up and the four began making their way back to their respective cars. A kid ran by followed by three others.

“Come on, guys, get him!” One of the presumably bullies says.

“I got him! I got him!” Another yells.

Dean being Dean has to make a reference and calls after the kid running from the others, “Run, Forrest, run!”

“I don't think anything's going on around here,” Chase says. “Maybe for once we get a break?”

“When do we ever get breaks?” Harley asks.

“Never,” Chase sighs dramatically.

The hunters overhear a man arguing with a cop on the pier, “How the hell was I supposed to get a look at it? It grabbed me from behind and threw me into a tree!”

“Something's going on,” Dean comments.

“Yeah, okay, Gus. I understand you got shook up. Anyone would be. But don't you think it – Don't you think it had to be a bear?” The cop asks.

“I know a damn bear track when I see one! This thing didn't leave bear tracks! Its feet were huge!” Gus answers.

“Now, Gus…”

“It was Bigfoot, Hal – The Bigfoot!”

At this the group started walking towards Gus and Hal.

“Gus, you're not talking sense here.”

“There's a Bigfoot out there, damn it, and he's a son of a bitch!”

“Excuse us, FBI,” Sam says, breaking the ice as they all pull out their badges.

“What?” Hal, the cop, responds.

“We’re here about Bigfoot,” Harley states matter-of-factly.

“About Bigfoot?”

“Yes.” Harley promptly turns towards Gus. “Can you tell me exactly where this happened?”

“Why, yes, I can,” Gus says, shooting a victorious look to the cop

***

“What the hell's going on in this town? First there's a ghost that's not real, and now a Bigfoot sighting?” Dean asks.

The four hunters wander through the forest, near where Gus said he’d spotted Bigfoot. Mosquitos swarm around them, trees densely surrounding the few miles around. Chase, already sick of being in the woods, was already bitten several times by the annoying bugs.

“Well, every hunter who’s worth their salt knows Bigfoot’s a hoax,” Sam says.

“Chase, didn’t you used to actually believe in Bigfoot?” Dean asks.

“Only because you told me he did!” Chase retorts. “Everything else is real, so I’m sorry if my seven-year-old self decided to believe her older brother.”

“In all fairness, he could just be really good at staying under the radar. I mean we didn’t think angels were real. Now we’ve met Cas and that asshole brother of his.” Harley adds.

“Well, maybe someone’s pumping LSD into the town water supply,” Dean jokes.

“Then what made those?” Chase asks, stopping suddenly, pointing at large tracks, which couldn’t possibly have been made by a bear.

“That, uh... is a big foot.” Sam says hesitantly.

“Well, okay then,” Chase says.

“Bigfoot isn’t looking so crazy all of the sudden,” Harley states.

The hunters begin following the tracks to a liquor store. Upon entering they notice that no one else is there and that the place is ransacked.

“So, what – Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store, jonesing for some hooch?” Dean says, before leaning down to inspect a few broken bottles, “Amaretto and Irish cream. He's a girl-drink drunk.”

Harley rolls her eyes at the comment.

“Dean, as a female, you should be and definitely are fully aware that I can match you in alcohol consumption. And Harley could probably outdrink all of us if she actually drank.”

“Yeah, but you’re different.”

Chase raises an eyebrow. “Choose your next words very, very carefully, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he simply turns around to keep investigating. “Seriously? He took the whole porno rack? I will repeat myself. What is going on in this town?”

After one final sweep of the place, they found some fur and decided to sit outside, pondering what this all meant.

“I got nothing,” Dean says, breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

“It’s got to be a joke, right?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Chase agrees. “Maybe a big-ass motherfucker in a gorilla suit?”

“Probably,” Harley agrees.

“Or it's a Bigfoot. You know, and he's some kind of a alcoholo-porno addict. Kind of like a deep-woods Duchovny.” Dean adds.

“I thought you didn’t believe in Bigfoot,” Harley teases.

Dean gives her a pointed look. “Yeah, well, it seems everything’s getting weirder by the day, so what else am I supposed to believe?” He frowns, looking past Harley, to see a little girl on a bike, riding past. A porno magazine falls out of the basket attached to her bike, causing all four of the hunters to pause. “A little young for Busty Asian Beauties.”

“I don’t think she’s our Bigfoot, but she might know him. I say we follow her.”

***

“What's this, like a ‘Harry and the Hendersons’ deal?” Dean asks when they arrive at the little girl’s house.

They knock on the door and the little girl answers, “Hello?”

“Hello! Um, could we... You know what? Are your parents home?” Sam asks.

“Nope.”

“No,” Chase repeats in dejection.

“Look, we just want to know if you’ve seen anyone really furry with big feet?” Harley says, probably a little too sharply. She’s never been particularly great with kids.

“Is he in trouble?” The little girl asks worriedly.

“No, of course not,” Chase says, kneeling down to the girl’s height. “We just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Exactly!” Dean says.

“He’s my teddy bear,” she says. “I think he’s sick.”

“That’s perfect!” Chase says enthusiastically. “Because, we are… teddy bear doctors!” She bluffs, shooting a look back to have the others cover her ass.

“That’s us, teddy bear doctors, so if we could see your teddy bear we might be able to make him better,” Harley quickly says.

“Really?” The little girl asks.

“Really,” Chase says.

***

“He's in my bedroom. He's pretty grumpy,” Audrey says, knocking on the door. “Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you.” She opens the door to show a giant stuffed bear turn to them.

“Close the fucking door!” the bear explains, causing Chase’s eyes to widen. She glances quickly at Audrey, hoping she wasn’t taking note of the language being used. Audrey quickly closes the door and turns back to the hunters with a shrug.

“See what I mean?” she asks.

The four hunters, disguised as teddy bear doctors, turn to each other skeptically. They follow Audrey into the living room, allowing them to sit and talk to her.

“All I ever wanted was a teddy which was big, real, and talked. But now he's sad all the time – not "ouch" sad, but ouch-in-the-head sad – says weird stuff, and smells like the bus,” Audrey explains to the four, who all watch her carefully.

Chase snorts, “I understand that feeling.”

“Little girl,” Dean starts.

“Audrey!” Audrey exclaims, chastising Dean again for not using her name.

“Audrey,” Dean corrects, “How exactly did your teddy bear become real?”

“I wished for it,” she says simply, as though it would be obvious.

“You wished for it?” Harley asks hesitantly.

“At the wishing well,” Audrey says, further explaining.

They stand awkwardly outside the bedroom door, looking to each other nervously. Dean opens the door slightly, allowing all four to peer in. A large teddy bear sits on the bed, facing a loud tv, displaying the news.

“Look at this,” the bear says, gesturing to the propaganda being spewed to the viewers. “You believe this crap?”

Dean raises his brows, pursing his lips slightly. “Not really.”

“It is a terrible world,” the bear continues to moan. “Why am I here?”

“For tea parties!” Audrey exclaims expectantly and excitedly.

“Tea parties? Is that all there is?” he demands, gunfire on the tv momentarily distracting him enough for Dean to close the door and turn to Audrey.

“Audrey,” Sam asks. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Okay,” she says, skipping off to the other room.

“Okay,” Sam repeats, turning back to others. “Should-should we kill this bear?”

“I think it might kill itself,” Harley says, grimacing.

“I hate to agree, but I agree,” Chase sighs.

“So what? We leave it alone?” Dean asks.

“I mean I don’t know,” Harley says.

“What would we even do? Shoot it? Burn it?” Chase asks sarcastically.

“How do we even know that's gonna work? I don't want some giant, flaming, pissed-off teddy on our hands,” Dean says.

“Yeah. Besides, I get the feeling that the bear isn't really the, you know, core problem here,” Sam sighs. They quickly make their way to Audrey. “Audrey. Where are your parents?”

She pauses a moment. “My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali.”

Chase’s eyes widen. “I wish I could do that.”

“Okay, well... I'm really sorry to have to break this to you, but... your bear is sick. Yeah, he's – he's got…” Sam pauses, shooting a look to all the other

“Depre-” Harley starts. Chase smacks a palm over her best friend’s mouth, her eyes cursing at her, as she has to improvise.

“Lollipop...disease,” Chase forces out, thinking of the most innocent seeming idea.

“Yeah!” Sam says, jumping on board. “Lollipop disease.”

“It's not uncommon for a bear his size. But, see, it's – it’s really contagious,” Dean explains.

“Yeah, so, is there – is there someone, maybe a grown-up, that you can stay with while we treat him?” Sam asks.

“Mrs. Hurley lives down the street,” Audrey says.

Chase shoots Harley a disgusted look, only now tearing her hand away, because Harley licked it. Chase wipes it on Harley’s shoulder, earning an eye roll from the boys as Harley tries to contain her laughter.

“Perfect,” Dean says.

“Good, yeah, good. Uh, we'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?” Sam requests.

Audrey shrugs, nonplussed. “Okay.”

“Oh, and, Audrey? Where is this wishing well?” Chase asks.

***

The four hunters stare up at the sign, reading Lucky Chin's Chinese Restaurant, wordlessly sending each other furtive glances, not wishing to go inside. Eventually, the girls wander over to the door and pull it open, allowing the boys to step in, just as a child exits.

“I know what I’m wishing for,” Harley says as soon as they step in making a beeline to the fountain.

“What are you going to wish for?” Sam asks as the other three follow Harley.

“I can’t tell you until after I make my wish.” She rolls her eyes and throws a coin in.

They wait a minute.

“Did it work?” Dean asks.

“Dunno? I don’t really feel any different.” Harley says, “I guess it did?”

“What did you wish for?” Sam asks.

“To be human.”

The three Winchesters stare at her in shock.

“Are you sure that was smart? All these wishes seem to be going awry, and you don’t know the kind of repercussions that could result from you wanting that-” Chase rambles in worry, concern filling her brown eyes as she stares at her best friend. Harley interrupts her, holding a hand up. “Sorry.”

“Well, my turn then,” Dean says, stepping forward.

“What’re you wishing for?” Sam asks, curious.

“Shh,” Dean holds up a hand. “Not supposed to tell.”

He tosses a coin in and not even a second later, a man walks in, “Somebody order a footlong Italian with jalapeño?”

Dean grins at the others, before holding his hand up slightly. “That’d be me.”

“Why don’t you wish for something?” Harley asks Chase.

Chase shrugs. “I dunno what to wish for.”

“How about like, a book, or cat ears, or something.”

“Sure, let me just ask for a headband,” Chase laughs, fishing a coin out of her pocket.

Pulling out a quarter, she approaches the wishing well. Tossing in the coin silently, she waits with bated breath, a hand outstretched, awaiting her cat ears. She frowns, turning around.

“I guess they don’t all work,” she shrugs.

Harley snickers, pointing at her head. “They’re right there.”

Chase reaches up, and pulls off a headband, cat ears that match her hair -dark brown with red streaks. She smiles before resituating them on her head. “Okay, cool, so what do we do about this?”

“I don’t know. Stopping people’s wishes from coming true sounds like a dick move.”

The four went to sit in a booth and talk things over.

“I’m guessing this is also a result,” Chase says, gesturing to the headlines in the newspaper.

“And that,” Sam agrees, pointing to a couple over at a different table.

“Unless he’s got a really great personality or he’s rich, definitely,” Harley adds.

“Yeah, ‘personality’,” Dean says.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Dean winks at Harley from across the booth. Chase snorts. Dean turns his look to Chase, a frown settling across his face as he glares at her playfully. Chase shrugs in defense, reaching a hand up to readjust her cat ears.

Dean takes a bite of his sandwich, moaning slightly. He points to it with a full mouth and a wide grin. “Thish ish good.”

“Ew,” Chase says. “Close your mouth, swallow, and then say something. God, Dean.”

Dean just grins at her wider.

Sam rolls his eyes and interrupts. “So, you’re right, it seems like a dick move, but come on, man. When has something like this ever come without a price tag? And usually a deadly one.”

“Sam’s got a point,” Harley says.

“I don't know. It's a damn good sandwich. All right. Fine. We'll put a hold on the wishing till we figure out what's going on,” Dean sighs.

“Uh, sir, sir, I’m sorry,” a worker comes over to their table. “We don’t allow people to eat outside food here.”

“Well, I am certainly not gonna eat the inside food here. Health department. You, my friend, have a rat infestation. We're gonna have to shut this place down under emergency hazard code 56C.”

Chase raises a brow, but then nods solemnly, trying to play along.

“Rats?” The man exclaims in shock.

***

The four hunters stand side by side, looking into the now-drained fountain. The buddha is plaster, paint peeling from its old, wearied edges, the smile thoroughly creeping out Chase. She looks away from it, scanning the bottom of the fountain, but nothing seems out of place.

“Typical fountain, plaster Buddha. Nothing I can see,” Dean says.

“Yes,” the chinese worker says, agreeing enthusiastically. “Nothing. We keep a clean place here.”

“Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave during the preliminary investigation, okay? Thank you,” Sam says. The man leaves, though a sour look adorns his face.

“Oh, come on. Aren't you a little bit tempted?” Dean asks, flipping a coin to Sam.

Sam chuckles lightly, handing the coin back to Dean. “No. Wouldn’t be real. I wouldn’t trust it.”

“I don’t know, that bear seemed pretty real,” Chase says.

“Wasn’t the bear a depressed drunk?” Harley asks.

Chase waves her off. “No matter.”

“Come on, if you could wish yourself back, you know, before it all started... Think about it. You'd be some big yuppie lawyer with a nice car and a white picket fence,” Dean says, ignoring the girls’ deliberation.

“Not what I’d wish for,” Sam says.

“Seriously?” Dean looks at Sam, surprised.

“It's too late to go back to our old lives, Dean. I'm not that guy anymore,” Sam deadpans.

“All right, well, what, then? Hmm? What would little, baby Sammy wish for?” Chase asks, teasing her younger brother.

He looks at her, a serious expression on his face. It causes Chase to pause. “Lilith’s head on a plate. Bloody.”

Harley attempts to whistle lowly, forgetting she can’t whistle at all. “Shit, I’d like that too.”

“Also,” Sam says, lightening up slightly, “You’re by far, much smaller than me.”

Chase rolls her eyes, pouting slightly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks, pointing to an old coin at the bottom of the fountain.

The three others turn to look at it closely, unsure of what it is.

“Some kind of old coin. I don't recognize the markings,” Sam says.

“Neither do I,” Harley adds.

Dean bends over and goes to grab it, but can’t seem to pull it off the fountain floor. “Damn,” he grunts, unable to move it at all.

“Lift with your legs,” Sam jokes.

“That little fucker really is welded on there,” Dean says.

“Let me try,” Harley says, attempting to pick up the coin. It didn’t even budge. “Noted, I’m not freakishly strong anymore. Guess I really am human.”

The boys left to grab a crowbar and a mallet. The worker attempted to stop them once he saw the tools, but the boys brushed past him.

“Let me see that. I got an idea,” Dean says referring to the mallet, he already had the crowbar. He wedged the end of the crowbar between the coin and the fountain, and hit the mallet against the crowbar. The head of the mallet flew off almost hitting Harley in the face.

“That was close. Too close,” Harley says once the mallet head lands.

“Coin's magical,” Sam says.

“I’d say,” Chase agrees.

“I think it’s hoodoo that keeps it protected,” Dean adds. “We can’t destroy it.”

Sam apparently keeps a pencil and paper on him and takes a frottage of the coin handing it to Dean as he was closest to Sam.

“All right, here. Y’all got to look into this.” Sam adds.

“Where you going?” Dean asks.

“Something just occurred to me.”

***

Chase sits, leaning against the wall of her and Harley’s motel room as she waits for her best friend. For some reason, Harley is sick. She’s sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting until she gets sick again, her head resting against the cabinet door, next to the toilet.

Chase herself didn’t feel the greatest. Her head pounded and her ears were ringing. A click lets her know that Harley is exiting the bathroom and Chase sits up straighter, trying to ignore how sensitive to the light her eyes are.

“Feeling any better?”

Harley shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Any idea what it could be?”

Harley shakes her head again, sighing deeply. “It could be something bloodborne. Something I picked up from a bad blood bag?”

“Yep, no superhuman strength, no immunities, and you’re probably not going to get any better soon.”

Harley looks up, a retort on her lips, but it dies upon her eyes landing on Chase. She stares, eyes wide, at her best friend. “Chase, you-your ears.”

Chase frowns. “What about them?” She asks, reaching up to readjust them. However, when she feels her fingertips meet them, she freezes. Her ears twitch, and a strangled cry escapes her lips as she bolts up, running into the bathroom. She stares at her reflection with wide, horrified eyes.

“I have cat ears!”

“Well, that is what you wished for,” Harley says, obviously trying to keep herself from laughing.

“No wonder my head hurts! These ears are just super sensitive to everything.”

Chase exits the bathroom, and upon Harley meeting her gaze, eyes flicking up to her ears, before meeting her eyes once more, Harley can no longer contain herself.

Harley bursts into laughter, wincing as her sides begin to ache, abdominal pain starting up, causing her to clutch her sides.

“You okay?” Chase asks.

“No, but I’ll manage.” Harley says, pulling out her phone and dialing Dean’s number, “I found something on the coin though, before I puked my guts out.”

“The wishes turn bad,” Dean says as soon as he picks up.

“Trust me. We know,” Harley sighs, putting Dean on speakerphone.

“What happened to you two?”

“Chase is a neko, and we think I have some bloodborne illness. You?’

“That sandwich made me sick.”

“Anyway the reason I called you is because I found out the coin is Babylonian. It’s of the goddess Tiamat.”

“At least we have a starting point now,” Chase says.

***

The four hunters arrived at Wesley Mondale’s house. Sam had figured out he was the first to make a wish last night. Harley rang the doorbell and Hope, Wesley’s fiancée, opened the door.

“Hi! Hope right? We’re the florists.” Harley says flashing her best fake smile and pepping up her attitude.

