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shadowed-dancer · 4 years

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Thoughts on the Cats Movie soundtrack

Still haven’t seen the film, but I thought I’d give my opinion based solely on the music of this MUSICAL film, ignoring the CGI and any story beats they may have added (also for context, I’ve seen the staged musical and I actually enjoyed it)

Fun fact, all thoughts were written as I was hearing the songs, so it’s entirely my first, gut based reactions. You are reading it exactly as it popped into my head upon hearing bits of the songs

This ended up being way longer than I thought so it goes under a cut. Enjoy

Overture

I wasn’t going to review the overture but there’s a weird synthesizer and I needed to point it out

Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats

It doesn’t sound right. The pacing at the beginning is off. Once the chorus kicks in it gets better (but it comes later?)

It got weirdly... techno? Idk if that’s the right word

There are a lot of solos especially during the “practical cats, dramatical cats” list. At first I didn’t like it cause I really love when groups of people sing together, but it grew on me

Although Misto (I think) quickly adding in “and magical cats” at the end of the list is really cute. I love my boy

Old Gumbi Cat

The man singing is great (Munkustrap? Idk if they changed it) but I miss Jenny’s preppy and peppy attitude from the musical

Also I miss the 3 girls who used to sing the “Buuuut when the day’s hustle and bustle is done”

There’s a part that I think is the mice singing? Not a fan. I’m scared

I don’t hear any tap shoes, hopefully she does get her tap solo in the movie but from what I’ve heard in reviews, I don’t think she does

I actually like the very end bit. I never liked the musical version where they sing “for she’s a jolly good fellow”. This one flows a bit better and rhymes when she says “thank you my dears”

Rum Tum Tugger

Dang, this is funky! I actually don’t hate it

Is... is Grizabella the Glamour Cat cut? Or just not on the album? That was actually one of my favourite songs I’m sad it’s gone. I wanted to hear Demeter’s voice

Bustopher Jones

It isn’t as bad as I’d feared. I was nervous about James Corden, but it’s pretty ok

It’s not my favourite song to begin with so it’s pretty meh. This version is good for what it is

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

This is so different and I miss the energy, but I actually don’t hate it. It gives off a very sneaky type of energy and I kind of like it

It’s hard to grasp a tune though

Also, I like Rumpleteazer’s voice. It’s cute

Old Deuteronomy

It’s pretty similar to the original tbh

Someone in the comments on the video said it’s still Munkustrap singing, in which case he’s doing a very good job!

I miss his duet with Tugger though

Also Old Deuteronomy no longer buried 99 wives, but instead lived 99 lives? Ok

Oh jeez I was not expecting her voice to sound like that

Beautiful Ghosts

It’s ... actually kind of nice?

I was worried, but so far I’m not hating a lot of these added “Oscar bait” songs (Never more alone from Les Mis, No one would listen from Phantom, Evermore from Beauty and the Beast)

“No beauty in my memory” is that a parallel to Grizabella’s line “I can smile at the old days, I was beautiful then”

She mentions “memories” a lot. Is she being set as a reflection of Grizabella? (wanting to be wanted and wanting to fit in)

“At least you have something” who is the “you?” Misto? The Jellicle tribe? A plural “you” referring to the world?

I feel like if she is singing this to Misto it will break up the pacing of the film, idk how to explain it. Like this song is nice but it’s slow, maybe that’s ok though cuz it comes right after Old Deuteronomy (the song)

Her voice is very pretty and I almost started tearing up. I was hesitant of them using Victoria as an audience surrogate (someone to have the cats introduce themselves to) but I like it. They seem to have made her an actual character

Oh shoot, epiphany! Is this song meant to replace the first “Memories” that goes before intermission? Because that’s not on the soundtrack. If that’s the case that’s actually smart

Gus

I miss Jellylorum singing about him. That being said, even though he doesn’t really sing, I feel it fits him fine

His Gandalf is showing. For some reason the beginning reminded me of Lord of the Rings where he is singing “the road goes ever on and on”

It’s odd not having Jellylorum sing about him. It’s less sympathetic when he sings about himself

Um, does Gus not perform a play about the Pekes and the Pollicles? I’m... actually ok with that thank you for cutting the run time down

For those curious, the Pekes and the Pollicles was moved in the Broadway revival and US tour to be after Gus’ song. It serves as him reliving his glory days by performing one of his old plays

Skimbleshanks

It’s kept the same fun, lighthearted energy that I loved so much

There are some weird pauses but I’ll let it slide

That weird electric/techno sound is in the background again

They cut it down... a lot. I don’t blame them though, it was a very long song. And the parts they kept are executed amazingly

Was... was that tap dancing? So maybe Jenny really isn’t a tap dancer any more. Dang it

Macavity

It’s no longer a duet... they’re really cutting all the fun duets, eh?

Where is Demeter? Is she ok?

Also Taylor Swift is British

Overall the performance is pretty good

“He’s outwardly respectible. I know he cheats at cards” ok that line used to make sense as a duet cuz it was like Demeter would say one thing and then Bombalurina would come and add to it/contradict it. Now it’s weird to be sung by the same person (at least I THINK that’s Taylor singing both parts)

Wait... is that Macavity saying “the Napoleon of crime”? Why is he present? I know something changed in the timing but does he steal Old Deuteronomy AFTER this song? Cuz that just seems weird. Like “Ok now that you know who I am, let’s go”

The alternative is that he returned after stealing her to taunt the Jellicles which might work? It may not have even been him who said the line though lmao

Mr. Mistofelees

Oh man they did my boy dirty

Why is he so breathy? Is he nervous? You’re supposed to be the greatest magician ever! What did they do to his character?

Also why is he singing about himself? Someone help him

The breaks after the chorus are starting to annoy me. It’s disrupting my jam

“Not long ago this phenomenal cat...” ok I know that technically that is grammatically correct if he gestures to himself, but because the whole song is now first person it just sounds weird

Wow, EVERY duet I cared about it gone. Like, I don’t even ship Tugofelees but I could respect it! And I obviously acknowledge they have SOME sort of relationship in the musical (platonic, one sided admiration, or otherwise) so why cut it? Also I loved Tugger singing this song. I’m just mad.

You know what? Scratch that, it didn’t even need to be Tugger, just SOMEONE sing with him holy corn

Oh ok wow so can Old Deuteronomy just not sing? I thought she was supposed to play Grizabella in the London production, why is her voice so scratchy?

This song in the musical was my favourite because of it’s fun energy and flowing beat. Well the beat doesn’t flow and the energy is gone so good news Skimble you’re my favourite song for this recording so far. Congrats

Ok but Misto singing “as meeeee” as the rest of the cast sings the chorus is actually kind of adorable

Woah woah woah wait someone else is introducing him at the end? Why couldn’t you have helped throughout the entire song?????

The meows... I can’t

Memory

Her words sound slurred? Is that just me? I know the song so I know what she’s supposed to be saying, but if I hadn’t known I wouldn’t understand a lot of it

Her voice is pretty solid aside from that though

I know people were mad Victoria sings with her, but with Beautiful Ghosts as her song, I think it’s thematically appropriate

Ok the climax is well done

Oh wait what? The energy just disappeared. Bring it back!

Off topic but if you want to hear a really good Grizabella, check out Keri Rene Fuller. I got to see her live and I legit cried her climax was amazing she belted it so loud it literally shook me, like I could feel the vibrations in my chest

The Ad-dressing of Cats

Oh no I have to listen to her sing a whole song

It sounds like she’s sing-talking. It worked for Gus, not so much here

Apparently she looks directly into the camera during this scene

Ok she did it before but I noticed it on this lyric. “To treat you as a trusted friend”. Old Deuteronomy used to go up on “trusted friend” but she goes down. It brings the whole energy down

She did it again on “Straudsberg pie”

I know she’s saying “aim” but it sounded like she said “end” which made the last lyric (name) sound like it didn’t rhyme. Oh boy.

To conclude, lots of changes. Not all good, but not all bad either. Some questionable casting and directions, but I’m excited to see it. Hopefully some of my questions are cleared up.

I may make a full review of the film once I've seen it.

#cats movie #cats munkustrap #mr mistoffelees #mister mistoffelees #rum tum tugger #macavity #old deuteronomy #jennyanydots #bustopher jones #grizabella #I finished this review last night at midnight lmao #no way I was posting it then though

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linernotesandseasons · 5 years

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My 18 Favorite Albums of 2018

Well...Here it is again! 2018 was a...YEAR. One of the toughest I’ve had so far. But full of hard work, growth, challenges, & little victories. Here are some of the albums that soundtracked it. 18 releases that I loved & supported. Songs that helped me make it through. For the seventh year in a row...My favorite albums. Listed here in no particular order (unless you know/enjoy the english alphabet). Top 5 are probably Monae, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Field Report, McEntire, & Liza Anne, in that order. Music marks time & space. These are the ones for this year. Enjoy!

AMERICAN TRAPPIST / Tentanda Via

We start our 2018 journey in a comfortingly familiar place with the second official full length album from Toms River, New Jersey’s American Trappist. His self-titled debut made my 2016 favs list and his old band River City Extension (top 5 reunion tour wish list for sure!) were second to Fun. on my list way back in 2012. Safe to say Joe Michelini is one my favorite songwriters of the last 10 years. Lucky for us, 2018 found Michelini writing equal parts depressing & uplifting boardwalk rock & roll for/from the underdog/underground. Tentanda Via (Latin for “the way must be tried”) is a blast of an album; full of horns, drums (both jazzy & rock & roll-y!), inspired piano, & Michelini at the helm sounding altogether confident in his existential breakdowns. To me this reads like a coming-of-age album at heart (the way must be tried!), but a deeper, wiser sort of unraveling. A mid-30′s rock opus about learning to live with yourself. Learning how to make yourself better. These songs are inspiring and mix more than a little Springsteen ethos (maybe it’s the horns?!) with some late 90′s/early 2000′s emo/indie/alternative etc...

