#and even that was years ago so my memory is p flimsy outside of these videos I'm watching.

[daz4i]

man I've been watching a lot of saw videos lately and ppl keep coming back to "jigsaw always breaks his own rules, his morality is always so wishy-washy and flimsy at best, and he hurts people for really dumb reasons sometimes like addiction or mental illness" and it's like. yeah that's the point. ppl say the movies take it too seriously and try to show his morality in a positive light and no, no they don't?? at least the way i see it. imo his character (and honestly every predecessor he later has) is a p good criticism of the whole concept of laws and the justice system and how one person's morality shouldn't dictate who lives or dies and what punishment they get for what crime. idk if that's even the goal of them bc I'll admit i never read too deeply into it but imo if you look at it through this lense then the whole thing about his morality makes way more sense. also you're not really supposed to root for him like guys he is a serial killer who tortures people for what he thinks is a noble reason it's not like you're meant to agree with everything he does or thinks 😭

[kleinemuisje]

Theodosia Hamilton

Part 4

24th of November, 1801. Philip woke up with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to remember whether he'd dreamt about anything that night, but it was all slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers. A dark figure with a gun, and someone counting, counting up to 7...

He shook himself off as if he were a dog, and leapt out of bed. It was just a nightmare, he reminded himself firmly. He was far too old to still be scared of a nightmare. He walked across the room and flung open the curtains, basking in what little early morning sun was filtering through the window, trying to dispel the remnants of his dream.

He failed. It haunted him all through the rest of the morning, despite his mothers best efforts to find out what was wrong, his fathers rough words of comfort, his siblings practical jokes and awkward hugs. He was morose, and it showed, but he could not for the life of him figure out why. He should be able to shake off a nightmare more easily than this, shouldn't he?

Making his excuses shortly after breakfast, he retired to his room, where he sat sulking by the windowsill fiddling with a pistol. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Before he had the time to shout "Come in!", his father had already marched into the room, looking resolute. Philip sighed. He couldn't guess why his father wanted to talk to him, but he did know they'd end up fighting - they always did, now.

"Son." The older Hamilton cleared his throat awkwardly, sitting down gingerly on the edge of Philips bed. "Look, I know we haven't gotten on since, well... you know, but I'd like to think you could still come to me for some fatherly advice. I know why you've been moping around all day."

Philip glanced over at him, surprised.

"Look son, I've been there too. When I was a young man, before I met your mother, there were plenty of other girls that caught my eye as well. But you have to realise that this Burr girl - it is her, isn't it? I know you met her a few nights ago, Burr wrote to me of it, and I thought that might have set this off. Anyway, this Burr girl - she's completely unsuitable. You see that, Philip, don't you?", he asked, despairing.

"I mean, her father's been my enemy since last years election, he defected from our party to join Jefferson, of all people, he doesn't stand up for any of his views when it comes to a proper debate, it's a miracle he made it to Vice President in the first place-

The sound of a knock on the door stopped him - and quite possibly saved him, too, thought Philip darkly, laying his gun down on the cabinet. If he heard another one of those self righteous speeches...

Out of curiosity, he glanced down to see who was at the door. A dark head of long hair, one long lithe arm raised, a dress that looked oddly familiar...

Philip jumped up and bolted out of his room, ignoring his fathers questions. He met his mother at the door, but before she could open it he grabbed hold of the handle and gave her a pleading look and she stepped away, seeming almost amused. Sucking in one deep breath, he swung the door open, and tried to put a polite smile on his face.

It was her. She'd been about to knock again, and her hand was still raised before him. She seemed startled by how suddenly he'd appeared there, and moved her hand back down to her side slowly, almost cautiously. On impulse, Philip took hold of it. He was still smiling, but it was a different smile now - no longer so much the casual expression convention demanded but something deeper, something more honest.

He was jolted out of his reverie when his mother cleared her throat. "Philip, why don't you show our guest in? I'm sure she must be cold by now, the weathers been dreadful..."

Philip stepped backwards, blushing, but forgot to let go of her hand, and ended up half dragging Theodosia across the threshold and into the Hamilton house. When he realised what he'd done the blush in his face only increased, until he thought he must be positively scarlet. Muttering some breathless apologies, he turned round and strode through to the drawing room, his mother audibly sighing and inviting her in, before shutting the door behind her.