“Of course! Come in!” Hope says ushering the group inside, “Wes! You didn't tell me that you called the florists for the wedding.”

“Huh?” Wesley says looking as if he just woke up.

“You're the best! Mmm! Ah! I'm gonna go get my folders.” Hope says rushing off.

“Uh? Okay.”

“Wesley, how's it going?” Dean asks.

“It’s ‘Wes’ Aren't you the guys from the health department?”

“Yeah. And florists on the side,” Sam says.

“Plus FBI,” Dean adds.

“And on Thursdays, we're teddy bear doctors,” Chase says.

“And sometimes I’m a vampire. We’re kind of Jacks of all trades,” Harley finishes.

“Huh? Why does she have cat ears?” Wesley asks, pointing at Chase.

Chase frowns, feigning offense. “It’s a medical condition.”

Wesley turns slightly pink, but looks confused still. “Sorry,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes glued to anything except Chase’s “condition”.

“Look, Wes, it doesn’t matter who we are. It matters what we know about you,” Harley says pointedly.

“So, coin collector, huh, Wes?” Sam asks.

“Oh. Yeah. My... grandfather gave them to me,” Wes says.

“Did you happen to lose one of those coins lately? And by ‘lose,’ I mean drop into a wishing well at Lucky Chin's and make a wish on it?” Dean asks.

“No, I – I don't know what you're, uh, talking about.”

Hope comes back with folders overflowing with papers.

“Okay, now. I have a lot of ideas, but, you know, we don't have all the money in the world. Wes is between jobs right now. Means more time for me. You know, I'm thinking a Japanese-y ikebana kind of thing,” Hope says, pulling a picture out of one of the folders.

“Yeah. I can see it,” Dean says trying to get rid of her.

“Yeah. So, Hope, uh, tell us how you two lovebirds met,” Chase suggests.

“Oh, best day of my life,” Hope says.

“I bet,” Harley says, trying her best to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“Yeah! It's the funniest thing. We both grew up here, but I never really knew who he was. Not by name anyway. Until one day last month, it was like I just I just saw him for the first time. He was just... glowing. Oh, just glowing.”

“Uh, babe, can you – can you get us some coffee?” Wes asks.

“Yes. Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay. Okay. Mm-Hmm. Okay. Oh, okay. Oh. Mm-mmm, okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay,” Wes says amidst the many many kisses Hope is giving him. Chase looks away, slightly disgusted and feeling awkward.

“Yeah.”

“Wes, we know. So tell us the truth,” Harley says.

“My – my grandfather found the coin in north Africa, you know, World War II. And, uh, he brought it back. He, um, he said it was a real wish-granting coin, but that nobody should ever use it. Um... It was all I had, and when he died, I thought, "Well, you know what? Why not give the coin a shot?” Wesley explains.

“Yeah, well, now you're gonna wish it back,” Sam demands.

“Oh,” he laughs, “Oh. Ha ha, no, I'm not.”

“If you don’t do something about it, something bad’s gonna happen,” Dean says.

“Something like us,” Chase adds, crossing her arms.

“We really wish you'd come with us,” Dean says, pulling out his gun, then putting it away again.

***

“I don’t get how anyone could wish for love,” Harley says, starting the flow of conversation.

Chase pauses, momentarily thinking of her answer. “To be honest, I don’t either. I don’t believe in love really, outside of family, so I’m not quite sure it’s something I’d ever think of. I’d probably wish for books.”

“Didn’t you already have a wish?”

“Oh. Right. Man, really wasted that opportunity.”

“Any specific books?”

“All of them?” Chase suggests jokingly. “I don’t think I’d be able to choose. Watch, the bad thing that happens is I get all the books, but I get a panic attack because I know I could never read them all so I die. Or they fall on top of me and crush me. That would be bad too.”

“I mean that’s one way to go. Suck that these wishes go bad though. It would’ve been nice to just have one good one.”

“I understand what you mean,” Chase replies, her ears twitching at the sound of another passing car.

Harley laughs at the twitching ears, but soon regrets it as her stomach flares up again, “Ow! Okay being human kind of sucks.”

“Wow,” Chase says sarcastically. “Because I’ve never told you that before or anything. Because I’ve never expressed dissatisfaction with being human ever.”

“Okay fair, but like all I’ve ever wanted was to be human.”

“That’s also fair, but in the words of my favorite jamaican crustacean, ‘the seaweed is always greener in somebody else’s lake’,” Chase half-sings the quote.

“I was in a production of The Little Mermaid once. I was the little seahorse that follows Triton around.”

“That’s adorable!” Chase exclaims. “How have you never told me that before? We’ve talked about our theatre experiences so many times.”

“I guess I forgot about it amidst the nightmare that was Theatre Arts.”

Chase fake shudders, “Tech week, am I right?”

“I never had a tech week. Sounds exhausting though.”

Chase’s eyes widen as she turns slightly to peer at Harley. “How in the world have you not had tech week, but you’ve been in theatre? Tech week is the bane of my entire existence. It’s the last week of practice right before the show, where you’ve got costumes, lights, sounds, and all the makeup. You run through every scene like fifty times each night, and oh my God, don’t get me started on the backstage stress because your director, no matter how chill normally, is absolutely insane.”

“Well, I didn’t know it was called tech week. And those were my favourite practices.”

Chase shoots Harley a look of concern. “You really aren’t human, man.”

“Well, I am now. So deal with it.”

Chase smiles slightly. “Oh, right.”

The car jerks to the left suddenly as Chase hits something. “What the fuck?” She cries out, looking around wildly to see what she’d hit. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Chase mumbles, turning back around in her seat. “Did you?”

“Nah,” Harley shakes her head. “It was probably nothing. Just a speedbump.”

***

Chase and Harley come to a stop in front of Lucky Chin’s. They step out of the vehicle, heading inside to see Wesley and Sam getting out of the Impala, but no Dean.

“Sammy, where’s Dean?”

“Dealing with a runaway child with super strength.”

Chase raises a brow. “Are you… being… facetious?”

Sam shakes his head. “Sadly, no. Anyway, let’s get this over with.”

“Why can’t we get what we want?” Wes practically whines.

“Because life sucks?” Harley answers unsure.

“Yeah, Wes, this is life. And we don’t all get what we want,” Chase says, scratching her ears.

Suddenly a bolt of lightning shoots down from the sky, splintering into three, hitting Sam, Harley, and Chase, knocking them flat on their backs. Their bodies lay still, dead.

***

Sam, Harley, and Chase woke up on the pavement outside of Lucky Chin’s restaurant. Hope walks out as the three are getting up, looking back with a confused glance before continuing on her way. Wes comes out shortly after. He hands Sam the coin, dejected, before walking away.

“Well, I don’t feel like puking anymore,” Harley says.

Chase frantically reaches her hands up into her hair, sighing in relief as she feels no evidence of ears.

“I am never making a wish again,” Harley shudders.

***

The three Winchesters and the one now-no-longer-human, Harley, are all sitting on a bench, squished in next to each other. It barely seems like Sam or Chase are actually sitting on the bench, so much as leaning against the edges as Dean and Harley take up most of the room in the middle. Audrey walks past, normal sized teddy bear in hand; a bandaid had been placed over a bullet sized hole in its head.

Chase waves to Audrey, who waves back, skipping alongside who must be her parents, extremely sunburnt and confused.

“So, uh,” Sam starts, glancing awkwardly around the town. “The coin’s melted down now, so it shouldn’t cause any more problems.”

“Audrey's parents are back from Bali,” Chase points out, nodding her head towards the retreating family. “Looks like all the wishes are gone.”

“And so are we,” Dean says, folding up a newspaper, whose headline reads, ‘Winning Lottery Ticket A Fake’.

The group gets up, each pair heading back to their cars. Dean suddenly stops, causing the girls to look back at him and Sam, who stand next to Baby.

“You guys were right,” he says.

Chase and Harley share a confused look. “About?” Harley asks.

“I shouldn't have lied to you. I do remember everything that happened to me in the Pit. Everything.”

“So talk to us about it,” Sam suggests.

“No,” Dean deadpans.

“Dean, bu-” Chase starts. Harley puts a hand on her arm as Dean holds up a hand, cutting her off. Harley gives her a look, telling her to drop it.

“I won’t lie anymore, but I’m not going to talk about it.”

“Dean, look, you can't just shoulder this thing alone. You got to let us help,” Sam says.

“He’ll talk when he’s ready to talk. No point forcing it.” Harley sighs.

“The things that I saw... there aren't words. There is no forgetting. There's no making it better. Because it is right here,” Dean taps his head, “forever. You guys wouldn't understand. And I could never make you understand. So I am sorry,” Dean says.

Chase gives Dean a smile, small and bittersweet. “It’s okay, Dean. Just know we’re here for you when you need us.”

Dean returns the look, opening the driver’s side car door, about to get in. “I know.”

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munchflix · 4 years

Text

MUNCHFLIX - “DEMON” HOUSE

IMDB BLURB: Paranormal investigator and moldy walnut Zak Bagans documents the most authenticated case of possession in American history.

WARNINGS: Zak Bagans is a fucking asshole. Correllation is not causation. Also mentions of suicide and murder.

RATING: An 8 out of 10 on the demon scale

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All reviews are done solely for humor and should not be taken seriously ever. If you cannot handle cursing, crude humor and probably some offensive things, pls do not read this.

Munch: I'm Munchflower Zaius, paranormal movie investigator. I've investigated like 10 terrible paranormal movies this week. I don't have a t.v. show but if I did it wouldn't be a ghost hunting show. I'm one of the leading researchers on ghosts and demonology because if Zak fucking Bagans is then so am I - and this is the movie that really fucked Biscuits up. This movie was the next paranormal activity, it was the next Asylum movie, and I went all out. I had resources like Amazon Prime, a great crew of just Biscuits, I thought I was gonna crush this review. But in the end...nothing was as it seemed.

M: Biscuits fell ill and couldn't leave his room for 8 days, he didn't feel like himself. He screamed and wailed and tore at his hair. (no really ) He drew pictures of Zak Bagans and set them on fire. I fired him or he quit or something. Witnesses and experts ended up in the hospital and at the heart of it all was a little screwed up ghost hunter. It took us three years to write this review, we had everything we needed...but the truth is...this film is cursed.

Biscuits: I hate this fucking movie. I have watched some terrible movies, we have reviewed some terrible movies. But this movie...this movie makes me angry beyond words. This movie makes me hate. This movie made me so furious that I not only hate it, I hate Zak Bagans, the man. I have never met him, but if I did, I think I would punch him in the balls. This review is going to be 90% me just screaming, because it makes me that mad.

M: This is gonna be my fucking opening gif right here...

B: Oh yeah, this - there's a demon here in this fucking Amazon Prime video. He got in with his fucking 30-day free trial. Oooo it's gonna come get us! I'm so scared!!

M: ...

B: Oh, Zak "I-have-a-series-on-the-Travel-Channel" Bagins! Yeah, that makes you a qualified expert demonologist, Zak. "One of the world's LEADING researchers on ghosts and demonology" - no, no you're fucking not! What do you actually know about demons?? Also, let's add the fact that Zak Bagans is a terrible actor, and his monotone narration does nothing to improve the atmosphere of the movie.

B: It took him three years to finish this film, and it still sucks! Way to go buddy, it took us three days to make that potato salad!! THREE DAYS!

B: "This film is cursed!!" Yes it is, this is the curse! It's cursed to make me angry!

M: So spoopy! I'm spooped solid, are you spooped solid? Actually, if I had to say, my spoop level is actually somewhere along the levels of 'explosive diarrhea'.

B: This movie is explosive diarrhea. That's - that's a man whistling into the microphone, subtitled as 'wind whistling'. We are Zak Bagans' therapist for a minute, helping him dissect his dreams. One time I had a dream where I traded my non-existant son for two cool posters. I don't think THAT dream meant anything. Imagine a ghost hunter having dreams about ghosts!

M: Imagine a ghost hunter.

Pictured: Zak Bagggggans confused by electrical equipment

B: We also introduce the idea of a 12-foot-tall goat man, who never really comes up in the movie again. Is that Orcus himself? Oh shit, this is getting real. I'm not high level enough to fight a demon lord!

M: The demon vaped in my face!

B: "And I knew...this was some serious shit that meant something." I COULDN'T make that shit up. Genuinely. What does it mean, Zak? Would you care to explain? I don't know what does it mean.

B: This movie is NOT actually about the well-known Gary, Indiana story of demon posession. It's mostly about Zak Bagins fucking around.

M: Mentally masturbating himself for being some sort of sick ghost expert. Why would anyone call Zak Bagans about this? I think he made that shit up.

B: So, basically, Zak Bagans bought this house in Gary, Indiana where this alleged possession took place. A newscaster pronounces his name as 'Zak Baggins'. Guys, Bilbo Baggins bought this haunted house! He bought it because he wanted to make a movie about it.

M: Why?

B: To convince everyone that his 'ghost hunting' career is legitimate and he shouldn't have dropped out of college. Useless footage of Zak Bagans convincing some homeless people to move out of this abandoned house. Don't get them involved in this, it looks very cold and they were probably just trying to find a warm place to warm place to stay. Don't get them involved in your shitty fake documentary.

M: Also, if this house is really like, MEGA haunted, why are homeless people hanging out in it? Homeless people ain't got time for ghosts.

B: No, they have real problems. Wow, this fuckin house looks like an empty house! Oh, this is the best part - he gets a text from a psychic medium. a warning he'll 'never forget', and we'll never forget either! He shows us this obviously voice-to-texted message claiming that he saw visions of a very large demon figure and that this house is, and I quote, an '8 out of 10 on the demonic scale'.

Pictured: a demonic scale.

M: I wanna see this fucking scale. I actually googled demon scale after watching this because I had never heard of a fucking demon scale. Guess what, there's no demon scale. If you have access to this demon scale, PLEASE message me. I have a mighty need to see this thing.

B: WHAT the fuck is he talking about? Where is this demon scale?? Who made this demon scale?? This bitch just literally fucking made that shit up and thought we wouldn't notice.

M: And again, what exactly does this goat demon have to do with the house? What is the actual connection?

B: Does he just like hanging out there? Also, insert shots of some guy in a goat suit to make it seem scary. But we know that's just a guy in a goat suit. I guess that's what the demon is supposed to look like?

B: This also pisses me off - Zak Bagans and his crew track down this poor family by finding their home address from news footage, which is stalking, because they won't return his phone calls.

B: Also, let's not forget Zak's claim that a clairvoyant said this house was 'home to 200 demons'. WHAT?? Zak recounts some of the story of the family's supernatural experiences. But this is about him now! This movie is about HIM!

Pictured: I really want to see his artistic rendering of this demon

M: He has about as much reverence for the supernatural as I have for him.

B: Also, they film these people from their car, perhaps as though they didn't want them to know they were being filmed! Good job Zak, stalking an innocent family to record them without their consent for your shitty, self-aggrandizing ghost show. At least they had the decency to blur faces.

B: They then say they don't want to have anything to do with the documentary. Zak Bagans makes up an excuse about how things have attached themselves to him from the house. Just leave these people alone. Problem solved. However, one guy is coerced into talking about what happened during the possession, which mostly affected the kids in the house.

M: I don't discount that something actually happened to the family that lived there, that they may have had some sort of supernatural experience. That's not really what I'm trying to say here - I just don't believe in Zak Bagans.

B: Or, whether it was supernatural or not, something obviously affected them that they perceived as paranormal that made them want to move out of the house. Of course, there are more realistic explanations for many of these experiences, but that's not what we're here to debate. Zak Bagans knows jack shit about parapsychology and is just pretending to for clout.

M: Imaginary clout... Also, these reenactments are the only good part of the movie. Props to those child actors.

Pictured: children enjoying some fortnite just before becoming possessed.

B: Also, apparently, spirits are like velcro or something. I guess you can get 'infected' with ghosts. Watch out for that coronavirus, of course, but also, watch out for GHOSTS.

B: This priest performed definitely approved and legitimate excorcisms on this house I guess.

M: It's pretty hard to get one of those these days, but what do I know...

B: Yeah, we're not the world's leading experts on ghosts and demonology!

B: Zak Bagans inserts interview footage to make his fake documentary seem legit. If it was a real documentary about the Ammonses' experience, detailing multiple points of view with people who actually know stuff about supernatural cases and/or parapsycology, it might be a good documentary. However, it is not. Zak Bagans does not know what a documentary is. He thinks he is so cool that he is the only expert necessary because he know EVERYTHING about ghosts.

B: Zak Bagans did not film this. He found footage and has nothing to say about it. He just wants you to believe that he knows stuff. I suppose it's context. But, as I've mentioned, this documentary isn't really about the Ammons family or their experiences in this house, it's about Zak Bagans.

M: All of this is just being set up to try to lend credence to the later part of this movie, which has nothing to do with any of this.

B: Zak Bagans heard someone else was having a demon party and wanted to be invited.

M: It's POSSIBLE, but it's extremely fucking unlikely. Anything is POSSIBLE. You're leading the audience, Zak.

B: Okay, if this was just a horror movie, one of those ones that's 'based ona true story', and Zak wasn't trying to pretend that this is all 100% real, it would be fine. I wouldn't have as much of a problem with it. As it is, it's Zak Bagans trying to convince us all that he's so, so cool. He has found DEFINITIVE proof of demons.

B: Of course it's creepy! It's a basement! It's like saying an attic is creepy - they're ALL creepy.

B: INDISTICT BACKGROUND NOISES??? THAT DON'T EVEN SOUND LIKE A VOICE?? Now we're getting into real ghost shit. While I don't believe Zak Bagans knows shit about ghosts or demons, he obviously has a lot of experience with indeterminate noises.

M: His entire show is indeterminate noises.

B: Ghost hunters LOVE indeterminate noises! Zak Bagans interviews a man about a weird noise on his recording. SO compelling.