The straightforward rockers “Death Wish” & “Nobody’s Gonna Get My Soul” bookend the nine track album with surprisingly nimble & crunchy electric riffs and off-the-charts energy! In between, the mid tempo drive of “Getting Even” & “Don’t Get In” lets Michelini’s emotional writing really shine. The words jump out of the songs, full of passion, desperation, & an urgency that makes me glad people are still making records like this. There’s also a unholy, weird interlude that you have to hear to believe called “Unfresh Dirtwolf.” American Trappist is a band that came from the ashes of another band. A band that seems reluctant to tour West of...Ohio. A band that stays under the radar. Michelini has been writing some of my favorite songs for awhile & it feels good growing older together. Here’s hoping for a new one of these every other (or just every?!) year for me to belt along to with the windows down in my Subaru. Joe, if you’re listening out East, don’t stop. This is why I love music.

“Driving through my hometown I feel the peace of the Lord / Ride up behind me on a blind dream from my childhood / Looking back again, it’s hard to understand / Getting older, I guess I do / Waiting on some waking dream like it might find you...”

BLACK BELT EAGLE SCOUT / Mother of My Children

I bought Black Belt Eagle Scout’s debut album at Twist & Shout Records the day it came out. I think I loved the cover art and the idea of Katherine Paul’s solemnly solo rock album, recorded in the dead of Winter in rural Washington, sounding like just what I wanted in my headphones to face the Fall. Then (as so often happens) I got a text a month later from my partner at 12:27am that read simply...

“I’m okay. Going to bed meow. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.”

From there we took Mother of My Children on a snowy road trip to Durango, Colorado. Crisscrossing mountain passes through snowstorms, & visiting Mesa Verde National Park, we let Paul’s earnest, determined, & emotional songs, sweep us into the gray. All this to say that this album has already marked some pretty specific time & place for me. There is a starkness to these songs, a simplicity that makes the songwriting stand alone. Where lesser lyricists would be revealed as phonies (or simply bad) Katherine Paul’s stark, powerful words are illuminated by her minimalist production. With a rhythmically mournful 80′s/90′s emo touch (for more modern emo fans I might even hear a little Manchester Orchestra) Paul doesn’t pull any punches. The guitar gets delightfully heavy on the outro to six minute epic opener “Soft Stud” and then twirls & spirals with the drums in the entrancingly sad “I Don’t Have You in My Life.” This is an important album for Paul to have written and there is a great power in her words. Oh also... she plays every instrument on the album!?! Guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, keyboard, organ, various percussion, & all vocals. Very Vagabon. Very Caroline Rose (spoiler alert!)! With our world on fire, and full of threats (from our own government) to native lands & native people, it’s increasingly important to listen to and hear/heed the words and writings of people like Paul; a radical, indigenous, queer, feminist from Oregon. Thanks for speaking out KP. Listen to Black Belt Eagle Scout.

“Do you ever notice what surrounds you? When it’s all bright & tucked under / Do you ever notice what’s around you? When it’s all right under our skin...”

CAMP COPE / How To Socialise & Make Friends

Camp Cope is a GREAT band name. Camp Cope is a REALLY GREAT band. Camp Cope has a wit & an attitude that is so punk rock, so genuine, & How To Socialise & Make Friends is a powerful album. Hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Camp Cope rides a practiced garage-y sound and lead singer & lyricist Georgia Mac’s passionate howl and impressive writing. As someone who grew up on early 2000′s pop-punk, emo, & alternative (something I guess I probably regret more often than celebrate. Because toxic masculinity & white male fragility) there is something so bittersweetly nostalgic in these chord progressions, the earnest electric strums, the yell-sing vocals, that takes me back to high school. Georgia Mac has a way with words, sliding them in & out, over cascading, steady strums, & then sometimes building them up to a frantic yelling. These are songs that sound as if they had to come out, had to be sung this way, like no one else could write or sing them. With an equally muscular rhythm section, “The Opener” attacks music industry sexism head on (if you haven’t seen Camp Cope live, it is chill inducing hearing a whole room belt along to every word) with a bass riff that could fly a jetliner. The three members interact so well together musically and everything from the driving “UFO Lighter” to the lilting “Sagan, Indiana” sounds tightly rehearsed. Equally passionate in their social media presence and their willingness to engage and fight for social justice issues, Camp Cope represents the future. Bands like this are changing the game right now and it’s exciting to hear it in real time.

When I close my eyes for a second, as the title tracks rings out and the gorgeously, lightly sad “The Face of God” ambles in, I’m 17 again. I’m driving for the first time, crying at the moon by myself or laughing with my friends. I’m a freshman in college, skipping my Friday classes (and braving mountain passes!) headed west, headed home. Then I snap awake and I’m 32, it’s Winter here and Georgia bellows “Just get it all out, put it in a song. Just get it all out, write another song!” Thanks Camp Cope. This album is special.

“It’s another all-male tour preaching equality / It’s another straight, cis man who knows more about this than me / It’s another man telling us we’re missing a frequency / SHOW ‘EM KELLY / It’s another man telling us we can’t fill up the room / It’s another man telling us to book a smaller venue / Nah, hey, cmon girls we’re only thinking about you / Well, see how far we’ve come not listening to you / ‘Yeah just get a female opener, that’ll fill the quota’...”

CAROLINE ROSE / Loner

It took Caroline Rose four years from her weirdly rootsy-riffy debut album to find her true self, but Loner sounds every bit like an artist comfortable in their own skin & confident in their craft. Dialing up the synths, fuzz, and brilliantly tongue-in-cheek lyrics, Rose touches on all the big topics: drugs, death, sex (ism), and money! with a casual, conversational songwriting maturity that belies her 28 year old sophomore-ness. Favorites include “Jeannie Becomes a Mom” (check out that bouncy organ!), the steady build & twisty, head-turning songwriting of “Getting To Me,” & the electro warp & wend of “To Die Today.” I was finally convinced into falling for this album when my partner played it three times (or was it six?) back-to-back-to-back on a rainy Summer Sunday afternoon drive from Granby, CO back into Denver. Something about the pacing; the complex, yet immediate song structures that leave you wanting more. These are songs of tested confidence. But shining through it all, Rose is a wild card. A red clad rockstar with a palpable spirit, not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve & laugh a little along the way. Loner is full of dance jams for the cool kids & the loners. At its core it preaches acceptance, and teaches us to love ourselves & love each other for who we are. Go Caroline! See you in a month in LA!

“Waitress sets the tables, two & four & six / Laying placemats, knife, fork, spoon, upon napkin / All the counter people, she knows us all by name / A counter people fission, everywhere we are the same... / & so you line ‘em up, a single cell, another one gone / Ostracon vase with your name on the line...”

FIELD REPORT / Summertime Songs

At some point during this year I begin to realize how important beloved songwriters releasing new works is always going to be to me, I was falling (& re-falling) for new works from long time favs Calexico, Gregory Alan Isakov, Florence & The Machine, & of course Phosphorescent. But somehow it was Field Report’s third release Summertime Songs that stuck and became perhaps the most meaningful of all. I fell in love with Field Report in the midst of a hard, hard winter (2012 I think). Their sophomore album Marigolden has been a constant companion since 2014. I first heard this set of songs (the ones that comprise Summertime) in the June of 2017, sweating in the familiar Eau Claire, Wisconsin heat. Hearing a set of 100% new, unreleased material is exciting and also kind of a risk. After the set I wrote that the new tunes “Sound like June. Like wet cement & flash floods. Like swollen rivers & mosquitos full of hard fought human blood. Like growing older & having kids. Intimate details stretched over skittery, percussive thunderclouds. Like grabbing an electric fence. Digging in &...replanting.” I was 100% in it. On a high in Wisconsin & falling deeper in love with music. Then Field Report went mostly silent & we had to wait till early 2018 to get the recorded versions. Adding even more drums (Shane Leonard deserves a shout-out here as a killer pocket player!) some electronic effects, and ramping up on the arm-out-the-rolled-down-window singalongs definitely serves Chris Porterfield (did you know the name Field Report is just an anagram of his last name?!) well. Whoever it was who asked him “why don’t you try Summertime songs” was on the right track. His songwriting is as electric as always on this set of heartbreakers & as usual he follows a lot the same threads. His lyrics here are visceral, wordy, & wise, & i can feel the songs growing up with me. Sometimes I lead, sometimes they lead me, but we always seem to find each other exactly when we need to.

“Time is a bird with a mean, hooked beak / & he’s just waiting around to work on you & on me... / Shotgun wedding, black on blue / The river’s swelling like a bruise...”

H.C. McENTIRE / Lionheart

Heather McEntire has been carving out a name for herself in the North Carolina music scene for years fronting old-school punk band Bellefea & more recently, the much loved Mount Moriah. But way way back in January, Lionheart roared in under her own name; all ferocious & tender, confident & wild. A true southern record, Lionheart is vocal & lyric forward. From the Sunday morning hymn swell of opener “A Lamb, A Dove,” to the driving swing of “Baby’s Got the Blues,” & the late night, red wine country of “When You Come For Me.” McEntire enlists all her talented musical friends on this effort. There are co-writes with the legendary Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill (whom McEntire credits with helping her find her individual voice), bgvs from Amy Ray (Indigo Girls), Angel Olsen, & Tift Merrit, & inspired guitar work from William Tyler & Durham favorite Phil Cook!

Through it all, McEntire stays true to the thread that made Mount Moriah’s “How To Dance” one of my 2016 favs. Lionheart exudes the smells & scenery of North Carolina and reads like a map at times, referencing points from Stoney Creek to the Green River Gorge. Some of my favorite songs written over the last five years (or ever) have a very strong (& often specific) idea of place. If country music is going to representative of the country that I want to live in, it’s going to be sung by people like Heather McEntire. A powerful queer southern woman; vulnerable & brave, a true Lionheart.

