#Garth's Corner

[leasthaunted]

Episode 134: The Point of Unicorns

Everything you think you know about Unicorns is probably wrong. Or is it? What is the point of these creatures? Where do they come from? And what do they even look like? One thing is for sure, somehow capitalism is probably to blame.

As always, please come join the episode discussion on the Least Haunted Discord!

Enjoy the images below!

The Harappan Unicorn of Mohenjo Daro, ca. 2,500 BCE. The earliest depiction of a "Unicorn."

A "pendant" from Mohenjo Daro depicting the Unicorn Animal.

This seal depicts the Unicorn as a three headed chimera with an antelope, and a bull head. But illustrates the point that the Unicorn Animal is not a bull drawn in profile, since here we have two other two-horned animals in profile with two horns shown. c.a. 1,400 BCE.

A much later (late middle ages) depiction of a Unicorn based on a description given by the Greek physician and historian Ctesias. Ctesias lived in the 5th century BCE, and wrote of the Unicorns living in India. Possibly influenced by the Mohenjo Daro Unicorn Animal.

Early historians were pretty sure that the Unicorn or Monoceros in Greek, came from India. One particular description mentions that the unicorn has "feet like an elephant." and reports were consistent that unicorns were wild and untamable... You know what has one horn, feet "like an elephant" and is very wild and untamable? The Indian Rhinoceros.

Some early descriptions of Unicorns are definitely that of Rhinoceroses.

By the Middle Ages Unicorns are becoming more "horse-like" in description but one thing is constant, THEY DO NOT HAVE HORSE HOOVES! Their hooves are cloven like that of a goat or antelope. Or... As is the case in this 1572 painting by Maerten de Vos painting, the rhino/elephant feet of earlier descriptions.

The 1658 book, The History of Four-Footed Beasts by Howard Topsell, was a zoological encyclopedia that contained amongst entries on real animals, several "mythical" beasts as well. However at this time, many believed that Unicorns were real animals due to mistranslations of The Bible, which misconstrued the Hebrew word Re'em as meaning Unicorn. It doesn't, and as Sumerian cognate Rimu suggests, the animal described was actually the Aurochs, or wild ox.

The Cuneiform symbol for Rimu. The word translates to "Wild" or "Powerful" If drawn with the triangle point down it evokes the image of a Bull. (Wild aurochs have cleft hooves by the way…)

During the middle ages a market for Unicorn horns began. The Horn had supposed magical abilities like curing poison, or bestowing immortality. Unicorn Horns began showing up in royal and church collections. Many of these horns were procured from Danish sailors.

SURPRISE! MID EPISODE GARTH'S CORNER!

Meet the Narwhal! Narwhals are an arctic dwelling relative of the Beluga whale. Male narwhals have a single tusk that can grow up to six feet in length and are a secondary sex characteristic, which means it has a role in attracting a mate. Danish sailors hunted the Narwhal and sold the tusks to unsuspecting European nobility and clergy eager for a Unicorn Horn.

Also during the Middle Ages, it became known that the best way to catch a unicorn was to lure it in with a virgin girl. Apparently the horn is a heavy handed metaphor for the penis. (See Least Haunted Episode 107: The Dick Knight Rises)

Depictions of unicorn hunts become a recurring theme in Middle Ages art. The most noteworthy example being The Unicorn Tapestries a series of 7 large 10ftx10ft tapestries showing a unicorn hunt from start to finish. Possibly made to commemorate the marriage of King Louis XII of France in the late 1500's. It is filled with coded Christian iconography, since by this time the unicorn had also become a symbol of Christ. The hunt of the unicorn is meant to be a metaphorical telling of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ to redeem the sins of the world.

This is the most famous tapestry from the series, number seven, The Unicorn in Captivity. Depicts a resurrected unicorn after the end of the hunt.

Throughout the many incarnations of Unicorns one thing was almost always constant, Unicorns were male. The Horn was meant to be a phallic image, and and unicorns came to be a symbol of the raw power of unbridled masculinity. All of that changed in 1968. In 1968 Peter S. Beagle published his book, The Last Unicorn, the titular character of which being a female unicorn. The book became a best seller and started the trend of linking unicorns to all things "Girly."

In 1982 the book was made into an animated film by the same studio that would later become Studio Ghibli. The film stars the voice talents of: Mia Farrow, Jeff Bridges, Alan Arkin, Christopher Lee, and Angela Lansbury, with music by the band AMERICA. (Note the cloven hooves!)

In the 1970s artist Lisa Frank began her career. Her rainbow colored unicorn artwork that was targeted specifically to girls did three things: 1) It swapped the gender of unicorns from a masculine symbol to a symbol of "Girl", 2) It introduced the rainbow colors that everyone presently expects when thinking of unicorns, and 3) It made a fuck ton of money.

The rainbow unicorn became the official logo of Lisa Frank, which in turn became a financial empire through the 1980s and 90s.

And copycats followed. Unicorns were now marketed specifically to girls. So successful was marketing that by the early 90s Unicorns also came to stand in for something else…

The gender transition of Unicorns from a masculine symbol to a feminine marketing juggernaut as well as the new found rainbow connection, really spoke to the queer community. Part of this was also the book The Last Unicorn as well. The feeling of being a rare "one of a kind" creature that many treat as mythical really spoke to the queer community. Also, would be remiss if I did not mention the 1985 film Legend, which is about Unicorns, and features Tim Curry as the embodiment of "Darkness" a role and costume which I have been told was the queer awakening for many...

The film also played with the old Maiden and Unicorn entrapment trope as well!

Today Unicorns are the second most ubiquitous "Mythical" creature next to Dragons. Cultural variants are many. They are also a marketing and capitalistic gold mine!

Used mostly to reinforce marketable gender roles unfortunately.

I, for one, am glad that the queer community can take Unicorns back to their wild roots, and reclaim the enigmatic, fluid, and strong imagery.

And lastly, have to shout out Enigma, and the 1990's cultural touchstone of the Pure Moods CD TV ads.

[castielsprostate]

for blorbo Bingo there’s this really cool werewolf guy not sure if you’ve heard of him his name is Garth

g-g-g-arth???????? never heard of him n-no *trembling, shivering, gyrating*

[nonbinary-beast]

And now, for the inevitable crossover between Devil's Advocate and Black UFO AUs so Garthe can die of jealousy while alien!KARR gets his brains fucked out of his head by AMaton and Blainebot.

KARRbot and Ted sit this one out, naturally so they can go fuck each other's brains out.

[darchildre]

"You're so normal you're even in love with me. You're so normal you're going to marry me." Greatest proposal of all time right here.

Sir, your meet-cute was you negging Irena about accidentally littering, you bought her a kitten she didn't want, and now you're belittling her anxieties about your future sex life. This is not a great footing for a relationship.

[kitkatscabinet]

POSSESSIVE KISSES

PAIRING: Tim Drake x gn! reader

REQUESTED: by anon as part of dc drabbles

You were smiling, laughing at something Garth had said to you, smacking him playfully on the arm. You, laughing, with Garth. Garth, who was like the world's unfunniest dude.

I mean, what could the two of you even be talking about that was so much better than anything you could discuss with him?

“Damn bro, you know Conner's the one with heat vision? Though, with how hard you're glaring at poor Garth over there, I reckon you might actually manifest superpowers.” Tim threw a quick, unimpressed look at a grinning Bart before his laser-focused gaze settled back on you. 

“Do you not trust them?” Bart eyes him judgmentally, “You know they don’t have eyes for anyone but you.” 

“It’s everyone else I don’t trust,” Tim grumbled. Why would he? Tim knew he was punching well above his weight when you had somehow agreed to go on a date with him. When that one date had turned into many more over the following months, Tim felt like the luckiest guy alive. He still did. You were, without a doubt, the greatest thing to ever happen to him. 

You’d never cheat on him; he trusted you implicitly, but that didn’t mean he had to like the way Garth was looking at you. 

Bart tries to hide an amused snort at Tim’s behaviour, and it's his final straw. He stands, the chair scraping obnoxiously against the floor as he rapidly closes the distance. You hear his approach, turning to smile at him, only to gasp when he slips a firm hand around your waist as he pulls you in and kisses you.

His free hand cups your face gently, directly opposing how he kisses you: hard, passionate, possessive.  

You gasped against his mouth, surprised, but a second later, you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hero suit. Your conversation with Garth is long forgotten, the world narrowing down to your boyfriend’s lips on yours and his strong hands gripping you tightly. 

Tim rarely does this—rarely lets his emotions leak through the cracks. But the kiss he presses to your mouth is anything but careful. It’s intense, searing, like he needs to remind you, and everyone else watching, that you’re his. 

You feel his fingers tighten slightly at your waist, not enough to hurt, just enough to anchor you. To claim you as his for the audience watching, whom you can’t find it in yourself to care about.

Garth clears his throat awkwardly from a few feet away, but Tim doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t break the kiss until he absolutely has to, and even then, he leans in just enough that his forehead rests against yours, his breath brushing your lips.

“You okay?” you whisper in amusement, eyes searching his as you try to distinguish what brought on this sudden behaviour.

“I’m fine,” he replies, voice low and a little hoarse. “Just... didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

You glance past him at Bart, who is poorly disguising his laughter behind a hand. “He wasn’t the only one looking,” you murmur teasingly.

Tim groans softly, but the corner of his mouth quirks. “I’m not sorry.”

You reach up and toy with his collar. “Good. I kinda liked it.”

Tim hums, eyes dipping to your lips again, possessive jealousy simmering into quiet affection. “Let ‘em look,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over your jaw. "Let them know who you belong to."

[outtamynoggin]

Justice League and Batfam, standing in the middle of a wrecked room with the walls broken, furniture in pieces, weird colored spots on the wall, bottles on the floor, smashed tv in the background, Wally hanging upside-down asleep, Donna in a new dimension, Garth blowing paint bubbles in the corner: …

Dick, pointing angrily at the wall: you! Are far too sober-

Roy, stumbling up from behind and turning him around to face the crowd

Dick: -to be talking to us right now

[deadhands69]

Karaoke: League of Villains

what happens when you go out to a karaoke bar with the league of villains? villain edition ▷ heroes

When the League of Villains has a night off near a karaoke bar, it's decided you'll all go! Grabbing a big table right in the middle, you all put in your drink orders, grab a huge basket of fries, and start looking through the song list.

Himiko Toga ♫ I put a spell on youuuu because you're mine ♫

Toga sings a lot of love songs. She gets really into it and has a surprisingly good voice. Usually it's cute, sometimes it's mildly threatening but you're into that...right? If she has a crush on you, she hasn't broken eye contact through an entire song. It's impressive.

Songs: I Put a Spell on You by Annie Lennox, One Way or Another by Blondie, and Paparazzi by Lady Gaga

Tomura Shigaraki ♫ disarm you with a smile and leave you like they left me here ♫

Shigaraki doesn't mind the attention as much as you'd assume. Being in front of a crowd doesn't bother him… But singing? That's a different story.

At first he's reluctant, saying he wants everyone else to go first. But after Twice gets him wasted (two shots. it takes two shots.) he decides, why not. No, he doesn't realize his song choices aren't the most uplifting - they seem perfectly fine to him, thanks.

Songs: Disarm by Smashing Pumpkins and Drain You by Nirvana

Dabi ♫ I watched a change in you, it's like you never had wings ♫

 I still firmly stand by my head canon that Dabi would love to go out with people who are drinking then proceed to have n/a drinks all night and watch the shit show. Especially at karaoke where there is much shit show to be seen.

(additionally, the last time he drank at a karaoke bar he sang Family by Badflower and he was not crying the lights were just bright and they burned a little, okay?)

He waits until the end of the night when everyone else is drunk before singing.

Songs:  Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash, Change by Deftones and Faint by Linkin Park

Magne ♫ cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide ♫

So you know that person who gets way too into singing the song You Outta Know by Alanis Morissette? That's Magne. She puts everything into it and none of you are quite sure if you should be applauding or concerned.

Songs: She also sings What's Up by 4 Non Blondes

Spinner ♫ there's a fire starting in my heart, reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark ♫

Spinner has been sitting quietly in the corner of the bar all night, watching as everyone else sings. Too quietly. Eventually, a few League members *cough* Compress and Twice *cough* decide he should join in the fun. He replies that he is having fun, but they've already pulled him onto the makeshift stage. He enjoys doing one song with them, but is very happy to resume his spot sitting and cheering everyone else on.

Songs: Rolling in the Deep by Adele (with Compress and Twice, they heard him singing it in the shower once and put the request in)

Twice ♫ dun dun do da do do da do do da doo doooo ♫

Twice is so excited to be here (no he isn't!) He put in fifteen of the most random songs possible. By the end of the night, it's just him and Compress passing the mic back and forth. He even does duets with his doubles!

Songs: A Whole New World from Little Mermaid, Reign in Blood by Slayer (including the instrumental parts), and Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks

Mr. Compress ♫ easy come easy go will you let me go let me goooo ♫

Compress does not simply sing, he performs. He picks something dramatic and also takes requests. By the end of the night, he's completely hogging the mic which is fine with the rest of the group since most of them didn't really want to sing anyways.

This goes on until around three am when most of the group are tired, drunk/hungover, and want to go home. Seeing that Dabi is about to burn the place down, Tomura grabs the mics with all five fingers.