B: An AM/FM radio went to static? There can't be any explanation for that other than ghosts... Zak also loves to make claims that he substantiates with NO evidence! It's almost as if he feels the FACTS might not be compelling enough. According to this police officer, the demons affect women and children physically, and 'stronger men electronically'.

M: No input on how it affects the weaker men, though.

B: Also, apparently, the epicenter of this demon outbreak is a spot of dirt under the stairs. Everybody knows dirt is demonic. Demons can't hide in concrete or solid flooring; they like a more naturalistic approach.

B: Aggravate OR abate the demon. Those seem like quite extreme options. Also, listen to the list of super spooky stuff the police officers dug up from the spot under the stairs: a pink press-on nail and PANTIES. Everyone knows a good demonic summoning ritual needs to involve lots of women's panties. VERY spooky. Also, a comb, two children's socks, a heavy bar, and a red tin. All very definitely demonic summoning artifacts and not just random items that got lost.

M: Zak refers to this pile of nonsense as a demonic altar.

Pictured: one demonic altar

B: This priest is on board too. He thinks these random objects are 100% demonic. Because of reasons. He believes it's NECROMANCY.

M: What does a priest know about necromancy? ...asking for a friend.

B: He knows it involves PANTIES.

M: I've never heard of a necromantic ritual that involves panties...not that I know anything about necromancy.

B: You know more than Zak Bagans does!

M: Ok, I am now an expert on necromancy, and hereby ALL necromantic rituals must involve women's panties...and uhh, a big stick, and a tin, and whatever else you've got laying around.

B: This cop assumed that this was a literal portal to Hell. That's where the panties came from.

M: HELL PANTIES.

B: That would be a great name for like...an all-female metal band. Or a really bad B-movie. Or both.

M: No way those panties could've gotten there any other way...demons is the only logical answer.

Pictured: Detective Gruszka finally goes to the women’s section at Macy’s

B: THE WALLS WILL OOZE GREEN SLIME! No, wait, that always happens. "Half her hand went completely white" followed by a photo of half of her hand not being completely white.

Pictured: a white person’s hand.

M: Can I just take a moment again to say how much I don't like Zak Bagans?

B: So many unrelated people...confirmed that there was something on the blinds.

M: Which means...DEMONS ARE REAL! That's the only logical conclusion, right?

B: Insert shot of a spider, because that's SPOOKY.

M: Wow, it must be a lot easier to get an excorcism these days.

M: Why did Zak Bagans record this phone call?

B: That's a very good fucking question!

M: Did he not? Is he just pulling this shit out of his ass for the camera?

B: His voice is so emotionless you can't tell.

M: Also, what relevance does this have to anything?

B: Big Hollywood producers only want money!! Unlike you, Zak, Zakary, who definitely DIDN'T make THIS movie for money or fame. This nonexistant 'other movie' about this story that is the source of all Zak's problems and DEFINITELY the reason the Ammons don't want to talk to him.

B: The homeless people and the landlord don't believe the house is haunted. That's Zak's version of trying to present a counter-point. Obviously, he never had to write an argumentative essay in school.

M: He was probably the guy in group projects who never did anything.

B: Homeless Person: "Money make you say a whole lotta stuff." Obviously, he's right.

Pictured: no comment needed

B: "I'd like to find out rather the claims are real or false. I'm not here to fabricate nothing or sensationalize on anything..." ZAK.....................................go to hell.

B: You are here ENTIRELY TO fabricate stuff and sensationalize on stuff. That's why you made this MOVIE, Zakary.

M: Gosh it's crazy, it's almost as if money makes people say things.

B: It's almost as if maybe he thought you were paying him to say things for his movie. Did you slip that priest and that police officer some money 'to leave' too? "I'm not gonna tell you that until we sit down and make an agreement" YEAH IT'S ALMOST LIKE HE WANTS MONEY!

M: Zak Bagans is basically damning himself by leaving this in here...this guy's got it figured out, though.

B: He's not telling ghost stories, he's just explaining that this is profitable. Also, Zak does passively mention that there were members of the Ammons family who claim these alleged experiences did not go on. However, he doesn't understand what refuting a counterpoint actually is. It's almost like...he can't. Because, with paranomal shit, there's never enough evidence to truly confirm or deny.

M: "Wow"

B: Wow...insert 'wow' vine here. Oh, and this part where he intentionally brings up a photo he knows is fake and has been definitively debunked. SO, just don't include it!! Also, 'mold and other things' that could've psychologically affected the residents, including carbon monoxide. I have an idea, why don't we make this whole movie about a home inspector inspecting this house...

Pictured: Munch had the mouse over the screenshot, fuck you.

M: ALSO, all this shit is just in here to make Zak Bagans SEEM like he's exploring other avenues of explanation, which he then promptly abandons.

B: Zak Bagans has to explain to us (badly) what carbon monoxide and black mold can do to a person psychologically...perhaps causing side effects that can create or enhance the sensation that something supernatural is happening. "It's something to take into consideration." - but he won't.

B: "Some other normal explanation that was now being turned into a money grab." OH. I don't even have anything to say to that. You said it, not me. "Shit got crazy." That's how you know it's legit. Also, we are 32 minutes into this hour-and-a-half long movie, and we are now reaching the point where any sort of legitimacy goes right down the fucking toilet and we are flushed into the festering sewer of Zak Bagans' mind.

B: A family who used to live in the house shows up very conveniently to be in Zak's movie. These kids seem 'very convinced' there are demons. Some mildly supernatural hearsay is presented.

M: Also, point here - if Zak Bagans really believes that spirits can just attach themselves to anyone, then wouldn't he be deliberately endangering these people by taking them down into the basement?

B: An attributed quote that we didn't hear her say...because of course. And, if the basement reminds her of her DEAD BROTHER who used to stay there, that has nothing to do with demons, and is also a perfecty legitimate reason for her to not like going back into the basement after all these years.

Pictured: A quote that nobody but Zak Biguns heard

M: Zak Bagans then proceeds to TELL THE CHILDREN that he JUST BROUGHT INTO THIS PLACE that demons can 'get inside of you and make you sick'. What, is he immune or something so he's not worried about it happening to him?

B: Also, this woman lived in the house in the 90s when she was only about 10 years old. It's almost as though, and I'm not making any claims here, that he wanted the Ammons family to be in his movie, and when they said no, he got a backup family to take their place in the script.

M: He knows all about possession, 'cause it happened to him.

B: No, for real. I was there. (I was the demon) He started doing ghost hunting because he got possessed once.

M: This is just an excuse for him to tell his origin story. Also, these kids look not on board at all with him being here.

B: Zak Bagans knows how to use Adobe Premiere. He's really proud of it. M: Again, if you believe all this is real, you are genuinely putting these people in danger. If they are legitimately afraid of ghosts following them, you are making it worse. Are you gonna come and save them, Zack?

M: I hate this fake 'EVP analysis' so much. "It SOUNDS like..." yeah, it can sound like anything if you tell people it does.

B: "What's wrong with this boy" is that you TOLD HIM that ghosts could latch onto him! Maybe he's SCARED because YOU SCARED HIM on purpose.

M: Then we get some black-and-white footage of Zak Bagans being a dick, and that's...proof of demons.

B: You pushed this guy a little bit. Honestly, it didn't look like you were pushing him that hard. It's also convenient that you weren't recording at the time but immediately started recording again as soon as you stepped out of the house, because this is all real, and definitely exactly how it happened.

B: These guys have to explain to Zak what he did, so that the audience can also get explained to what happened in the footage they just saw. I don't know anyone could have construed that as anything other than a genuine demonic possession.

M: He's not even a credible actor, like there's nothing believable about these performances. It's such shit. Zak Bagend must leave (for no reason) but then someone tries to break into what he repeatedly calls " My House" as if he lives there. Why would anyone want to break into his jank ass haunted house? This seems really unlikely. Zachhh says the cops won't go in the house. Too scared. Zak says it's " a different kind of haunting." Wtf does that even mean?

M: Zak is now interviewing the CPS worker from the case that this was supposed to be about.

B: Yeah you remember that?

M: No, not anymore. She seems credible, Zak Bagnnnns does not. I really don't believe he believes in any of this.

B: Yeah ask the woman about her emotional trauma, Zak. Ask a CPS worker about her trauma. Be like oh so this was a traumatic experience for you? You should talk about it with me for this shitty documentary!

M: She says her therapist told her to seek help. That's...pretty bad right? When your therapist says to seek help? Now some informative badly edited cards about things that allegedly happened in this house. Why didn't we hear anything from the home inspector who was choked in his sleep and got cancer??? That's some real shit!

Pictured: The one guy we really wanted to hear from

B: This DEFINITELY had everything to do with demons. Demons are the #1 cause of cancer in the United States. They don't want you to know that.

M: Oh the fucking bike ride. On his way to do a second exorcism on Latoya ( why did she need a second exorcism?) this priest fell off his bike. Because demons.

B: Well you know it's not an exact science. I'd go so far as to say it's not science! It's not even science adjacent. Zak Bagel doesn't even know wtf science is.

M: I am literally laughing out loud. This priest says the demon was trying to figure out what would stop him from going forward with this second exorcism and the best thing this fucking demon, this 8 out 10 DEMON ON THE DEMON SCALE DEMON can come up with is knocking a dude off his bike?? Just get back on your bike, man.

B: This is my major problem with this movie, especially this second half. Zak Brainend presenting all this random shit that happened and blaming it on demons. This is the 21st century, we don't blame all our problems on demons. We don't live in the middle ages. This priest falling off his bike wasn't because of demons.

M Correllation is not causation. This detective fucking slid on ice two days after being in the house and ended up in the ER. That is not because of demons. Wait...is he interviewing him in the fucking ghost house?

B: And then he brings up him being shot during a home invasion and blames that on demons.

M: So he gets a call from Mika who was part of the backup family to tell him her daughter is in distressl WHY would you call Zak Braggans?

Pictured: A girl with her face blurred out because I’m not Zak Bagans

B: This pisses me off. If this girl is actually suicidal and actually tried to kill herself, you don't put that in your shitty demon movie. If she's actually depressed and hurting herself you don't put that in there. It's not cool. It's very exploitative. You don't know anything about ths girl's mental illness or anything that's going on in her life. If this is all indeed real and not scripted, you're just a piece of shit!

M: But demons!

B: Stay out of it Zak, this doesn't involve you. You're not a psychologist or a therapist, it's not your business.

B: One of his crew members quits. Because of the demons.

M: And not because he thought maybe Zak exploiting a suicidal girl was bad. Where did they find this priest anyway, he seems so sketchy.

B: I'm also pissed that they brought this suicidal girl in to have an EXORCISM. She needs mental help and therapy and a licensed person to help her. You don't give her an exorcism and go oh you're fine. When the exorcism doesn't work she's going to feel extra shitty. But whatever Zak, it's your fucking movie. You do whatever you want for your movie. Who am I to tell you what you can and can't do with a suicidal teenage girl.

M: This confirms to me that this priest is sketchy as fuck. If he was reliable he would have said Zak no, this girl needs actual help. Zak is still blaming demons. I hate him so much. I hate his stupid douchebag face.

B: And he sits here and puts this girl on camera and asks her questions about it. NO NO fuck you, genuinely fuck you Zak. Again, this is exploitative as shit. Trying to make cutting her wrists into being some kind of stigmata. Fuck you. This doesn't have anything with demons.

Pictured: A religious phenomena usually experienced by the very devout

M: Why would demons invoke stigmata anyway, that's....not how that works.

B: It's just feels like Zak Blehgins is exploiting this family and trying to convince them that everything is demons from this house they spent 10 minutes in. Again, it's like he has no idea what he shouldn't do. Nobody thought to ask her about her feelings. If this is real she needs help and not Zak Blahggg asking her questions with a camera in her face.

M: This poor teenage girl does not want to be in this. Her head drops and they're like OKAY EXORCISM OVER SHE'S FINE. Then Zak's psychic friendo Debbie tries to make contact with the demon remotely. Why? Why would she invite that? Does she wanna hang out?

B: Is she gonna like text the demon? Facebook messenger? How many psychic friends does he have?

M: Oh she succeeded I guess and it said WHARBLGARBL. And then Debbie was killed in a double murder suicide.

Pictured: Wharblgarble

B: Her husband murdered her and her roommate and if you really cared you would not put this in your goddamn demon documentary. Can you just leave shit like this out of it? Tie your friend's murder into your damn demons. This is why I hate Zak Biguns. He's a fucking manipulative asshole who tries to spin murder and suicide and cancer into his conspiracy theory movie about demons. ANOTHER point, the common thread among all of these stories is YOU, Zak, you could make exactly the same point about you. He also found a Hell is Real sign. Also trying to claim that demonic activity is higher in areas with high crime rates, poverty and murders.

M: And now some facts about Gary, Indiana.

B: And also exploiting this poverty stricken predominately black community. A segment where we explore actual problems that this place has. Zak you fucking absolute....

M: Zak is now telling us that like 5 people died there but he can't discount that someone close to the Ammonses might have cursed the house and invited the demons. Like...5 people dying there wasn't enough for you Zak? Zak's gonna go kick Latoya's boyfriend's ass because he thinks he tried to curse them with panties. That's a real thing that's happening. Zak can now tell whether people are into the occult by looking at them.

B: Another previously unknown superpower. Maybe he has a white savior complex.

M: MAYBE? The boyfriend doesn't wanna talk. Big shock.

B: What did you think was gonna happen.

M: This guy is a piece of work. Dr. Barry Taff, who holds a doctorate in psychophysiology. ( the study of the relationship between physiological and psychological phenomena, I had to look it up so you get to learn too, bitches ) He's gonna come and see if electromagnetic stuff is causing the demons. But everything is normal so...therefore demons. But there's a spike in the basement. That doesn't mean it's demons though. In fact, it would seem to indicate the opposite.

B: This happens on a lot of ghost hunting shows. I'm not sure what your weird electromagnetic shit has to do with ghosts but..?

Pictured: Zak Bagans realizing he’s a huge idiot

M: Now Zak has to go walk off again. He's being really affected by these demons. Weren't there supposed to be like 200 demons here or something? Doesn't this really do more to explain that demons aren't real?

Z: Zak Braggins is a superconductor. He also seems genuinely surprised by what this guy is telling him.

M: That's because he doesn't understand science. Something causes him to lunge at the doctor, which is totally believable.

B: He just got mad the guy wasn't telling him it was demons. Fuck you and your science! The doctor hears a dog. Everyone knows demons bark like dogs. You said it was goat man, why does it bark like a dog?

M: So much footage of dudes just walking around supposedly being affected. Might be the carbon monoxide they actually detected earlier? Or the black mold?

B: I love this part! This is fucking great. Footage of this guy walking around and then the cameraman's finger gets in the shot. It totally doesn't look exactly like what happens when you put your finger in front of the lens. Totally.

M: It's demons, obviously. The black anomaly. It's a fucking finger. They're just filming this dude walking around who seems to be ill and claiming he's touching the anomaly and shit. Take this dude to the fucking doctor.

B: They take it to some NASA dude who enhances it and says there's no way it's the cameraman's finger. I still don't believe it's not the cameraman's finger. Oh shit, I just realized...I have fingers!

M: It might be a dick.

B: If this cameraman and the doctor both feel faint, maybe you should just get out of the house!

M: This literally sounds like carbon monoxide poisoning which can cause nauseau, headaches, confusion, memory loss and literally every other thing except bad acting. Adam the cameraman wanders off and they find him in the basement. He later apparently starts VOMITING BLOOD??? Take this boy to the hospital! He starts screaming Zak in a weird voice so they decide to film it, natch.

Pictured: Criminal negligence

B: Zak....zaaaaaaaaak i need to go to the hospital....this seems like negligence. M: Now they've lost him. Lots of footage of Adam being really aggressive for no reason. Nobody is concerned any longer about his vomiting blood. Something is wrong with this dude and you assholes are filming him. Adam wants to go to the house because of reasons that I'm sure are 100 percent legit. Maybe he's just tired of being in this shit ass movie with these shit ass friends. Zak says this is the scariest thing he's ever seen in his life.

B: This movie is the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life.

M: I honestly love the Adam bit. It's so fake. This dude is just being a dick on camera and Zak is like IT'S OBVIOUSLY DEMONS. Dr. Taff has a loud noise in his ear later on that wakes him up.

B: He's literally explaining exploding head syndrome. I have this, I know what it is. Characterized by loud noise you suddenly imagine just before you fall asleep, and can also occur as you wake up in the night. Google it. Also not caused by demons!

M: He wakes up with blood in his ears. Go to the hospital!

B: Or he had a stroke, or an aneurysm.

M: Meanwhile...Adam is getting interviewed instead of going to the hospital for barfing up blood. Adam doesn't wanna be on tape but they tape him secretly because they're fucking assholes. Adam says you know what I said bruh and Zak is like omfg the goatman.

Pictured: It’s hard to find good images because this movie is also badly badly filmed and it’s just shitty creepy shots and then Zak talking.

B: It wants you, Zak, you're the leader of the bunch.

M: Adam has a fucking aura of freezing air and EMF around him but we don't get to see any of the instruments they're using to record that.

B: These are obviously some very trustworthy guys.

M: They are filming him without his consent.

B: Seems to be a recurring theme.

M: Dr. Taff finally gets to a fucking hospital where his organs are shutting down. Like every single one of them. He mentions infection in his prostate.

B: I don't think his organ failure is best explained by demons. He has a severe medical problem.

M: All these people he's saying got sick and NOBODY fucking went to a hospital?

B: No..my dude...you are sick. You have a medical problem, not demons. M: Oh and now Adam has been removed from the crew because he's being weird and violent. They try to get him help but Adam refuses. I think Adam just got sick of their shit.

B: They had to make something up.

M: You have anything you wanna say here before Zak boards himself up in the house...alone...overnight?

B: Have fun, big guy.

