#and yea it becomes more later on but like. give me more Angel the vampire with a soul

[ff-12]

tee b aych theres not enough drama anymore. maybe thats a big reason im sucked into RnM like i could go and find a full playthrough of sdr2 of about 20hrs or so but also why isnt there more blood? wheres the family lying in ruins? wheres the dust at your feet that you kick off everytime you have to set things right in earnest? wheres the foul plays Where are the dramatic devils advocates????

[ghostlytease]

Mostly just like oral info about sonas with talks of face fucking :)

Ramona enjoys sucking dick for a partner shes been with for a while, its not something she really does with any one night stands. Face fucking was usually off the table even in a relationship but its something about how touch starved and pathetic Dimitri is, combined with how he becomes just a mess when he starts thrusting into her mouth that gets her going. Shes a dom and loves hearing him beg and moan and feel him shudder and shake

Morgan is similar, where face fucking is really only reserved for her one and only but she loves the way it makes her feel more like a sub/the way Wolfgang will take control and dirty talk while he fucks her mouth that makes her really want to keep doing it.

Adrien can go either way tbh, Viktor could ask to fuck her mouth later tonight and she'd say yea let me find some cute lingerie to wear too, or if its a good ol blowjob that gets carried away, shes fine. She probably doesnt mind how close the butch is with her, she'd let the handsome stranger at the bar do it to her the same as she would let a long term partner do it. She leans more towards blowjobs though, and loves using them to tease and edge Viktor

Ailene is unexperienced to be honest, finding it hard to find someone she clicked with. She would worry constantly while giving head ("am i doing this right? What if my jaw gets tired? What if i look dumb? What if i bite their dick off?) but she learns to not sweat sex or anything about it. It also helps that MARSH is just such a sweetie and goofy and just enjoys that theyre doing stuff together and praises her when they have sex :) eventually she doesnt mind giving head but face fucking is something she REALLY needs a heads up on and is only doing it with her long term partner

Ace is in the same boat as Ailene, though completely unexperienced and worried constantly about her image and how shes doing and worries about mishaps that she often steers away from doing this stuff with Parker until she really gets comfortable and feels safe with him. Giving head and sucking dick is fine for her, she loves to hear and watch Parker get pleasure from what shes doing, but face fucking is something that will take a while, probably after they settle down

Louise doesnt give a fuck even though she should worry with the fang situation going on. Shes experienced though and knows how to keep everything safe since shes been around for centuries and had a variety of partners. Oral is usually reserved for long term partners though, especially anything rough happening in her mouth but thats because someone may end up getting hurt and something may end up getting damaged, 99% sure its her partner. She needs to make sure theyre aware of the risk before even attempting anything

Neuro is out here using their mouth to smile and vocally stim, not much sexual happens between them and AJ :)

Maria looooves giving head to whoever shes with. She also <3s taking her top off and giving them a show of her boobs, maybe even titfucking if they have the time/energy for it. If its her partner, she's wearing cute bras and occassionally lingerie for them under her clothes for when shes sucking them off. Its very rare for her to be up for having her face fucked, probably when she knows her partner can contain themselves and when shes also really in the mood for it

Angel takes a very long time to get comfortable for anything sexual to happen, which has deterred partners in the past, caused issues and breakups. She has her reasons for taking things slow, and the whole vampire thing makes things a little wonky. Shes inexperienced and despite having sex/sexual encounters with partners before, she considers Ambrosia her first for everything. After theyve been together for a very long time and have a deep bond is when shes willing to cross that bridge with Ambrosia, slowly trying a lot out with him. She eventually sucks her off, not finding the experience too terrible and would do it again, but she has a boundary with face fucking that would probably take a while to be comfortable with.

Niko loves to have sex but only with a partner and it all ends up being very intimate and sensual for his partner. Hes nuzzling the bulge, touching every part of the body that is good to touch and that he can get his hands on, his throat can take it like a champ. Hes happy to be giving this stuff to his partner

Estrella is also unexperienced when it comes to sex and relationships in general, and Astrophel ends up being a lot of her firsts, in and out of the bedroom. Shes willing to try new stuff with it and talk about a lot of things. She enjoys giving head and doesnt mind face fucking when they get to trying it out, though its not really something she does often unless Astrophel really wants it

I dont think i have much energy for actual fic writing right now but i do have the energy to talk about my sonas and oral sex YAAAAAY

[sinnetsins]

hi!! im completely obsessed with your writing! I wanted to know if you could do a regulus/sirius au where instead of death eaters they have like a dark vampire ritual type thing for baby vamps??

RITE OF PASSAGE

I loved writing this, regardless if it’s good, I’m proud of it so I hope you enjoy, sorry it’s so long.🖤

WARNINGS: self-harm trigger by description. angst, parental abuse, mention off death, mention of suicidal thoughts, blood, blood drinking, erotic blood drinking, arranged marriage, alcohol.