“You’ll find me in the hollow, dosing anything that might / Make the map look any smaller, give me a dog in the fight / So call it off or call it God, call it anything you like / Do you see it in my eyes? / A levee on the rise, do you see it? / The tellin’ ain’t told gently, so pay your tab & pay your dues / The dogwood & the chicory & a silent wood stove flue / Your baby’s got the blues just like you...”

iZCALLi / IV

I was late to the party on Izcalli (a band from my own city!) and when I found them, it was magical, I think they were playing an opening set for Jessica Hernandez & The Deltas at Lost Lake and I probably stumbled in late from PS Lounge or Tommy’s Thai to shredding electric guitar & ska, latin funk, & pure Led Zepplin Rock & Roll. Frontman Miguel Avina was howling & stomping in Freddy Mercury-meets-Mariachi white pants, his long curly hair everywhere, all energy. I was immediately hooked. Calling them my favorite local band and finally getting to put them on this end of the year list. Izcalli joins some pretty good “local band” company here on linernotes&seasons. From Nina De Freitas’ EP last year; Yawpers, Covenhoven, & Rateliff in 2015, to Isakov & Covenhoven in 2013 & The Lumineers all the way back in 2012! Izcalli has been playing around Denver for 13 years and have slowly built up enough of a following to headline the Bluebird Theater last year. Their fourth album (aptly titled IV) comes out swinging and showcases plenty of heavy power chord riffs, violin, horn, & songs in both English & Spanish. Their heavier, more classic rock influenced songs (”Lightning Red” & “Eso Velocidad”) absolutely explode with fiery lead guitar and inspired drumming. When they dial it back and let their Mexican influences show through, like on the eerily crunchy, violin led “Quite de Mas” and the woozy saxophone breakdown of “Solo Se Morir,” they showcase depth and a real songwriting ability. There is an almost Muse-like thunder to the monstrous organ riff of “A New Lie” and closer “Si Estoy Contigo” sends everybody out dancing. With influences from all over (most notably their homeland Mexico City) & a live show that’s not to be missed, Izcalli embodies everything I think of when I think of a true Denver band.

“A frozen heart in me turned out to be my one way home / I swear I’ll leave, I’ll drive myself down to Mexico...”

JANELLE MONAE / Dirty Computer

Dirty Computer is my favorite album of 2018. Much like my favorite album last year (Lorde’s Melodrama) no one was as simultaneously honest & excavating in their personal songwriting; while still writing such absolutely shredding club bangers, as Janelle Monae. Dirty Computer acts as a coming out party of sorts for the 32 year Kansas City-ian, although, to be fair, her first two albums had already scored her Grammy nominations and the stamp of approval from Prince, Eryakah Badu, & Michelle Obama. Her debut The ArchAndroid and her followup The Electric Lady, found her creating elaborate alter egos, protest songs, and complex, critically acclaimed song cycles about life as a black woman in America. With Dirty Computer she is able to hold multiple titles at once. Schizophrenically on top of her game, tying all her alter egos together with stellar production, monster vocals, and some of the best, most interesting pop songs since...well...maybe since Prince. From the Brian Wilson assisted eerie sci-fi sweetness of stage setting opener “Dirty Computer,” she lets loose on some of her most fun, live-a-little anthems “Crazy, Classic Life,” and “Take a Byte.” Deeply personal, political, & inspiring “Django Jane” is stunning, & sets the stage for mega back-to-back singles “Pynk” & “Make You Feel.” Songs of my (and everybody else’s) Summer for sure. “I Got The Juice,” is light & bouncy, & personal favorite “I Like That” is rebellious & rides an immediately memorable instrumental into one helluva vocal take from Monae. She makes a political statement in closing with the anthem “Americans,” (anybody else think this one especially sounds like a lost Prince track?) but her strength is her ability to be both personal & political; a true diva with a purpose. These songs are Janelle creating and sounding exactly how she wants, pushing the limits of what a superstar can do, Her show at the Paramount in July was a highlight for me, and Dirty Computer is hands down my album of the year.

“Box office numbers & they doin’ outstanding, running out of space in my damn bandwagon / Remember when they use to said I look too mannish? / Black girl magic yall can’t stand it...”

LIZA ANNE / Fine But Dying

In a year where I seemed to gravitate to albums & songs about living in, and growing through, mental health issues; Liza Anne’s blistering (and epically titled!) Fine But Dying was definitely a top five album for me. A gifted songwriter, Dying finds Anne finally letting it out with a heavy band, a light touch, & a deep dive into the insecurities & struggles that seemed to be (gulp) some of the same ones I was going through this year. Songs about conversations, relationships (both romantic & platonic), and most importantly, about examining & improving yourself. No one on this list unpacks, observes, and mines their own heart & mind as well or as deeply as Anne does across these 11 tracks. When she really cuts loose, like in the ballistic breakdown of “Kid Gloves,” the fuzzy crunch of “Get By,” or the spiraling, swirling (& also epically titled!) “I Love You, But I Need Another Year” she shines. Fine But Dying is wise beyond its years and a no-holds-barred, place-in-time look at mental health & how we should all be addressing our issues & working things out. Her show at Globe Hall here in Denver back in April was cathartic, thoughtful, & one of my favorite of this year for sure. Yay for fearless songwriters, Yay for rock & roll. Fuck yeah Liza Anne!

“I ran once, took my flight across the ocean / I thought if I could make my way across the sea I’d find a place / Now I’m swallowed up by a city that doesn’t give a fuck / To whether I am up on time / Or whether if I am, well...alive / & I’m so good - getting too good at hiding / Too good at keeping to myself that I’m spiraling...”

MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO / Ventriloquism

I think it was “Atomic Dog 2017″ that first caught my ear at some point last year. I didn’t know Meshell Ndegeocello, but I knew that what I was hearing was classic. The off-kilter guitar strums slithering into that bass drop, finally settling into a steady groove, that melody appearing (seemingly out of nowhere) into a rolling, & instantly recognizable chorus. Next thing I know I’m googling George Clinton and off into an 80′s funk youtube rabbit hole. A covers album to stand up to any other covers album, Ndegeocello has a masterpiece on her hands in both song selection & creativity. In a year where she turned 50, the sneakily titled Ventriloquism is her 12th studio album, Inspired by listening to oldies radio on car rides to her childhood home, influenced by Prince & Neil Young; Ventriloquism is a super smooth revamp of 80s & 90s R&B. What Ndegeocello does so seamlessly on Ventriloquism is take these songs and make them flow as a part of a whole. There is light in the darkness here. There are threads of continuation here. An appreciation for those who came before, those who paved the way. Ndegeocello is a true artist and these reinterpretations not only nod to classic songs & artists, but dig out their own little important niche in 2019.

“Sometimes it snows in April / Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad / Sometimes I wish life was never ending / & all the good things they say, never last / Springtime was always my favorite time of year / A time for lovers holding hands in the rain...”

MIYA FOLICK / Premonitions

Every year I wait till the last minute (and beyond!) to finish this list. I write it up in November & December, agonizing & filling out what I think are my favorite albums (18 this time!) of the year. I enjoy whittling the list down to a manageable number, but I also enjoy reading everyone else’s lists; finding new finds & hearing what other people liked. Then, sometime in the middle of December, I am knocked out by something I missed over all the year of listening & reading. This year it is MIYA FOLICK! I was given a wintry new year’s mix of goodbye 2018 (and F*** you!) tunes from my partner (which I will probably post & write about sometime as soon as I finish posting this because it is goooood), and track 9 of that spotify mix. Bouncy horns, a killer beat, & lyrics that cut right to me but leave me smiling. Rhyming “self home” with “cellphone”?! Singing about leaving the party?! Yesssss!. This is for me! On deeper listens, Premonitions is a goddamn masterpiece. Starting slowly & melodically, openers “Thingamajig” and the title track are captivating, then it unexpectedly explodes into 80′s dance bangers about half way through. Most of the album is deeply personal and self examining, finding Folick digging into to her own weaknesses & fears, without always settling on answers. She is vulnerable yet grand; part Lorde, part Florence, part Stevie NIcks, part Regina Spektor...All Miya. At its core, Premonitions celebrates life, celebrates the little victories. If you want to know/hear what that sounds like, maybe I should let you read from Miya’s bandcamp page...

“Premonitions begins with ‘Thingamajig’ -- something you can't quite recall the name of, but you know exactly what it means and what it feels like. Like the pull of desire that comes with not quite remembering fully. The magnetism of something just on the tip of your tongue. I wanted the album to feel like that thing.

I think a lot about about memory-making as an act of creation, the words we use to describe a memory give shape to and sometimes mutate the memory itself. I believe that the way we choose to describe the events of our lives is not only a means of creative fulfillment, but an absolutely vital part of creating the world we want to live in. When we are dishonest in the present, we create a dishonest future. When we are honest in the present, we create a more honest future. I wanted this album to be the vehicle for a hopeful, truthful, generous, and loving world. I tried not to posture or pretend. I wrote about my life as I've seen it and how I'd like to see it, as both memory and premonition.

The producers, Justin Raisen and Yves Rothman, and I spent months collecting organic sounds to fill the world of this record. We threw away everything that felt false and tried to keep the soul of each song alive. I hope Premonitions gives you comfort and joy. I hope it feels like all the mysterious details of your lives, all your massive and mundane glories. I hope it reminds you that there is beauty in the details. Rainbows in your sprinklers. Drinking water from a hose. The way it felt to make a friend for the first time. Locking yourself in a bathroom to avoid everyone. Dancing until your shins burn. Leaving your phone in an Uber and making your best friend drive you an hour away to knock on a stranger's door after locating it on Find My Phone. Losing a friend. Losing yourself. Remembering...”

MT. JOY / Mt. Joy

I had almost finished making this list and nearly forgot about an album that marked a month-plus in the Spring when I listened to almost nothing else! Philly by way of LA’s Mt. Joy debut with an album that blends sunny California folk & smoothed out east coast pop-emo, into easy listening, easy singing indie rock. Named after a mountain in Valley Forge National Park (SE Pennsylvania); Mt. Joy’s songs similarly find geographic touch points across the US, making this a true road trip record. Multiple California references (San Fran, Mulholland, Hollywood, the ocean), make their way down to New Orleans, and end up on the east coast (”blood on the streets in Baltimore” & “the beaches of Chincoteague”). Without breaking any new musical ground, Mt. Joy sounds comfortable & confident, and their songs play bigger & stickier than your average radio friendly pop-saturated-folk. When the title track hits its festival ready build (”you can’t stop us, feel like Ziggy Stardust”) you’ll have a hard time not rolling down your window and singing along. “Way up over Mt, Joy. Where everyone’s free now. To move how they feel now.”

“Your life will change straight out of the blue / The clouds in your mind just passing through / Image the horses when you set ‘em free / Go tear down the beaches of Chincoteague...”

NONAME / Room 25 (& Song 31)

Room 25 kicks in innocently enough: smoothly humming wordless voices, steady drums, & jazzy piano flourishes. Like a lazy Sunday morning. Noname (Chicago’s 27 year old Fatimah Warner) introduces herself with a laid back, matter-of-fact, stream of consciousness “maybe this is the album you listen to in your car when you’re driving home late at night, really questioning every god, religion...” But then she says something that should make you pay attention.