M: Zakkkk " I know this sound stupid..."

B: It IS stupid. You set yourself up for that one. We're gonna have a sleepover with the demons! Pictured...the tiny penis in it's natual habitat.

M: This part is so fucking dumb. It's just....deeply deeply dumb.

B: They also moved in furniture so Zak can be comfy with the demon. And then... nothing happened. Lots of shots of absolutely nothing happening. I feel like I'm watching Paranormal Activity

M: Except stuff happened in that. Now in fast forward. Zak takes off his coat.

Pictured: the horror of seeing Zak Bagans undress

OOH SPOOKY. Nothing is happening. At all. He sits down and checks his phone so we can learn he doesn't wanna do lights out. Why? Nothing is happening. He just keeps opening doors. What is Sebastian? I'm arranging matches. He makes sures the door is locked.

B: Make sure the audience knows he's boarded up in there. You so brave. So big dick macho brave. You did this, Zak. Zak is scared of the dark. It's okay. It's natural.

M: I don't know why he's bitching. He orchestrated this. OOH LIGHTS OUT. NIGHT VISION ON. NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

B: This part also feels like the intro to some weird night vision demon porno, he's just walking around with a camera.

M: That would at least be interesting. Nothing is happening at all. We just keep getting time cuts to more nothing happening. Finally they will decide this is too much nothing happening and make up some shit.

B: It's almost like shit's really boring when Zak doesn't have people around to help him make up shit. Hey did you guys hear a sound? No.

Pictured: Lies

M: 4:51 am. When will this end? How much more nothing happening does the audicence need. And not to put too fine a point on it...but this house is the DEMON HOUSE. Supposedly haunted by over 200 demons and a goat-man and also an 8 out of 10 on the demon scale, and NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

M: Zak is getting a headache. Probably because of carbon monoxide. There's an obviously faked goat-ish noise. Zak tells it to get away because that's gonna work. Shoo, demon.

Pictured: A man gets mouthy while backed against a wall in fear

B: He sounds very sincere. Back the fuck up, man. Why do these dudes always try to get all up in the demon's face? Fuck you, demon. Maybe the demon just thinks you're rude. He was just trying to say hi.

M: A title card pops up to say that Zak Bagans witnessed a dark mass come out of the wall. There's cameras literally fucking everywhere but we don't get to see that.

B: Water water everywhere but not a drop to drink.

M: Now his eyes hurt. Which makes him yell and knock shit over

. B: Can you imagine how we feel in quarantine? He develops diplopia. Double vision.

M: It's not that serious, Zak. Doctors can't figure out what caused it. This does not mean it was caused by fucking demons. We get updates on Kevin who apparently caught a demon from Zak. Adam went goth.

B: Adam got tattoos and we looked him up and he makes horror movies and shit now. He just looks like a metalhead. I wanna say something here again about Dr. Taff and his diplopia. He's acting like doctors not knowing the cause of something is rare. It is not. Anyone with chronic health issues can tell you that. Tests and doctors are not infallible and it's often hard to diagnose things even if they're severe.

M: Speaking as someone with chronic health issues, this is the case more often than not. The house has not taken a toll on you people you fucking walnut.

B: We get a long list of correlation is not causation.

M: So Zak decides to bulldoze the house, thus freeing the demons loose in the world to do their dark dark bidding.

B: Or something. My theory is that he bulldozed the house so nobody could go back there and his investigation would be the FINAL word on the matter, like so he could be the ultimate authority on this case and nobody could come back and try to contest him...or try to profit off of these events after him.

M: Closing thoughts?

B: Zak Briggins seems like a complete douche. When you start the movie he's just some guy who hunts ghosts and thinks he knows things. But as it goes on, you see he's also very exploitative and manipulative and not a good guy! He takes advantage of people's deaths and mental issues and health problems to further his demon agenda. In conclusion, fuck you Zak Bagans.

M: Zak claims that even tho the house is gone, the cops keep calling to tell him to tell him people are doing satanic rituals at the site on the regular. Why would the cops even call him for that? There's no house there. I call bullshit. On ALL of this. This story IS cursed, man. Don't expose yourself or your loved ones to the horrors of Demon House.

B: I call bullshit on there being producers on this movie.

M: That's fair. I miss Ghost Hunters.

#ghost adventures #zak bagans #munchflix #humor #ghost #demon house #ghost hunting #ghost hunters #zak baggans

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shalebridge-cradle · 4 years

Text

Bisclavret Round-Up

Unholy took about three months to write. Fairy Tale took five. Hindsight took six.

Bisclavret took nineteen, and that should be the biggest indicator to you that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

This was my first venture into another fandom, and out of my comfort zone (though not entirely – supernatural elements for life). I’m not sure whether or not I did the source material and its characters justice, however, especially with the supernatural element I went with (Wolves are believed to have gone extinct in England in the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century), but I will try to explain my reasoning behind some of my decisions here.

The Characters

My main concern.

We get a good view of Monty’s thought process throughout the show, through the framing device of writing his memoirs and views of his private affairs. Phoebe and Sibella, on the other hand, are characters we don’t get much of in the way of examination – we only see them through Monty’s eyes until the very end, where they reveal themselves as more than that.

Sibella is a bit self-centred, and extremely practical when it comes to how she sees her place in society, which implies some self-confidence issues. Phoebe is more idealistic, and independent, but still hopes for a match fit for a storybook. But, towards the end, Sibella demonstrates she is more than a vain god-digger, afraid of losing the man she loves and willing to potentially compromise her image to save him, while Phoebe shows that she is not nearly as innocent or naive as the people around her consider her to be.

I interpreted the two women’s characterisations as thus; Sibella believes she is bound by society’s view of her. Phoebe does not. This, I believed, needed to be the focus.

Which is where we introduce…

The Whole Werewolf Thing

“[Post-modern Gothic] warns us to be suspicious of monster hunters, monster makers, and above all, discourses invested in purity and innocence. The monster always represents the disruption of categories, the destruction of boundaries, and the presence of impurities and so we need monsters and we need to recognize and celebrate our own monstrosities.” - J Halberstam, Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters

I gave a number of possible causes of the D’Ysquith ‘family curse’, if it is one – the actions of the first countess, Gregory D’Ysquith burning down a monastery (divine punishment is a possible cause), but I never gave a specific answer. I think I might be operating on the logic of the original Bisclavret – it’s irrelevant.

The reason there isn’t is because I intended it as a metaphor – which I think I’ve made clear with my chapter updates here (though you don’t have to read it that way, Death of the Author and all that), but I never quite decided and what it was a metaphor for. In terms of this particular narrative, it can be read as a metaphor for feminism, and/or a metaphor for same-sex attraction.

Feminism

Edwardian Era England, where A Gentleman’s Guide takes place, is not overly-represented in fiction. Not surprising, considering it’s a pretty short time period between the surprisingly long Victorian era and the world-changing events of World War One. However, when you think of that time period, a certain group tends to come to mind – the suffragettes.

(Just a note. Agatha D’Ascoyne, the character from Kind Hearts and Coronets who inspired Hyacinth D’Ysquith in the musical, was a suffragette. She has no lines, apart from “Shush!” – Deeds, Not Words.)

We know what these people wanted – Votes for Women. They were not prepared to wait for society to change to get it, and when peaceful protest was ignored, they began to act out. They refused to fit into their role of quiet, demure, loyal wives, and for some groups, this was seen as threatening. Anti-suffragette cartoons of the time often depicted these women as old, ugly and/or selfish for wanting similar rights to men instead of accepting their place as a ‘lesser being’.

The point I am trying to make is, being in defiance of the role you are expected to play – which Sibella is afraid to show – was seen by many to be ugly. Beastly.

Phoebe runs Henry’s country estate for him. Phoebe flaunts societal expectations by proposing to Monty, instead of waiting for him to propose, the ‘proper’ way to do things. While she is feminine, she does not fit the idea of what a woman ‘should be’.

Sibella makes a point to meet her obligations as a wife, though she does surreptitiously carry on an affair. She sacrifices her own happiness to get what she wants in a socially acceptable way. She has no intention of leaving Lionel in the source material, but she convinces herself that a rich, good-looking, polite man – what society thinks of as the ideal male – is what she wants, and realises on her wedding day that it isn’t.

And goes through with it anyway.

When she can no longer fit that mould, when she refuses to go along with Lionel’s plan to leech off the countess, when she undermines and argues with her husband, that’s when things start happening. Indeed, her ‘beastly’ outbursts manifest as standing up for herself. She ends the story as a much happier and self-assured person than she was at the beginning, and attempts to bring justice to other women.

Same-Sex Attraction

This is a bit more straightforward. We’re coming right off the back of the Victorian era here, where Oscar Wilde and others like him got their lives ruined. Same-sex relationships aren’t viewed in a positive light at all at this time – you like the same gender? Off to prison with you, deviant!

As people that were (and often still are) villainised, misunderstood and attacked for the crime of existing, some members of the LGBT community reclaim monsters such as vampires, werewolves and the Babadook as their own as a means of subverting their image in a heteronormative society. Being ‘monstrous’ is not bad. Being different is fine. You may feel malformed and wrong, but you are not. You and your quirks are accepted.

For some, the ones to fear are those who appear in the daylight.

Sibella, for all her talk of being a monster, only fights back when threatened. Morton has a heart attack when put in the position of his victims, subverting the formula he’s used to. Lionel, fearing that Sibella will leave him and damage his image, resorts to violence against Sibella and several other women he sees as substitutes for her. Mary attempts to murder Sibella for getting in the way of a monogamous man-woman relationship. In her eyes, Sibella is an irredeemable villain, but Phoebe can be ‘fixed’.

If you want to look deeper into this link between horror and the LGBT community, here’s a video essay discussing gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender representation in horror films.

There are only a few non-metaphorical references to werewolves. The wolf head in Eugenia’s dower house is a family member – as previously mentioned, wolves went extinct in England during the reign of Henry VII. St Hubert’s Key is a charm that more often than not looks like a nail, and was supposed to be able to rid the body of disease caused by a dog or wolf bite. There is some science behind this – the metal was heated before being pressed to the wound, and, if the subject was at risk of contracting rabies from the injury, the heat would likely sterilise and cauterise the potential infection site.

Not the First Murder-y Heir

There are a couple of characters named or directly taken from Israel Rank – Autobiography of a Criminal, the inspiration for Kind Hearts and Coronets and A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder. I’ve compared these works before, so I’ll just go over those that appear here.

Esther (Lane) – The third object of Israel Rank’s affections, and a governess. Knows more than she’s letting on in Israel Rank, and in this story as well.

James “Jim” Morton – Appears for about a page to explain Israel’s disillusionment with the ideal male – while Morton seems great to some, he really isn’t. Since Jim only appears as a child in the book, his characterisation here is drastically different.

Lord and Lady Pebworth – Almost directly lifted from the book, with Lady Pebworth being a bad singer and Lord Pebworth an older gentleman who lets his wife get away with a lot. The difference here is that Israel introduces the Hollands to the Pebworths, while the Pebworths are hoping the Hollands introduce them to Lord and Lady Navarro.

Sir Anthony Cross – Quiet, very well-off, slightly older gentleman who is quite taken by Sibella, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Acquaintance of the Pebworths. Pretty much the same guy.

Ethel D’Ysquith (Gascoyne) – An ancestor Israel is quite taken with, not only due to the resemblance between the two. He’s made the 3rd Earl of Highhurst because I didn’t feel like making an imaginary preceding title (Monty is only the 9th Earl, while the 10th Earl Gascoyne is about five generations before Israel – Ethel was the 6th Earl) and the 2nd Earl, Roland, had already been named in the musical. Phoebe’s description of him is meant to heavily imply he was also a werewolf. If I had read the book before fleshing out the D’Ysquith family tree, he would have taken the role that the first countess plays in the narrative’s events (Ethel Gascoyne hid in a tower with an Italian magician for 20 years).

Kate Falconer – The character who would later be known as ‘Boat Girl’ in Kind Hearts and Coronets and Evangeline Barley in A Gentleman’s Guide. Her great crime is to go on holiday with her boyfriend, and gets poisoned for her troubles. She survives here, and I used her to try a formatting technique (while she speaks, none of her dialogue is in quotes: in a way, she is voiceless).

(Sir) Cheveley Drummond, (Lady) Enid Branksome, and Catherine Goodsall – only mentioned briefly. Drummond is described as handsome and ‘interesting’ by Israel, Lady Enid is a young woman from a penniless but aristocratic family, and Catherine Goodsall in an actress whose abusive husband was beaten so badly by a Gascoyne he joined the navy and never came back to land.

In addition, Lionel’s later characterisation comes directly from Kind Hearts and Coronets, since he gets almost none in the musical. His breakdown in Chapter 11 follows his emotional journey when asking for a loan – affability, begging, threatening suicide, insults and physical violence.

Literary References:

Not always relevant, but there is a wide enough variety that I’m collecting them.

Every chapter title, and the tagline of the work, comes from Manners and Social Usages by Mary Elizabeth (Mrs. John) Sherwood. It’s a bit out of date by the time of this story (written in 1884), but Sherwood does have some great phrases in her etiquette handbook.

Ruddigore is mentioned in chapter 2, only because it is a musical theatre production (opera) where ancestors play a role and family expectations are subverted.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet. It’s Hamlet.

When in the chronicle of wasted time, I see descriptions of the fairest wights, and beauty making beautiful old rhyme in praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights... Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Number 106.

I desire, and I crave… Fragment from Sappho’s poetry.

The countess closes her book; something by a George Reynolds. George W. M. Reynolds wrote Wagner the Wher-Wolf (with that spelling) in 1857.

I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful, a faery’s child: Her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild. La Belle Dame sans Merci (The beautiful lady without mercy) by John Keats.

Sibella also briefly mentions Algernon Blackwood, a supernatural fiction writer who wrote a short story about a werewolf (portrayed quite differently here) that a character in 1909 could have possibly read (the story was first published in 1908).

In addition, the whole story is named after a very early depiction of a sympathetic werewolf, Bisclavret by Marie de France (and the most direct I think I’ve ever been with a title). It depicts, naturally, a werewolf (who is also a knight, because not being human doesn’t disqualify you from doing that – cutting social commentary for the 12th century) who is trapped in his wolf form after being tricked by his wife and her lover. Through chivalric behaviour to the king on a hunt, he works himself back into the royal court and, when his former wife pays a visit, bites off her nose. The king thinks the sudden aggressive behaviour from his pet prompts further investigation, the wife reveals all, and the knight is restored to human form. Also, all of the wife’s children are born without noses from then on. Lionel getting his nose bitten off is a reference to this poem.

Uncategorised Trivia

This work was written with the UK spellings of certain words, because it takes place in England. Previous works all took place in the US, and so used US spelling.

Les Patineurs Valse is French for The Skater’s Waltz. Reference to Asquith Jr. and Evangeline Barley.

All of the racehorse names Sibella finds are either variations, anagrams or synonyms of actual racehorses in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Sir Hugh is Sir Huon, Gil Owen is Neil Gow, Irish Lass is Irish Lad, Supervision is Oversight and Pinnacle is Meridian.

Lionel was right to be concerned about Phoebe’s flower arrangement. Red begonias represent love, lavender-coloured heathers represent admiration and loneliness (and are a reference to another fandom I write for), tuberoses are symbolic of wild or forbidden passion (and was commonly used as a funeral flower), and verbena is reference to romance and sweet memories. The dead foliage is meant to mean sadness. Overall, the intended meaning is I miss you, my love.

#the cradle will write #bisclavret:work

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exorciseyourspirit · 4 years

Text

Someone Knows||Morgan and Rebecca

Walks and talks and colleagues and curses.

Morgan’s wondering was interrupted by the appearance of another woman, strangely, strikingly composted in much the same way, the darkest hair, the softest face, the most guarded of demeanors. She looked as though she had been there for a while. Morgan smiled appreciatively and waved before picking up the student notebooks for the weekend. “Good job, y’all. Go treat yourselves to some coffee. Or a nap. Maybe another dead bird!” To which they all laughed, made their thanks, and scattered to the wind. Morgan dumped the little notebooks into her catch-all bag and approached the woman, her hand outstretched to shake. “Hey. You must be Rebecca, right? It was nice of you to stop by ahead of our lunch.”

The word Rebecca had picked was ‘halcyon’. Of course she’d picked out a word, in case Morgan asked. She hadn’t meant to run into the class, but she was pretty sure no other English teacher had taken their class outside today to enjoy the sunlight and appreciate the grass. She’d stopped a ways away, leaning against a tree as she listened, eyes on Morgan. Short, curled hair, almost perm like, but definitely natural. Tired eyes hidden behind a big smile and a shiny demeanor. Something pulling at the edges of her, prickling in the back of Rebecca’s mind like a familiar scent of your favorite candle. She met Morgan’s gaze as she glanced up and wondered if it wasn’t entirely her gaze that she held.

Pushing away from the tree once Morgan started to gather up her supplies, Rebecca met her half way and shook her hand. “You guess right. Don’t think too much of it, I just saw you out here and figured it’d be nice to drop in.” She smiled, soothing and calm. A smile she gave nervous students on the first day. “That was certainly some activity. The students seemed to enjoy it.”

Morgan felt strangely assured by Rebecca’s smile, by the readiness with which she gave it, just because, no hoops to jump through, no points to earn or prove. “Thank you. I hope they did, at least, we’ll find out once I read everything. I’m looking forward to seeing you lecture, though! I have a feeling you have a welcoming affect with them. But, anyways! Why don’t we uh, head to the restaurant? It’s actually nice enough to take a walk out.” She shouldered her things and cast what she hoped was a discreet glance toward Ruth, who shooed her on encouragingly. Go, make friends. Which somehow made Morgan feel less assured, not more. She smiled brighter. “What do ya say?”