Karaoke night is over.

Songs: sings a lot from musicals, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen (duet with Twice and his doubles), and anything else you want.

bnha masterlist

edit: sorry for the last minute edits, I've been trying to get them to go through since before it posted but tumblr keeps shitting the bed

taglists: @shigarakislaughter @cryptidfuckerofficial @minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme 

@dummi666 @lotus-flower420 @nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills 

@reireitaka @crwavee @baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter

@lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk @xytraxpy @venom-barf  @shiiigaraki

@thetinas21  @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16

@thesecond2demonking

[clairenatural]

hey sorry to ask you but what is the destiel lamppost thing? if u know what it is

Hi anon!!! I wasn't ignoring you I just wanted to be able to sit down and type out the lore.

So "why lamp"/the destiel lamp thing starts with 15x10, The Heroes' Journey, in which Dean and Sam are stripped of the luck/protections that being written as protagonists gives them by Chuck (very meta) and Dean ends up needing cavities filled.

Garth gives him laughing gas for the procedure, during which Dean has a dream of a black and white 50s style dance sequence. It takes place in the bunker and while initially it's Dean dancing with Garth, eventually Garth leaves and Dean runs over to pick up a lamp from the corner of the room to dance with. Here's the whole thing:

But once it's Dean and the lamp, the dance becomes markedly more romantic - he's dancing with the lamp as a partner, not like the tap dancing he and Garth do side-by-side.

Also important to note that they're dancing to "Let's Misbehave," which is about sex and also was written by Cole Porter, who was gay. This is a really good breakdown of the dance itself, the significance of the song and Cole Porter and its connections to old queer Hollywood.

At the end of the episode, Dean sees Bess and Garth dancing in their living room through the window and says "You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be."

This is pretty clearly associating the dream sequence, and Dean dancing with a lamp, as about Dean longing for a partner and therefore the lamp as a stand-in for that partner.

NOW. Meta was written as soon as this episode aired with people linking the lamp to Cas, and there has continued to be much better meta than I can write here - this one is in-depth and connects it to themes across the seasons and Dean's years-long character arc. "Cas is Lamp" even has its own superwiki page.

But besides all the normal meta deancas reasons and the fact that this comes at a time when Dean's character arc had been building both to him wanting to settle down with someone AND that someone being Cas (this is the episode right after The Trap and Dean's "I should have stopped you/of course I forgive you" prayer), Cas (and angels broadly) is associated with light and lamps throughout the series, perhaps most iconically in 4x16.

So, after 15x18, "the lamp thing" was something frequently cited and that we held onto as another thing they'd dropped alluding to (nay, ensuring - because they'd surely somehow have to wrap up Dean's own arc of wanting a partner to settle down with) a happy deancas endgame where Cas is rescued and they live happily ever after.

And then. 15x20 happened. And "why lamp" took off as part of a long list of "if they were just never going to mention Cas again, let alone resolve the confession or this very key part of Dean's story arc of wanting to settle down, why did they include [long list of things that make no sense with the ending we got]." Why lamp has become shorthand for a long list of missing links and loose ends and things that just don't add up. If deancas wasn't going to be the happy endgame, then why lamp. Why did they drop so many clues and work up to a very clear resolution for Dean's character arc if they were just going to drop it. Why lamp. It's one of those things that will haunt us because we will never get an answer. Okay grandma, let's get you to bed. But why lamp.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

We’ve Got Tonight || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader Summary: When you catch your boyfriend cheating you get your sweet revenge and a handsome stranger who steps in to protect you. Warnings: being cheated on, angst, injury

Songs: Shania Twain - Man! I feel like a woman Garth Brooks - Friends in low places Carrie Underwood - Before he cheats Kenny Rogers & Sheena Easton - We’ve got tonight

Lando couldn’t believe he had let Daniel drag him out to the Texan bar. It was completely polar opposite to anything he was used to, but Danny fit right in with his Stetson hat and cowboy boots. 

Lando winced into his glass as the latest woman to take the corner stage butchered a Shania Twain song but it didn’t seem to bother his drinking buddy as he left to join the rows of people line dancing. Lando was grateful when the song came to an end but it was short lived as he heard a familiar Australian accent on the mic talking the band into playing Friends in Low Places. Spinning around on his stool at the bar, the McLaren driver found his old teammate on the small stage grinning like a fool as the music started. 

Lando watched the older driver and envied the confidence he had to sing terribly to a bar full of strangers. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t hold a note or match the key - Daniel had presence and was always entertaining. The song was almost over when a change of light caught Lando’s eye and he swivelled back to see the saloon doors swing shut behind you. 

Lando nearly fell off his chair. The sight of your smile was dazzling and he swore the colours in the room were brighter because of it. He hardly remembered to breathe as you cast your eyes around the bar, searching for something he suddenly hoped he had. Disappointment landed heavy on his chest as your pretty eyes settled on the pool tables and he wondered which one of the handsome men was lucky enough to have you. 

He started to turn away and wash the bitter taste of jealousy from his mouth with his drink when he saw the smile dim. It was like a cloud had come and blocked the sun, shadows curving your lips down until they pressed to a hard line and your eyes narrowed on a man. Lando swallowed at the change thinking you was even more beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstorm. Beautiful, dangerous, deadly.

Then you were gone, the tassels on your boots swaying quickly as you disappeared out the door as quickly as you came. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Daniel asked as he dropped back into his seat. Lando hadn’t even noticed the song had ended while he watched the empty space in the doorway, another singer taking the stage. 

“N-nothing,” he stammered quickly as he turned back to the bar and raised his glass to his dry lips. 

“Whatever you say, mate,” Daniel chuckled as he clapped Lando on the back. “She was hot though, right?” 

Lando coughed and sputtered on his drink as Daniel laughed knowingly. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I’m not blind. And since you’re single, you should get off your ass and lasso yourself a lady friend. You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowgir-” Lando clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his cheeks turned pink. 

“You can’t say that, dude! You are totally going to get cancelled one day.”

Daniel shrugged and sent him a lopsided grin as he looked over Lando’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s  your lucky day.”

—

White hot rage left your hands shaking as you dropped the baseball bat and walked away, the metal clanking loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot. You didn’t even notice the trickle of blood running down your fingertips from cutting your palm with Damon’s hunting knife when you slashed the tyres of his Ford Raptor. You couldn’t feel anything except the burning need for revenge.

All the joy you had felt on the drive to the bar had been forgotten. The phone call with the news seemed like a lifetime ago and you hated him all the more for ruining what should have been the best day of your life so far.

After years of hard work you were finally catching a break and had been signed to Big Loud and would soon be recording your own country music. You had been so excited you had left work early and driven across town to surprise Damon. What a surprise he would get.

You looked ahead at the bar you had left, still seeing the way he curled himself around her, the pretense of pretending to teach her how to play pool - the same trick he had used to get close to you the night you met. Rotten bastard. It made you question the last two years together and how many other women he pulled the same moves on. You were going to teach him a lesson, and maybe save her from the same fate.

You swaggered into the bar and felt eyes on you, but the only pair that didn’t turn were his. Damon was too enraptured by the woman dancing against him, a dainty cocktail spilling over her glass. 

“Mind if I butt in next, Jimmy?” you asked the old man who loved to sing a bit of Kenny Rogers after a few drafts of beer. 

“Not at all, pumpkin, been a while since you joined us.” The song was just finishing and Jimmy jutted his chin at Damon as he poured two shots of whiskey, offering one to you. “Say, ain’t that your old man?”

“Not any more.” You downed the shot and inhaled the burn before taking the stage and telling the band what to play. 

—

Lando stepped off his stool as the song started and his feet carried him closer to the stage with Daniel right at his side, not that he noticed. You hadn’t even parted your lips but he knew, somehow he just knew, you would sound perfect. The song was one he recognised, maybe from a movie or just on the radio, but it hit differently when he saw your eyes boring holes into the couple still dancing together by the pool tables. 

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp and she's probably gettin' frisky. Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know…

Lando couldn’t breathe as he watched the realisation dawn on the stranger who looked up from the blonde woman he had been grinding on. The man’s jaw went slack and he half shoved the woman from his lap as he straightened up, a small shake of his head when he met the eyes on the stage. He could almost hear the whispered ‘oh no’ fall from his lips and he felt a smug satisfaction on your behalf. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats.

Your smile was dark and you watched Damon blanch at the sight, only making you feel even better for what you had done.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, 'cause the next time that he cheats, Oh, you know it won't be on me. No, not on me.

“No, no, baby, no,” Damon whined as he tugged the short strands of his hair and rushed out of the bar, leaving his date in a state of confusion until her brain caught up and her hands shot to cover her mouth in shock. 

“Yeah, he played us both, honey,” you said as you shoved the mic back in the stand and crossed your arms as the doors burst open.

“You crazy bitch!” Damon tried to rush the stage only to find himself shoved back by a handsome stranger who was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Not gonna happen, mate,” he said with a chuckle, his British accent sweet on the ears. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

“She ruined my fucking truck! Do you know how much that cost?”

You scoffed and stepped up behind the stranger, feeling bolder as you saw his arms flex ready to protect you. “Too much, but I guess you had to overcompensate for something small,” you said as your eyes darted to his trousers and the taller companion barely contained his laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Lando. She’s got fire.”

“Just give me my house key and leave, it’s over.” You held out your palm waiting until he fisted his keys from his pocket and cursed your name as he pulled it off the keyring. 

“Where the fuck am I meant to live?”

You looked over at the woman and asked, “Do you want to take him home, honey?” She shook her head now that she knew he was a no good cheater and your smile widened as you turned back to Damon. “You’ll be nice and cozy in your pickup.”

He stepped forward but Lando’s friend joined him shoulder to shoulder and Damon quickly realised he was not going to win whatever went down. With his tail between his legs, he turned and grumbled his way out the door before the band started up and Jimmy kicked off with We’ve Got Tonight. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you said as the two strangers finally deemed it safe to turn their backs on the door and face you. A pair of stormy blue eyes met yours and you blinked twice before you managed to look away, scanning a quick glance over the messy styled curls on his head to the slim black t-shirt that fitted perfectly. Your lips dried as you realised you were staring and he cleared his throat when he caught himself doing the same. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You bit your lip at the offer and tipped your head to the side. “I think I should be the one buying you a drink, your friend too. It’s the least I can do.”

“Daniel,” the taller man said with a grin and held his hand out to shake.

“Y/N.”

“Enchanté.”

“Uh, bless you.”

Lando laughed and the sound brought a smile to your face. “I know how you can thank me,” he said as he nodded to Jimmy who was grabbing a second microphone and pointing it your way. “I’m fairly sure this song is a duet. Know it?”

You smirked as you stepped back and gave him a wink before taking the stage, his eyes never leaving yours and you sang just for him.

We've got tonight, Who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, Let's find a way Turn out the light, Come take my hand now We've got tonight, babe, Why don't we stay?

His nod was almost imperceptible and you weren’t sure if you imagined it as you let the question hang in the air while the music faded out. In two long, self-certain steps, he closed the distance and offered his hand to help you down the steps and you grinned at the warmth of his palm as he laced your fingers with his.

Suddenly he froze and looked down, concern etching his features as he pulled his hand back and found it stained red. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

You blinked at the cut on your palm, only noticing the ache after your attention was drawn to it. “Huh, guess that’s what I get for slashing his tyres,” you murmured with a weak laugh.

“He deserved more than that,” Lando growled as he led you to the bar and asked for a first aid kit. “But he definitely didn’t deserve you.”

“You don’t know me, I could be a terrible person.” You winced as he cleaned the cut before pressing a bandage to stem the bleeding.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Y/N.” He pinned the bandage into place before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the top softly. “I knew it from your smile when you arrived, and everything after just proves you’re strong.”

Your chin dipped as you felt your face flush and you couldn’t remember the last time someone was so sweet. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. So how long are you in town for?”

His lips turned down slightly as he sighed and reluctantly admitted. “We fly back to London tomorrow.”

You felt the same disappointment but chased it away and squeezed his hand that still held yours, your eyes meeting with the same idea flitting past. “We’ve got tonight?”

His smile returned and grew until his eyes wrinkled with how wide it was, brightening up his whole face and sparking yours to match. “Yeah, we’ve got tonight.”

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Spend Christmas With You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: With the Holidays around the corner, Rafe only has one goal this season.

Masterlist

As the semester comes to an end, the Holiday break is fast approaching. Y/N is packing her suitcase for her flight home while Rafe pouts on her bed. “I still don’t get why you don’t want to come to Guadalupe with me and my family,” he grumbles as she packs another knitted sweater. “We weren’t together last Christmas.” The corners of her lips are slightly curved downward and her head swivels on itself. “I know we didn’t get to have Christmas together last year and I really do want to spend the Holidays with you. But I also want a white Christmas. You know, snow, fireplaces, and hot cocoa,” she argues. Rafe gets up from the bed and holds onto her arm, “Come on, Angel. Who needs those things when you can have beaches and sex on the beach? The drink and the act. Please, let me spend Christmas with you, Angel.” It’s rare to see Rafe begging, expect if it means he gets to spend more time with Y/N. “Rafe, that sounds really nice. But what about my family?” she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes bore into hers, ��They can come too. There are more than enough rooms in our beach house for your family.” He watches as a sparkle starts to form in her eyes, alongside her smile. “Really? I’ll go ask them if they want to go now,” she pulls out her phone and dials her mom’s number. 