The first minute sitting around the table in the drawing room, waiting for the tea his mother had called for to arrive, was almost unbearably awkward. All attempts at an actual conversation stuttered into silence, and nothing Philip tried seemed able to keep the discussion moving.

Theodosia had, she explained briefly, come only briefly to thank him for 'rescuing her' (her words, met with a yet deeper blush and a muttered denial from Philip) from the street outside the theatre. It was only when she mentioned what had happened with Eacker that Eliza stopped looking shrewdly between her son and her guest and glared sharply at Philip.

"He had a gun, did you say, Miss Burr?"

Her words dripped from her mouth like acid, and Philip winced, knowing he'd be in real trouble as soon as Theodosia left. Theodosia, on the other hand, seemed to realise her mistake, and faltered, trying to take back what she had said.

"Yes, Mrs Hamilton, he did - but I'm sure whatever reason that was for can be no fault of your son - indeed, once my father had scared Mr Eacker off, Mr Hamilton was more than willing to let it go."

Philip hid desperately behind her flimsy excuse. "I was, mother - I mean, I did. It was barely a fight at all, anyway, I was just annoyed about some stupid things he said. All I was doing was returning Theodo- returning Miss Burr, I mean, to her fathers house."

At that moment, their tea arrived, and Philip breathed a great, internal sigh of relief, casting about for a new topic of conversation. His mind settled on Maria Jefferson, and he asked Theodosia whether she'd been alright, not caring about the answer, looking only for an excuse to gaze intently at her without seeming rude.

Theodosia replied in the positive, and mentioned that she'd gone back home to her husband and their young son near Monticello - and as soon as she said it, Philip remembered his own summer holidays to Virginia, staying on the Washington estate. When he said as much to Theodosia, she told him that she'd been down there too, only a few weeks before - although she had stayed with the Jeffersons instead of the Washingtons, of course.

She spoke of long, warm days in the sun, with the air so arid that she had at one point cracked an egg on her balcony, just to see if it would fry - of the sound of cicadas so deafening in the night she thought she'd go mad with it - of the ballroom in Jeffersons home, which was so stately and so encrusted in gold and diamonds that she was almost afraid to touch anything, for fear that she break it...

Philip interrupted occasionally, adding his own thoughts and his own memories, but for the most part he was content to watch her joyfully recollect all that had happened that past summer, as if he could breathe in her happiness, or the warmth she spoke with.

It was a long time before he realised that his mother had disappeared, but he did not concern himself with it. There was too much for him to take in the moment to wonder properly about where she might have went, and it was only when he heard faintly the sound of raised voices floating down the staircase that he realised she had gone upstairs to stop his father from interrupting the two of them.

He looked at Theodosia, and saw that she had heard the voices too, and that she knew what they meant, and was instantly pained - not just embarrassed, but physically hurt, wanting her to think of him and his family well.

But perhaps she saw that pain reflected in his eyes, because she took his hand and said quietly, "Well, I must be going sir. I only came to thank you."

Philip stood. He took her other hand in his empty one and said hurriedly, "Philip. Call... call me Philip."

"And I am Theodosia..." she said it softly, almost whispering, when his mother came gliding down the stairs, looking strained. The two of them jumped apart as she smiled politely at Theodosia, saying, "Well, I am sorry, Miss Burr, but it seems that my husband and I must be going. I would invite you to make use of the hospitality of my household, but it seems I cannot trust my son for the evening without him running off and getting into some sort of gunfight. If you don't mind...

Theodosia hurried out, saying that she'd already overstayed her welcome, despite Philip and Eliza's denials. She turned to him for a moment before she left, and he breathed in one last time - she was wearing some sort of perfume, he was sure of it, he must remember that perfume - and then she was gone, a carriage waiting for her at the edge of the road.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Philip heard his father striding down the stairs. He turned around to face the music.

Full Story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/236660130-theodosia-hamilton

[imagineteamfreewill]

What He Never Had - Part 4

Title: What He Never Had

Pairing: Reader x Sam

Word Count: 1,415

Warnings: Witches/spells

Summary: Sam Winchester has a history of his relationships ending poorly, something you didn’t know when you hooked up with him the next morning. After something goes very wrong the next morning, he has the option to right the wrong and let you go, or hope that you can still reciprocate the feelings he has for you when all is the way it’s supposed to be. Your time together would change both of your lives forever, but it’s up to Sam as to whether the change would happen at all.