Overcompensation was an easy thing to spot in people, and Rebecca had been spotting it since she was five. In the faces of the older men who came to the soires and wore their fancy suites and smoked their fancy cigars. And in the smiles of their wives, grimaces hidden behind glasses of wine and lipstick. Morgan’s was different, but the signs were all the same. Smile too big, eyes too attentive, voice a little too eager. Rebecca would let her have this one, though. She nodded. “I’m sure at least most of them did,” she reassured her. “Don’t get your hopes up too much. I’d hate to disappoint.” She held herself a little higher, a little taller, making sure to keep herself centered. The weariness of staying up nightly was beginning to weigh on her, but she’d made no progress, and giving into him now would only make that failure worse. “I think a walk sounds great.” She motioned towards the sidewalk. “Lead the way! I’m still trying to remember my way around. Lucky I found my way here at all, really.” A cheeky grin, crooked and soft on her face.

Morgan held herself as they walked, swallowing the impulse to fill the silence with babbling. She knew too much about Rebecca to go on about University small talk, and not enough to ask, so, how about that dead wife and your exorcisms? They each had a foot in the worlds, and she couldn’t tell which one they were in at the moment. “Does it feel weird?” She finally asked. “Being back? Has-- has anything changed since you were here last?”

A shrug. “It’s a little weird, but oddly...comforting.” No. It was weird. And kind of horrible. And painful. There was a plaque in Hambry with Theo’s name on it, but no body. There was something here for him and she had no clue what. Rebecca glanced over at Morgan, sliding her hands into her coat pockets as they walked. “Only a few things, here and there. I wasn’t in town too long, only a few months.” It’s where my almost wife died. “So it’s not like I knew the place too well. There’s a few new shops, but towns like this don’t usually change too much over the years. It’s that ‘small town’ mindset. And no Wal-mart yet, so there’s that.” She gave a small chuckle. “How do you like it here? Sounds like you’ve already been experiencing its fun quirks.”

“You know, I don’t miss the gentrification part of being in a big city. That might be a reason to give this place more of a chance,” Morgan said. “And I have, yes. Set out to keep to myself and live quietly, and now my phone is blowing up with messages on the main and I have a cursed treasure chest problem. Things have a funny way of turning out around me, I think.” She laughed, trying to sound light and self deprecating, but she wasn’t sure how it was coming off. Rebecca knew a lot about the world, and had prised open some of her core beliefs in a few conversations. “I think this place might hate us,” she said thoughtfully. “But I can’t bring myself to feel that way about the people I met. Most of them, anyway. I mean, there’s still hunters and their bullshit in the shadows, but there’s so much kindness, so many people who just want to give, or be in peace. I could stay as long as they’re here maybe, if I can accomplish what I came here to, first.”

“Mmm, people rarely miss that,” Rebecca said with a shake of her head. How many cities had she visited and seen the clear divide between glasses? Between races? Between sexes? It made her heart ache. She only wished she could help with something like that, but publishing all the papers in the world, doing all the humanitarian work one can muster-- it wouldn’t change anything on the large human societal scale. So helping in other ways was what she did. Helping in ways not many others could. “I don’t truly believe this town feels one way or another about the people in it. Though it might seem that way. There’s an...energy here, I think, that draws strange things in. Strange people, strange objects, strange magics. So whatever you might have...turning out around you, it’s likely amplified here.” She gave a little shrug again. That was just how the town made her feel. Theo had mentioned how strange the place was, as well. The supernatural existed all over the world, and yet it was here, that they all seemed to stop and gather. “Hunters are complicated, I think. But if we’re being honest, some people lump exorcists in with hunters. Of course, I’m an Anthropologist and my opinion is that every individual, even in large groups, contributes to the view of them, but that also leaves room for the idea that each individual should then be given merit on their own, away from the stereotype of their social group.” A pause. “Anyway...I think it’d be a nice town to settle in. Certainly no lack of stuff to do if you did.”

Morgan couldn’t help but scoff, however good naturedly, at the absurdity of the idea. Her? Settle? Anywhere? “That would be something, yeah. Just come down to the town quiz night and karaoke, chat with people and the grocery store, and drive up to a not-rental at the end of the month.” It sounded like a dream, the weird kind where doors opened the wrong way and everything collapsed into a haze when you woke up. Impossible and bittersweet. “And that’s not fair, exorcists are different,” because ghosts were different. They didn’t even have bodies, or voices sometimes, as far as she could tell. And the place where they belonged was some whole other plane of being, right? “You don’t kill people, much less kill them just for existing.” But maybe this wasn’t something to get into on their first outing. Morgan eyed the woman uncertainty as they walked, reading for her reactions. “Would you? Settle here after everything?”

“Sounds nice,” was all Rebecca said, quietly, her gaze wandering down to her feet for a moment. Her and Theo had been so close to that. Why had they chased the Dybbuk, why had she insisted on doing that? Why had Rebecca thought it her responsibility? It was the Scribes who’d messed up the ritual. The Scribes who had left her in the dark until the last possible moment. She blinked the thought away, the face in the back of her mind on the edge of her vision. No. Not now. She looked back over at Morgan. “I don’t, but some people are very attached to the spirits that follow them. And sometimes...things do go wrong. Things out of anyone’s control. But...I digress. Perhaps it’s a conversation for another day.” She waved the thoughts away with a shake of her head, a grin. “Settle here?” It was a good question. She had her empty home back in England that they’d bought together, sitting on the edge of the countryside. The home they’d bought together and were going to live in together. It seemed impossible to return to, now. “I’m not sure. But that’s perhaps only because of promises made to other places. Is this not where you’d want to settle?”

Morgan shrugged, doing her best to seem light about the matter. Rebecca might believe her if she said, you know, I’m just a little too cursed right now, but maybe if it doesn’t kill me first, we’ll see! But that didn’t mean this was time or place for that kind of disclosure. “I just don’t know if settling is something I’m going to get to do,” she said. “But if I could, maybe?” There were worse places. At least here she was wanted. At least here, there were people that could, and did, know her a little. “It would be something to think about, if what I have here right now...stays here. Nice people, nice things. I’d stay here to keep them if I could.”

Rebecca was acutely aware of the fact that they were both trying their best to keep light-hearted conversation about two very heavy subjects. Whatever weighed Morgan down from having what she wanted, and the monster inside of Rebecca preventing her from ever resting. She turned the thoughts away, though. “Having people is nice. That’s what they say truly makes a home, the people, not the place. Although,” she replied, “I have to argue against that sometimes. Not on principle of individual basis, but on an anthropological one. Sometimes ancestral sites and homes are what make it...home.” She grinned. “Sorry, that part of my brain never really turns itself off. Just tell me if it gets annoying, I’ve had the tendency of running off with my thoughts since I was child.” She turned to look at Morgan, and for a moment, things went blank. A dizzy feeling, making her pause in her stride, before blinking and coming back to herself. “I-- sorry. Momentary...lapse.”

Morgan stopped, suddenly on high alert and steadied Rebecca with her arm. She looked around for Ruth, just barely biting back the urge to call. What do I do? Is this like what happened to you? What do I do? But then the moment was over. Morgan looked from her mother to Rebecca and back again. There was something, a surge of energy that gave Morgan a sickly chill. “Are you okay? Is something happening?” They were almost at the restaurant. She could go for help if she needed to. But maybe what Rebecca needed was less urgent care and more--something else? “No, don’t be sorry. Just--a lapse in what?” The energy around Rebecca faded back, and Morgan wondered if she had somehow imagined what she’d felt earlier out of panic.

“Must just...be my age catching up to me,” Rebecca said wryly through thin lips. She shook her head again, giving Morgan’s arm a squeeze. “I’m fine. Honest. It was nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. She knew these signs. The lack of sleep was getting to her, and he was grabbing hold again. Damn, she’d wanted more time. Needed more time. She’d have to get herself far away from town again before he came back, or he’d wreck all her progress. Stalling him was her only option right now. But, for the moment, she wanted to enjoy a nice lunch with a colleague. One who seemed to understand Rebecca’s pain of loss. “Shall we?” she said, motioning to the restaurant.

Don’t lie, Morgan wanted to say. That doesn’t fix anything, that doesn’t help, not with something that sends out pulses of magic, that might make you sick, make you end. Morgan held onto Rebecca as they approached the restaurant. “I don’t believe you,” she said quietly. “But I know we don’t owe each other anything, you don’t even know me, so--” She smiled, knowing whatever space had been opening up around their understanding was probably sliding a little closer to closed. She pulled herself up, brightened, and held the door open for her. “Two, please?” She called to the hostess. “I hear the noodles are amazing. Did you ever come here before?”

Rebecca could see the knowing in Morgan’s eyes and she had to look away. She didn’t have much to say to that. “It’s...just something I need to deal with on my own.” Because people who get involved get killed. Important people. Rebecca steadied herself and headed in. A sudden weariness taking over her, even as they were led to their table. She sat down stiffly. “No, I don’t--” a pause, “--believe that it was here when I last came. It’s been quite a few years.” Was her hand shaking? She placed it in her lap to hide it.

Morgan wanted to see what Rebecca meant, if there was something in her expression that matched the tiredness she carried inside her. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they should quit while they were ahead and be awkwardly nice acquaintances in the hall during passing period. Of course, the idea sounded terrible, because Morgan could only make so many friends in the Grad Student office. Some of them were distressingly young compared to her, others were quietly terrified that they saw their future when they looked at her. And now that she had a supernatural community elsewhere, it was so exhausting putting on the front. Rebecca could have been someone to talk to who was both, who might understand-- Morgan sighed behind her menu, missing Rebecca’s trembling gesture. It was too good. Obviously. She had all the good she was allowed right now, probably, so it was only curse logic that she didn’t get to have a real work friend. She set the menu down, determined to make the best of this one-off thing. “So much for small town stay power, I guess. But who knows, maybe this little place has enough going for it. It’s got a good sized crowd at this time of day, and during the week too.” Rebecca looked a little stiff. Morgan tried to meet her gaze. It’s okay, she wanted to tell her. No pressure. We don’t have to do this again.

Rebecca’s body felt heavy. Just sleep. She sat up quickly, hadn’t even noticed she was sagging. The menu was blurry in front of her as she reached out to try and pick it up. The words danced on the page, like little cherubs, making it almost impossible to read. She blinked, tried to focus. “What?” she asked, having missed what Morgan had said. She looked over at her, saw her gaze through hazy, blotted vision. “Oh, sorry, um-- yes. I suppose.” Glanced around, the crowded building suddenly making her nervous. She could get through one lunch, couldn’t she? “It does seem rather crowded. Hopefully it’ll stay.” She turned her gaze back to the menu, still unable to read anything. There was a waitress at the table now, asking what she wanted to drink. Rebecca couldn’t hear her too well, couldn’t concentrate enough to listen. She was acutely aware of her now talking to Rebecca. “--to drink?” Rebecca’s head snapped up. “Just...water.” The girl nodded and headed off. Rebecca went to turn her head back to look at Morgan, but the blackness ate her vision away again, and all she saw were his burning red eyes. I’m coming.

Rebecca shot up from the table. The salt shaker flew off in the opposite direction. “I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly paled and tired, “I have to-- I need to go. I’m sorry. I’ll-- I just need to go.” Backing away already, turning her back to Morgan and gunning it for the door.

Morgan couldn’t keep the words back this time. “What do I do? What’s happening--?” Her eyes flitted back and forth from Rebecca to Ruth and back again. Ruth was in the chair next to her, and put out a protective arm for Morgan to stay in her seat. Nothing good. Don’t make a scene. There was that surge, something heavy, like what she’d felt from the chest when it first washed up. “Rebecca,” Morgan urged, gripping the table to keep herself still. But the woman was gone, running as if she were being chased and Morgan felt herself pinned, helpless, to the table.

She shouldn’t have agreed to come, Ruth scoffed.

“Is she cursed too, Mom?” Morgan whispered, still watching the empty space in the door where she’d been. “Are you saying that because you can tell?”

Cursed, or something like it.

#chatzy #chatzy: morgan #morgan #dr jekyll #mister hyde #someone knows

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beatlejuice64 · 5 years

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Destiel Season 13: A catalog of Supernatural episodes

A catalog of each episode in Supernatural that features scenes related to Destiel. This includes scenes between Dean and Castiel, scenes with other characters that address their relationship with each other, and scenes that allude to Dean’s bisexuality.

Season 13 Summary Analysis

Dean is destroyed by Castiel’s death at the hands of Lucifer, and he is hard on Jack at first because he believes Jack is partially to blame. Dean has lost hope and given up on life, and not even Sam is able to snap him out of it. When Cas returns, Dean’s attitude takes a 180 degree shift, and he becomes softer with Jack after learning that he’s the one who brought Cas back. Dean, Cas, and Sam become highly protective co-parents to Jack. Dean and Cas establish a much more domestic relationship and are better than ever at communicating and apologizing to each other.

My interpretation: Dean has trouble adjusting to life without Cas, and he takes it out on Jack because he feels like Jack is the reason Cas pulled away from him in Season 12. When The Empty tries to intimidate Cas into going back to sleep, Cas fights back because he knows that Dean and Sam need him. He is no longer paralyzed by his past mistakes because Dean showed him unconditional love in Season 12. When Cas returns, Dean and Cas are ready to accept their true feelings and commit to each other for real—they have each finally worked past their periods of self-loathing and are ready to accept each other’s affection. Although we never see Dean and Cas explicitly state that they are in a romantic relationship, they repeatedly exhibit loving behavior toward one another and allude to time they have spent together off screen. Dean and Cas are both significantly happier, and even Sam is glad that they’ve finally set aside their self-hatred and baggage to finally be together.

13.01 Lost and Found

Dean cannot bring himself to say out loud that Cas is dead: “Let’s see, Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is... Mom’s gone, and apparently, the Devil’s kid hit puberty in 30 seconds flat. Oh, and almost killed us.”

Dean prays to God to bring Cas back and punches a wooden sign out of frustration: “Okay, Chuck, or God or whatever, I... I need your help. See, you left us. You LEFT us. You went off, you said the Earth would be fine because it had me and it had Sam, but it’s NOT, and WE’RE not. We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back, k? You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back Mom, you’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of them. Even Crowley. ‘Cause after everything that you’ve done, you OWE us, you son of a bitch. So you get your ass down here, and you make this right, right here, and right now!”

Dean can barely look at Castiel’s dead body. He struggles with his emotions while wrapping Cas up with care and preparing the funeral pyre.

13.03 Patience

Dean explains that he associates Jack with the loss of Cas and can’t let it go: “I can hardly look at the kid. ‘Cause when I do, all I see is everybody we’ve lost.” “Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack.” “And what about Cas?” “What ABOUT Cas?” “He manipulated him. He made him promises. Said ‘Paradise on Earth,’ and Cas bought it. And you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now, you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

13.04 The Big Empty

When Cas tries to convince The Empty to send him back to Earth, The Empty intimidates him with his fears and failings: “Sam and Dean need me.” “Oh, save it. I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love, what you fear. There is nothing for you back there, no.”

Dean admits to Sam that he’s broken: “I need you to keep the faith for both of us. ‘Cause right now I... Right now, I don’t believe in a damn thing.”

13.05 Advanced Thanatology

Sam makes an effort to be extra nice to Dean to try to help him get through his rough patch: “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not, Dean. You said you don’t believe in anything, and that’s not true, that’s not you. You DO believe in things. You believe in people. That’s who you are, that’s what you do. I know you’re in a dark place, and I just wanna help.” “Okay. Look, I’ve been down this road before, and I fought my way back. I will fight my way back again.” “How?” “Same way I always do—bullets, bacon, and booze. A lotta booze.”

Death (aka Billie) recognizes that Dean has lost his zeal for life: “You have changed, and you tell people it’s not a big deal. You tell people you’ll work through it, but you know you won’t, you can’t, and that scares the hell outta you. Or am I wrong?” “What do you want me to say? Doesn’t matter. I don’t matter.” “Don’t you?” “I couldn’t save Mom. I could save Cas. I can’t even save a scared little kid. Sam keeps tryin’ to fix it, but I just keep draggin’ him down. So I’m not gonna beg, okay? If it’s my time, it’s my time.” “You really believe that. You wanna die.”

Dean admits to Sam that he is not okay: “You know, my whole life, I always believed that what we do was important. No matter the cost, no matter who we lost, whether it was Dad, or Bobby, or... And I would take the hit, but I kept on fighting because I believed that we were makin’ the world a better place. And now Mom, and Cas, and I don’t know... I don’t know.” “So now you don’t believe anymore.” “I just need a win. I just need a damn win.”

As Dean learns that Cas is alive, the song “Never Too Late” by Steppenwolf plays, and the camera cuts between Cas and Dean (not Sam): “Your eyes are moist, you scream and shout, as though you were a man possessed. From deep inside comes rushing forth all the anguish you suppressed. Upon your wall hangs your degree, your parents craved so much for you. And though you’re trained to make your mark, you still don’t quite know what to do. It’s never too late to start all over again. To love the people you caused the pain, and help them learn your name. ... You say you've only got one life to live, and when you're dead you're gone. Your family comes to your grave, and with tears in their eyes, they tell you you did something wrong. ‘You left us alone!’ Tell me who's to say after all is done and you're finally gone, you won't be back again. You can find a way to change today, you don't have to wait 'til then. It's never too late to start all over again.”

13.06 Tombstone

Dean gives Cas a big hug when he sees him: “Welcome home, pal.” “How long was I gone?” “Too damn long.”

Dean, who was borderline suicidal in the previous episode, does a complete 180 mood shift and gets excited to go on a hunt in Dodge City: “Alright, well, two salty hunters, one half-angel kid, and dude who just came back from the dead, again. Team Free Will 2.0. Here we go!”

When the gang enters the Wild Bill Suite, Dean nerds out about the historical figures hanging on the walls, and Cas is knowingly resigned to it: “He really likes cowboys.” “Yes. Yes, he does.”