———

Rafe’s hand is on the small of her back as he guides her down the stairs of the Camerons’ private jet. Y/N can feel water start to pool out of her pores. “Thank you again for inviting us on vacation with you guys,” he can hear Garth thank Ward ahead of them. Ward shakes his head, “No problem. Last year, Rafe was so sulky without Y/N with him, so I’m glad to do anything for them to be together this year.” Overhearing the men’s conversation, she giggles at the thought of her boyfriend missing her. Rafe frowns at her and brings her to his side. “Don’t laugh at my misfortune,” he laments, kissing her cheek. She throws her hand up in the air, “I’m sorry, but you are just so darn cute.” 

———

Christmas morning is a little bit different for her this year. Y/N and Rafe had found a secluded beach on the island and after they spent Christmas Eve with their families, they snuck away to it for an amazing night together. The grains of sand shift under her weight as she twists in his hold. The towel they are lying on barely does anything to keep the sand away from their skin. Her eyes flutter open to see Rafe’s still breathing shallowly. She kisses his lips and watches as he starts to wake up. “Merry Christmas, Rafe,” she whispers, burying her head in his neck. His lips press a kiss in her hair, “Merry Christmas, Angel. We should probably head back home. I know Wheezie is going to be dying to open the presents.” She agrees with his statement and they both get their bathing suits on to go home. 

“Looks like the love birds have finally pulled themselves out of wherever they were. Come on you two, we were just about to open presents,” Candace beckons Rafe and her daughter as they walk through the front door. The couple makes their way down into the living room, where the Christmas tree is, and settles on the floor. Rafe and Y/N’s hips brush against each other because of how close they are sitting. 

Each family member takes turns opening a gift with the watchful eyes of the other members. The next gift placed in Y/N’s lap is a rectangular prism wrapped in paper with tiny reindeer on them. The card sticking out behind the ribbon has her name written on it in Rafe’s chicken scratch and his name under it. She keeps the card and takes the time to take the tape off of the paper to preserve it. Underneath, she finds a white cardboard box with no identifiers as to what is inside. She gives Rafe a raised eyebrow and he encourages her to open it. Her thumb slots in the gap of the box’s lid, pulling it open. Inside is a mason jar decorated with ribbons and tiny hearts. The label says One Hundred Reasons Why I Love You in cursive writing she has never seen before. There are folded paper slips in the jar. She opens it up and picks one out. The writing is in the same effortful cursive. Reason #47: You never judge me for my mistakes. Instead, you help me grow from them. She is touched that he took the time to work on her gift because she is sure each reason is something just as thoughtful as this one. Tears brim in her eyes as she pulls him into a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs in his ear.

Next to open a gift is Rafe and it just so happened to be Y/N’s. He removes the tissue paper from the bag, folding it nicely for Y/N to reuse later. He finds a folded article of clothing inside. It is a jean jacket and on the back, there is an embroidered picture. The beautiful work shows Rafe and Y/N kissing. He turns the jacket so he can see the front to find Angel written in a heart on the breast pocket. Y/N has obviously put a lot of effort into the gift and he loves it. He brings her in for a kiss as a thank you. She smiles at the feel of his lips on her skin. This Christmas might not be spent in the snow, but Christmas in the sand is just as good. 

———

Rafe is getting lunch when Jaiden walks into the kitchen. Rafe’s back is facing the doorway so he doesn’t notice the other boy’s appearance. Jaiden stares at Rafe’s back in amazement. “Your jacket is so cool, Dude,” Jaiden compliments, heading to the fridge to get a beer. Rafe turns toward his fellow brother and beams with pride. “Why thank you, my angel made it for me. I’m one lucky guy,” he gushes. “Well, she did a great job,” Jaiden adds before leaving the room. Rafe can’t hide his grin as he finishes lunch and brings it upstairs to his angel. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

[leasthaunted]

Episode 123: Lights! Phoenix! Action!

Garth has returned from his special assignments, and Cody has returned from Phoenix with a tale to tell. Get out your telescopes and potato cameras, look upwards and through the past to the mid 90's as we explore one of the largest mass UFO sightings in history! And along the way we'll take a ride on a warthog too. 

As always, please come join the episode discussion on the Least Haunted Discord!

Enjoy the images and videos below!

Newspaper article with artists interpretation of eye witness accounts of UFO that flew over Arizona March 13th, 1997.

Flight path of UFO. Starting in Henderson, Nevada and finishing near Tucson, Arizona. A route of approximately 370 miles or 546 Kilometers. This was traveled in 1.25 hours.

At 10:00 pm Mike Crispin looks southward across Phoenix towards "South Mountain" and captures this footage.

Approximate line of sight of Mike Crispin, with his position being the North (top) end of the line.

Arizona Governor Fife Symington III holds a press conference about The Phoenix Lights with an aide dressed as an alien.

The A-10 Thunderbolt II aka "The Warthog" Close Air Support (CAS) jet aircraft. Development began in 1972, and it entered into service in 1977. Headquartered at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona.

The General Electric GAU-8 Avenger 30mm Gatling Gun.

The Gau-8 Avenger can fire 3,900 30 millimeter depleted uranium rounds a minute. The round on the left is the 30 millimeter round, with the left being the round of a 30.06 rifle for comparison.

The Barry Goldwater Gunnery Range and Training Area.

The LUU2 Illumination Parachute Flare.

Sales Brochure for the flare with selected specs. Note that it is a A-10 Warthog that is shown deploying the flare in official promotional material for the hardware.

A video Analyisis of the Crispin footage that shows what is really going on with the second set of lights seen on March 13th, 1997.

Enhanced image from the video that shows the night time lights superimposed on top of daylight footage from the same exact spot and angle. This proves that the lights were beyond South Mountain, and confirms the official explanation of a LUU2 flare training exercise over the Barry M. Goldwater Gunnery Range.

GARTH'S CORNER!

Comet Hale-Bopp

Alan Hale, Astronomer and one of two discoverers of the comet.

Thomas Bopp (1949-2018), the other discoverer of the comet.

Model of the path of Comet Hale-Bopp, credit for the animations goes to Phoenix7777 posted on Wikipedia - working from Data source: HORIZONS System, JPL, NASA.

3D model of the same

Heaven’s Gate website, which is still active.

How to report a comet: https://skyandtelescope.org/observing/how-to-report-a-comet-discovery/

[seraphims-wing]

Can’t Sleep Love

kicking off this poly fab five x reader AU (i think this will become a series?? it’ll get a name eventually lol) with a dick grayson fic bc i need to honor my roots as a dick grayson stan 💙

donna and wally have mentions and of course roy and garth will make their appearances in due time hehe

i think that especially after growing up with Bruce he grew to appreciate comfortable silences a lot especially when things feel chaotic (maybe i’m projecting a bit but also i’m the one writing so…)

anyways, enjoy!!

-

Y’know maybe you forgot that if Wally drinks an energy drink at 7pm he can sleep just fine. You on the other hand?

Damn speedster metabolism, you thought to yourself as Wally’s head rested in the crook of your neck. You could hear his soft snores as his leg draped over yours. Wally would never admit that he was clingy and yet whenever he’d sleep with you, he’d end up pressed against you or whoever else was beside him. On the other side of you, Donna’s head was resting on top of yours, her hand draped gently over your waist.

The rest of your partners were a tangle of limbs on the oversized sectional couch. Post-mission movie night was a success as always, the exhaustion catching up to everyone.

Well, except you.

You let out a soft sigh before you heard a rustle amidst the darkness. Peeking up you could see a shadow slinking out of the living room, footsteps so light you could barely hear a thing.

Okay, maybe not just you.

Luckily for you, your metahuman partners slept like the dead. You gently nudged the limbs keeping you trapped (which took a while considering Donna’s gentle yet firm Amazonian grip) and followed after Dick.

Light spilled out of the room from the slightly open door, the sound of keys briskly tapping in the otherwise quiet Tower. You gently nudged the door open, seeing Dick’s shoulders tense for a moment before you spoke quietly.

“We need to work on your stealth,” he murmured.

“Says the one who got caught sneaking away,” you teased as you stepped into the room, shutting the door behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, peering over his shoulder at the screens. He visibly relaxed as he turned to glance at you, fingers stilling.

“Forgot I had a report to finish,” he replied, eyes still darting back towards the screen. “You should go back to bed.” You raised an eyebrow at him, not buying it.

You plop down into one of the roller chairs beside him, glancing over the open files and paper spread across the desk. Now it’s his turn to raise an eyebrow at you and you just shrug, “You look like you could use the company.”

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “I won’t bother you, I promise. Just… humor me?” He let out a sigh and glanced back at the screen. You scooted a bit closer and saw his lips quirk up into a small smile.

Taking one of the files you started to flip through them, noting down important info from each and sneakily (not so sneakily) placing sticky notes in the corner of his eye.

You fought back a beaming grin when you saw him take each note, skimming over them as he wrote.

You both worked in silence for a while until he finally spoke up.

“Beast Brigade is a kind of stupid gang name,” he remarked after reading one of your notes.

“Right?!” You exclaimed, gaze snapping up to his before you sheepishly winced. Your voice dropped to a whisper, “Like come on if you’re going to do bad stuff then at least get a cooler name.”

Dick snickered, “And they suck at covering up evidence too.”

You shake your head and let out an exaggerated sigh, “Amateurs.”

His light chuckle makes your heart practically soar in your chest. You buried your face back into the files, hiding a smile.

As the hours grew longer, you scooted closer and closer to his chair, finding comfort in the sound of Dick’s typing. You let out a soft yawn as the consistent noise started to lull you to sleep.

It was nearly 4am by the time Dick finally finished the report. He sent it off to Bruce with a relieved sigh, stretching his arms over his head. He glanced over at you, his gaze softening when he saw you had drifted off. He reached over and took your hand, squeezing it gently as he let out a yawn.

Maybe… just a few more minutes with you.

The next morning you both woke up, still in the chairs but with a blanket draped over each of you. You winced as you felt your back ache as you opened your eyes to see a sticky note stuck to Dick’s forehead.

‘Told you so :P’

You watched as Dick pulled it off of his forehead with a puzzled expression. You let out a huff,

“Wally!”

-

i hope you enjoyed this silly little fic!! i’m still very new to tumblr but i’ll hopefully learn more about formatting and all that as i write more lol, thanks for reading!! 💗

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Are you now or have you ever been (Sam Winchester x female reader)

Fic masterlist

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Chapter 11 - Days and Days

“And Garth is a werewolf?” you ask, concluding your recap of what Sam has just told you. You’re standing next to Sam’s dresser, moving your clothes from an old carboard box Sam stored them in into a drawer.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, chuckling a little, then frowning. “He seems weirdly okay with it.” You can’t help but laugh as you close the drawer.

“If anyone’s gonna be cool about gaining some fur and fangs,” you say turning around, “it’s Garth.”

Sam is sitting on his bed, hands interlocked between his knees, nodding. You watch him for a second, take him in. His hair’s longer, he has some stubble, but he’s your Sam. Still, something seems different about him.

You push your hands into your back pockets, trying to act casual, like there is anything casual about this moment, this day, and walk towards where Sam is sitting, plop down on the bed next to him.

“Sounds like you had an interesting time,” you say, looking straight ahead and you hear Sam huff. He’s quiet for a moment, then shifts in that way that you know means he wants to say something. You turn to him, watch him expectantly but let him take his time.

“I didn’t move your things out until a week ago,” he says, giving you an awkward look and you frown at him. “I had them up here, but I thought I wasn’t going to ever see you again, that it would be too dangerous, with the wall and— I just needed to not see them for a while, I—”

“Sam,” you interrupt his stuttering, shaking your head. “It’s fine.” Sam opens his mouth again, then closes it.

“I wasn’t getting rid of them,” he says, eyes flicking up at you and then down.

“It’s been two years,” you say, indicating yourself. “I don’t expect you to… You had to move on at some point, that’s completely understandable.” Sam looks up at you, studies your face.

“It’s not like you knew I was coming back,” you continue, not sure why you’re talking yourself into this corner, why you keep going. “You’re young and attractive and, like, intensely charming.” Sam huffs at that a little, but his face remains tense. “I would totally understand that—if there was someone else, or, I don’t know, you had to… live your life.” You stop the sentence there, nervous to look at Sam’s face, nervous to see the answer to the question you didn’t ask there.

“There was no one else,” he says and you slowly look up at him. He seems serious, looks into your eyes. “And I didn’t move on.”

You need to take a breath at that. At the relief, the selfish, selfish relief, but also at the pain. The fact that Sam suffered, that he didn’t have the joy of falling in love, of being connected to someone. It breaks your heart. And it breaks it even more that you need to be honest with him. You let your gaze sink to the mattress before saying anything, but then look up at the last second. Sam deserves for you to look at him.

“I kissed Gadreel,” you say, and it takes Sam a second, then his eyebrows go up, he blinks.

“Oh,” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to be reasonable, hear you out.

“I mean,” you say, exhaling, “technically he kissed me. And technically I didn’t know he was Gadreel. But it still happened and I didn’t exactly stop it.” Sam blinks.