“Nah. Actually this is for me.”

That creative confidence. That freedom, defines the rest of her album. No matter how much critical acclaim Room 25 racks up (I saw this album on a ton of end of the year lists!), no matter how downright fun & laugh out loud funny her breakneck rhymes are, this one is for Noname. I mean, you can still download (aka OWN...like for your ipod!) the whole album on bandcamp FOR FREE! Following in Chance’s footsteps, it’s free mp3s for people like meeee! Raised in Chicago’s slam poetry scene, she dabbles here in downtempo, smoothed out, futuristic jazz & soul. All the while she is unapologetically herself. Her words tripping over each other, too many thoughts, too much energy, too much passion to hold in. A clear blockbuster talent. One of my favorite new finds from last year’s Eaux Claires festival, her late afternoon set up on the hill was radiant & joyful. The artwork I used here is from her early 2019 single “Song 31,” as she has pledged to change the official Room 25 cover art, due to assault charges leveled in October against the artist who did the original cover. “I do not and will not support abusers, and I will always stand up for victims & believe their stories.” Noname said, and she has been proven to be as vocal in her personal life as she is on tape. As she says in the uplifting “Ace...”

“Globalization is scary, and fuckin’ is fantastic” And yall still thought a bitch couldn’t rap huh?...

“When labels ask me to sign, say ‘my name don’t exist’ / So many names don’t exist / Moved into Inglewood & the trauma came with the rent / Only worldly possession I have is life / Only room that I died in was 25...

Medicine’s overtaxed, no name look like you / No name for private corporations to send emails to / Cuz when we walk into heaven, nobody’s name gonna’ exist / Just boundless movement for joy, nakedness, radiance...”

RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE / How To: Friend, Love, Freefall

Rainbow Kitten Surprise made one of my five favorite albums this year (and probably the one that I sang along to in the car more than any other!) Imagine Modest Mouse growing up in North Carolina, in the 2010′s, writing smart, anti-lumineers-imagine dragons tunes, and going on to play arenas & rock clubs alike. This Boone, NC (pop. 17,000) five piece crank out catchy pop rock tunes; equal parts funky basslines, ooohs & ahhhs, and deceptively clever lyrics about religion, the south, and relationships both platonic & romantic. Huge single “Fever Pitch” rides rolling drums, background whoops, and finds charismatic frontman Sam Melo languidly recounting his religious upbringing and sing-rapping about getting to know you better. Other standouts include the acoustic blues (and Aha-Shake-era-Kings of Leon reminiscent!) “Painkillers,” the “Moon & Antarctica” rattletrap sing-song of “Possum Queen,” and the laugh-out-loud funny breakneck alternative pace of “Matchbox.” But it is song of the year contender “Hide” where Melo lays bare his feelings about growing up gay in a deeply religious south, when you get a peek at what Surprises these Rainbow Kittens are capable of. What starts as a bouncy love number takes a turn into some deep songwriting with “I’m running from a place where they don’t make people like me, I keep the car running, I keep my bags packed. I don’t wanna’ leave, just don’t wanna’ leave last.” This is Fruit Bats’ “Soon-to-be Ghost Town” written by someone who’s lived it. RKS packages it all up as emotional anthems, dancey-catchy choruse that stick, & an album that-while serious, is so damn fun to sing along to. They’ll be at Red Rocks next Summer so come hop on the bandwagon and get to know your new favorite band!

“You’re a master of passive-aggressive magic tricks like “that’s not the card that I would’ve picked, but it’s your life to live like how you’d like to live...’”

SUN JUNE / Years

Sun June’s debut record Years is an album that I never expected to be on this list, but one that pushed its way into my heart, ears, and mind a lot over the early Summer. I kept comparing it to Leif Vollebekk’s gorgeously haunting 2017 release Twin Solitude that made it on last year's list in that it managed to be rhythmically funky & interesting while being mostly SO quiet. Even the more “upbeat” numbers; from the gorgeously, golden swing of “Young,” to the steady backbeat of “Baby Blue” keep their composure meticulously. The writing is transfixing on Years and the band is so tight, with every member adding just the right amount of soft sound. I tried to explain it to somebody as music you have to “squint to hear.” It sounds good in the background, all sweet & rolling. But better up close, turned up in headphones. All together & bright. This is an album I would listen to sleepily, on my way home from work, driving Colfax in the first light of dawn at 5 in the morning. Sun June’s lack of an internet presence is refreshing (is there ANYWHERE I can find the lyrics for this album??!!), I think they’re from Texas, and I don’t think they’ve even played a show in Colorado yet! Regardless, Years is tied together with a quietly tight rhythm section, and Laura Colwell’s wispy vocals, grabbing at the edges of my brain, calmy insisting “Four in the morning, I could get used to this...”

“I was almost always leaving / Looking for the reason / Bedside hospital daylight / I go with the Southern mountains / Down the 405, I’m coming tell me you don’t deserve this / I was young...”

TIERRA WHACK / Whack World

I love me a good concept album, but even I would’ve thought that the idea of 15 one minute songs(complete with video accompaniment) making up an entire album, would be a tough sell. Whack World makes good on an innovative concept, delivering something breezy, catchy, & lasting, and making Tierra Whack one of my favorite new finds of 2018! My little sister showed her to me on a “Get-your-ass-to-the-gym” playlist and “Fruit Salad” was immediately stuck in my head for weeks. Mostly down-tempo, Whack is clearly a witty lyricist and creative mind, and at 23, a game changer in the music scene. Also an effortlessly cool, musical, badass. With almost no choruses, this is an album you can listen to over and over (and throw any tracks in mixes) without any clear singles. The bouncy gospel-tinged “Pet Cemetery” has hand claps & dog barks, and is followed immediately by the laugh-out-loud vocals of “Fuck Off.” Whack never takes herself too seriously (so many off the wall and laugh out loud funny vocals!) and the Philly native shows that one minute songs can turn a lot of heads and end up on a lot of end of the year best album lists! Whack World!

“Crispy clean and crisp & clean / For the dough I go nuts like Krispy Kreme / Music is in my Billie genes / Can’t no one ever come between yeah / Don’t worry about me I’m doing good, I’m doing great, alright...”

TYPHOON / Offerings

It seemed like a lifetime since Typhoon released their sophomore knockout, masterpiece album White Lighter back in 2013. I’ve grown a lifetime since, experienced everything since. In the first few weeks of January 2018, out of the darkness, out of the silence: came something darker, weirder, but still magical and at its core, celebratory. Typhoon is one of my all-time favorite bands, one of my favorite live shows, and frontman Kyle Morton writes about memory & loss, life & death, better than anybody in the game. With Offerings they have dropped the peppy horns, slimmed down to (only!) seven members, and zeroed in on the heavy, spiraling folk-rock that hearkens back a little to Bright Eyes or The Decemberists, Broken Social Scene or Arcade Fire. As a loose concept album, Offerings explores in four movements (Floodplans, Flood, Reckoning, & Afterparty) what happens to a mind stripped of memory. Or (side quest/plot/twist) a world willfully forgetting its history. From the hushed chanting that explodes into huge string swells, drums, and shouts of opener “Wake” to the rhythmic, glowing build of the 8 minute “Empricist,” to the mystical picking and ruminating of “Algernon” the first movement could almost stand as an album of its own. The rest of the album unravels at equal parts slow reflection (”Mansion” & “Beachtowel”) and sweeping indie rock (”Remember” & “Darker”). Although a lengthy (and at times not easy) listen, I think Offerings will go down as one of the most ambitious rock records of the last few years.

“& so the light fades / It’s still your birthday / So blow out your past lives like they’re candles on a cake...”

VALLEY MAKER / Rhododendron

There is a mysticism buried somewhere in the emotive vocals & break-in-the-clouds writing of North Carolina by way of Washington State’s Valley Maker. Austin Crane is the singular voice behind the Valley Maker project, painting time & space on a dark, slippery canvas, and hiding complex truths in the rhythmic tides of Rhododendron. This ground has been tread before; by countless folk singers & prophets, wailing of death, dark magic, & the myriad mysteries of time, but Valley Maker understand their place in the linear and bring a modern take to ancient stories. Part War on Drugs-highway-drone (check the double yellow rattle of “Light on the Ground”), part Ben Howard’s-foggy-British-countryside (”Beautiful Birds Flying”), Crane writes songs that stick. They claw and seep their way into skin, into veins, and haunt in a way that echoes of the past. This is songwriting as a conduit. These stories are Crane’s, but they are older; tales told since religion begin. From the first lines of the roiling, dark sky opener (”time is just a game I play / it’s written on the ocean’s waves / circling beyond my brain / something I could not contain.”) to the uncertain give & take of the earthy “Seven Signs” (”I’m cutting in line but I haven’t decided...”) the writing is equal to the musicianship Crane and his backing band clearly have in spades. With Chaz Bear (Toro Y Moi) providing stellar percussion and Amy FItchette (who I was lucky enough to see sing with VM at the Doug Fir in Portland) lending absolutely haunting, otherworldly harmonies, Crane has depth beyond his strange tunings and bleep & bloop electric forests. Through it all there is a steady rhythm to the darkness and like in “Baby, In Your Kingdom” when he tops a wonderfully simple, acoustic walk-down with “Baby are you satisfied? Take a decade, take a lifetime, I know we’re always on a one way street...” there is a timeless beauty even in the mystery. Oh, and saxophone. Rhododendron has some great saxophone.

“Baby in the next life / I can touch you, I can ride the light / Goddamn I wan’t where I thought I’d be / 29. Burn the world around me & I hide / Baby in your kingdom / Sink my roots in, I’m a tall tree / I know, wind is gonna blow again / I know, when I am with you...I am known...”

#black belt eagle scout #camp cope #caroline rose #field report #janelle monae #liza anne #meshell ndegeocello #miya folick #mt joy #noname #rainbow kitten surprise #sun june #tierra whack #typhoon #valley maker #izcalli #american trappist #h.c. mcentire

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kaisha-writes-blog · 5 years

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I did a really long thing (sorry)

Thank you so much for tagging me in this @hklunethewriter! I love the idea and had so much fun reading your answers. Also, I’m brand new to tumblr and only four people out of the 400 I followed have followed me back, so a huge shout out to you guys - and to @hklunethewriter for being kind enough to tag me! Standing nervously in front of the microphone, I can almost hear one of you clapping at the back of the room.