A/N: Most of this is told from Sam’s POV, but some is from the reader’s perspective. It takes place in Season 12; however, this story diverges from canon. For the sake of this fic, please ignore the season’s timeline and major plot.

What He Never Had Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

________________

“Did you find out who she is?” Sam’s voice was hard to hear through the motel window, but here you were, pressing your ear against the glass to try and figure out why he couldn’t take the call in front of you. You knew it was Dean that was calling since you’d seen the caller ID and nobody else ever called him, but for some reason, Sam had excused himself outside instead of answering it like he normally did.

He was quiet for a moment before you heard him groan. You watched through the gap between the curtains as he ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed it over his face. Chewing on your lip, you pressed your ear against the window again.

“—the bunker for possible spells,” Sam was saying. “I need to know what kind of spell it is, and if she’ll get hurt because of it. I can’t be responsible if she something happens to her, Dean. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.” He paused, a strange expression on his face.

“What? No! I’m not falling for her, I just—” Sam gave an annoyed sigh. “Yeah. Okay. Call me back later.” You scrambled away from the window and went back to the bed, sitting on the edge and focusing your eyes on the TV just as Sam stepped back into the motel room. He was giving you a nervous look when you turned to smile at him.

“Everything okay?” you asked, your happy expression fading. You could tell the smile he gave you was forced.

“Yeah.” He was quiet for a moment as he set his phone down on the table, clearly still lost in his thoughts. You turned your attention back to the movie playing on the grainy TV, waiting for him to say something. “Hey, Y/N? Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” you replied with a grin. Your feeble attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Sam pressed his lips together and looked down at the floor. Grabbing the remote off the bedspread, you turned off the film so you could give him all of your attention. Sam rested his weight against the back of one of the chairs as you moved to sit cross-legged. He was silent again and you waited, somewhat nervous to hear what he would ask. Your thoughts kept wandering back to what he had said to Dean on the phone about falling for somebody. Sam had already fallen for you—he’d proposed just over a year ago—and it made you both anxious and angry to even think that he could be falling in love with another woman while he was engaged to you.

“What do you remember about us? I mean, about our relationship before this past week,” Sam clarified. You stared at him for a moment, confused.

“What do you mean ‘before this past week?” you asked. Sam chewed on his lip. You could practically see the restless thoughts bouncing around in his head, wondering if you were seeing through his careful questioning.

“I mean… What’s our story? Tell me about how we met, the dates we’ve been on, how I proposed…” He trailed off and you scoffed. Your anxiety was long gone now.

“Are you telling me you forgot all of that? Everything? I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if you suggested that you forgot a few minor things, but this is ridiculous, Sam.”

“Humor me. Please?” You watched him, unsure if he was kidding or not. Finally, you took a deep breath and thought back as far as you could remember, searching your memory for the moment you’d met Sam Winchester. You frowned when you realized you couldn’t remember. Sam was watching you, his eyes filled with apprehension.

“Um… Well, we went on normal dates like other couples. You know, dinner, movies, bowling…” As the words left your mouth you realized how flimsy your answer was and your heart clenched. Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out why you couldn’t remember the things he was asking of you. You couldn’t think of how you had met, any specific dates you’d been on, inside jokes, or any presents you’d given each other for Christmas, anniversaries, and birthdays. For the things you could remember, the details were cloudy; you could only truly remember how long you’d been dating and that you were engaged. Thinking harder, you realized that you couldn’t remember how Sam had proposed at all. Unconsciously, you touched your ring finger, noticing almost immediately that it was empty of any semblance of an engagement ring. You hadn’t really thought about having a ring before, and now you could see that neither you nor Sam were wearing rings of any kind. Slowly, you looked up to meet Sam’s gaze.

“You can’t remember any of it, can you?” he whispered. You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as your breath caught in your throat. He crossed the gap separating the two of you in one big step and cupped your face in his hands, kneeling on the carpet in front of you so he was almost at eye-level. You looked down as he used his thumbs to brush away the tears spilling onto your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” you sniffled. You felt like a complete failure and it was utterly humiliating. Sam shook his head and pulled you into his arms. His grip around you was tight and you relaxed against him, sniffling and letting his presence comfort you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not upset. I’m not upset with you.”

“But you should be,” you replied, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rush-hour traffic outside your motel. “I can’t remember anything, and I lost my ring! Why aren’t you wearing yours, Sam? What happened to our rings?” Distress filled your voice and Sam started rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. The rings don’t matter right now. We can figure out the rings later,” Sam said. He pulled out of the hug to look at you, and you sobered up a little when you saw how serious his expression was. Your heart began to flutter in your chest again, anxiety causing its rhythm to grow unsteady.