“Well,” he says, looking away, tugging at his sleeves to secure them on his arms, an unnecessary gesture since you know exactly how diligently Sam Winchester rolls up his sleeves. “It’s not like you remembered who you were, or who I was.” He avoids your gaze. He’s not trying to get mad or be upset, and you want to both kiss him and shake him for it.

“Do you—” he starts, then stops. He finally looks at you again. “Do you have feelings for him?”

You think about it. You felt things, in that motel room. It’s not love, and it’s intermingled with all the disappointment and betrayal you feel.

“I felt safe with him,” you answer, since it feels like it most encompasses what you mean. “I thought I could trust him.” You incline your head. “Of course, that was before I found out he’s a psychopathic, stalking, body-snatching murderer.” You huff, but it’s humorless. It’s a simplification of what Gadreel really is, but you’re still angry enough not to care.

Sam and you are both quiet for a moment. You’re not sure if he wants to say anything else, so you pick up again with a question you have, something that’s been needling at you since Sam finished his recap of the last couple of years.

“I was wondering,” you say, and Sam turns to you, “when you and Dean were closing the gates of Hell… why didn’t you?” Sam frowns a little, and you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know what you mean.

“I mean,” you continue, trying to make yourself understood, “you got so close, doing the trials, why didn’t you go through with it in the end?” Sam chews the inside of his cheek for a second before he answers.

“Because it would have killed me,” he finally says. You breathe in slowly.

“Oh,” you say, voice quiet.

“I wanted to finish it, though,” Sam says, looking down at the mattress between you two. “I was fine with it.” His words make a shiver run down your spine, make it feel like a big, cold hand is wrapping around your heart and squeezing it.

You reach your hand out, lay it over Sam’s. He looks up at you, but there’s nothing you want to say. You just needed to touch him.

“Dean and I had been arguing for months,” he slowly continues, “and you… you were gone. And it felt like closing the gates of Hell was a good reason for me to just…” He doesn’t continue, looks away, almost like he’s ashamed.

“But Dean wouldn’t let it happen,” he continues. “He felt too guilty, I think, for the way he had been, for making me think he didn’t… need me. I think that’s part of why he helped let Gadreel in.” Sam runs his free hand over his face, eyes flitting through the room, but finally landing on you again.

It’s almost as painful as seeing Sam in the hospital, how sick and pale he was getting while his visions of the devil stopped him from eating and sleeping. Knowing that he wanted to die, or at least didn’t want to live enough for it to make a difference.

“I know you wanted me to keep going,” he says, voice sounding a little thick as he gently shakes his head. “But I just… I couldn’t.”

You push up on your knee, lean forward, and your lips land on his forehead, just above his brow. Your hands go up to cup his face, thumbs tracing his cheeks as you move your mouth, kiss him again between his eyebrows. Then you pull back, look into his eyes. There are tears there, both in his and in yours.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” you say, voice cracking a little. Sam’s hand goes up and wraps around your wrist, holding it.

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry about,” he says, and you want to object. There’s plenty you feel sorry for. So you lean forward, your foreheads meeting as you both remain like that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asks quietly, and you don’t need him to clarify what he means. The deal you made. The one you made without telling Sam, only for him to find out on a cold, dark night with hounds scratching at the door, after he had already lost everything else. You sniff.

“Cause I was scared you would do something and I would lose you,” you admit. “Cause I wanted it to be me, because that was better than to go through losing you again.” Sam sighs.

“How about,” he says, “we just swear to be honest with each other from now on?”

You want to. You really want to. If the same thing happened again, and you could save Sam’s life by giving your own, you’d do it again in a heartbeat. But you would tell him. And you would talk about it, and live with the consequences. So you detach one hand from Sam’s face, and hold it out before him, extending your pinkie.

“Deal,” you say, and Sam looks down, smiles. Then he moves his hand, wraps his pinkie around yours.

“Deal,” he says. You both look up again at the same time.

You’re not sure who moves first, but when your lips meet, you couldn’t care less. You’re both careful, unsure, but with every second you learn about each other again. After a minute, Sam pulls back a little. His breathing is heavier.

“Maybe we shouldn’t rush,” he says, swallowing, his breath fanning over your lips. “Do you want to wait?” But you are already pulling him in again.

“It’s been two years, Sam,” you say, running the tip of your nose over his while you look into his eyes. “We’re not rushing.”

Sam looks at you for another second, then he wraps his arms around you, and you around him. He pulls you in, his chest pressing against yours as you keep kissing him, keep trying to get closer to him. You want to make up for lost time as well as for the future. If only such a thing was possible.

Sam leans forward, lays you down with your back on the mattress, hands running along your sides as if he's trying to commit you to memory. You run yours up his broad back, then into his hair, trying to keep him as close to you as possible, and then you’re both lost to each other.

“So they’re magical little fairies that just run around and randomly heal people?” you ask, frowning at Sam. He smiles.

“They fly around, actually,” he replies without looking at you.

A grin spreads over your face as you study him. He still looks a little pale, a little thinner than you would like. His hallucinations didn’t allow him to sleep or, in the end, eat, and you know it’s gonna take a while for all the damage to disappear.

He’s alive, that’s what’s important. He’s not talking to the wall or flinching every couple of seconds. That’s all that matters.

“And you think one of those things could be responsible for the miraculous healing journey of one Sam Winchester?” you ask, leaning forward, earning you another sideways grin from Sam before he raises his eyebrows as he reads something.

“And it looks like they’re all extinct,” Sam says, letting the book fall shut with a little shrug. You sigh, brush some hair out of your face. You stand up, lean over the table, arms positioned right and left to one of the other books on there.

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mutter, scanning the page. Sam looks at the page too, lays his hand on your side from where he’s sitting, absentmindedly rubs it up and down. You keep reading, but after a few seconds you turn to him with a cheeky smile.

“That’s very distracting,” you say and Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Oops,” he says, making you laugh. You step sideways, and when you drop yourself on his lap, he wraps his arms around you. He brings his face up to kiss you gently while you hug his shoulders.

“What about the research?” you say against his lips in-between the soft pecks.

“Screw the research,” he says and he strokes a hand up your back.

“That’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said,” you reply and Sam grins. His hand wanders into your hair, strokes your neck and you pet his cheek, brush some hair out of his face.

“And you’re really feeling okay?” you ask and he nods.

“I am,” he says, then shrugs. “I mean, I can’t explain it, but the hallucinations, they’re just…gone.” A shadow passes over his face for a second. “He’s gone.”

Sam doesn’t need to clarify who he’s talking about. The devil. Lucifer. The one you got out of Sam’s head just a few days ago by selling your soul.

You’re distracted from the memory when Sam leans in, kisses you again. You can’t help but smile at the feeling. The knowledge that you have him back. His hand runs up your leg.

“Let me show you how okay I feel,” he says and you giggle. But then you smell it.

You look up, frown. Sam doesn’t seem to notice, kisses your cheek.

“Do you smell that?” you ask, and look down at Sam. He frowns too, leans his head to the side a little.

“Smell what?” he asks. You can’t understand how he can’t smell it. The air is thick with it.

Sulfur. Something burning.

You stand, Sam’s hands still resting on you before he drops them. It’s coming from the bathroom, you’re sure. Slowly, you walk towards the door.

Your hand shakes when you reach for the door knob. Whatever is in there, you don’t want to see. But you have to.

The door flies open, ripped in your direction so hard that it bounces off the wall.

It’s you in there. You’re strapped to some kind of table, a table made of dark wood. No, not dark wood.

It’s wet with blood. The blood is coming from you, from the wounds on your body. There are so many of them that you barely consist of anything else.

With a sick sound, the you on the table turns her head toward you. Her eyelids are missing, so she stares at you, but then she opens her lipless mouth. There’s no tongue in there either, you know, but still you hear her voice.

“How are my boys?”

You shoot up to a sitting position, breath going fast. Immediately you look over, and what you see helps you calm yourself.

It’s Sam’s bedroom, in the bunker. Sam’s lying next to you, on his front, hugging the pillow under his head. He’s breathing slowly, broad, naked back rising and falling, and it looks like you didn’t wake him. You want to touch him, want to lay your hand on his skin, to know that it’s warm, that it’s him, just to confirm. But you don’t. Let him sleep. There’s going to be more nightmares, there always are. Let him sleep through this one.

Quiet as you can be, you slip out of bed and get dressed. You throw another look over your shoulder at Sam as you open the bedroom door, and then you walk outside.

You find Dean sitting in the room with the stairs that go outside, the one with the large table and the spaceship-like buttons and dashboards. He’s got his feet up on the table, beer next to him, is scrolling on his phone. He looks up when you walk in.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks, looking behind you. You wrap your arms around yourself as you step closer.

“Sleeping,” you reply and Dean wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Power him out already, did you?” he asks and you shake your head.

“You’re a pig, you know that, Winchester?” you reply with a chuckle and Dean shrugs, takes a sip from his beer. He raises the bottle.

“Want one?” he asks, but you shake your head.

“Later maybe,” you answer, then try to act like you’re just thinking of what you ask next: “Is Cas back yet?” Dean nods.

“Outside, with tall, winged and murderous,” he answers, “probably star gazing or something.” You nod.

“Okay,” you say, “I’m gonna say hi to him.” You start walking towards the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you turn around.

“Hey,” you say, and Dean looks up again. “You tracked my car.” Dean opens his mouth, then makes a face.

“Thank you,” you say. Dean closes his mouth, seemingly surprised.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure.” You turn, begin walking up the stairs.

“So you’re not mad about that, right?” Dean calls after you.

“Take the win, Dean,” you call over your shoulder, not looking back.

The door at the top of the stairs is heavy, but you manage to press it open. You’re surprised to find it dark outside, despite Dean’s comment – the bunker messes with your perception of time. You hope it’s the bunker, anyway, and not something else.

Castiel and Gadreel are standing a little way away. They are facing away from you, talking quietly, but they turn as you walk towards them. Castiel’s face lights up when he sees you, while Gadreel tenses.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asks as you stop just before him. You shrug.

“Okay so far,” you reply, trying pointedly not to look at Gadreel. “At least I haven’t felt the urge to start talking to invisible people yet.” You chuckle, and Cas has the decency to give a pained smile. You pull up your shoulders, clear your throat. “What were you two talking about?” Castiel half turns to Gadreel.

“We were just discussing our next steps,” he explains, “how to convince the angels that have joined Metatron that he is misleading them.” You narrow your eyes at them

“Our next steps?” you repeat. Castiel looks at you, maybe unsure of your reaction, but Gadreel takes a step closer.

“Castiel has been so kind as to accept my offer to join his army,” he says, in that same strange tone you know from him. “I recruited most of the angels that now work for Metatron, and I hope to convince them that they were wrong. That I was wrong.” You chew the inside of your cheek for a second.

“That’s good,” you say, and Gadreel seems surprised. “Anything to stop Metatron, right?”  Castiel nods before you turn to him.

“Do you mind giving Gadreel and me a second to talk?” you ask and Castiel looks over at his celestial brother, then back at you, doubt on his face, before he gives what is probably supposed to be a reassuring smile.

“Of course,” he says, “I’ll be inside.” You give Castiel a tight-lipped smile as he walks past you, and then you and Gadreel are alone.

You can tell he’s gearing up to say something, but you’re quicker.

“I’m grateful,” you say, looking up at him, “that you brought me back. And I know you were trying to protect me by removing my memories. I really get that.” You swallow, before you continue: “I just wanted you to know that.” Gadreel looks uncomfortable, pained almost.

“It doesn’t justify my lying to you,” he says and you nod.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” you say. “And it doesn’t undo what you’ve done. Or what I’ve done. Nothing will.” Gadreel looks down, stare blank.

“But I’m still happy you brought me back,” you continue, voice quieter. “Even if things have been bad. Even if they will get… worse. I am grateful.” He carefully looks back at you while you try to keep your face as neutral as possible. You said your piece, said what you came up here to say, and you’re halfway to turning around, but the question burns inside you so strongly that you turn back to him.

“Why?” you ask, finally. Gadreel looks at you. “Why did you have to pretend? Why did you lie to me? What was in it for you?”

Gadreel raises his head, looks at the stars. You follow his gaze. It’s dark out here, and they seem eerily close.

“I’ve spent millennia,” Gadreel finally says, “locked in a cell, three paces by two. I had one of the most honorable positions in all of Heaven and ruined everything, because I trusted my brother. And everyone in Heaven looked at me like I was the lowest of the low.” He takes a deep breath.

“When I was in Sam’s head,” he says, “I felt an immense connection to him. Because I didn’t know that there was another living thing out there that felt the way that I did.” You need to take a slow breath to steady yourself as you look back at Gadreel, at the pain and endless love it makes you feel for Sam.

“There was a moment,” Gadreel continues, his usually so stoic face filled with emotion, “of such self-hatred, that I was sure it was simply going to destroy me from the inside out. And Sam understood. He knew what it was like.” And then Gadreel looks down, looks at you.

“And you looked at him,” he continues in that strange cadence of his, “like no matter what he did, no matter what he thought of himself, you kept believing… he was right. He was good.”

“So?” you ask, staring at him. A sad smile tugs at the corners of Gadreel’s mouth.

“I suppose I wanted something like that too,” he replies. “To be looked at like someone who can find redemption, to be seen…by you.”