So, this seems relatively simple, but knowing me I’ll still do it wrong so I’m sorry in advance if I answer the wrong questions. I don’t have 11 followers, so I’m going to tag the four I have, and then just other blogs that I think look interesting. Feel free to totally ignore me and go about your day.

Note: I hope you’ve got plenty of syrup because this is 100% WAFFLE. I write like I talk, and I talk a lot, so this ended up being much longer than I intended. I’m sorry. I exhaust myself.

1. What’s your favourite writing spot?

For sure the snuggle chair in my living room (people think I made that name up, but I promise that’s what it’s called in the catalogue). My youngest kitty Cleo likes to sit by me, and walk across the keyboard when I’m trying to type, so that’s always a lot of fun. I consume several hot drinks in the glow of my laptop screen and my crappy ASDA lamp until my eyes start to close. Often I wake up there, and the cycle begins again.

2. Is there a song you only listen to when you’re writing?

Um, not really. Sometimes I’ll have an idea in my head for something I’m going to write and will make little playlists that inspire me. I’ll listen to them throughout the day, but I find it really hard to hear myself think if music is playing because I just sing to it instead.

3. What’s your stance on ambiguous endings?

I’m in two minds! Personally, I really like that certain endings are left open to interpretation. I like reading fan theories on the internet, and having the freedom to use my imagination to picture different scenarios, and the air of mystery that comes with saying ‘well, we’ll never know for sure.’ On the other side of the coin, though, if I’m really invested in a story (which happens a lot, because I’m seemingly unable to like things on a low-key level) then I much prefer the closure of a sure, solid ending.

4. Do you believe ‘Death of the Author’ holds up when, especially in our current time period, authors are likely to give and assign parts of themselves to their characters? Do such books exist anymore?

I personally see no harm at all in authors assigning elements of their lives, their personalities, or things that inspired the events they depict to their characters/writing. Though I’m not massively knowledgeable on the subject, as I stated earlier, I agree that interpretation by the reader is key and personally find that being given room to view things in my own way makes for a much more interesting read. I’m a big believer in showing my reader what I’m saying, rather than telling them what’s going on - and while I’m sure that there are books that have been written in mind of this notion, and are intentionally vague, I often find the backstory to the novels I read almost as interesting as the novel itself.

5. Is writing more of a stress relief or stress causer for you?

I often write for catharsis or enjoyment, so I’m leaning much more towards stress relief. I may, however, answer differently in 24 hours time when I’m frantically writing my assignment for university 12 hours before it’s due to be handed in. Organisation is the enemy, apparently.

6. Adverbs. Thoughts?

I like adverbs, generally speaking, but a pet peeve of mine is seeing them used too frequently! I think it’s Stephen King (could be totally wrong, do NOT quote me on that) who believes that an over-use of adverbs is indicative of timidity? I said earlier that, rather than telling my reader what’s going on, I prefer to show them - and as such, I am often (not always) of the belief that the writing leading up to the adverb should be of a high enough quality to nullify it. Each to their own, though, of course!

7. Has tumblr made you a more productive/”creative” writer, in your opinion?

Mostly yes, but a little bit no. Yes, because I see a lot on here that inspires me to write - whether it’s the work of other writers, a photograph of a beautiful sunset that moves me, a text post of some song lyrics I haven’t heard in FOREVER or a quote I can relate to - I find it all so inspiring. No, because I follow an inordinate amount of ‘cute cat’ pages and find them horribly and fantastically distracting.

8. Who in your life supports your writing the most?

100% my fabulous, brilliant, amazing Nana. I’ve been telling her stories since I was old enough to talk, and I’ll never for one moment forget her constant interest and encouragement. Like many, I’ve explored a wide range of potential interests and career paths in my 23 years; each time, the spark has crackled out, and I’ve given up early and moved onto something else. Understandably, most people in my life started to find it hard to believe in me - but she never did. I’d say “I’m gonna go to college and do this other cool thing I find mildly interesting” and she’d be like “well, ok, maybe this will be the one.” She tells me every time I see her that I could sweep the streets and she’d be proud of me, if it was what made me happy. Her support really is unconditional.

9. In what medium (books, movies, TV, video games, etc.) do you find the most inspiration?

Honestly, it changes all the time, but at the moment I’m finding a lot of my inspiration through music - particularly Taylor Swift, because she’s a lyrical GENIUS and I adore her. I’ll hear a lyric and start to build a whole scene in my head of what prompted her to write that, and it’s so much fun.

10. Lastly, do you have a link to published work that I, HK Lune, can see/reblog?

I don’t! I’ve written a few bits and pieces to the point of completion, but have never felt confident enough to share them online, and focus primarily on my university work nowadays. You can read my essays, if you’d like? :D

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I’ll start by tagging my faithful followers

@cheezbot @jkirs1 @long-live-beau @quilloftheclouds

Then I’ll tag the lovely person who tagged me

@hklunethewriter

And now I’ll tag some cool blogs.

@catsnmeows1 @turtleconservancy @taylorswift @catsthefun @hilariouscats @meow

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OH and even though nobody will answer them, I’m going to post questions so I don’t do the game wrong. They are as follows:

1. If you could meet one author for lunch, who would it be?

2. What are your thoughts on visual stories? (apps like Choices: Stories You Play, Episode, etc.)

3. What was the first book to make you cry?

4. Do you ever base your characters on people you know?

5. Name the worst book you’ve ever read, and tell me why it was bad.

6. Do you have a trademark writing ‘quirk’?

7. Do you have any (un)helpful pets? (I couldn’t resist asking this one. Also, if the answer is yes, please send me photos.)

8. What advice would you give to a person who is new to writing?

9. Tell me your ideal writing environment.

10. Sad endings: realistic, or unnecessary?

11. You’ve decided to write under a pseudonym. What is it?

#writing #my writing #personal #writing game #questions #please follow me i have four followers

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emilywatchescursedshow · 3 years

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SPN S2 E5 - Simon Said

bong in the title card, great shit.

It's hot, I'm on edge, I'm hungry, time to eat and watch some spn instead of cleaning my dump of a room. It has been a WEEK and it's still not DONE yet hrhrhrh ok here we go

I'm skipping the recaps I don't care if they're indicative of anything I don't care how they're edited

We get a MOTW cold open!! Some phones, some guns, oh is this like that one xfilhosnuthastuhtematns (taze her again)

Oh jesus love suicide

Sam's wet

So we're establishing that Sam has a psychic connection to the demon. Also that the Roadhouse is the new, like dad's journal or something?

I ship Sam and Ash honestly

Oh right Sam got kicked off of never broke a bone last episode (his arm is in a cast) it's very generic arm cast and does not look like it would help a broken hand but w/e

He'll do it for.. a PBR

I am also horny for dean w Jo you and I are the same.

Dean knows all the lyrics to this song and is just singing it with no musical accompaniment. I guess this is how we learn he is also horny for jo?

The extras in this episode are struggling a bit. But I know shit about acting.

OH OHKAY SO. the scene they go look at the van, the song that's playing is from the "This Is Spinal Tap" soundtrack, it's not a "real" classic rock song bc Tap is a mock rock band. What a weird pull - I think the music is supposed to be diagetically coming from the car stereo. I guess it's what they could get rights to?

Sam is a demon sleeper agent

Again, why the fuck is this Stonehenge song in here. And why is it playing so obtrusively over this scene.

Didn't dean say he likes this van? Maybe he's the DND nerd.

Dean got jedi mind tricked into giving his car away that's fucking hilarious

What class of crime is pulling the fire alarm

"he full on obi-wanned me"

I guess the Black guy just *had* to die, time for guilty Sam

So Andy murdered Dr. Jennings? OH Andy is the psychic kid. Are we going to get a bunch of homicidal psychic kids. I hope Sam gets to be homicidal at some point, that would be fun. Sam could be a hot bitch killer I think.

Oh it's the bong shot. Reading philosophy like a poser.

Dean you could just go to a diner

This Dean can't help himself talking needs to be in every episode. Honestly it would be amazing if Sam became psychic enough that every time Dean was like "I'm not telling you about this" sam could just flash his little eyebrows and Dean compulsively confesses. I think that would do both of them good. I know that doesn't happen but. Missed opportunity.

Sam's not affected by the psychic thing, that's fun. Sam's abilities are pretty limp tbh.

This is starting to look exactly like the XFiles episode i was thinking of tbh, there's a psychic misderiction there too

So we have compulsion, telekenisis, and visions. I wonder if all the demon children have different powers

Classic "that's impossible" joke

Andy just wants to live in a van and honestly, same.

Oh i wanted to write earlier that I hate hearing Dean call his car baby

Dean is such a fucking nerd.

Evil twin twist. Andy is freaking out

Wait the brothers name is "Anson Weebs" uh what

Oh that's the brother huh.. that wasn't really set up. Also like, why would he kill his parent people

Why.. is she wearing only her slip??

Oh no it was just a vision.

Troubled little meow meow sam winchester

Why is she aware of the mind control?

I guess the brother wants to ruin Andy's life or something?

I could screw with more than just your head dean winchester dont fking... uh...

Oh ok so he's making her strip and then have sex with him this is a family tv show

The effects over the voice commands are a lot.

Psychic brother showdown. They both have to die so Sam is the only special demon child. I'm betting they both go over off the cliff

Oh so I guess this guy is just out of his mind wonderful. The man with the yellow eyes oh it's the demon's fault. That's kind of nice. Oh god is Dean going to snipe the evil brother?

Why did Andy have a gun?????

Yeah I get why the lady wouldn't trust him anymore

Sam not understanding the concept of self defense. "Everyone is capable of murder"

"What are you seven?" a good question. Sam's face at Dean is correct.

Fell on Black Days - I guess they got the rights for this Soundgarden song

Dean is not a team player

So the demon is just behaving randomly... great.