Sam recognizes how happy Dean is: “You’re in a good mood, huh?” “Yeah, and?” “Nothin’. I just, uh... you’ve been havin’ a rough go, so it’s good to see you smile.” “Well, I said I needed a big win. We got Cas back. That’s a pretty damn big win.” “Yeah, fair enough.”

When Jack goes to wake up Dean, Cas tries to stop him, knowing how badly Dean will react to being woken up. Cas later comments on Dean’s sleeping habits: “I told you. He’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.”

When Cas gets up to leave, Dean lifts his finger and points at his coffee. Cas understands the gesture to mean he should wait until Dean has finished his coffee and sits back down.

Cas reluctantly goes along with Dean’s insistence that he should act like a cowboy, and they reference a movie night that they’ve had at some point in the past: “Alright, listen, these Dodge City cops aren’t likely to trust big city folks, so we’re gonna have to blend.” “Which is why you’re making me wear this absurd hat.” “It’s not that bad. Well, actually, yeah, it kinda is. Hang on. [Dean removes the band from Castiel’s cowboy hat.] Alright, that’s better.” “Is it?” “Yeah. Look, just act like you’re from Tombstone, k?” “The city?” “The movie! With Kurt Russel? I made you watch it.” “Yeah, yeah. Yeah. The one with the guns and tuberculosis. ‘I’m your Huckleberry.’” “Yeah, exactly. It’s good to have you back, Cas. Alright, follow my lead. We’ll fit right in.”

When Jack shows remorse for accidentally killing someone, Dean tries to make him feel better, demonstrating that his view of Jack has shifted: “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just another monster.” “No, you’re not. I thought you were. I did, but, like Sam said, we’ve all done bad. We all have blood on our hands. So if you’re a monster, we’re all monsters.”

13.07 War of the Worlds

Cas says he’s going to ask the angels for help finding Jack, and Dean insists on going with him. Dean reluctantly agrees to let Cas go alone and tells him not to get in into any trouble: “Dean, you can’t accompany me. My contact is already anxious about meeting and won’t speak in the presence of a stranger.” “So introduce me. Then I’m not a stranger. I’ll bring a six pack.” “Dean, I swore I would protect this boy. Let me do this.” “Don’t do anything stupid.”

When Lucifer catches Cas talking to Dean on the phone, Cas tries to play off the conversation as casual by speaking lovingly toward Dean: “Yes, I would like to see you, too. The sooner, the better.”

Sam recognizes that Dean is worried about Cas: “Don’t worry. You did tell him not to do anything stupid.” “Right. When’s the last time that’s worked?”

13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog

Sam recognizes that Dean believes in himself and his purpose again: “We’ll figure somethin’ else out. And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll move on to the next, and then whatever’s after that. We just keep working, ‘cause that’s what we do.” “It feels really good to hear you talk like that again.” “I’ll drink to that.”

13.11 Various & Sundry Villains

When Dean shows up saying he’s in love and “full on twitter-pated”, Sam is amused and surprised that Dean would express emotion like that so openly, until he realizes Dean is under a spell.

13.13 Devil’s Bargain

When Dean scolds Cas for talking with Lucifer, Cas defends himself: “Cas, I specifically told you not to do anything stupid.” “Well, he was weak, and given the context of our imminent annihilation, it didn’t seem stupid.“

Dean apologizes to Cas for not realizing that Asmodeus was posing as him while he was captured, and Cas forgives him immediately: “Cas, I’m sorry. All that time you were with Asmodeus, I... We should’ve known it wasn’t you.” “Well he’s a shape-shifter. Besides, I was the one who got myself captured.” “Yeah, but if Sam and I knew, you know, we would’ve...” “Yeah, I know, I know. You would’ve tried another long shot. I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean expresses concern for Castiel’s well-being, and Cas expresses concern for the safety of their shared family: “I’m fine, Dean.” “You sure about that?” “Right now, all that matters is getting Jack and your mother out of that place, okay? Look, I promised Kelly that I would protect her son. I intend to keep that promise.”

Cas understands Dean’s colloquialism: “We’re boned.” “Epically.”

When the boys encounter Ketch, Cas looks over at Dean and instinctively knows that Dean wants him to put Ketch to sleep.

Cas loathes Ketch on Dean’s behalf, agreeing with Dean’s plan to kill him: “I say we take dick bag here back to the bunker, find out what he knows and put a bullet in him, burn his bones, and flush the ashes.” “I like that plan.”

While the boys are talking about whether they can trust Ketch, Cas rolls his eyes at Dean’s predictable penchant for violence.

13.14 Good Intentions

Dean volunteers to accompany Cas to go fight Gog and Magog.

Dean shows concern for Castiel’s emotional well-being and considers his wants and needs. Cas is open about his worries for the future, and Dean shows him support: “How’re you holdin’ up, Cas?” “I’m fine.” “No, I just mean with, you know, everything you’ve been through, and I know you really wanna find Lucifer.” “No, it’s not that. It’s about... Well, it is that, but it’s also, I... Dean, I was dead.” “Temporarily.” “And I have to believe that I was brought back for a reason.” “You were, k? Jack brought you back because we needed you back.” “Right. And how have I repaid him? I promised his mother that I would protect him, but now he’s trapped in that place while Lucifer is here, who’s... he’s getting stronger and more powerful by the day. And if Michael really is coming, maybe I was brought back to help prepare.” “Prepare for what?” “War. War, is what Michael does.” “Well, then we do what we do, whatever it takes.”

Dean rolls his eyes at Castiel’s predictable seriousness: “Well, Enochian’s kinda tough. Maybe you got a word wrong.” “I don’t get words wrong.” *eyeroll*

After Donatello tries to hurt Dean by casting a spell on him, Cas gets angry and disregards Donatello’s safety, forcefully extracting the information they need from his mind: “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you or anyone hurt the people I love, not again.”

Dean is angry at Cas for making Donatello braindead, but Cas convinces him it was necessary due to their dire circumstances.

13.16 ScoobyNatural

Dean is antagonistic toward Fred for most of the episode, but it seems to be based in jealously, and perhaps a certain level of attraction: “Hey, why do you hate Fred so much?” “He thinks he’s so cool, with his perfect hair, his can-do attitude, that stupid ascot.”

Dean starts out pursuing Daphne, but her disinterest toward him and commitment to Fred help Dean see Fred’s value. Dean develops more respect for Fred as the episode progresses, and he even seems to develop a particular fondness for Fred himself, emulating his style by wearing an ascot.

When Cas asks Dean what happened with the Cartwright twins, he evades the question.

13.18 Bring ‘Em Back Alive

Cas is upset that Sam let Dean go to Apocalypse World on his own: “Dean is in Apocalypse World alone?” “No, he’s with Ketch, so he’s not alone.” “Because that makes it so much better.” “Cas, he wanted to go solo.” “And you let him?” “I... He didn’t give me much of a choice. Anyways, Dean’s right. As long as he’s over there and we’re here, we need to be taking care of Gabriel, getting him right again.”

Dean makes a joke to Ketch about his own sexuality: “You don’t look good.” “Yeah, well, you’re not my type, either.”

When Dean gets upset about losing Gabriel, Cas tries to calm him down and make him feel better: “Dean, we will find Gabriel. We will.” “We better.”

13.19 Funeralla

When Rowena flirts with Cas, Dean is visibly annoyed and Cas is awkward about it.

Dean asks Cas if he wants a beer. Cas says no, but Dean gets one for him anyway.

Cas makes a sports reference and Dean is impressed. Then Cas makes it awkward and Dean resists the urge to tell a dirty joke: “This would be something of a Hail Mary.” “Hmm!” “It’s a sports term, like slam dunk or, uh... ball handler.” “That’s uh... mnh-mnh.”

Dean and Cas talk through a disagreement without being accusatory or disrespectful: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Well, Dean, we don’t have any good ideas.” “Okay, let’s just not barrel through with that like, uh, you know, like the Donatello thing.” “We had our disagreement, but we got results.” “That didn’t make it okay.” “I hear your concerns. And yes, the angels, they loathe me, and there’s going to be dangers, but heaven doesn’t want the world to end any more than we do. This is something that I have to try.”

Dean reluctantly supports Castiel’s idea after realizing how important it is to him: “Cas, you wanna try this angel thing, then go for it. Just don’t get dead again.”

13.21 Beat the Devil

When the gang goes through the portal, Gabriel stumbles and ends up with his face in Castiel’s crotch, which makes Dean visibly uncomfortable.

When Sam is mortally wounded and taken by vampires, Cas protectively stops Dean from going after him.

13.23 Let the Good Times Roll

Cas tries to stop Dean from letting Michael possess him: “Dean, you can’t.” “Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. Cas, I don’t have a choice!”

Cas is visibly grief-stricken at losing Dean to Michael.

#destiel #dean x castiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #deancas

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spiltpencilsink · 4 years

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Rebecca for the ask thing

Thanks for the ask! ^^

Some notes, this story happens at around 2034 so keep that in mind when I describe.

Full Name: Rebecca Alma Zaragoza.

Gender and sexuality: Identifies as a woman but really doesn't care you could call them Sir and they would reply too, bisexual.

Ethnicity: Mexican/american, 2nd generation.

Birthplace and birthdate: (Sometown I still need to name), Nevada. October 27th, 2002.

Guilty pleasures:

• Spends more in berry pastries and ice cream than she should.

• Keeps lots of plushies from when she was a kid, a highlight would be Mr. Smiles, a white shark plushie, he is quite patched up at this point.

• Not from her playlist, but she canonically plays music while in the battlefield (Ichiro is the one that provides the playlist).

• A part of her still dreams of getting to play Clara in the Nutcracker, even if she no longer practices ballet in any school.

Phobias: she has a huge fear of her eyes getting anymore damaged than they already are (she is near-sighted and is missing her left eye). She could have a slight case of myxophobia/blennophobia (fear of slimy stuff), but it's not very strong. Quite late in the story she develops a fear of the sound of glass/porcelain breaking.

What would they be famous for: in this sci-fae universe? Probably for helping save the world a couple of times, also her scientific studies, she is into that quantum physics/alternate universe stuff.

In the mundane AU I eventually ended up making, she's a moderately famous ballerina.

What would they get arrested for: breaking into private property because harassing ghosts is not considered a crime, going over the speed limit, AH! And there's that whole Guardian of the Galaxy style Arc where she goes to space with her alien gf, so add theft and crashing a spaceship, twice (lack of depth perception and a 3-d driving plane is not a good mix).

Oc you ship them with: Phinidea her alien gf/ex (depends of the point in the story) and Nick, a demon of light who picked that name to sound more casual, their real name is kinda unpronounceable (they had an arc with Rebecca that I found very cute and now I kinda ship them now).

Oc most likely to murder them: Mary (first arc antagonist), Dylan (late arc antagonist). It's funny really, Rebecca has come at odds with lots of supernatural beings but the people that want her dead the most are humans.

Favorite movie/book genre: Sci-fi, ironic thing, most of her plot is urban fantasy.

Least favorite movie/book cliché: "Very well trained character, that is most of the time, a woman, ends up being set in second place to a less experienced character, that's often just a random farmboy that for Plot TM reasons has somehow mastered whatever skill she has years training for but in a single week".

Talents/powers: being a warlock for the gods of Death has its perks:

• She's kind of a medium. Can talk, see, hear and touch ghosts. And yes, she has fist fought several of them before.

• Electrokinesis! She can control electricity to some extent, but the ability is a bit, energy draining, if ya get me.

Now, onto the talents:

• Above average sword-fighting skills.

• Average shooting skills.

• Above average ballet skills.

Why someone may love them: behind a cold and harsh exterior, Rebecca is a very caring person, capable of being surprisingly gentle and patient; she likes to motivate people to (this will sound cheesy) follow their dreams and be their best possible selves; perhaps you'll like her curiosity and her passion for learning, how she approaches new knowledge with a wide, hopeful eye; or maybe her drive and determination, that helps her pull through awful situations; dare I say, maybe there's something charming in her hypocritical need to keep a facade of control and composure when she is the work, even if she's probably the worst mess of them all.

Why someone may hate them: for starters, the self righteousness, that one goes hard, Miss believes she can't do nothing wrong until her fuck up blows up in her face and by that point you probably have been affected too; she totally thinks she's hot shit, but note it, she is SO hot she doesn't need to say it, no, she just stands there with the resting bitch face in a "I dare you to impress me" kinda way; a huge hypocrite; acts indignant if you ever allow your emotions to get the best of you; thinks she is somehow better for forcing herself to fit to the standard people place on her and that if you don't you do the same you are weak; she is incredibly judgemental and it's more noticeable than she thinks; did I mention inconsiderate?

How they change: oh, this is my favorite part. When the story begins, Rebecca views herself as someone with huge potential, and she pretty much accepts and takes on every possible expectation that's placed upon her, going higher and higher to please the people she see's "above her" (parents and superiors); but as time goes on she realizes how much this mentality is only making her miserable, she strains herself to be what others want her to be, but her successes are not recognized, to the point she stops recognizing them herself, and only seeing your failures is well, a somewhat harmful mentality.

But, with the help of the support net of other characters that she, albeit, unaware, built herself, she comes to the conclusion "Hey, maybe I don't have to be what this asshole who doesn't respect me is demanding from me". And from then on starts her arc to be more accepting with others, and herself; but also to learn to stand up for herself when she needs to.

Why you love them: first off, mean women rights. But now for real, I really like her arc of learning to accept yourself and stand up to those who push you down. Also her arc regarding leadership is funny, because she pretty much asked to be made a leader and once in that position she goes "Ok, actually I suck at this, I want out", she gets out but not after like 30 years and that leaves a mark on her psyche. She genuinely enjoys learning and researching.

Also, she is a warlock of the Gods of Death, sorta retired monster hunter and a ballerina, which, ngl sounds kinda badass to me.

Now, I am aware this can sound a bit tangled, since I haven't really talked about my writing here before. But if anyone here wants to learn more, my ask box and DMs are right there.

#oc #Rebecca #oc ramblings #ask

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alexsfictionaddiction · 4 years

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'It is not enough to be the non-racist. We must be anti-racist.’

I don’t think I need to explain too much about what has prompted this post. There may be readers of it who will feel that my sudden creation of it is performative and that I don’t REALLY care all that much about what’s going on. That I’m simply jumping on a bandwagon and cashing in on some internet clout amidst the horrors of what is happening in the world. Hopefully my regular readers will know that I actively seek out Own Voices books and that I’m constantly reviewing them or recommending them on this very blog. Hopefully my regular readers will know that this post is very much in line with my inclusive, diverse ethos and that I am simply using my white platform to amplify those of the unheard.

It’s true that I’ve never written a recommendation post dedicated to one particular marginalised group. I think this is because I’ve always felt like these are not my areas to sway into. That these posts would be better written by bloggers who have direct experience with what these books talk about. Honestly, I’m shocked and incredibly upset with myself for having long harboured this mentality. Yes, these books will affect readers who can directly relate to the characters in a way that they couldn’t ever affect me but why on Earth should that mean that I can’t give them a platform in the first place?

Of course, I’ve always known about white privilege and I’ve always used it to take down racists both on and offline. In fact, the events of the past few days have caused arguments within my own all-white British family. There are currently protests happening in central London and Manchester but we are not allowed to use public transport at the moment and we don’t have any local demonstrations, meaning actively protesting just isn’t a feasible option for most Brits right now. It does feel like movements such as Black Lives Matter are ‘an American thing’, despite the huge amount of all types of racism in the UK.

I had never realised (or perhaps never wanted to realise) the amount of extremely questionable attitudes within my own family until very recently. I have had to explain white privilege to my parents, who have actually always been reasonably liberal in their political views, so I was astonished by exactly how much they didn’t know. There is an essence of ‘things aren’t anywhere near as bad as they used to be’ and ‘the police don’t arrest or kill innocent people’. It’s honestly only in the last few days that I’ve realised and therefore had to address the internal racism within my own family and therefore in my own origins and so I think that, as well as what is happening across the Atlantic, is what has really triggered this post. Despite considering myself an ally, I can do so much better than I have been and chances are, you can too.

Because it is a global pandemic. It’s not something that is only happening in the US, it’s happening here just without the guns. It’s happening in every country of the world and I (and my fellow white people) should not be leaving it up to the victims to sort it out. We have the power to boost their blatantly unheard voices and there is so much we can do, in order to do that.

Sign petitions, donate money and help in any way you can right here. Buy from Black-owned businesses, read all you can about the Black experience and above all, call out your friends and family on their racism. Of course, if you don’t want to take the advice of a white person like me, I’d recommend you check out these fantastic Black BookTubers and book bloggers:

LaRonda @ flyingpaperbacks

Madeline @ madelinewilsonojo

Jazmen @ lit-erally black

Nox @ noxthereader

Myonna @ myonna reads

I'mogén @ Peace&Cookies

Ben @ Benreadsbooks

Lauren @ The Novel Lush

Jo @ Jo The Great

Ella @ ella’s novellas

Keeana @ Reading in the Clouds

Francina @ Francina Simone

Lucie @ LucieReads

Jesse @ Bowties & Books

Joel @ fictionalfates

Ane @ Ane Adores

Olivia @ Olivia’s Catastrophe

Cecilia @ thatdisneychik

Taylor @ PageScreenTaylor

Tori @ Medusa Reads

Justin @ Ghost Reader

Seji @ The Artisan Geek

Mina @ Mina Reads

Of course, this is not an exhaustive list and I encourage you to please search for and support more wonderful Black bookworms and creators. They will give you more insightful reviews and recommendations than I would ever be able to, so please check them out and show them some love.