You need to take another breath to still the emotion in your chest. At what Gadreel has revealed about himself, and about Sam. It feels like there is something in your throat, tension. Suddenly you feel cold.

You looked like that at Sam, you always have, and you think you always will, however long always turns out to be in your situation. It’s not how you looked at Gadreel, or Karl. Not really. There’s nothing else he can answer for you.

“Take care, Gadreel,” you say, and he blinks.

“Take care,” he says.

Then you turn around and walk back into the bunker.

The click of the motel room door opening makes you look up, and you smile when you see it’s Sam.

“How did it go?” you ask, closing the laptop in front of you.

You’ve been investigating angel deaths for the past few weeks, this latest one a rogue one trying to attack one of Castiel’s followers. Sam and Dean went ahead to question the witnesses while you looked for a connection between the vessels.

“Fine, Cas was already there,” Sam says and you turn to him as he takes off the jacket of his suit. He chuckles. “He pretended to be our boss. Called us agents Spears and Aguilera.” You laugh at that and Sam grins.

“Which one were you?” you ask, standing up. Sam sighs, takes a step closer to you.

“He didn’t specify,” he says, laying his hands on your arms. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I think you’re definitely a Britney,” you conclude. Sam huffs, then frowns.

“Is that a…” he starts, then changes his approach. “What does that mean?” You smile, push yourself up on your toes and kiss his cheek.

“It’s a hair joke,” you say and Sam gives a mostly relieved chuckle. “Where’s Dean?”

“Waiting at the diner, we wanted to grab dinner,” he says and you nod, then untangle yourself from his hold, walk past him.

 “Good,” you say, “I’ll just use the bathroom and then we can go.”

You pull the door shut behind you, pee and wash your hands. You look at your reflection, noticing your hair is messy from where you’ve been worrying at it while going through evidence. So you pull open the drawer beneath the sink, where you’ve deposited your toiletries. You reach in, and when you look up again, the mirror explodes into a million pieces.

You feel your back meet the bathroom wall, the impact knocking the air out of your lungs. There is screaming, no, screeching, so loud, so close, that you can’t do anything but clasp your hands over your ears, sink to the floor, squeeze your eyes shut, hope that whatever it is, whatever is doing this to you, will be over in a second.

And then it is. The sounds stop suddenly. There’s something warm and wet running between the fingers of your right hand, but you barely notice, because then there is another sound.

Breathing. Close to you. Right in front of you.

You don’t want to open your eyes. You know exactly what you’ll see. But you do it anyway.

“How are my boys?” he says, so close you can smell the fetid smell of rotting flesh.

You’re still screaming when Sam grabs you by the shoulders, shakes you. It takes you a long time to register it’s him, and even then, your body takes longer.

“Hey,” he’s saying, “hey, it’s okay! There’s nothing there!” You’re shaking so hard that you think you’re going to be sick. Also, Sam is wrong. There is something there.

Sam is kneeling in front of you, and John is right behind him. Perched, like some kind of sick gargoyle, elbows on his knees and in one of his hands he’s holding a large shard of the mirror.

Sam lets go of you, examines your hand while you keep staring at John. You flinch when Sam accidentally touches what you now realize are cuts on your hand, but John stays right there.

“Did you break the mirror with your hand?” Sam asks, grabbing a towel from the edge of the bathtub nearby, gently pressing it against your hand. Only when he has done that, does he look back up at your face. His free hand goes back to your cheek, thumb gently stroking you to get your attention.

“What is it?” he asks, and John, behind him, grins a disgusting grin. You shake your head, try to look away, move your head, but you can’t.

“Tell me,” Sam says, voice soft but imploring, and you think you’ll go crazy if you don’t say it, if you don’t tell him that John is right there, right behind him, with that blood-dripping shard of glass in his hand.

“Y—your father,” you stutter.

Sam’s eyes widen, and then he slowly turns around where he’s kneeling. He looks into the now empty bathroom and you can see him shudder for a second, even though there is nothing there. He turns back to you, lips moving and eyes blinking, like he wants to say something.

He doesn’t. He brings his arms around you and pulls you in, holds you close. You collapse against his shoulder, not sobbing, not crying exactly, but sniffling, hiccups shaking you every few seconds, as the slow tip tap of your blood dripping to the floor lulls you in.

You watch as Castiel heals your hand, the pain slowly disappearing until it only feels sore and then stiff and then it’s gone. You make a fist, flex your fingers and then push it into your jacket pocket.

“Thank you,” you say and Castiel nods. You both look over to where Sam and Dean are standing, away from the Impala against which you are leaning, Cas next to you. The brothers are talking about something, maybe the case, maybe you. You can’t stop thinking about Sam’s shocked face, first at you hurting yourself, then at what you told him about John. Regret is thick in you now, at telling him. You know you swore to be honest with each other, but still. He shouldn’t need to carry that.

“If I asked you how you are doing,” Castiel’s deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “I probably wouldn’t be the first one to ask you that today, would I?”

You smile at him and Cas gives you a sweet, careful smile back. He seems so different. He’d already loosened up in the time you knew him, but the two years that you were gone seem to have significantly changed him. He seems almost human. Awkward, yes, unaware of most social cues, sure, but still.

“I’m okay,” you reply, the answer almost automatic. Then you correct yourself. “I could be better.” It’s technically the truth.

Castiel moves, leans against the car next to you, crossing his arms. It’s a strange move, and you can’t help but give him a confused sideways glance. He looks at you, seemingly embarrassed.

“Metatron gave me all of pop culture knowledge,” he explains. “It seems that for heart to hearts it’s helpful to be looking off into the same direction.” You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“That’s just basic Winchester knowledge,” you say, and Castiel smiles. So that’s what you both do, look off into the same direction, the one Sam and Dean are standing in.

“Could you rebuild the wall? In theory?” you ask, not looking at Castiel. “In a way that’s…sustainable?” Castiel takes a moment to answer.

“I could try,” he says. “I’m not at full strength, but it could help with the speed of…deterioration.” He looks your way, seemingly apologetic for his word choice.

“Would I have to leave the bunker?” you ask. “Leave Sam and Dean and you?”

“The wall Gadreel built,” Cas explains, “made you forget every part of your life, which is why everything triggered its destruction. A wall built specifically around your memories of Hell would be different. But there are still things that could destroy it.” You nod.

“So what’s the good news?” you try to joke.

“Building these walls,” Castiel continues, voice careful, like he’s considering every word he’s saying, “it’s not without its dangers. The human psyche is a complex thing. There’s no telling what side effects building another wall might have.” You nod.

“So I can go crazy from my memories of Hell, or I can go crazy from too much experimentation going on in my noggin,” you say. “It’s nice to have choices.” Castiel turns and smiles at you, catching the joke this time.

“Do you regret it?” he asks after a short pause. “Having Gadreel destroy it?” You think about that, look at Sam standing there, throwing looks your way every couple of seconds to make sure you’re not combusting on the spot.

“No,” you say finally, “not with the alternatives being what they are. I don’t know.” You need to look down, then, swallow.

“Cas,” you say, and you catch the angel turning his body towards you out of the corner of your eye. “The angels I helped Gadreel find… the ones he killed—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Castiel interjects before you have even finished the sentence. You need to take a deep breath.

“Wasn’t it, though?” you ask.

“You didn’t know that Gadreel was killing them,” Castiel says, voice clear. You look up at him then, at his earnest face, his slight frown.

“I’m just…” you start, then need to blink. “I’m just so sorry.” Sadness crosses Castiel’s face, but then he nods.

“I know,” he says. He leans against the car again, less awkward this time and then you both look forward again, lost in your own thoughts, until Sam and Dean walk towards you.

“Let’s get some grub,” Dean says.

The lights of the diner seem too bright and garish, making the food look artificial and a little disgusting. Still, you steal a fry off Dean’s plate, despite insisting you’re not hungry. It tastes bitter, but you take another bite, especially when you see Dean watching you while he chews his burger.

“You gonna pay me back for that?” he says and you make a face at him.

“No,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “not like it’s your money.”

Dean takes another bite, chews for a while, before he says: “I liked you better when you were all coy and damsel-y.” You snort and Dean grins around his food.

“So Dean and I have been thinking,” Sam says from next to you, and you turn to face him. “The research about the angels that might have joined Metatron, you can do that from the bunker, in theory. You don’t need to be out traveling the whole time.” You feel an uncomfortable sensation come over you, like you know what Sam is about to suggest.

“Yeah, but you guys need me,” you say, trying to sound cockier than you feel. “I totally beat that one guy’s ass last week. He nearly killed you two.” Sam smiles, nods.

“Yeah,” he says, “but—”

“I don’t need to be benched, Sam,” you interrupt him, then look at Dean, then Cas. “That’s what this is about, right? One freak out and I don’t get to play outside anymore. Seems a little hypocritical with what you guys have been up to over the years.” You widen your eyes to drive the point home, even getting Sam to chuckle, but you can already see he’s not going to back down.

“Just a little R&R,” Dean says, trying to make it sound like you’re going on vacation instead of retiring, which is what this will be. “Only until you get better.”

You swallow and look back at Sam. His expression is soft. If you really wanted to, really pushed it, you could probably convince him to let you go with them for a while longer. But you’re not sure if that is the best idea.

“Okay,” you say, and the visible relief on Sam’s face is almost worth the shattering doom you feel in the pit of your stomach. “But only until I get better.”

You get worse.

It starts with nightmares. You already have nightmares, any hunter worth their salt does, but they get more intense. Sometimes you can’t wake up, and in the blink of an eye, relive what in Hell was years, decades.  Sometimes you can’t move, lie there with your eyes ripped open wide, things nipping and biting and cutting at you. Sam trains himself to immediately see the signs when this happens, helps you come back into your body by rubbing your chest, helping you flex your hands until you can move again.

But most of the time, you wake up screaming, the pictures and smells and feelings still thick in the air around you. Sam calms you and you cry in his arms or keep shaking and whimpering for long minutes. Sometimes you can go back to sleep, but often you can’t.

Eating is fine on most days, but sometimes you can’t stomach the sight of food. There’s one day where you have an episode and you’re sure you’ve eaten part of yourself. You throw up, over and over, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. Sam finds you, washes your mouth with a wet cloth, helps you brush your teeth and then brings you to bed.

In the nights without nightmares, when you just can’t sleep because your brain is racing with the fear of everything that is already happening or will still happen, you wander the bunker in the hopes of not waking Sam. Sometimes you’re up until the early morning hours, greet him and Dean and Castiel, when he stops by, with coffee in the kitchen, or an elaborate breakfast. Or you’ll fall asleep somewhere else, in one of the armchairs in the library, at the kitchen table, cheek pressed against the smooth wood. Once sitting on the stairs between the library and the war room, head leaned against the pillar of the large archway. Tiredness simply overtakes you.

With how rarely, and at the same time often, you sleep, it becomes difficult to keep track of time. The bunker doesn’t help, the lack of natural light disorienting you. So often you go for walks in the wooded area outside. There’s a lake that Sam drags you to. He says he likes to jog around it, and you raise your eyebrows at him like he’s the crazy one. It makes him laugh and he wraps his arm around as you keep walking, presses his mouth against the top of your head. That day is a good day.

The weather is getting warmer.

Castiel still fights his angel war. Sometimes he mentions Gadreel, who has become his second-in-command, but he never visits the bunker. There’s losses on both sides, and Castiel looks like he’s carrying a heavy burden. He says that there is no way he can win this war with sheer numbers, because all the angels will be dead by then. But he doesn’t know any other way.

You lay your hand on his shoulder, and he lays his over it. You feel useless, helpless, powerless. If only there was something you could do.

You get worse.

The episodes get longer, and it becomes more difficult to tell what is real and what isn’t. Some days, you are as clear as you’ve ever been, but the next one, it’s like a changeling has taken your place.

Dark rings are starting to form under your eyes, and under Sam’s. He’s awake as often as you are, still spending hours every day trying to find information for Cas, anything that can help. Dean sometimes goes out still, for a case or to help the angels, but Sam doesn’t anymore, not after what happens with the photographs.

Dean never figures out how you found them. He’s sure they were in the drawer of his bedside table, but maybe he left them out. He doesn’t know, and now it doesn’t matter.

He got in an hour ago, showered, changed out of his clothes. Sam’s doing the same now after wanting to check on you first, so he’s not there when Dean walks into the kitchen.

He greets you, sitting there at the kitchen table, but you don’t react. You’re writing something, and Dean thinks that’s weird. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw you write something by hand.

He grabs a beer, and then walks up to you. When he sees what you’re actually doing, his blood freezes.

It’s his family pictures. The ones that have survived fire and death and blood and thirty years of chaos. It’s not a pen in your hand, but a knife and with a determined expression, you are scratching out his father’s face.

He grabs your arm harder than he means to, the beer he was holding dropping out of his hand, not shattering, only rolling away, but all he knows is that he needs to stop you. You try to pull your arm back, and then Dean grabs your other wrist, the one with the hand with the knife, and shakes it roughly to dislodge your hold on it. He doesn’t really think you’ll stab him, but it’s a trained instinct. But he must shake too roughly, caused by him seeing several photos you have already desecrated, because you cry out.

Sam is on him so quickly that Dean can’t react. He drags him back, away from you, and Dean lets go the second he sees your face. You look terrified, eyes ripped wide open and a soft, child-like sound leaving you. Sam calms you, or tries, and then gently leads you out of the room without so much as looking at Dean again.