Word count: 2.5K

______________________

I was raised to be a blood-lusted monstrosity, a demon who survives off taking life, innocent or not— To be evil.

The day finally came that I was sat down to go over the ceremony and what I needed to do in order to become one of them.

“First you will make your entrance, your garments will be fitted later today seeing as we only have a week…” I tune my mother out.

I was raised to accept the standards set by generations before me, centuries ago. The standards of sexist men and upmost bigotry.

Did I want this?

“Then you recite the prayer, drink from the Black brothers, and fate shall choose your match.” I look up to meet my mother’s proud face, I felt sick.

‘Fate shall choose your match’

But what really is fate? It is not my fate to live as I’m bred and follow a man’s every wish and command. Be a pet. I was not fated to give away every ounce of my freedom. Yet if I didn’t, death was very possible whether I went through with the ritual or not.

Then again death might be better.

“Yes Maman.” I answer robotically. She shoves a tome into my hands open to the Re-Birth Prayer.

“There is no room for mistake, do you understand me?” My mother’s stare burning holes through where my eyes sit in my skull.

I give a nod maintaining eye contact.

She pulls the switch from her dress pocket striking me across my knuckles, “You will always use your words with me, am I understood?” She bends down to my level.

“Yes Mother.” I grit out through clenched teeth, the burn of the newly formed welts making the anger rise in me even more.

“You’re dismissed, you better have memorized the Prayer or so help me Gods.” She turns walking towards the other half of the house as I make my way to my room.

Hot tears of frustration, blinding anger, sadness, and fear sting the rims of my eyes.

I do not want this.

I close the door and set the tome on my bed face up staring at the page as I let the tears pour from me.

I do not wish to die, I only wish to have a choice. But being born into a pureblood family, you solemnly get one.

——

Three days passed before I was called down to meet ‘special visitors’ here to see me. Ordered to wear my most flattering dress, be on my best behavior.

Nero, our house elf popped in at a bright and early 6 AM to get me ready for the day. My dress bearing the peaks of my breasts, hair down in its natural state, Nero fixed the deep bags under my eyes with a simple spell.

I slip my shoes on and make my way down the wide spiral stairs with my back straight, chin up, Nero walking ahead of me.

Two boys- Men, await me near the bottom.

“Miss Y/L/N, Sirius and Regulus Black.” Nero introduces.

I reach the marble floor stalking slowly towards them, a snobbish look taking over my face as I drink them in.

I give a slight curtesy and in return they bow unanimously. If the circumstances were different I might say they were attractive, beautiful even.

Regulus meets my gaze, making me drop character for a moment. His eyes piercing like icicles, his lips a perfect fullness and pink, though his brother is just as carved— Regulus is like an angel to common muggles.

“Gentleman, would you like a drink? Yea maybe?” I offer distantly as I break my stare from Regulus.

“Chamomile-“

“Whiskey if you have it.” They cut into each others reply.

I quirk my eyebrow making sure it’s nearly undetectable, “Nero make a pot of chamomile and bring our finest whiskey.” I turn to her.

“Yes Miss.”

I look to them before turning to walk towards the foyer, “Come.”

___

I sip my tea as we sit in silence like we have for the past 15 minutes, give or take, Sirius has a three-finger full glass of Ogden’s. Regulus a teacup of spiked chamomile per his brother’s persistence.

Regulus opens and closes his mouth multiple times and after another beat of silence, “So which of us is it?” Sirius speaks up.

“Pardon?” I glare.

“Which of us are you pulled to? That’s really all we’re here for.”, Sirius takes a sip from the crystal, “Our parents want to see if there’s a connection already.” Regulus finishes, running his thumb along the rim of the cup.

I set my own down mid sip, staring at them in disbelief of the forwardness.

“A pull? Connection?” I question.

Another beat of silence fills the air, Regulus shifts in his chair clearly uncomfortable, “Oh why don’t we cut the shit. There’s no use taking the piss.” Sirius lets out a sarcastic chuckle, Regulus looks deeply into his tea glass.

“If we’re being honest, I have no feelings for either of you besides distaste.” I say through gritted teeth, my free hand clutching my dress with deadly pressure.

I look between the two brothers before eyeing the whiskey for a moment, then turning my vision back to them, “Do you want any?” Regulus pipes up.

I sit back in my seat taken aback, before chewing the inside of my cheek and shaking my head softly.

Women weren’t allowed hard liquor in a formal setting, it’s a “rule”. Though I desired it to make this interaction less awkward and bearable.

I can feel Regulus’ eyes on me as I focus harshly on the array of snacks in front of us, he grabs another teacup and the whiskey, filling it halfway before placing it near my own.