#supernatural #supernatural liveblog #s2e5 #spn

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pagesoflauren · 6 years

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A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack x reader AU) - Part 6

tagging: @albionscastle

Part 5 Masterlist

On Saturday, Y/N’s friends come in in a cacophony of college students, startling both Jack and Socks when Y/N lets them in. They’re all excited to meet him, commenting on how cold his hands are and how pale he is. They wait for her as she says goodbye to Jack in the house.

“Be safe,” he says, “Make sure they’re driving in the speed limit.” “Jack, you don’t drive within the speed limit.” “I know, but I’ve had years of experience. Humans suck at driving.” “Hey!” “It’s just a fact of life, my love,” he says, chuckling at her offended expression, “Message me when you get there.” “I will. I love you,” she says. “I love you, too,” he replies, leaning down to kiss her. They’re holding each other tightly when there’s something trying to squeeze between their feet. They look down and find Socks curling himself in and out, refusing to be forgotten. “I love you, too, Socks,” she says, leaning down to scratch his head before making a fist. He bumps his head against it. “You behave for Jack okay?” “Yeah, right,” Jack scoffs. Y/N pulls him in for another kiss and grabs her bag, “I’ll see you both tonight.”

The car ride to Y/N’s town is loud and fun, the four friends belting out lyrics and Y/N sending videos of them to Jack. George is driving, while Y/N sits in the passenger’s side and Lily and Maeve sit in the back.

Is he driving in the speed limit?

He is, hypocrite.

I resent that statement

Resent it all you want, it’s true.

Oh hush, you.

They stop by Y/N’s parents’ house, greeting them before dropping Y/N off at Mrs. Hollingberry’s house down the street. “We’ll be at the boulevard when you’re done. Text us when you’re ready, love.” They all wish her luck before they drive away and leave her at the front door.

Y/N lifts her fist to knock, when the door opens before she can.

“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Hollingberry smiles. She’s a older woman, maybe around her forties that used to watch after Y/N when her parents went out some evenings. She’d always give her sweets before she left and read her bedtime stories. “You’ve grown so much,” she cries, holding her hand over her chest, “I still remember that little girl I used to look after.” “Hi, Mrs. Hollingberry,” Y/N smiles, feeling sentimental as well. They hug each other tightly before pulling away. “What brings you over here?” “I wanted to ask you some questions.” “Of course,” she says, stepping aside to let her in. Y/N walks into the house. She sees an old couch that looks like it’s from the 50s and dark curtains that shield the sun from coming in. They sit together and Y/N declines the cup of tea she’s offered. “Is this about the boy you came with a few months ago?” “Huh?” “Your boyfriend.” “You…you saw?” “Yes, dear. I saw you two walking at night. The vampire.” “Well, that’s not why I’m here. Mrs. Hollingberry, I think you might have some information that might be useful to me.” “About...?” “His friend. Thomas? Well, what I’m trying to ask is, do you know a Poppy? Poppy Hollingberry.” “Yes. She lived with me for a few decades before your Jack and Thomas came along.” “You know Jack?” “She told me about him when she left to live with them. We used to write all the time.” “Do you still talk to her?” Y/N asks eagerly. “I don’t, unfortunately. I…” she pauses, her eyes glistening with tears, “I was so heartbroken when she left. She was like a daughter to me. And, you know, when your children want to move out you let them. I just never thought she’d go so far and stop talking.” “Jack says Thomas stopped talking to him too. I’m trying to find them, maybe reunite Jack with him. And you can come too, if you’d like.” “Oh, no love, I couldn’t. You both enjoy your vacation when you do go. I’ll go on my own time.” “Oh, okay. But, is there any information you can tell me about Poppy?” “I’ve got the last letter she sent me,” Mrs. Hollingberry says, standing up and disappearing into another room. Y/N hears shuffling before she’s back in front of her. “Here’s the return address,” she says, pointing to the address in the top left corner of the envelope.

It’s to an apartment in Liechtenstein, and Y/N deflates a bit. The last time Jack talked to Thomas, they were already in Brussels. She decides it’s a good lead, though. They’re bound of have records of previous tenants from the last thirty years at the very least. She takes a picture of the address on her phone.

“Thank you,” Y/N smiles, “It was so great to see you.” “You too, dear. Oh,” Mrs. Hollingberry says, disappearing and returning almost within the same second. She’s smiling nostalgically as she presses something into Y/N’s hand. When she looks down, it’s her favorite candy. “For old times’ sake.” “Thank you,” Y/N smiles. “Take care, I hope you find them,” she says, kissing Y/N’s forehead. “I hope so too. I’ll let you know if I find anything!”

They exchange another hug and Y/N is on her way, walking down the street to meet her friends. She pulls at the wrapper of the candy and eats on her way there.

Jack sat on the couch as Socks perched himself on the coffee table. Y/N was right; having a green wall did bring a lot of brightness and personality into the room, but now that she wasn’t there it wasn’t the same. He figured he could turn off the lights since neither he nor Socks really needs the lights, but when he flips the switch he flips it right back, not liking how dark it is.

Somehow he ends up on the floor next to Socks who was playing with a ball with a bell in it. “What should we do today, mate?” Jack asks the feline. The jingling of the bell stops suddenly and Jack tilts his head back, making his view of Socks upside down. They blink at each other for a moment before Socks gets up and walks away.

“Wait come back, where ya going?” he says, sitting up and watching as Socks goes up the stairs. He groans as he gets up to follow him, finding him meowing outside the closed door of Y/N’s office. He begins scratching at the door and Jack deflates a little. He misses her.

“Aye, mate, she’s not in there,” Jack explains, opening the door to show the empty room. They had furnished it with a desk and couch. When it was night time, Jack had taken out the wood on the window and left the curtains so that Y/N could let natural light in if she wanted. He feels an ache in his chest at how empty and boring the house feels without her. Socks inspects the room, walking about the couch and even circling the leg space under the desk before coming out.

“Told ya,” he sighs, “C’mon, let’s go downstairs.”

Jack fills Socks’ water and food bowls before sitting on the couch again. He checks his phone and sees a few pictures that Y/N (his only contact besides his boss and a few coworkers) sent him of her lunch and herself walking with her friends. It’s almost embarrassing how much he misses her when she’s out, but he can’t help it. He sighs, shaking the thoughts from his head and turning on the TV. The only thing that peaks his interest is the Jeremy Kyle show, so he watches that.

Y/N hears shouting as she approaches the front door in the evening after she and her friends left her hometown. She’s carrying a bag of McDonald’s, her face twisting up in confusion. Why is he yelling? she thinks, What could Socks possibly have done this time?

When she opens the door, the words become more clear, “AYE, YE FUCKIN’ ZOUNDERKITE, YA AHR THE FUCKIN’ FATHER DON’T BE DAFT!”

Socks is playing with the same ball he was playing with in the morning, acting as if this is a normal occurrence. She steps in a little further and sees him standing in front of the TV watching the Jeremy Kyle show of all things. The man who the woman claims to be the father says something else and Jack nearly explodes.

“YER BUM’S OOT THE WINDAE, YE FUCKIN’ BAMPOT!” he says, waving his arm in annoyance. He turns to Socks, “Can ye believe this fuckin’ beardsplitter? Absolute bawbag!”

There’s a moment of tension when the results come in and Jeremy reads over the sheet of paper in his hands.

“Hurry up and bitch the pot, will ya?!” Jack says impatiently.

“Randy…” he says, pausing for effect, “According to these results, you…are the father.”

“OOH SEE YA PROPER WALLAPER, ‘F YE WEREN’T TOO BUSY TOT-HUNTIN’ YA WOULD’VE KNOWN! AWA’ N’ BILE YER HEAD, YOU FUCKIN’ ROASTER.”

He’s waving his arms around like a madman, even going as far as gripping the sides of the TV and shaking it as much as he can while it’s mounted to the wall, and shouting all these words Y/N can’t understand. She can’t hold it in anymore as she snorts with laughter, clutching her stomach and putting down the McDonald’s bag so that she doesn’t drop it. This catches Jack’s attention. When she sees his face, he’s scowling from the TV show before he realizes it’s her and his face suddenly softens.

“Oh, love,” he says, a little embarrassed, “I, uh…”—he clears his throat—“How was your day did you have a good time?”

She’s still laughing, finding herself needing to sit on the floor because she just can’t stand anymore. Socks trots happily to her, fluffy fur bouncing as he approaches her and he purrs happily as he nudges her arm.

“Hi, baby,” she coos to him through her laughter, holding her fist out for him to bump with his head. After he does, she scratches behind his ears as her laughter dies down. “Oh man,” she sighs, wiping away some tears that built up in her eyes from laughing so hard, “and I was so worried you’d be bored without me.” “Well, I was,” he explains bashfully, “Then I just turned on the TV and found this show and…dunno,” he shrugs, “Got too into it I guess.” “That you did, my love,” she laughs, standing up to kiss him. He holds her tightly, as if he hadn’t seen her in days and presses his lips to hers as if it’s all he’s been waiting to do (which speaks to how he felt about today, but he’d never tell her that). “I missed you,” he says. “I miss you, too,” she giggles, “What was all that you were saying earlier?” “What?” “Like…z-zoun-zounder…kite?” she asks, turning to grab her fast food bag before Socks gets into it. “Oh,” he says as he scratches his head, “It’s uh…it’s Victorian slang. S’how we used to talk back in my day.” “‘Back in my day’?” she laughs loudly again. “Hey! S’true!” “What does that even mean?” “Zounderkite?” Y/N nods. “It means idiot.” “Why can’t you just say idiot?” “I dunno, s’just a habit quit comin’ after me, woman!” he says defensively, pouting and crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Okay, okay,” she continues laughing, kissing his cheek, “It’s fine, I like it. It’s…charming.” “You’re just saying that.” “I’m not! S’not everyday I get to hear how people talked in ancient times,” she quips as she walks to the dining table to eat. “Oi!”

Y/N and Jack spent their Sunday organizing the basement, making room for some more of Y/N’s things and setting aside some things Jack could sell to the local museums and collectors.

“What’s this?” Y/N asks, lugging a a large cardboard box onto a nearby table. It’s not labeled, but Jack knows exactly what it is. “Oh,” he says, walking over and pulling the flaps to reveal the contents. Y/N has to get on her toes to see into the box. It’s filled with pictures and some old clothes. Y/N grabs a little cap, something that looks like it can fit a small child. “This is…” Jack tries to find the word, “It’s my childhood.”