Dean feels shame so thick it threatens to choke him. He grabbed you, hurt you, when he knows you’re sick, don’t know any better. The shame is so uncomfortable, so disgusting to him, though, that with one look at the ruined photos, all the righteous anger is back.

He stalks to Sam’s room, and Sam is just closing the door behind him, stepping into the hallway. He tries to keep a neutral face, but Dean can feel his little brother’s disdain roll off him like smoke.

“She needs to be kept in your room,” Dean hisses, finger pointing at the door, voice low and clear in saying that this isn’t a discussion. “Or you need to restrain her. I don’t give a crap, but you need to do something.”

Sam seems calm, almost unnervingly so. Dean wishes he would get to his level. Maybe a good old-fashioned shouting match is exactly what they need.

“I’m not gonna do that, Dean,” Sam says. He’s also not having a discussion. It causes more upheaval in Dean. He takes a step closer to Sam.

“Did you see what she did?” he shoots back. “The photographs? She’s losing it, Sam. And you need to do something about it.”

Dean only distantly registers the anger in Sam. It’s quieter than his rage, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

“Do you know why she did that?” Sam asks, looking at his brother. Dean widens his arms, then lets them drop.

“Cause she’s crazy?” he asks, distantly aware that his hurt feelings are making him say things he can’t take back.

Sam nearly snaps then. He feels like a trapped animal. The lack of sleep is one thing – he can deal with that, has his whole life. But seeing you like this? Seeing you slowly become less and less of who you are? He can’t take it. It will destroy him, he knows it.

“Because Dad’s the one who tortured her in Hell,” Sam says, grim satisfaction accompanying his words. “Because Dad said yes, Dean, and he tortured her, over and over.”

Dean freezes. There is a part of him, a big part, that no matter how old he gets, no matter how much he understands about his upbringing and himself, will always be responsible for defending his father.

He grabs Sam by the shirt and pushes him back against the wall of the hallway. Sam grunts at the impact, watches in fascination as the loyalty towards their father brings out the violence in Dean.

“You’re lying,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “He would never say yes.” But he sees the truth in Sam’s eyes. Knows this isn’t something his brother would say if he wasn’t absolutely sure it was true. It breaks Dean apart.

He drops his hands, lets go of Sam. The first step he takes back is almost a stumble, but he stays upright. Then he turns, walks into the bowels of the bunker without another word.

Sam keeps standing there. There are a million things he should do. There’s research to be done. Should he apologize to Dean? Look for him and comfort him? He needs to find something you will eat, something that won’t make you feel sick. He should go back in, check on you, and he will in a second, but just then all his strength leaves him.

His back still to the wall, he sinks down, all the way. His hands go to his face, and then up into his hair. He remains like that for a few minutes, allows the absolute helplessness he feels to seep into him.

He’s going to lose you again.

He’s going to lose you.

He can’t lose you.

You get worse.

“Sam,” you say through chapped lips.

He nods.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Is this real?” you ask, and Sam doesn’t know what you’re referring to. Nothing in the things you have said before this gives him any indicator. So he says the only thing he knows.

“You’re real,” he says. “I’m real.”

You nod, slowly, and then you squeeze your eyes shut, silent sobs rocking your shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, tears falling into the bedsheet below you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Sam takes your hands from where they are lying in front of you, holds them tightly in his.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, his own voice thick with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat.

“I love you,” Sam says, because with the panic hammering away at him it’s the only thing he knows is true. “I love you, I lo—”

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and Sam’s just about to doze off when it wakes him.

Quickly, he looks at you, but you are sleeping, chest rising and falling slowly, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. His heart blooms with love at the sight, at the fleeting joy of seeing you at peace for a little bit.

He opens the door and when he sees who’s there, he quickly steps outside, shuts it quietly behind him.

“Sam,” Gadreel says, and Sam looks up and down the hallway, distant worry he’s not sure is justified stirring in him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Gadreel raises his head slightly, not having expected a warm welcome.

“Castiel and all of us fighting with him are making our final move tomorrow,” Gadreel explains, then inclines his head. “I wanted to say… goodbye. Just in case.” Sam’s expression betrays nothing, but after a little while of studying Gadreel, he clears his throat and nods. Then he extends his hand.

“I wish you the best,” Sam says as Gadreel takes his hand, shakes it. “I hope you get that son of a bitch.” Gadreel smiles briefly, then looks at the door behind Sam.

“Can I see her?” he asks and Sam’s immediate urge is to say no. To protect you from anything and anyone, and let no one near you. But you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the angel in front of him. Maybe he should make an exception for once. So Sam steps aside. Gadreel hesitates for a moment, and then he opens the door.

The room is dark, only the light of the desk lamp illuminating it. He sees you lying in bed and you stir as he approaches and slowly sits at the edge, the mattress dipping under his vessel's weight. Gadreel’s not sure if you recognize him, but he doesn’t seem to scare you. You lie there, look up at him.

“You’re an angel,” you say eventually, and Gadreel nods.

“I am,” he says, “but not a very good one.”

“What did you do?” you ask. Gadreel sighs.

“I lied,” he says, “I hurt. I killed.” You push yourself up, first on your elbows and then to a sitting position. You study Gadreel, intensely, intimately. Despite you only seeing his vessel, he feels more scrutinized than he ever has before.

“So what now?” you ask. Gadreel needs to smile a little.

“Now I’m going to walk into the lion’s den,” he says, “and hope that I come out the other side. But if I don’t, that will be just.” You nod, slowly, even though he doesn’t think you understand.

“You’re not Karl,” you say finally, and Gadreel shakes his head.

“I never was,” he says. You lean forward a little and Gadreel leans in.

“I used to be someone else too,” you whisper conspiratorially. “I used to be someone. I don’t think I am anymore.”

If Gadreel had a heart, it would break in two. But he doesn’t, not anymore. He still has the spiritual concept of one, but not the organ. Because earlier this day, he cut it out of himself, screaming and whimpering from the pain, only his grace keeping his vessel from dying. It was a close call, but it brought him what he needed. The final ingredient for a powerful spell.

He reaches into his jacket, pulls out the small pouch, opens it. It’s a different powder than the one that helped bring you back from Hell, but just as potent. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday. With how long he’s lived, it might as well be.

He takes your hand, gently, and you let him. Lays his under it and closes it a little, so that yours is cupped. Then he pours the powder in. Says the incantation. The powder burns up in a tiny jet of flame. You pull your head back, but not your hand. In remains in Gadreel’s, even though it doesn’t need to be there anymore. He puts the pouch back, then lays his hand over yours.

He looks at you, sees as tiredness begins taking you over. Your eyelids getting heavy, shoulders sinking. It’s an expected side effect, but still, Gadreel watches with fascination the mechanics of the human body going to sleep.

Before you can fall back, he catches you. Lays you gently on your back, then pulls the blanket over you. In a final act of self-indulgence, he brushes some hair out of your face. Looks at you for another moment. Then he straightens and leaves the room.

Sam is still standing there, leaned against the wall, but he looks up when the door opens. Gadreel only nods when he walks past him. Sam turns, looks after the angel for a second. Wonders if he should go after him, talk to him again. But then he turns around, goes back into his room.

You’re still sleeping, which makes Sam endlessly happy. Carefully, he lies down next to you. He should get changed, get ready for bed, or maybe use the time while you’re sleeping to do some research. But he doesn’t want to. He simply doesn’t want to.

He holds your hand where it’s lying on the mattress, looks at your face and then his own eyelids are dropping. And before he knows it, Sam is asleep.

Gadreel walks into Metatron’s office, with more angels than he can count lying dead behind him. This is what he’s good at, after all. Maybe the only thing he’s ever been good at.

“Gadreel, Gadreel, Gadreel,” Metatron says from behind his desk as the angel stops a few feet before him. “Didn’t think I’d see you again after you turned traitor. Which, I mean, not exactly the plot twist of the century.” Metatron’s voice is dripping with sarcasm, but Gadreel only smiles at him.

“Maybe I’m a little predictable,” he says and Metatron raises an eyebrow at him.

“So,” he says, looking past his former right hand, “where’s Castiel? Is he gonna come in here and stick a flag in my desk?” Gadreel shakes his head.

“Castiel’s not coming,” he says. Suddenly, Metatron looks intrigued.

“Is that right?” he asks, maybe daring to hope that in the end, he can somehow still talk himself out of a gruesome end.

“It is,” Gadreel says.

“And why’s that?” Metatron asks. Gadreel actually shrugs, a thoroughly unnatural gesture on him.

“Because I told him you would be somewhere else,” Gadreel explains. Metatron grins, links his hands.

“Want me all to yourself, do you?” he asks and momentarily, Gadreel’s attention is drawn to the corner of the room before he can answer.

“I did,” he answers, and then, in a move even Metatron could not see coming, he sits in one of the chairs opposite his desk. Metatron clears his throat, the other angel’s calmness unnerving him.

“So what do you want from me?” he asks, trying to act collected, in control. Gadreel looks around the room, takes his time to think about his answer.

“I’m not a writer, of course,” Gadreel says, “but one thing you once said struck me as truthful to my own situation.” Metatron raises his eyebrows, motions for him to continue.

“You once said you have to keep working at a story, until you get it just right,” Gadreel continues. He’s sure he can feel someone breathing down his neck. It’s happening faster than he anticipated.

Good, he thinks. Not long now.

“And that reminded you of yourself?” Metatron asks, unable to leave the tone of condescension out of his voice. He still thinks he has the upper hand.

“It did,” Gadreel confirms. “Or I would like it to. The idea that no matter how many times you do wrong, you are forgiven if you do the right thing in the end was… appealing to me. For obvious reasons.” Metatron nods.

“I would imagine it was,” he answers. He leans forward, studying the angel before him. “So is this the end, Gadreel?” A sad smile passes over Gadreel’s face.

“When they say my name,” he says, slowly, “perhaps I will be remembered, not as the one who let the serpent in, but as one of the few who helped give Heaven a second chance.” As someone who, in the end, did what was right, he thinks, but doesn’t say. Someone who gave you a second chance as well.

Gadreel stands again and lets the angel blade fall from his sleeve into his hand. Metatron actually chuckles at that. If being God is believing yourself to be untouchable, he’s already doing the job right.

“That won’t hurt me,” Metatron says, petting the angel tablet lying on his desk next to his typewriter. “I know you’re an idiot, Gadreel, but even you should know that.”

The insult doesn’t hurt Gadreel. Not anymore. He hears low shuffling, someone dragging a knife down the side of his face.

How are my boys?

“I know,” Gadreel says. “But this can.”

He opens his jacket with one quick movement of his free hand. The symbols he cut into his chest when he removed his heart are still there, still sore and bleeding. He stopped himself from healing, just like he did when you looked after him. Turns out an angel’s heart is an important ingredient for two spells: one, to take someone’s suffering from them, and secondly, to make a bomb.

Gadreel sees Metatron’s eyes widen. Sees him begin to get up out of his chair, to do something, anything. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.

Gadreel closes his eyes, thinks of your face. Good as new, he hears you say again. He was naïve to think he ever could be. But maybe, in the end, he did something right.

He plunges the blade into himself, and for a second, nothing happens. Then light begins to emit from Gadreel, heat, so intense, so violent that it scorches everything in a quarter mile radius, including the would-be God, his very molecules blown into the wind.

There’s no redemption for Gadreel, his mind thinks when he’s already not a body anymore, just before he ceases to exist. Maybe he never stood a chance.

But he got to do one good thing.

You wake up with Sam’s head lying next to you on your pillow. You scoot closer to him, still half asleep, let your hand wander under his arm so you can hug him. In the next second, you feel him stir. You run your fingers over his back, notice he’s wearing a flannel. You slowly blink your eyes open, look down his body.

He’s wearing his day clothes. You shift around, enough that your lips land on his forehead.

“Are you wearing shoes to bed?” you ask quietly, and you’re not sure Sam is awake until you hear him breathe out through his nose.

“I meant to get up again,” he says, voice drowsy. “I’ll take them off.” But when he begins to move, you hold him closer.

“Five more minutes,” you mutter and hear him chuckle before he moves back, wraps his arm around you too. You’re both quiet for a moment, sleep close to overtaking you again.

“I had the weirdest dream,” you find yourself mumbling, and Sam makes a mhh sound. “We were in that… that horrible room we had in… where was it? The motel was called Casa Del Mar or something. With the ugly dolphins on the wallpaper?” Sam chuckles sleepily, confirming he remembers.

“And Dean was playing golf,” you continue, “but in the room. And the, the ball was a pigeon.” Sam huffs and you feel him move a little, shift his head.

“He tried to hit the ball but he kept missing it,” you continue, “and the pigeons were getting angry at him.”

Sam moves in a way that lets you know he raised his head and you blink your eyes open again to look at him. He’s watching you, studying you.

“What?” you ask, raising your head too.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asks. You frown at him, then look to the side for a moment.

“I feel…” you say, unsure what to say for a moment. “I feel fine, I think.”

Then you blink, and it hits you. You feel fine.

You push yourself up, Sam moving so you can sit. You look around the room, into the shadows in its corner. There’s no one there. You don’t hear anything, other than the noises Sam makes when he sits up too, his hands going to your thighs and resting there.