“Y/N, if I ask you something, do you promise to answer me honestly, even if it sounds crazy?” he questioned. You nodded, somewhat hesitant at his request. Sam moved to sit on the edge of the motel bed beside you, the side of his knee barely resting against yours. “When we went to breakfast at the diner after we had that fight, something happened to you when you went to the bathroom. I don’t know what it was, but I really need you to tell me everything you remember. Can you do that for me?” Confused, you stared blankly at him for a moment before looking down at your hands. Your cuticles were ragged; you tended to pick at them whenever you were worried, and you couldn’t stop yourself from picking at them even more while you thought about what Sam had asked. The whole morning was somewhat hazy in your mind. After a few minutes, however, you finally grabbed onto a solid memory.

“There was a woman in the bathroom with me,” you finally told him. “A really weird woman. I don’t… I don’t remember liking her.” Sam nodded.

“Did she have brown hair? Somewhat tall? Did she say anything to you?” he asked. His questions came faster than you could think of answers and you shrugged a little. You didn’t remember anything else, and it pained you to admit that. It suddenly seemed that you couldn’t recall a lot of things. Sam gave you a comforting smile, noticing the confusion and anguish that was no doubt written all over your face.

“It’s okay. Just keep thinking for me, okay?” You nodded in reply. Sam stood from the bed and grabbed his phone from the table.

“Where are you going?” you blurted out, wanting desperately for him to stay and comfort you some more. That’s what fiancés were supposed to do, and Sam was still your fiancé, memories or otherwise.

“I need to go call Dean about something. Just stay here and keep thinking for me, alright?” He headed back outside before you could answer, leaving you alone with your empty thoughts.

________________

Forever Tag List: @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @deathtonormalcy56, @purgatoan, @feelmyroarrrr, @shadowgirl077, @mogarukes, @buckysmetallicstump, @amaranthinecastiel, @jpadjackles, @d-s-winchester, @kickasscas67, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @therebel1967, @supernatural-harrypotter7, @allinhishands, @ultimatecin73, @crystallstaircase, @a-screaming-ghost, @huffleypuffelycas, @procrastinating-fallen-angel, @kittycat-cas, @dracsgirl, @deansleather, @queenindecisive, @wildfirekhaleesi-ficrec, @fuckyeahfeysand, @sandlee44, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @spontaneousam, @writingbeautifulmen, @kristaparadowski, @adaliamalfoy, @winchesterforever12, @fangirl1802, @supernaturalyobsessed, @mamaredd123, @findingfitnessforme, @a-broken-hunter, @weepingrebelhottub, @notesfromalabprincess, @dustycelt, @becaamm, @riversong-sam, @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople, @therewillbeblood, @raylin19, @maddieburcham1

Sam Tag List: @lipstickandwhiskey, @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @ezauraemmaline, @beriala, @charliesbackbitches, @crzcorgi, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @gryffindorable713, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @sis-tafics, @fandommaniacx, @meganwinchester1999, @samanddeanwinchester67, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @iridianuniverse, @the-morning-star-falls, @ackleslaugh, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @spnsimpleman, @faith-in-dean, @for-the-love-of-dean, @winchesterfiesta, @zanthiasplace, @pada-ackles-reads, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @beachy2014, @fandom-book-nerd, @shipping-people-writing-things, @tia58, @sunriserose1023, @jotink78, @babypieandwhiskey, @waywardjoy, @fiveleaf, @spn-fan-girl-173, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @samsgoddess, @notnaturalanahi , @thegreatficmaster , @megansescape , @blushingsamgirl , @impossible-box , @castiels-forbidden-angel , @everyday-supernatural-af , @nichelle-my-belle , @jared-padaloveme , @supernatural-jackles , @idreamofhazel , @wevegotworktodo , @moonriverbabe , @snowystarguardian , @phoenixia67 , @iamreadinginsecret , @growningupgeek , @20secspnfam4 , @deerlululucy , @supermoonpanda , @sleep-silent-angel , @trenchcoats-and-bees , @not-so-natural-spn , @shelovesallthethings , @memariana91 , @chelsea-winchester , @drarina1737 , @castieltrash1 , @deals-with-demons , @matteson-crazed