Y/N turns the cap in her hands then looks at Jack, suddenly understanding.

“I snuck back into the house after my parents turned me away,” he explains, “It was a few years later, so they had aged a bit. I went into my room and found it as it was when I left. It was messy beyond belief, clothes strewn about, but I just grabbed some things. Here.”

Jack shuffles through the box, finding an old black and white photo of a group of children.

“This was Channelkirk. There’s me,” he points to a boy standing in the front wearing the same cap Y/N is holding, “and there’s Thomas.” He points to the boy on his left. “Can I?” she asks, holding her hand out. He gently places the photo in her hands, and she’s careful to not grip it too tightly. She looks closely at young Jack, squinting her eyes to try and make out his features in the grainy photo. His hair is neatly combed and hidden in the cap, he’s wearing a long sleeve white button down and knee-length trousers with suspenders and long socks. She can just make out his straight nose and slightly downturned eyes. “Your face is so round here,” she says, smiling. “Well, here,” he says, going through the box again, “look at this.”

It’s a photo of baby Jack in a white christening gown. It looks like they perched him on a stool so that the long length of the garment was easy to see in the photo.

“Oh my god, you’re such a cute baby,” she gushes. “What are you talking about you can barely see my face,” he laughs. “Doesn’t matter,” she waves him off. “I grabbed this too,” he says, pulling out a pale yellow knitted blanket, “This was my baby blanket.”

It’s quite big, as if it could’ve been laid out on the floor for him to crawl about in the living room of the house.

“Aww,” she coos, “my blanket was yellow too! We were meant to be,” she says, her voice slightly dripping with sarcasm. They both laugh as they feel the soft material of the blanket, Jack’s eyes welling up with tears.

“We should wash this,” Y/N says, “and we can use it on the bed. Like for keeping your feet warm.”

He feels a light feeling in his chest at the fact that she wants to incorporate something from his very distant past into their new home, one she’s changed in many more ways than just paint and furniture.

“Okay,” he agrees easily.

He watches as she goes through the box again, pulling out a smaller photo of Jack when he was a teenager. He looks very much like the Jack she sees next to her, just without the beard and still some roundness on his face. “How old are you here?” “About 16. I was graduating high school when we took that photo.” “I didn’t know your hair was curly,” she says, reaching up and running her hands through the blonde locks on his head. “It curls when I let it grow out.” “It’s adorable,” she says, smiling.

They put away the photos and the cap, Y/N folding the blanket and carrying it to the laundry machine upstairs. Jack goes into the kitchen to start making dinner for Y/N when he hears the beeping sounds of the laundry machine as she presses the buttons and changes the settings. Since buying the new washer and dryer, Jack has let Y/N put everything in the laundry as he folds and hangs everything when all is done. He’s chopping vegetables when he hears a thud and a quiet, “ow!”

He quickly puts everything down, stopping what he’s doing and rushing over to the stairs. Y/N’s limping and hissing at the pain in her ankle. Socks is standing there, watching her. He surveys the situation before turning his attention to his cat, “You. Explain.” Socks just stares and Y/N reaches out to lean her weight on the banister. “Jack, he’s a cat.” “Well, what happened?” he says, he voice dripping with worry. “I was coming down the stairs,” she stops when she puts a little too much weight on her injured ankle, ”I was coming down the stairs and Socks kinda ran next to me and I just lost my footing. I think I twisted my ankle.” “What?” he asks, still confused and growing more and more concerned. He steps closer to her, reaching his hands out to grab her but not knowing what to do to help, “Wait what does that mean, should I take you to the hospital?” “No, it’s not that serious.” “‘NOT THAT SERIOUS’?” he bursts incredulously, “Y/N you twisted something, that sounds really serious to me!” “Jack, please—“ “You’re human, you’re so fragile! Are you sure it’s not broken? What if it’s broken!?” “It’s not broken, Jack—“ “HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” “Because I’m not screaming in pain. Jack, I really just need to sit down and put some ice on it.”

He immediately scoops her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom and gently setting her down on the blankets. He turns to get her some ice when he stops suddenly. “What are you doing?” he asks, watching her move the pillows around. “I need to prop my foot up,” she explains. “No, no, no, no,” he says, “I’ll do it.” “Jack I can handle it—“ “Shhhh!!!” he says stubbornly, waving his hand in an attempt to silence her. He grabs the pillow from her, gently lifting her ankle up and placing the pillow under it. He sets her foot back down. “Are you comfortable?” “Yes.” “Do you need anything else?” “Ice, please.” “Right.”

He’s gone and back in a few seconds, a large ziplock of crushed ice in his hand. “Do I just…? Do I just put it on?” “Yes. Well, don’t just drop it on my ankle, though.” “No! No, of course not,” he says, slowly lowering the ice onto her ankle. It’s visibly swollen compared to the other one and he almost winces, “My poor lass.” “Jack, I’ll be fine tomorrow—“ “No, no, you’re not walking for a week, lass.” “Jack please, I’ve twisted my ankle before, I’ve usually been fine the next day.” Just then, Socks hops onto the bed, eying the bag of ice curiously. “Oi, you little shit, you’re the reason she’s injured, sod off!”

Socks pays him no mind, sniffing at the ziplock before licking at the condensation. He does this for a few seconds before he suddenly pulls back, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. He’s like that for a moment before going back to normal. “He got a brain freeze,” Y/N giggles. “Quit it,” Jack gripes, scooping him up and putting him on the floor, “Never listen to me, you.” “Jack?” “Yes darling?” he says, his tone immediately softening. “I’m hungry.” “Right, I’ll make you dinner and be right up with that.”

Downstairs, Jack resumes making Y/N’s dinner when he hears a meow. He turns toward the direction of it, finding Socks sitting by his food bowl expectantly. “No,” Jack says, pointing an accusing finger at the feline, “You are not getting food for fifteen minutes. That’ll teach you.” As if cats had a sense of time, though. Socks continues meowing indignantly, even going as far as pawing at Jack’s leg and meowing as if he were apologizing. Jack knows if he looks down he’ll break, feed him and give him all the scratches he wants, so he adverts his eyes to anywhere but the floor.

When Jack is done cooking, he cleans up and brings the food up when it’s cooled down to the perfect temperature for eating. Y/N is on her phone in the dim light of the bedside lamp and Jack turns on the ceiling light when he walks in to bring more brightness into the room. “Here you are, love,” he says, setting a plate of the chicken and rice dish he made with the leftover chicken. He carefully sits on the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard and draping his arm over her shoulder. “You’re really stepping up your game, aren’t you?” she laughs. “All I do when you’re out with your friends is watch cooking shows and Jeremy Kyle.” “Ah, yes, your new favorite.” “How can you not like it?! It’s so dramatic and shocking!” “Jack, I’m pretty sure part of it is scripted.” “No way!” he says naively, “That’s like saying reality TV isn’t reality!” “It’s not though!” she laughs, “They script it to ramp up the drama and get more views, dude.” “Hmph. Back in my day they never pulled such bullshit like that.” “Did you watch 90s reality TV?” “Mostly MTV when it was actually MTV and not that 16 and Pregnant shite.”

Y/N opens her mouth to say something when Socks meows at the door. Jack rolls his eyes at him. “Oi what did I tell you?” “What did you tell him?” Y/N asks as Socks trots over and hops onto the bed. He sits down and points his gaze at Y/N. “Jack,” Y/N says accusingly. “What, I just told him I wasn’t gonna feed him for fifteen minutes!” “What in the world—“ “He’s the reason your ankle’s all banged up, I had to punish him!” “Jack, he’s a cat.” Meow. “You need to be disciplined, mate. What you did was wrong.” “Jack, he’s a cat,” Y/N repeats, letting a chuckle escape, “Go feed him, jeez.” “Fine,” he says stubbornly, getting up, “his fifteen minutes was done anyway.” He gets up and heads downstairs, Socks trailing after him happily.

When they come back upstairs, Jack moves the blanket from the washer to the dryer before going back into the bedroom to find Socks on the bed purring at the attention Y/N is giving him. “Y/N!” he gasps offendedly. “What?” she laughs, “what’s wrong?” “He’s the one who injured you!” “Jack, let it go, it’s fine. I told you, I’m gonna be fine tomorrow.”

He rolls his eyes and maneuvers onto the bed, Socks making room for him by climbing into Y/N’s lap. She’s petting him when Jack feels a nudge on his hand. He looks over and meets Socks’ green eyes. “No. You’re not getting any scratches from me.” Meow. “I said no.” “Aww, poor baby,” Y/N coos, cuddling the cat closer to her and scratching his head. Jack’s eyes narrow at Socks and he stares back. It’s as if he’s saying I won. “Jack stop glaring at your cat.” “He’s mocking me!” “Jack, he’s a cat,” she tells him for the fourth time that day. “Fine,” he says, adverting his eyes and staring at the navy blue wall opposite them. “Ungrateful cat. I’m the one who took you in and you’re kissing up to my girlfriend.” “I can’t help it, I’m just so lovable,” Y/N jokes. When Jack doesn’t laugh, she places a hand on his arm, “Hey.” He looks to her immediately, in case she might need something. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He wraps his arms around her, bringing her into his chest and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always take care of you, love.”

a bit of a filler, something I wrote to relieve some stress :D I hope you liked it!

#Jack Lowden #Jack Lowden AU

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hollygopossumlovesj2 · 7 years

Text

Dean Winchester’s Lyrics, Part 2

Warnings: Adult language, violence, mentions of death

Summary: Y/N takes charge of the situation and helps Dean as much as she can. But will it be enough?

Tagging: @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess

a/n- This is the second part of my addition to @creatively-charlie‘s Anniversary Writing Challenge. I hope this is entertaining and please let me know what ya think!

Part 1

In a very uncoordinated fashion, you slowly guided Dean to sit into the closest chair. Which was no easy task considering Dean had been hunting most of his life. The man was a 38 year old wall of solid muscle, skin and bone. He was hot to the touch despite the chill of the rain on his skin. “Do you remember the words to the hex, Dean? Maybe we can look it up?” His head lolled back like he lacked the strength to hold it up any more, making his voice croak. “I ‘member s'me.”