“I feel fine,” you repeat, an uneasiness coming over you. You look up, into Sam’s face. He seems solid, like he’s really there. But maybe this is it, maybe this is the final stage. Maybe you’ve truly lost it.

“I feel fine,” you repeat, hoping, praying that it is the truth.

[apocalypseornaw]

Jealousy Jealousy

Sam Winchester x reader

You're not sure if Sam wants to be with you or not until a night out makes a green streak pop up in him

Warnings: cursing, slight mention of sex

You weren't sure what it was between you and the youngest Winchester. There was a pull neither of you could deny, even if you wanted to. The way his lips felt on your skin, how his touch made you melt... you hated and loved it.

You hated it because there was never a label put on it, he'd have you in his arms for hours one night then the next it would seem as if he'd forgotten you existed outside of being someone he hunted with and someone who took up residence in the bunker as well. It was driving you insane because even though when it had started you were clear that no feelings beyond friendship were supposed to come into the equation somewhere along the way you'd fallen head over heels for Sam and hated yourself for it because he couldn't do something as simple as refer to himself as your boyfriend.

The thought had occurred to you about mentioning it to Dean but how pathetic would it look to go whining to his big brother? No matter if he was also one of your closest friends.

You let it go for weeks until one day Alicia and Max called to see if you wanted to go out with them. They were going to be a few towns over and Max's boyfriend was going out with them too so you figured with two men there it would be safe enough to enjoy a night out, especially since one of the men was an extremely strong witch and the other was a hunter as well.

Sam was gone, something about meeting a hunter Garth had sent towards Lebanon for some supplies so you just left a note telling the boys where you were going and assuring them who you would be with so they wouldn't worry. You didn't think anything about it as you walked up the steps to Alicia's waiting car.

Dean and Sam walked into the bunker not quite two hours after you left "Y/N!" Dean called the moment his boots hit the bottom step but when you didn't pop around a corner his eyebrows furrowed slightly "She call you about a hunt coming up?" He asked Sam who shook his head as he checked his phone to see there were no missed calls or texts from you.

The three of you had an assigned area for notes to be left to each other in the library so Sam headed that way and found a note sitting atop his and Dean's initials that were carved into the table. "She went out with Alicia, Max and Marcus" he told Dean who'd followed him into the library. Dean looked at the letter then nodded "Wanna go meet up with them? Been a while since we saw the Banes"

Sam nodded slowly, wondering why you hadn't texted or called him to say you were heading out. "Cmon then" Dean told him nudging his shoulder slightly.

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

You listened as Alicia told you about Max bitching the entire time they hunted an arachne. "In his defense they give me the ick too" you laughed.

Marcus grinned at you across his glass "The ick Y/N? Really?" You tossed a balled up napkin at his head "Shush you" Max laughed before cutting his eyes at you "So has Sam put a label on things?" You looked towards Marcus who shrugged "Yeah he told me"

You groaned dramatically before laying your head over on the table "No, he hasn't. The man is killing me cause one minute he's doing unspeakable things to me then the next he'll barely touch me around other people, even around Dean!"

Alicia patted your back soothingly "Wanna dance?" You nodded "Yes" Max and Marcus cracked up at your tone before Max looked between the two of you "Stay close enough I can keep an eye" you knew what he meant and loved him for being protective. You nodded then grabbed Alicia's hand "Cmon ma'am"

---------

Dean was the first into the bar, glancing around for Max. He waved when he spotted him and headed for the table him and Marcus were sitting at. Sam followed behind Dean and felt his stomach drop when he didn't see you at the table with the other men but then he followed where Max was pointing to and saw you were dancing with Alicia.

It amazed him after how long he'd known you that you could still stop him dead in his tracks but damn could you. Jeans and a simple black top looked nothing less then perfect on you. He watched for a second with a smile as you twirled Alicia around then pulled her back closer to you, both of you laughing.

---------

He headed for the table and was met with Marcus half way "Cmon Sam. We got bar duty" he laughed and fell in step with Marcus, the two of you them chatting about the last few months of their lives.

He had just paid when he heard a guy make a comment about the two women dancing. Out of the entire bar you and Alicia were the only two women dancing together. He listened in to see if it was a situation where he needed to intervene, some men were simply creeps and he wasn't letting anything happen to you or Alicia. "They're both gorgeous but that one in the black top? She's something else"

He felt a bit of jealousy but pushed it down, neither men were being outright inappropriate about you. He didn't notice the way Marcus was also listening and gauging his response. They grabbed the drinks then headed back to the table.

----------

You and Alicia had just sat back down and you smiled when you saw him and Marcus "Did either of you grab us a drink?" Sam held up your usual and Marcus held up Alicia's. Both of you smiled broadly as you took your drinks.

A few more minutes passed and Sam had forgotten the men at the bar but Marcus had kept an eye on them and not so subtly got Dean and Max's attention when the one who'd been eyeing you headed towards the table where all of you sat.

You were talking to Dean when you heard a throat clear so you looked up to see a man standing next to the table. He was cleaner cut, nice looking and was looking directly at you "I don't mean to interrupt or overstep but if you aren't here with either of these fellas can I buy you a drink?"

You smiled and opened your mouth to gently reject him but before you could Sam was wrapping his arms around you "Sorry man, you're a little too late. I'm her boyfriend" you knew your eyes had widened but the man was considerate enough to simply tell Sam "You're a lucky man" before wishing you all a goodnight.

You sat there for a moment because Sam hadn't moved. He was still holding you against him, damn near pulling you in his lap. "Boyfriend?" Dean spoke first causing the rest of the occupants around the table to barely bite back laughs. You glanced up at Sam whose jaw was clenched tightly "Sam?"

He half smiled and you could see a bit of nerves peeking out of his demeanor "I mean, I think I am? Aren't I?" You laughed lightly before pulling him into a quick kiss. When you pulled away you nodded "Yeah you're the boyfriend and I got to admit, that was kind of hot" he grinned at your words as Dean groaned "Jesus you two I hear enough. Don't make me suffer more" which made Alicia, Max and Marcus crack up laughing.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Right After All: Part Five

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Warnings: slow burn angst, fluff

Summary: It's yours and Clarissa's birthday. Sam and Dean throw a party in the Bunker for you two which makes you realize two things. One, you and Dean are more alike than you think. Two, your feelings for him are only going to get stronger.

Right After All Masterlist

Square Filled: jack kline (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

It’s right there in black, thick ink. Clarissa makes sure to put it on every calendar she can find every single year. May 9th. The day you and Clarissa were born. She was born five minutes before you, making you the younger twin. The more you grow older, the less your birthday matters to you. Sure, you always hang with friends and eventually your parents, but you don’t get excited about it anymore.

Clarissa, on the other hand, loves her birthday. She makes it a big spectacle and invites almost everyone she knows. Your parents are in another country for work so you’ll have to do something with them when they get back, so it’s up to you and Clarissa to do something if you want.

You leave your room and go down to the kitchen where she is. She’s texting someone on her phone with a huge smile on her face.

“What are you smiling about? Who are you texting?” you ask and get a water bottle from the fridge.

“Dean. He says to come over in an hour.”

Yeah, that’s right. Dean hasn’t lived with you since he got better. He moved out not that long ago to join his brother back at the Bunker. You didn’t realize how lonely the house got when you didn’t have him to come home to.

“Does this have anything to do with our birthday?”

“I don’t know. He didn't say.”

You know it does. Her birthday is all she could talk about for the past month.

“Happy birthday, Clarissa.”

“Happy birthday to you, too,” she grins.

If you’re going to go over to the Bunker, you need to get dressed. The present you got for your sister is in the car because you didn’t know what you were doing party-wise. If you went to a party, then it would be in the car for you to grab at a moment’s notice. She saw you doing that and put your present in there, too.

The Bunker is only thirty minutes away so it doesn’t take long to get there. There are no cars on the street or anything to indicate Dean has something up his sleeve. Knowing Clarissa, he has to. She wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t at least throw her a party the day of. You park on the side of the street and grab the presents from the back.

You two walk to the front door and knock, only for Sam to open it.

“Hey, come on in.” You two do and he closes the door behind you. “Let me take those.”

“Thanks. What’s going on? Where is Dean?” you ask.

“In the library.”

It’s suspiciously quiet. You and Clarissa walk into the library and out pops everyone Dean knows. Jack, Castiel, Jody, Donna, Clarie, Alex, Garth and his wife, Eileen, Charlie, Rowena, and Gabriel. It’s a small party but super meaningful. Clarissa doesn’t look too happy to be partying with a bunch of people she doesn’t know but you know she has plans with her friends this weekend.

Dean’s cast is off but he still has to take it easy while the leg continues to heal. The wounds on his abdomen have mostly healed but are scabbing over. He likes staying with you and Clarissa but he really misses his bed and is glad he’s back in it.

“Happy birthday!!” everyone shouts.

“Thank you!”

You go around and greet everyone before allowing yourself to take in the decorations of the Bunker. Sam must have done a lot of this since Dean has never been the one to pay attention to detail. There are games set up all over the library like beer pong in one corner, card games in another, and a table full of alcohol and food.

The first game you decide to play is Cards Against Humanity. Everyone sits in a circle and grabs their cards before one person reads out the black card. Everyone else will choose one of their white cards to place down, and the person with the black card picks the funniest white card that best goes with the black one.

“What brought the orgy to a grinding halt?” Gabirle reads.

Everyone shuffles through their white cards, putting one down at a time. Once everyone does so, Gabriel shuffles them before reading them out loud. He gets to the last one and starts giggling like a schoolgirl.

“What is it?” you ask with a grin.

“I choose this one: Child Protective Services.” Everyone laughs at how crude the joke is. “Who put this one down?”

“I did,” Jack says. “What’s an orgy?”

Again, you laugh at how innocent he is. Maybe you shouldn’t be playing this game with someone like him. 

About an hour has passed before people start getting bored of this game. Dean grabs three alcohol bottles and brings them over to the group.

“Never Have I Ever!” He must have had a few drinks before this because he looks a little tipsy. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever tried a flavored condom.”

You pick up your glass and take a sip along with a few others in the group. There was this one guy who had grape-flavored condoms and you almost threw up. That’s the first and only time you have ever tried one.

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Jack says. Everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. How does he know about all of this? “What? Dean gave me a book to read.”

This time, almost everyone drinks. The only people who don’t are Jack, Claire, Alex, Garth, and his wife.

“Really? You’re drinking?” Dean asks you.

“What can I say? I’m a twin,” you grin.

Since Castiel is so innocent and hasn’t really done anything, he gets bored of watching everyone else drink and decides on another game that everyone can play. It’s called Suck and Blow where one person holds a card to their mouth just by breathing in. They have to pass it to the person on their right or left, and they blow the card over to the person who then catches it with their mouth and sucks to hold it to their face. If the person drops it on their own, i.e. can’t suck long enough, they have to take a shot or a drink. If the person drops it with another person, both of them have to kiss.

Luck would have it that you’re sitting right next to Dean with Clarissa on the other side of him. The direction is going clockwise which means you’d have to pass the card to Dean when it comes to you. Suddenly, all the alcohol you’ve drunk is gone from your system. What if you drop it while passing it to him? Would you kiss him in front of everyone? Would you be able to keep it PG?

Garth and his wife kiss, Alex takes a shot, and Gabriel practically makes out with Rowena. Castiel does a good job of sucking the card to his face as he passes it to you. You like Castiel but never in that sense so you make sure the card is secure to your mouth before pulling away from the angel.

You turn to Dean and lock eyes with him. One second is all it takes to immediately feel the connection between you two. He meets you halfway and presses his lips to the other side of the card. Your eyes haven’t left his even as you blow on it to get it unstuck from your mouth. You pull away before anyone else can see that there might be something between you two.

He turns to Clarissa and passes the card to her but she purposefully drops it just so she can kiss her boyfriend. You immediately look away from them because you can’t help but picture yourself as her. You two are identical twins. It’s hard not to think of yourself in her shoes when she looks exactly like you.

Everyone gets bored of this game easily as soon as people drop the card on purpose just to kiss someone they want to. After that, people kind of form their own groups and do their own thing. A game of beer pong is set up but you don’t feel like partying with them anymore.

You go to the kitchen to get away from everyone. You let them tire themselves out until it’s time to give the presents. You’re not a materialistic person so you don’t need a lot of presents but Clarissa is the complete opposite of you. She loves getting gifts and opening them. She’ll have a better time doing this than you will.

“That’s from me,” Dean says when you grab a present from the table. “For you.”

You open the package and take the top of the box off, gasping at what’s inside. “You got me a gun? This is so cool. Thank you, Dean.”

“I got it personalized with your name on the side.”

“This is amazing. Thank you.”

You don’t have a lot of practice shooting guns but now you’re gonna have to learn. Sam got you a collection of books and Castiel got you nursing equipment you can use at the hospital. Those three gifts are the best ones out of everything you got. 

“I want this one first! Don’t tell me who gave it to me. I want to guess,” Clarissa grins.

She takes a medium-sized box and tears into the package with her perfectly manicured nails. Her smile is wiped off her face when she sees what’s inside.

“What is it?” you ask.

“A pink knife, a pink gun, and a pink taser? Who got me this?”

You look around the room to gauge everyone’s reactions. Dean looks like someone hit his dog with a car and he’s trying to hide it. He got her this. She doesn’t like it at all. He opens his mouth to answer but you jump in before he can.