Here are 50 books by Black authors that deserve your attention. While I have read a good chunk of these, I will admit that I have not personally read all of them. This list was compiled following a deep scouring of the internet and reading countless reviews and synopses. I believe I’ve found some incredible hidden gems in here that you will love and pass on to those who need them. Each of them have a link to an online retail outlet that isn’t Amazon, so you can buy these books in quarantine without lining Bezos’ already over-filled pockets. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

NON-FICTION

1. Stamped From The Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi. This history of racism in America seeks to completely rewrite the way we think of racism and encourages change in the every-day assumptive white ally.

2. Between The World And Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. Told in the form of a letter to his young son, Coates attempts to convey what it’s like to be black in America, using history, personal experience and the hope of liberation.

3. Redefining Realness by Janet Mock. An unapologetic powerful memoir from a trans mixed-race working class woman in America that will teach you how to be undeniably real.

4. Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge. Possibly the most widely-read non-fiction book on racism in the UK, Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book explores its links to class, white feminism and the black history we were never taught.

5. So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo. Highly relevant to the current situation in the US, this book talks about police brutality, BLM and the N word, answering the questions that no one ever dares to ask.

CONTEMPORARY FICTION

6. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones. The winner of last year’s Women’s Prize, An American Marriage is the heartbreaking story of newlyweds torn apart by a wrongful rape conviction. Devastating, urgent storytelling.

7. Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams. Searingly relatable and timely, you will fall madly in love with Queenie. She is flawed, overlooked and underestimated. You will laugh, cry and scream as you spend a year inside her life as a British-Jamaican.

8. Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert. When straight-laced nerd Chloe Brown almost dies, she vows to start living in the moment. Enter bad boy Red and you’ve got the perfect ingredients for a sweet, sexy rom-com.

9. Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo. Joint winner of 2019′s Booker Prize and shortlister for 2020′s Women’s Prize, this is the combination of 12 very different Black-British characters that paints a very real picture of contemporary British life.

10. I Almost Forgot About You by Terry McMillan. When Georgia Young begins to feel dissatisfied with her seemingly perfect life, she decides to shake things up. It’s the perfect reminder that it’s never too late to make big changes and start living your best life.

11. Well-Read Black Girl by Glory Edim. Showcasing some of America’s best black female writers, this anthology explores the importance of finding yourself in books. Glory Edim is the founder of Well-Read Black Girl, an online book club exclusively for black women, which you can check out here.

12. The Girl With The Louding Voice by Abi Daré. At 14, Adunni is a wife and commodity within her tiny Nigerian village but she is determined to get her education and her voice. Original, powerful and unbelievably inspirational.

13. Such A Fun Age by Kiley Reid. When Emira Tucker starts dating someone with a direct historical link to her boss, things get more than complicated. This is a very clever contemporary, driven by racial differences, that is completely unputdownable.

LITERARY FICTION

14. The Sellout by Paul Beatty. Winner of the Booker Prize 2016, The Sellout is a black comedy ringing with social satire about one man’s deceit having knock-on effects for an entire community. Controversial and weird but incredibly unique.

15. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Morrison’s debut novel focuses on our obsession with conventional beauty, fitting in and being accepted. Wonderfully written, it addresses race, gender and class in a truly captivating way.

16. Stay With Me by Ayòbámi Adébáyò. Amidst the social and political turmoil of 1980s Nigeria, Yejide's husband takes a second wife when she fails to fall pregnant. It is a heartbreaking portrait of grief, fractured families and motherhood.

17. Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward. An epic road-trip novel with hints of supernatural and magical realism, this is the story of a young boy’s coming-of-age within a broken family told in a gorgeously lyrical style.

18. Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Set during the Nigerian Civil War, three very different characters are entwined in a story about colonialism, class, race and love. You’ll want the tissues for this one!

19. Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi. This strange unique novel focuses on the split selves of Ada and their gradual rise to power within her. It’s one of the most unique mental health books I’ve ever come across and will resonate with anyone who has ever struggled with finding their own inner peace.

SCI-FI AND FANTASY

20. Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James. Dripping in African mythology, the first in the Dark Star trilogy gets off to a gripping start with plenty of unique characters, as hunter Tracker searches for a missing boy.

21. Kindred by Octavia E. Butler. When aspiring writer Dana is pulled from 1976 into 1815, she is assumed to be a slave. After saving a young man’s life, the mystery of their connection kicks off and takes them both on an incredible emotional journey. This is an amazing time travel story that is thoroughly unputdownable.

22. Rosewater by Tade Thompson. Rosewater is a town on the edges of a strange alien biodome which is rumoured to have healing powers but former criminal Kaaro knows the truth and is in no hurry to revisit it. Whilst making subtle digs at contemporary culture, Rosewater offers a fascinating view of the future.

23. Do You Dream Of Terra-Two? by Temi Oh. Ten astronauts leave a dying Earth to find another habitable planet. Set entirely aboard the ship, it’s a coming-of-age story that reaches beyond the sci-fi boundaries and focuses on human relationships and emotions. Brace yourself for tears!

24. Children Of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi. Inspired by West African mythology, this magical adventure tells the story of Zélie on a quest to restore magic to the kingdom of Orisha. At the end of every chapter something happens that makes you want to keep reading, making it highly addictive.

25. The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor Lavalle. Hidden dark magic in the depths of New York is awakened when hustler Tom attracts its attention. With elements of classic horror and mysticism, this is one for lovers of weird speculative stories.

26. Riot Baby by Tochi Onyebuchi. This touching story is a searing reminder of systemic racism and the violence that black Americans face at the hands of the law. When Kev finds himself in prison, it’s only the visits from his magically-gifted sister Ella that keeps him sane and gives him hope of revolution.

27. We Cast A Shadow by Maurice Carlos Ruffin. Desperate to protect his son in a profoundly racist America, a man embarks on a mission to get his boy a ‘demelanization’ to make him white. It’s an original and edgy satire full of suspense and heart.

MIDDLE-GRADE

28. Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. This poetic memoir charts the story of Woodson’s own childhood, growing up as an African-American in 1960s and 1970s. These are truly beautiful poems that sing a young girl’s desire to be heard and to know who she is.

29. Ghost by Jason Reynolds. Ghost is a sprinter but it’s only when Coach sees his talent that he really starts to chase his dream but his dark past is hot on his heels. Full of Reynolds’ signature humour and heart, it’s highly relatable to almost any kid from around the age of 10.

30. The Jumbies by Tracey Baptiste. This creepy magical middle-grade adventure sees fearless Corinne on a dangerous mission to save her home from dark forces. Steeped in Caribbean folklore, The Jumbies is a fantastic gateway into eerie fantasy.

31. The Crossover by Kwame Alexander. Twins Josh and Jordan are basketball stars, following in their father’s footsteps but hardship tests their brotherly bonds. Merging basketball and rap, this verse novel gives us a stark reminder of what really matters.

32. Ghost Boys by Jewell Parker Rhodes. Get set for a truly heartbreaking but horrendously timely story. Jerome was shot dead by police at the age of 12 and his ghost wanders the Earth in search of answers as to why he was killed. Not sure I need to say anymore as to why this is a highly important tearjerker.

33. Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo. When a plane crash brings two sisters on either side of the Atlantic together, family secrets unravel. Exploring sacrifice and identity, this verse novel is a stark reminder that most losses and tragedies are felt only by the families they directly affect.

34. Orangeboy by Patrice Lawrence. Marlon has promised his mum that he won’t follow the path of his gang leader brother but when a date leaves him a hunted man, he has some impossible choices to make. Laced with musicality, this pacy urban thriller puts you directly in the shoes of an ordinary boy caught up in very real danger.

35. The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta. Struggling with his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, it’s only when he starts university that Michael gains his wings through the power of drag. Tackling both racism and homophobia, The Black Flamingo teaches acceptance and self-love.

36. The Sun Is Also A Star by Nicola Yoon. Natasha and Daniel meet on the same day that Natasha’s family are about to be deported to Jamaica. Cue an epic quest for love to overthrow the authorities! It’s a sweet romance about fate and taking the future into your own hands.

37. Dear Martin by Nic Stone. When Ivy League-destined Justyce is arrested, he turns to the lessons of Martin Luther King to help figure things out but then shots are fired. Undeniably relevant to today’s America, Dear Martin confronts the blatant racism and injustice within the justice system.

38. On The Come Up by Angie Thomas. Aspiring rapper Bri is desperate to make it to help her family, despite all the odds being against her. Better known for her break-out debut hit The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas’ follow-up is an equally hard-hitting story of standing up and speaking out for what’s right.

HISTORICAL

39. The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Escaping an extremely violent and abusive past in the 1930s American South, Celie finds the strength to be her true wonderful self. The Color Purple is considered a staple of black literature and considered one of the most mind-opening books in existence.

40. Roots by Alex Haley. Tracing the story of his own ancestors, Alex Haley’s Roots is a highly educational documentation of African American history during the Slave Trade. Published in 1976, it made a massive impact on the world and Kunta’s story is just as urgent and vital today.

41. Freedom by Catherine Johnson. This historical middle-grade story follows Jamaican slave Nat as he makes his way to London, where he has heard that slavery doesn’t exist, which he soon finds to be false. Freedom is a moving, action-packed look at British slavery that is the perfect starting point for educating pre-teens.

42. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. This classic tale follows wrestler Okonkwo, who returns from exile to discover his village has been taken over by colonials. It’s a difficult read that captures powerlessness and pain in a short, impactful burst and will no doubt force white readers to look at their own behaviours.

43. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Exploring bigotry and racism across the US, our protagonist tries his best to play by the rules but continues to be knocked down. Despite being published in 1952, Ellison’s arguments are painfully relevant to today, indicating that not much has changed at all.

44. The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead. Life as a slave in Georgia is hell for Cora but when new arrival Caesar tells her about the Underground Railroad, escape plans are hatched. Cora’s determination and courage are hugely inspirational and her experience, which mirrors that of many real slaves, should never be forgotten.

45. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi. This epic story of two sisters’ very different experiences of 1800s Ghana sprawls across generations, clearly showing how history resonates and the ripples are felt long after the original event. A stunning captivating read.

THRILLERS

46. Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas. Highly selective, isolated academy Catherine House sees teenage runaway Ines join its ranks and a strange Gothic mystery unfurls. This subtly unsettling chilly novel is a brand new debut that I devoured earlier on this month and I’m sure you will too!

47. My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite. Korede is used to clearing up her younger sister Ayoola’s messes -and disposing of the bodies she leaves in her wake! There is a wonderfully dark tongue-in-cheek tone that makes this fast-paced thrilling celebration of sisterhood truly delightful.

48. They All Fall Down by Rachel Howzell Hall. Seven strangers find themselves in a mansion on an island with no contact with the outside world and no escape. With strong Agatha Christie vibes, it’s a highly entertaining mystery whose pages you’ll keep turning.

49. Devil In A Blue Dress by Walter Mosley. When a war veteran is pulled into a search for a mysterious woman, murder and lies are uncovered. Set in 1940s LA, Walter Mosley expertly weaves the natural fears of a Black man of the time into the smoky intrigue, making it extremely immersive.

50. Hollywood Homicide by Kellye Garrett. Broke former actress Dayna didn’t mean to solve a hit-and-run but the reward money would definitely come in handy. Once she starts digging, she becomes determined to find the killer. I love cosy mysteries with amateur detectives and this more than fits that bill.

#black lives matter #black authors #black books #anti-racism #social justice

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afraidof-thedark · 5 years

Link

Item #: SCP-1000

Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: All media reports related to SCP-1000 are to be examined for potential verifiability. All organizations and individuals investigating SCP-1000's existence are to be kept under surveillance by Mobile Task Force Zeta-1000 and discredited or administered amnestics. All physical signs of SCP-1000's existence must be retrieved and kept in Foundation custody, and replaced with decoy items if necessary. Alleged sightings of SCP-1000 must always be investigated by MTF Zeta-1000, however trivial the claim.

Absolutely no contact with wild or captive instances of SCP-1000 is allowed without prior approval by Director Jones. Any interaction between SCP-1000 and humans, including Foundation personnel, must be reported to Director Jones immediately.

Description: SCP-1000 is a nocturnal, omnivorous ape, classified in the Hominini branch along with genera Pan and Homo. Adults range in size from 1.5 to 3 m (5 to 10 ft) in height, and weigh between 90 and 270 kg (200 - 600 lbs). They have grey, brown, black, red, and occasionally white fur. They possess large eyes with good vision, a pronounced brow ridge, and a sagittal crest on the forehead similar to that of the gorilla, but present in both sexes. Their intelligence is on par with that of Pan troglodytes (the common chimpanzee).

SCP-1000 evolved alongside Homo sapiens, existing contemporaneously with proto-humans and humans in large numbers until 10,000-15,000 years ago, when an extinction event eliminated all but 1-5% of their population. This event was triggered by SCP-1000 contracting an anomalous "pseudo-disease" classified as SCP-1000-f1. This disease is passed on at the genetic level and affects every present-day instance of SCP-1000. The majority of SCP-1000 instances are born immune to the effect; those who are not born immune quickly die.

The effect of SCP-1000-f1 is as follows: Any hominid (including humans, chimpanzees, bonobos, and non-immune instances of SCP-1000) that directly or indirectly observes any instance of SCP-1000 has a minimum 2% chance of being instantly killed through anomalous means via permanent cessation of brain function. This percentage is cumulative, and the longer a human views SCP-1000, the higher the chance of instantaneous death increases, at a rate of +1% chance per 20 minutes of viewing. This effect varies between individual members of SCP-1000's species, with some individuals carrying a 'death chance' of 90%. The effect is also produced by dead individuals, though small fur samples do not exhibit the effect.

Known means of preventing this effect are small-scale only and include [REDACTED] (see attached documentation; Level 3 clearance required).

Because of SCP-1000's close relation to humanity, it is considered likely that SCP-1000-f1 could eventually transfer to human carriers. Any instance of SCP-1000 finding its way to a major population center could constitute an ██-class end of the world scenario with a minimum death toll of [REDACTED] and possible extinction of humanity. Fortunately, SCP-1000 appears to instinctively avoid human contact.

It is not currently feasible to exterminate SCP-1000 entirely.

The highest known population concentrations of SCP-1000 are at present located in the Pacific Northwest region of North America and the Himalayan Mountain range in Asia. As of ██/██/████, these populations remain extant. SCP-1000's presence and [DATA EXPUNGED] have also been documented within the past 5 years on every continent. All known significant populations of SCP-1000 located near human population centers have been eliminated.

SCP-1000 came to the attention of the Foundation via contact by Doctor Franz M███████ in 14██ with the Children of the Sun, who identified themselves as outcast members of the Serpent's Hand. This group has since been completely destroyed by the Foundation, due to their reluctance to surrender information about SCP-1000, SCP-███, and SCP-███ (since reclassified as SCP-1000-███ and SCP-1000-███). Remaining members have either joined the Foundation, or have gone into hiding, presumably as members of the Serpent's Hand. Weapons, tools, and other unique pseudo-technological resources in possession of the organization have been classified as SCP-1000-001 through SCP-1000-████. These resources have been made use of by the Foundation in multiple instances; for a full list, see Document 1000-3534-Y (Level 3 clearance required). Access to surviving ex-members of the Children of the Sun is restricted to personnel with clearance level 4/1000 unless given direct authorization for contact by Director Jones.

Further information is available to personnel with clearance level 3/1000 or above. Personnel with clearance level 3/1000 or above are required to read Document Alpha-1596-1000.

Addendum 1000-466-X: Update to Special Containment Procedures: As of ██/██/████, SCP-1000's Special Containment Procedures no longer include Procedure 516-Lumina. [DATA EXPUNGED] indicates that SCP-1000 may be developing a resistance to the sonic element [DATA EXPUNGED] will not develop further, so that Procedure 516-Lumina can still be used in emergency situations. Investigation into alternate means of reliably keeping SCP-1000 away from human population centers is underway. Whether SCP-1000 resistance to Procedure 516-Lumina was calculated (and as such may be a sign of SCP-1000 [REDACTED]) or coincidental (by chance of natural species variation) is not known at this time.

== LEVEL 3 CLEARANCE REQUIRED ==

Document Alpha-1596-1000: Missive from Director Jones

You've probably heard the rumors before now. Everyone without the clearance level to know better wants to get their dig in. "Did you hear Sasquatch is an SCP? Are we gonna capture and contain Batboy next?"

Yes. SCP-1000 is Bigfoot.

I'm sure you've snickered. Don't worry. Contrary to rumors, we don't actually assign you to "Keter duty" for finding something humorous.

You think Bigfoot is funny because we want you to think Bigfoot is funny. We've bankrolled Hollywood comedies and farcical documentaries, paid off men in gorilla suits, perpetrated hoaxes with bear prints and goat fur, bribed and brainwashed cartoonists to get especially silly depictions on children's television. Even the term "Bigfoot" comes from us, planted in the media in 1958, a term people would find even harder to take seriously than "Sasquatch".

Why? We'll get to that.

The information in the article that you've already read isn't entirely true. There are two direct lies, and plenty of lies of omission.

There is no such thing as the "anomalous pseudo-disease" referred to as SCP-1000-f1. SCP-1000 does not possess a magical death aura. In fact, SCP-1000 does not directly exhibit any anomalous effect whatsoever.

We also lied about SCP-1000's intelligence level. SCP-1000 aren't chimp-level smart. They're smarter - to be precise, they are exactly as smart as us.

That brings us to the lies of omission. That's what this letter is for. The lies came from me, so I figure the truth should come from me as well.

This is the story we got from the Children of the Sun who defected to us. It's a story we didn't believe - refused to believe, at first.

As you've already read, the apes we call SCP-1000 evolved alongside us. We walked in the daytime, they walked in the nighttime, our nocturnal siblings in the shadows.

But while we were still wandering hunter-gatherers, they… changed. Like we would, a few thousand years later. Tools. Weapons. Agriculture. Domesticated animals. Stable settlements. As humanity blinked in the Pleistocene sun, SCP-1000's population exploded across the night. They blanketed the planet in the tens of billions.