Pretty soon Dean would be completely useless, but you couldn’t deal with it here. Casey wouldn’t understand and your life here would be blown. “Hey Case!” You yelled, stepping a few feet away from Dean so your voice carried into the kitchen. You startled a little when Dean’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he tried to stand up. “Dean, stay put.” You pointed at him sternly before walking a few feet closer to the kitchen door. “Casey!” Dean struggled to stand, and when he finally succeeded he nearly brained himself on the counter. When you caught him against you just in time you could hear him muttering but you couldn’t make out the words. “Dean, seriously. What the hell?” You muttered back at him, half worried and half scared out of your mind. You were out of practice for this shit. You weren’t used to living by the seat of your pants in life or death situations anymore! You’d guided him the short distance back to the chair to sit down before you tilted his face up with a few fingers beneath his chin. “D'ne leave me. D'n go.” You’d seen Sam’s puppy eyes, but right now Dean was giving him a run for his money. “Pl’s?” The look was familiar, and you knew why. It was the look Dean always got when he was at the end of his rope, struggling to put one foot in front of the other. He never shed this many walls without a huge disaster and nearly lethal amounts of social lubricant. You studied him a moment longer, trying to wrap your head around this. If Dean hadn’t been hexed he probably would have died trying to get his brother back rather than coming to find you. Whatever hex this witch had used was turning out to be rather catastrophic. “Yeah, okay, Dean. I won’t leave you.” He took your hand and kissed the top of it, leaving it there and leaning into it. “Umm, I guess you need to get his drunk ass home, huh?” Casey’s voice startled you out of the puddle you’d become but you tamped it down. If you showed any weakness Casey would be all over this and you’d have to tell him everything. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” You turned your attention to Casey, hoping that you were looking as sincere as you felt. “I can manage the trash when I get here in the morning.” You offered, but Casey just shook his head. “No worries. Lord knows you’ve bailed me out more than once. Just get him outta here. He’s messing up the floor.” And with a dismissive wave, Casey disappeared behind the door again. That left you to wrangle an increasingly uncooperative Dean into your compact car. He’d only mustered up enough energy to grumble a few times as his knees still dug into the dash board even though the seat was back as far as it could go. “You try living on coffee house tips, see what kind of car you can afford.” You grumbled back before throwing your car into reverse and then maneuvering out of the parking lot. Somewhere along the way, Dean had slipped his hand over yours. ———-—— If you had thought getting Dean into the car had been rough, getting him out and up the stairs to your second story apartment was a whole new level. But, now he was sitting on your covered toilet seat while you pulled out your first aid kit, dripping muddy water every where. It surprised you to see that you’d actually still kept it well stocked. What a little obsessive compulsive former hunter you were. “Okay, we’re gonna kill two birds with one stone.” You were more or less talking to yourself now. Dean would only acknowledge your existence if you made direct eye contact or tried to leave the room. You were not looking forward to a time that you needed to use the bathroom. You got an absurd picture of when you’d had a cat and it had pawed and meowed at the bathroom door until you’d reappeared. Surely Dean wouldn’t be that neurotic? You’d grabbed paper and a pen, resting them on the bathroom counter within reach. Dean had given you an open eyed, innocent look full of worry. “We’re not actually killing birds.” You amended and he seemed satisfied with that. Oh God it was going to be a long night. You’d cleaned him up the best you could, stuffing him into your ex’s t shirt and sweat pants since his clothes had been shredded. You’d been able to write down a few of the words that Dean recalled in the hex while you’d cleaned him up, but there weren’t very many words to go by. His injuries were gone by the time you’d wrangled his shirt from him. Only morbid splashes of blood here and there remained. Oh the things you would give just to be able to call up Bobby to brainstorm with. Or even Sam to help you think this thru. Maybe there was a chance that he might have gotten away? You made a mental note to check Dean’s pockets for his phone. Dean had obediently taken the thermometer into his mouth, shocking the hell out of you. The last time you’d battled Dean to check his temperature the thermometer had been broken, sending the toxic mercury all over the counter. You huffed out a sigh, trying to expel some of the worry getting trapped in your chest. You were feeling wound tight with stress. After you helped Dean figure this thing out and got Sam back, you still had work tomorrow. You still had a 5,000 word essay due in two days that you’d planned on starting tonight. Obviously hunting didn’t mix with going to college. The thermometer beeped and as you took it from him to read he sagged against the wall. His expression was absolutely pitiful. His eyes glassy as they looked up to you like he was begging you to fix it. You ran your fingers through his hair and he practically purred, pushing up a little into your hand. “101.5… Not terrible, but enough to make you miserable.” Dean nodded his head in agreement, the pout on his lips making him look all of five instead of a hardened hunter. He’d dutifully taken the Tylenol you’d offered him and took charge of the ice pack when you handed it to him. After a little persuasion you managed to coax him into bed. You tucked him in beneath the duvet, and sat up next to him while you searched the for the right spell with your laptop. An hour in and you were getting desperate and talking to yourself. “I can’t find anything… this could take weeks and what if-” Dean’s sleep roughened voice cut you off, still slurring a little… But maybe it was getting a little better? “S'not really gonna kill me.” You swallowed, letting a chill of fear run its course before asking your question. “What do you mean it’s not 'really’ going to kill you?” But he never answered. You assumed that he’d gratefully fallen asleep and that’s when you finally got up to clean up the mess he’d made in your bathroom and search for clues in his still soaking clothes. There was no phone and no clues. At a loss, you picked up your own phone and dialed a familiar number. They’d probably trashed their phones a million times over in the past couple of years you’d been away. You knew it was a long shot, but with only a few words from a spell and no real references to research into, you were a lot desperate. There was no telling what an angry witch would have hit him with. “Hello?” Even tense and suspicious, Sam’s voice was a balm. “Oh thank fucking Christ, Sam!” You took a much needed breath, “Its Y/N, I have Dean.” You heard him let out a breath of relief, and probably a few muffled curses too. “Okay, I’m headed towards you.” He confirmed and you heard the familiar growl of the Impala. It hadn’t occurred to you to ask Dean where his car was. He must have walked from where he’d been hexed. “How is he?” “Sleeping. He showed up at the coffee house soaking wet and covered in cuts. He’s acting like he’s drunk and he won’t let me out of his sight!” As you spoke to Sam you peeped in the doorway to make sure Dean was still asleep. “Makes sense. He’s been hit with a pretty nasty curse, but I don’t think it’s gonna kill him. The coven we came to investigate turned out to be white witches. They just want him to suffer like they did over their friend. They were bating hunters in the area and hexing them.” “Well that’s good to know. Wait, how the hell are you gonna find me without the address?” “Uh, gps on your phone? You didn’t think Dean was going to let you go quietly, did you? There’s also the LoJack on your car that I’m probably not supposed to mention…” You plopped down on the closest surface that just happened to be your kitchen counter. "What?“ Last time you’d been around Dean hadn’t exactly been a happy moment. So, the fact that he might still give two shits about you was a shock. Then, you heard a loud thud and an inhuman scream. "Shit. Dean’s awake!” “Okay, don’t panic.” “Don’t panic? Are you kidding me? His chest is in shreds! He’s gonna… Dean? Dean?!” “Y/N it’s okay! It’s just the spell.” “I don’t care if it’s just a fucking spell! It’s…” “…” “…” “…” “Did it stop?” “…” “Y/N, did it stop?!” “Yeah, there’s just blood now. He’s… The cuts are mostly gone already… How..?” “Good. Good. I think the spell is just making him relive his death. All of his deaths.” When Sam magically found his way to your apartment door, you were a wreck. You’d given Dean a cursory clean up, glad that it was just the shirt that was ruined, still baffled that his skin wasn’t in shreds like it had been twenty minutes earlier. You’d contemplated putting plastic down on your bed, but there was no point. The sheets and duvet were ruined anyway. So, you helped a mostly unconscious Dean into the clean side of the bed and hoped for the best. Now, in front of Sam for the first time in a couple of years, you must have looked like you’d just come back from taking out a nest of vamps on a Friday night. You were spattered with blood, your hair was a mess and your eyes must have been glowing with the amount of adrenaline you had pumping through your veins. You let him scoop you in for a quick hug, his strong arms holding you up for a brief moment, before pulling away. He looked like he could use some sleep, but beneath the dark circles that pooled underneath his eyes, he looked the same. He followed you back into your bedroom, but didn’t make an effort to wake Dean. You supposed death could take a toll on a person. Even if it wasn’t real. So, you let him sleep. “How many times did Dean die while I was gone?” You asked, leaning against the door way, not taking your eyes off of Dean’s slumbering face. You didn’t want him to go through this alone and you thought maybe this is what he’d meant at the coffee shop. He’d said not to leave. He’d said please. Then the second you leave something horrible happens. “Uh, just once actually. Stabbed in the chest after having his ass handed to him by a scribe of God. That was the last. You missed out on demon Dean. He was a lot of fun.” Sam leaned against the wall just inside the room, speaking quietly. “But if that was the hellhounds then next will be the bullet to the chest.” He ran his long fingers through his tangled hair. He must have been searching for Dean when you called, driving himself crazy. It was now around 1 am and you were already starting to feel the effects of tonight. Not to mention you’d had a full day of classes and work under your belt. However, the evening seemed like it was just beginning. “He must’ve died a hundred times before he found you. Freakin asshole Trickster.” “He looked terrible. Like he’d run into Edward Scissorhands on the way over.” The image must have been amusing because a small smile made its way momentarily onto Sam’s lips. It always made you glow a little with pride when you made a Winchester smile. “The spell has to run its course? There’s nothing we can do?” “Yeah, I called Rowena, repeated the incantation to her. She said it was a nasty spell but 'not particularly life threatening.’ So, we’ll just do our best to keep him hydrated and comfortable.” He watched his brother fondly for a moment, seeming to catalog every breath and twitch Dean made. “Ya know, I’m not looking forward to doing this a second time. I mean, once was really enough.” You nodded in agreement, even though you had no idea who Rowena was. Now certainly wasn’t the time to catch up. “I bet.” “I hate to do this to you, I remember what it was like to be in school, but I gotta get back to the station to wipe their files. That was the deal. They’ll stop hurting people and I’ll get rid of the evidence. Do you mind..?” “Do I mind watching your brother die a couple of times until you get back?” You asked with all the seriousness in the world before you couldn’t keep up the charade. “Of course, Sam, I got this.”

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