“I did.” Clarissa looks at you. You can feel Dean’s eyes on you but you ignore him. “I got you those. You can’t ever be too careful out there.”

“Come on, you know me better than this,” she shakes her head and puts the box on the ground.

“Here, this one is from Dean. Open this.”

You grab the present you got her and hand it to her. It’s a small box that piques her curiosity. The box is long and velvety which usually means it’s for jewelry. She opens the long case and gasps in delight. Inside is a tennis bracelet with her name engraved into it.

“Oh, my God! I love it!” She jumps into his arms and presses kisses along his neck and jaw. “Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you.”

You can’t look at Dean but you can feel his eyes on you. The end of the party is meant for people who want to drink and chat before leaving. Jody, Donna, and the girls leave since they have a long drive ahead of them. Garth and his wife need to get back to their kids so they leave after the presents are done. The party is slowly getting smaller but the people who are left have a few more hours in them.

If you stay here any longer, you’ll have a panic attack so you sneak away from the party and find yourself wandering the halls of the Bunker. You’ve been here plenty of times but you never really know what resides here.

You follow the hallway to a small staircase leading down to the gun range. Fitting seeing how you need to practice shooting. There is already a gun on the table from whoever used it last, so you grab it and inspect it. You don’t shoot it but you do aim it as if you are.

“You need to switch the safety off if you want to shoot it.”

You jump at the sudden voice coming from the door. Dean stands there with his hands in his pockets.

“I know. I don’t want to shoot it.”

“I know what you did back there. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” You keep your back to him so you don’t have to look at him. “I did it because I didn’t want to hear her whine about it.”

“Right,” Dean whispers. He walks closer to you until you can feel his body heat on your back. “Do you want me to show you how to use that gun?”

“Sure.”

Dean wraps his arms around you and grabs the gun while it’s still in your hands. He’s talking but you don’t hear a word he’s saying. All you can focus on is the feel of his arms around you, the way his chest feels against your back, and the heat coming from his breath on your neck.m What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you get him out of your mind? Why is he the only one you’re having trouble with?

“Got it?” Dean asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I think.”

Dean raises both your hands and aims the gun at the dummy at the other end of the room. He shoots it three times before removing his hands from yours. You find yourself leaning into him but he’s already moving away from you. It’s the alcohol. It has to be.

“See? You got it.”

“Thanks.”

You turn your head and look at him with hooded eyes. You can’t help it when your eyes drop to his lips, and he licks his bottom lip in response. The door to the gun range opens and Clarissa pops her head open, causing you to move away from Dean quickly.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Here I am,” he says without taking his eyes off you.

“Come on, let me try my new clothes on for you.”

You let Clarissa drag Dean away just as much as he lets her. There is no way you’re going to drive thirty minutes back home after drinking even though you know you’re fine. There are so many bedrooms in the Bunker, you decide to sleep over for the night.

However, you can’t sleep. All you can think about is Dean pressed against you. This isn’t fair. He’s just a man. How are you letting him have this much control over you? You yank the blanket off you and leave your room in search of what? What are you looking for? Anything that might help you sleep.

You wander into the garage and see the shiny black Impala Dean is so fond of. She’s a beautiful car. She’s lucky to have Dean as an owner. Classic cars are much cooler than modern cars so the fact that he has this is just amazing. You’ll never see a better-looking car that is used every day than this one.

“What are you doing up?”

You look back to see Dean walking into the garage. Of course, he’s here. “I can’t sleep. I decided admiring your car is a better use of my time.”

“Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“I’ve always wanted to drive her if I’m being honest.”

Dean holds up a finger and returns back into the Bunker. He comes back out holding the keys to his car.

“You still have ten minutes left of your birthday. This is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it.”

You don’t hesitate to take the keys from him. The car runs better than you thought she did. Driving her on the open road with no other car in sight is everything you hoped it would be. You and Dean don’t say much during this drive because what is there to say? You don’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing.

You pull into a spot dedicated for cars to pull over if they want to take a break and enjoy the scenery but you don’t get out. Instead, you admire the trees the moon illuminates.

“It’s so peaceful out here and beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You look at Dean to see he’s already looking at you.

“Thank you for my gift. I really like it.”

“You’re welcome.”

A piece of hair falls in your face but before you have a chance to move it yourself, Dean reaches over and tucks it behind your ear. He keeps his hand on your jaw and runs his thumb over your cheekbone. There is no one else on the road. No Clarissa to interrupt. No one else to see what might happen.

He’s leaning in but you’re not sure if you have what it takes to resist him. You want nothing more than to kiss him but what kind of sister would you be if you did that to Clarissa? You’re a lot of things but unfaithful isn’t one of them. Dean’s nose barely touches yours before you pull away quickly with a shake of your head.

You open the driver’s door and hop out of the car while Dean stays inside.

“You can drive home.”

What the hell are you doing, Dean? Why is it so hard to pick one?

Dean doesn’t say a word as he slides behind the wheel. You get in on the other side and allow the ride home to be spent in silence.

What the hell are you doing, Y/N? Why is it so hard to stay away from him?

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[yamball]

ok krakenblr can we talk about our newest special guy? Because he’s been waiting, he’s been working, he’s gone THROUGH it to be there and he is truly the definition of staying silly

I am, of course, talking about our fruit punch-sipping, grilled chicken-eating, gluten-avoiding baby defenseman:

Ryker Evans

Introduction

Ryker Garth Evans was born December 13, 2001 in Calgary.

His dad runs a successful hockey skills camp in Calgary, which is how he came to share the ice with elite hockey players throughout his life.

It’s also how he’s become very close family friends with Cale Makar and how he celebrated Cale’s Cup day with him (no, he didn’t touch the Cup)

Look at this cutie at three years old (x)

So he’s got everything going well and then when he’s around 10, he starts getting SUPER sick. Like missing a ton of school sick. He’s underdeveloped and small, not to mention sick and struggling with a ton of stomach pain.

He’s diagnosed with celiac disease, changes his diet and routines immediately, and has been managing it ever since. Tough ass kid from the start

While he eventually gets a growth spurt, it’s late, so a lot of this time is marked by scouts remarking on his skills in relation to his small size. One, who saw him at 15, said this: “The skill level he had was next-level skill. And his courage. He was like, 100 pounds and he would go into corners with guys that were 180 or 190 and come away with the puck. He was never afraid of anyone.” (X)

His dad said similarly, “There were a lot of times when he was a better player and they said ‘Oh, he was just too small.’ Even though it was blatantly obvious he was a better player, they said he was too small.”

But he’s a true analytics darling to anyone who actually looks past his size to see his skill. His dad’s a power skating coach, so his skating skills are also REALLY special. Scouts who really watch him fall in love with his skill and lobby for him successfully.

He’s selected by the Regina Pats in 2016 for Juniors. Notably, he’s named an A for the 2020-2021 season, the same season Connor Bedard joins the team.

NHL Draft Time (2020)

Okay, so. Ryker Evans hopes to be drafted for the 2020 draft. And actually, he’d been hopeful for 2019 as well (it didn’t work out then). But 2020, he’s REALLY counting on those hopes.

Every single team passes over him. He just simply isn’t chosen.

Of the snub, he says “It definitely puts a chip on your shoulder. It definitely makes you work harder. It definitely makes you want to prove everybody wrong.” (X)

He gets to work in that 20-21 season. But like I said, that’s the Connor Bedard season. So scouts start asking: is Ryker Evans actually growing in skill with his points increase or just getting the puck to our New Special Child?

Imagine being a good defenseman and contributing excellent passes to a wonderful player and having it count against you lmao I get so angry whatever

THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING THOUGH

NHL Draft Time (2021)

So in 2021 :) Ryker is again waiting for the draft

The hopes are somewhat high but not astronomical. He figures if he’s chosen, it’ll be a later round and he’s not a masochist looking for disappointment.

So he actually sleeps in lmao he misses the beginning of the second

And despite all the doubt around his actual skill, despite all the HATERS….General Manager Ron Francis makes Ryker Garth Evans the second EVER draft selection of the Seattle Kraken.

Ryker is selected in the second round, 35th overall

His parents watch this, shocked, and quickly wake him up in time for a phone call

The phone call is very cute but he does admit he was sleeping lmao

Ryker heads back to Regina for the season but before he does, he notes: “I always wanted to prove everybody wrong. But now, since Seattle drafted me, I kind of have to prove them right.” (X)

Final Juniors Year

He’s great in the 2021-2022. Truly the one of the only players that can keep up with Bedard

They’re trading points back and forth and both are named to the all-star team for the WHL (nice!)

He leads all defensemen in points in the WHL

At the end of the season, he agrees to terms on his three-year ELC, setting the stage for his jump to the AHL next season

Coachella Valley Firebirds

Ryker joins the Kraken camp but fails to make the team roster. This isn’t surprising, as the Kraken had added Justin Schultz to the blue line in the off-season and so had a very clear and solid defensive core

Defensemen also take a longer time to develop well (I won’t go into this, but if you ever wanna chat about it/want sources on it, happy to do so! It’s fascinating to me), so Ryker’s rightful place was with the brand new Coachella Valley Firebirds

He trades the snowy Alberta weather for the desert, becoming a core part of this super close team.

Of this time, he says, “My whole career, everyone’s kind of doubted me. But I’ve been given some opportunities lately, and I just have to capitalize on them and show that I belong. That’s my mindset.” (X)

He also picks up the nickname Blade Boy (discussed here) and Garth. While Garth is his middle name, the Firebirds apparently started calling him that exclusively when a roster at an away game printed his name as Garth Evans

The 22-23 season was a tragic fairytale for both the NHL and AHL level of this franchise. CVF quickly endeared itself to a brand new community with huge wins and a huge dose of fun and personality from their players

This is not a CVF primer so I can’t get into it TOO much but oh my god. It’s so much you guys. When Dan Bylsma said Joey Daccord could’ve run for mayor and won in that town, you gotta believe him

Ryker lives with Luke Henman and Henman’s gf through the season. He apparently is NOT a good cook but he tries (the Tenny’s Talks with Henny is excellent)

Ryker really is able to develop as a player while in CVF, including going all the way to the Calder Cup Finals in their inaugural year

He is also able to develop alongside Tye Kartye, who has the distinct honor of being undrafted twice instead of Ryker’s just once. Tye is a very important part of this story because they’re some of the youngest guys growing together. (X picture cred)

Particularly under the leadership of Coach Jess Campbell, Tye goes from undrafted fourth liner to scoring in his NHL debut in the fucking playoffs against reigning Stanley Cup Champions….in a mere season.

Ryker is seeing that too. That’s the kind of culture he’s being developed in, too.

Ryker also gives us the all-time phrase “Nate Dogg, what happened?” in response to watching Tye’s first goal which is so 🥰

So the CVF season continues, going all the way to the end

The final is decided in game 7 overtime and they lose, which brings the fairytale to a tragic little end, but Coachella still cheers like crazy for the guys and chants Joey’s name even after he lets that final puck in

If I think about that game too much I get really sad so we are moving on

But not before I show you this really sad picture of Ryker on his hands and knees next to Joey just after the Bears win (x)

ughhhhhhhhh anyway

Seattle Kraken 2022-2023

Ryker did not make the opening night roster for the Kraken in 22-23

In explaining this decision and his hopes for Ryker, Dave Hakstol said he wanted Ryker (and others, like Shane Wright), to take their time in the AHL and play like they’re some of the best players in that league. Because they are.

But Ryker is called up on December 5, 2023 to spark life into the team when Schultz is injured.

When he was called up, he noted that he had been watching almost ever Kraken game, noting the systems that they were using just in case he had the opportunity to join.

Now that Schultz is back (at the time of writing this), Ryker’s been scratched once but has also played. Seems like they’re rotating him in evenly with the others

Why? Because he’s a big piece of the Kraken Future (tm)

(x) ^^ filed under “my whole heart” tbh

Looking Beyond by Looking Back

Last year and into this year, Ryker has been positioned as who will eventually take over a Vince Dunn-like position as the top offensive defenseman on the team. He’s drawn a lot of comparisons to him, especially because of the shared systems that the Firebirds and the Kraken run; he takes up the same role often, albeit with fewer minutes.

It’s also notable that he’s been slotted with Larsson during both the 2022 and 2023 preseason at times. It shows where Ryker WILL go (top line, with a stay at home defenseman) (my dream would be will borgen but that’s another story ok) though he isn’t there yet

We have to credit Coach Jess with a lot here again okay: she ran the power play coaching in Coachella Valley. Ryker has already quarterbacked a successful power play in his first few NHL games. (Dunner runs the first unit; Ryker’s been running the second)

While we don’t know how future seasons will shake up, Ryker’s early and successful call-up this season shows that they’re happy with his development and we should count on him being here for a while. (EDIT: on December 30, he was sent down again. We may not see him up again for a while 😔)

Not only for his skill, but for his identity. There were, by all accounts, better scouted and perhaps more skilled players on the draft board when the Kraken chose him.

But they, like his juniors’ team, chose him not just because of his skill but because of who he is. Because he’s battled adversity from an early age. Adversity from people who doubted him and from his own body.

That’s our kid. That’s our Blade Boy.

Now go watch Tenny’s Talks if you haven’t