They made things that we still can't comprehend, even though we've thoroughly studied the surviving pieces. Organic technology. They made trees and birds of prey grow into fast-moving ships, herds of animals that became trains, bushes that became flying vehicles. From insects and pigeons they made things equivalent to cell phones, televisions, computers. Atomic bombs. The Children describe vast shining cities, stretching across glaciers and penetrating the deepest caverns, grown skyships of ivory and spider-silk, creatures tending them with hundreds of blinking eyes.

We were rare, like gorillas now, a few hundred thousand left at best. We avoided their settlements just like wild animals today avoid ours. SCP-1000 understood we were intelligent like them, but avoided us just as we avoided them, saw us as fairies, as gnomes, ascribed us supernatural powers, said we ate bad children while they slept in daylight. They fenced off our dwindling wild populations in conservatories, outlawed poaching but in the underground consumed our bones as aphrodisiacs.

Then their civilization fell. And we did it. By 'we' I don't mean the Foundation. By 'we', I mean humanity.

The story is muddy. Supposedly a trickster forest god showed humanity favor, showed us the master's tools and how to use them. Why we did it, we don't know. Perhaps they hunted us, perhaps we were simply afraid. Perhaps it was just that they fenced us in, unintentionally or not. We simply don't know what the truth is. Somehow we acquired SCP-1000's own technology, and with it, we instigated an SK-class dominance shift in which humanity became the dominant species of Earth.

We wiped out 70% of SCP-1000's population in a single day. The Day of Flowers, the Children called it. Supposedly every flower bloomed that day, while our enemies died in their sleep. Then we hunted the rest down. But we went further than just killing them. With a few of the more twisted of SCP-1000's devices, we drove the survivors mad, even those hiding beyond our reach. We trapped them in their own minds, blocking higher functions and leaving their bodies to fend for themselves like any ordinary ape. We slaughtered their living machines and burned their vast shining cities with SCP-1000's bioweapons that reduced everything to slurry and dust that washed or blew away in spring rain and wind.

We left no traces. Not even our own memory. We turned one of the weapons on ourselves, wiped out any knowledge of SCP-1000 and the greatest civilization the planet had ever seen. Only a few humans protected themselves from the effect, kept the forbidden knowledge, just in case. The rest of us went back to being hunter-gatherers, none the wiser.

Which brings us to today.

You're going to read all about this in the level 3 documentation, but I'll give you the short version here: SCP-1000 are somehow regaining their forgotten intelligence and knowledge. Maybe they never truly lost it. We don't know.

This is why the ever-increasing number of "Bigfoot sightings" is so worrying. Why the attempts at contact, however indecipherable, are even more worrying.

Yes. SCP-1000 are just like us. That's what makes them so dangerous. We wiped them from history and memory. We dissolved their civilization and we slaughtered most of their species. Just ask yourselves: If they got the chance, what more would they do to us?

Addendum 1000-056-D: Instances of SCP-1000 have tried to make contact with Foundation personnel on multiple occasions. Most of these attempts at contact have [DATA EXPUNGED] untranslated, though recent attempts show that some instances of SCP-1000 are capable of communicating in English.

Display Ancillary Anomaly Reports

Log 1000-ad065-x1: The following is a rough translation of recent SCP-1000 attempt at communication with Foundation personnel on ██/██/███ (see attached documentation).

#scp #scp foundation #secure contain protect #fiction #fictional #cryptid #cryptids #bigfoot #scp-1000

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awed-frog · 7 years

Note

If not too much for ask, would made clear what was Sam's arc in season 10 and 11? It's for a fanfiction purpose

Hey - congrats on writing a story! *happy dance*

The thing is, as you can see from my ‘sam winchester’ tag, I’m not sure I understand Sam very well, and it may be snobbish of me, but I have a feeling it’s their fault, not mine. Like, since Sam’s background is more similar to my own, he should be easier to write than Dean (language, register, bookish interests - all these things are a lot more relatable to me than everything Dean is) and yet, like you, I struggle with him because we simply don’t know all that much about him.

Here is what I understand - I just hope it’ll be useful to you.

S10 was the big redemption season for Sam. Since the very beginning of the show, he was the brother who could do it on his own - the one who could live alone and make friends and have a stable relationship - and even when he and Dean were reunited (or, well, when Dean crashed into his life), Sam continued to be a lot more rational in his affection than Dean was. He was Mr It’s my choice and also Mr It was their choice, and this created a lot of tension with Dean because Dean doesn’t love like that - Dean loves like a parent does, and that means sometimes he goes against what other people want (and especially what Sam wants) because he’s convinced he knows better and he’s doing stuff for their own good (in this sense, it’s highly significant he allowed Claire to be dosed with that thing and basically kill herself). This means that sometimes they have trouble with each other, because Dean feels unloved and Sam feels smothered and disrespected. Now, coming to S10 - normally, when Dean dies/disappears, Sam fails to get him back. After S3, Dean literally found him in bed with a prostitute and sure, Sam had tried to save him, but Cas’ very presence made clear how useless those attempts had been. Sam would not have been able to rescue Dean from Hell - angels had to do it instead. Then we had the infamous S8 thing - Dean fell into Purgatory and Sam - gave up? It’s still not clear to me what happened to him and why he did what he did, but when he was confronted by both Dean and Kevin it was obvious he felt plenty guilty about it. And next there was that big Gadreel fight, and at some point Sam even stated, quite clearly, that no - if their places had been reversed, he wouldn’t have saved Dean - he would have respected Dean’s wishes instead. All this means that, normally, when Sam woke up to find this message -

- he should have backed out and left Dean to his demonic destiny. Instead, Sam doesn’t. He gets determined and stubborn and cruel, even, and shuts off his moral compass almost as completely as Dean did because he wants to get his brother back. So I would say that S10 marks the beginning of a new phase for Sam - he’s no longer fighting his life, and he’s not longer trying to get out, and he’s no longer hoping for some magical quick fix (like closing the Gates of Hell). He now knows he’ll be a hunter forever, and he’s starting to be okay with it, and he’s trying to find ways to fit a bit better into this lifestyle - to reconcile who he is with what he does, because he finally recognizes both these things are important. The first step is letting go of his convictions and try to be the person Dean would want him to be - which sounds awful, but it’s not. Like, Sam knows by now that Dean doesn’t get it - that in Dean’s book, allowing people to do anything, even sink to the bottom, because they’re adults and can make up their own minds - that’s not respecting someone’s choices, but giving up on them. So by pursuing Dean so ferociously, Sam is not doing what he himself thinks is right, but what he knows Dean would want. This journey, despite its horrendous consequences (ie, that Darkness business) is coded as positive because it ends in a reversed martyrdom scene - like it happened at the end of S5 (and S8), Sam tries to give himself up, but this time it actually works - nobody dies, Dean is cured, and the bond of love between them is stronger than ever. In fact, they start S11 on equal foot - just as Sam’s taken a step back and tried to see the world from his brother’s point of view, Dean loosens the reins a bit and finally starts to accept Sam is his own person. This time, when they separate, is not because they disagree, but because they trust each other. And, sure there are bumps here and there, but Sam also gets stronger and stronger - emboldened by the fact he’d been right in S10 and had, in fact, understood Dean better than Dean had understood himself -

(and, perhaps, more importantly, he’d been able to help and support his brother better than his supernatural allies (Crowley had misjudged the situation gravely, and Cas had almost gotten himself killed) - and this is important, because it’s something Sam had resented in the past, remember? That Dean preferred other people’s, other creatures’, company, because Sam didn’t get it and wasn’t strong enough?)

- he continues to act as his brother’s conscience as Dean is pursued by Amara - he reassures Dean, he’s there for Dean, and he believes in Dean when Dean is very close to not trusting himself any longer.

Also, S11!Sam evolves in other ways. Most significantly, after a long pause from romantic entanglements, he gives in to joyous, casual sex with a pretty nobody and even considers the possibility to settle down with someone - incredibly, someone who knows about the life, not a partner for whom he needs to become someone he’s not. With Jess, he’d been a completely artificial person (she didn’t know about the hunting, and okay, but she also didn’t know about his terrible childhood, or Dean and John); with other partners, he’d sort of accepted their worlds into himself, thereby erasing himself almost completely (he fell back into the role of bookish student with Sarah Blake, he became daring and wild and ruthless with Ruby, he fit so perfectly into Amelia’s life many of us speculated she wasn’t even a real person at at all); but now, all that is over. Now, Sam ‘either/or’ Winchester wants to find a middle ground, thinks he’s good enough that someone should love him as he is - that’s huge.

So, sorry - I don’t know if all this makes sense, of if it helps you with your story. I guess the bottom line is - after a few seasons of general misery and being adrift (I’m not sure how much of that was the character and how much the writing, but anyway), I think S10 marks the beginning of Sam’s final phase - perhaps a first step towards what many of us want him to become: the new Bobby, perhaps a sort of head of the American MoL. A scholar, an expert, maybe a witch. Someone who’s comfortable with, and accepting of, himself and his choices, someone who lives with a partner who loves him and is finally over his traumatic past - Azazel, Ruby, Lucifer, his perceived and real status of freak and outsider. In short, a happy person.

God knows he deserves it.

#ask #spn meta #sam winchester #witch!sam #saileen #if you squint #spn speculation #spn ending #spn season 10 #spn season 11

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 7 years

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This Spells Trouble (Dean Winchester X Reader; Team Free Will X Reader)

Title: This Spells Trouble Summary: After Dean, Cas and Y/N get hit by a lust spell, more than expected is revealed. Warnings: Minor sexual themes (no actual smut tho) Request: Hey, could you please write a Supernatural one shot where a witch casts a lust spell on Dean, Cass, and the reader? So Dean lusts for reader, reader lusts for Cass, and Cass lusts for Sam. Since Sam didn’t get affected, he finds the whole situation hilarious, and when the spell wears off, the three of you act a little bit awkward around each other for a few days. I really hope you write this, thank you for taking the time to read my request! xoxo

A/N: Think I'm going to do a second part of this, let me know if you want it xx

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Dean Winchester [+Team Free Will]~This Spells Trouble

The situation you found yourself in was actually quite ridiculous. For three very experienced hunters and an angel of the lord, it was even more ridiculous- and frankly embarrassing. You sighed and tried to think through the situation- and hopefully find a solution to the blatant mess of a day.

It all began when you went on a hunt for a witch. Witches: you hated witches. Just like Dean, you had come to loathe them. Even though you knew that not all of them were bad, the bad ones were horrible. And, frankly just rude. I mean, what decent person hexes someone for revenge? You wouldn't hate them so much if they didn't frigging throw around curses and spells so much. Currently, you were facing the wrath of one of the worst spells you've ever been under: a lust spell.

A frigging lust spell.

Earlier that day, you had set out to hunt a witch with the understanding that there would only be one witch. When you had arrived at the seemingly normal suburban house, you had actually been faced with two witches each as mean as the other one. And, to put it politely, they had not reacted positively when you had tried to kill them. In fact, they had been quite pissed, and before they died, chanted off a curse that you are now suffering because of.

So were Cas and Dean.

They weren't pleased either.

"This is ridiculous," Dean huffed, folding his arms across his chest like a toddler having a tantrum, "I can still drive!"

Since Sam hadn't been effective, he had insisted on driving.

"I wouldn't want you getting distracted by Y/N's (as you put it so nicely) soft, luscious lips," Sam laughed, teasing Dean as much as he could while he was in this vulnerable state, "Besides, I've been wanting to drive for a while now."

"I still don't have to like it," Dean sulked.

You could've sworn that Dean had a blush on his cheeks, and if you weren't currently being distracted by Cas' strong jaw line, you would've said something. Until now, you hadn't truly appreciated how gorgeous Cas was. From his sparkling blue eyes to his soft hair or caring personality: he truly was beautiful. You had subconsciously leaned closer to Cas in an effort to get nearer him, and you were not so subtly moving your hand slowly towards his own. Part of you recognised that you were staring shamelessly at Cas, but you couldn't help it… After all, it was Cas.

Or maybe it was the spell.

It was probably the spell.

Despite the fact that Sam hadn't technically been hit by the spell, he was still affected as a certain angel had been suddenly awakened to the appeal of Sam Winchester. Yes, Castiel, the strong power angel of the Lord who had been the Winchester's friend for over half a decade now was lusting over him. Had it not been for your own situation, you would've been laughing your ass off- and no doubt so would Dean.

Speaking of which, Dean was desperately trying to deal with the effects of the lust spell. He had resorted to gazing off into the distance out of the window; it was a desperate attempt to keep his eyes off of you and keep his mind off of the lust spell. He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your gorgeous face in the wing mirror- your hair was brushed gently to the side, and your eyes were cast away from him giving Dean the perfect view of your features. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly before you opened them again. Without meaning to, Dean let out a love-struck sigh. He immediately regretted this as he could just hear the sniggers from his brother. After making a mental note to kill Sam later, Dean prayed for this experience- this ordeal to be over.

"Can't you drive any faster, Sam?" you complained, also wanting to get back to the safety of the bunker.

"What? You're not enjoying in this?" Sam teased, glancing back at you.

"Shut the hell up, Sam," you snap back.

"Alright, alright," Sam shushed, "We'll be home in… twenty minutes."

You cursed to yourself, praying those twenty minutes away.

It was almost unbearable- the key world being almost. For you weren't dead. Yet. You had faced hell, the torture of the devil, and even faced a couple of hell hounds but nothing, nothing would ever compare to this journey. As soon as the impala stopped, Dean, Cas and yourself got out of the car so quickly, it was almost super human. Sam simply chuckled, and calmly got out of the car.

"This is ridiculous," Sam comments, walking after you, "It's just a spell!"

"Don't make me end you, Samuel!" you call back, fuming at the fact the damn spell still had a hold on you.

Sam merely smiled, and watched the three of you head off in three separate directions to avoid the awkwardness of the whole situation. Currently, the older Winchester was facing the toughest time above you and Cas. Dean was fulling the brunt of the spell, having been the one to actually kill the witches and be in their line of sight when they died. And, he was suffering. He watched you walk off to your room, gazing at you like a lost puppy. It took him every bit of his self-control not to follow you and try to-

Actually, he didn't even want to think what he wanted to do to you right now.

He didn't want to imagine holding you, kissing you, slowly undressing you… No! He couldn't let his mind slip to that place; in this state, he'd never get out of it.

"It isn't that bad, is it?" Sam asked, having caught up to his brother.

Dean glared at him before taking a seat around one of the library tables and pouring himself a drink. He needed it: now more than ever. He look a large swig and waited for Sam to… go off and do whatever nerdy thing he usually did. But, he didn't leave. Dean groaned and turned to face Sam again.

"Something I can help you with, Sammy?"

"Not really," Sam said taking a seat, "I'm just wondering why the spell chose Y/N of all the people in the room for you-"

"-Shut it-"

"-I'm serious!" Sam defended, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was because you actually love Y/N."

"Yeah, well Cas now has a boner over you, so I don't think it's entirely accurate, Sam," Dean scoffed, dismissing Sam's comment about him loving you.

That was insane. Right? There was no way he actually loved you. It was just the spell, the frigging spell making him feel this, think like this. Dean wasn't being entirely truthful with himself.. He had had these thoughts about you before, but he always could brush it off. Until now.

"Maybe Sastiel is real," Sam shrugged, before adding, "You should talk to Y/N."

"I.. What if Y/N doesn't feel the same?" Dean muttered, "I mean if there's any logic to this spell, Y/N is head over heels for angel boy."

"Dean…"

"I'm going to bed, Sam," Dean told his brother, "My head hurts and its late- hopefully this spell is gone by the morning. Night."

Dean walked back to his bedroom, for once leaving the drink firmly in the library. He made his way down the corridor, trying to convince himself that his thoughts weren't on what Sam had said. …The spell, the spell making him lust over Y/N- that was just a coincidence. It didn't mean anything.

Definitely not.

Just as you were emerging from your room, hoping not to catch sight of Dean or Cas (or even Sam at this point), you caught a glimpse of Dean. Out of habit, you smiled at him, but all you received was Dean quickly slamming the door to avoid you. You sighed; this was terrible. Despite the fact, your mind was haunted with images of Castiel doing very… suggestive things, you were actually thinking of Dean.

You continued walking down the hall, disheartened by your last interaction with Dean. This was absolute hell for him, you just knew it. And, for a second you actually believed you had a chance with him: stupid. Utterly stupid.

"How you doing?" Sam asked, titling his head to the side as you walked into the kitchen.

"Been better," you mumbled, reaching for a glass, "A lot better."

"It'll only last a couple of days," Sam comforted, but it didn't help.

"Can’t you make it go away quicker, Sam?" you pleaded, "You have a solution for everything! Why can't you fix this?" You're practically screaming at Sam by this point. But, you're not really upset about the spell- its more than that. And, Sam knows it.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sam soothes, "What's going on, Y/N? What's wrong?"

"Dean," you sobbed, "It's Dean… You should've seen his face, Sam, earlier in the hall way when he saw me: it was pure hate. I know it. It was like… Sam, he hates me. He just slammed the door in my face to get away from me."

You didn't mean to end up in the arms of Sam Winchester, but that's what you had to do when you could no longer stand by yourself. You felt completely useless and worthless at this point, but Sam was determined to make you feel better. After carrying you back to your room, he makes you a hot chocolate and fetches you a snack. You're thankful, but still feel sick from the look Dean gave you, from knowing the man you love hates you. Sam meant well, though…

"Thank you, Sam," you murmur.

"It's okay," Sam smiles, "Try and eat something, okay? You lost a lot of energy in that break down."

You manage to smile.

"Night, idiot."

"Good night," Sam says before shutting the door and leaving you to your thoughts.

Hopefully, Dean hadn't seen any of that and doesn't question you about it tomorrow. You don't want to deal with that. 'It'll be better tomorrow,' you think, 'It'll be better.'

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