Sirius downs the rest of his whiskey, “That’s all I needed to hear, we’ve done our part Reg. Let’s go.”

Regulus looks to me, still staring at finger sandwiches, then back to his brother, “Go if you’d like. Tell mother I’ll be back later.” He keeps his eyes trained on me.

Sirius scoffs before belting out a simple ‘Okay’ and apparates. I look at Regulus confused.

“Why are you still here, you should follow your brother.” I take the cup he set down and bring it to my lips taking a long pull.

“I fear my brother has rather clouded judgment. He wants no part in this, this arrangement. But you’re not like many others.”

We stare at each other before we both sip from our cups.

“And if we’re being honest,” He takes another sip, “When I first saw you it felt as if my chest caved into itself because of your beauty.” A pink tint paints his cheeks as he speaks, “You may not feel a pull but only time will tell, the ceremony is in four days. Only time will tell. But I feel in my heart your personality outmatches your outward beauty.”

He downs the rest of his cup as I’m left speechless, he stands, “I apologize for my brothers broodiness, he can be a bit..” He bites his bottom lip in thought.

“Obstinate?” I meet his eyes again.

“Exactly.” He gives a half grin, “It was nice to meet you, I’m glad they gave us the chance before sending us in blind as usual.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I wish I could say the same but, I will say you’re more pleasant than your brother.” I smirk.

And with a last grin, he was gone.

——

My mother helps pull my gown up and places our family necklace on me as I slide on different silver rings.

“You know how important it is to this family.” My mother smooths my hair under the jeweled serpent head-piece.

“How could I forget.” I say curtly.

“Watch. Your. Tone.” She snarls pulls my corset with force, making me gasp in surprise.

“We are fortunate enough the Black family offered their own blood to turn you, you have to be perfect.” Mother pulls the black veil over my head as her voice fills with venom as she looks me over.

“You’ve gained weight since the fitting.” I grimace at her words.

“And if it does not go the way we intend, you will regret the day you were born, I know I will.” Her eyes bore into mine with poisonous anger, nostrils flaring slightly, “You have one duty to this family, turn and create more pureblood heirs. That’s all you can be useful for.”

Usually it was easy to take her words of disdain, I blame the high energy of the night on my emotions as the tears start to form— I quickly choke them back.

“Yes, Maman. I will do good, I promise.”

She takes a step back to look at me one last time and for a second I thought I saw empathy, “It’s almost time, you know what to do.” She walks towards the door leaving me to stare at myself.

“Mother?” I choke out and turning to meet her back. She turns to look at me with question.

“I am scared.” I speak out barely audible.

She closes her eyes for a split second and inhales deeply, “You will do fine, you will be okay.” She turns back around half-slamming the door as she leaves.

‘You will be okay.’

Would I?

——

Standing on the other side of the doors I couldn’t help the sweat leaking from my palms, this is literally do or die. I close my eyes and bow my head, praying to whoever listens that I can make it through.

Breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re okay.

The doors open, queueing my entrance.

I look up seeing the 26 families and their kin parted in half, at the end of the walkway, the Black family is stood in a circle with my own. A small gap between everyone for me to Mae way, the Blood priest in the middle of them.

I stride my way down to them, not daring to look anywhere but straight. I step up and move forward towards the priest, a book in hand, a podium with a chalice, an inverse cross behind him.

I kneel before the priest and bow my head, he says nothing as he lifts his left hand holding his pointer and middle up together, other fingers held down by his thumb.

“We gather today for the Rebirth of Y/N Y/L/N-” His voices echoes through the room, “As she takes place of House Y/L/N’s next newborn.”

“From the vein of brothers,” He pulls a dagger out, “I fill this holy chalice with the blood of House Black.”

He walks to the right, taking Sirius’s hand and making an incision, he lets out a hiss as the priest holds the chalice under his leaking hand. He then makes his way to Regulus, no sound emits from him as the priest repeats the action.

I flicker my eyes up catching Regulus staring at my veil before averting my gaze back down. The priest stands before me before removing the veil as it turns to nothing in his hand.

“Stand, my child. The prayer.” I slowly brings my eyes up, bringing myself to full height, keeping focus on the man in front of me.

I hesitate a moment before starting the beginning of a new life. Signing my freedom away to Alukah, one foot in the grave.

“I consecrate this circle in the name of the Most High God, that it may be, I seek to become one with Him. I ask for the shield and protection of the most valiant God, invincible Alukah, in the battle against intervening spirits and power—“ I pause as he hands me the chalice.

I hold it with both hands over his before drinking the crimson liquid, the metallic taste off blood mixed with lavender and vanilla coats my tongue.

It feels like the burn of a million razor cuts tainted with salt, yet in the same breath it felt like winter frost taking over the life of a flower. My eyes widened as I feel my heart stop, then beat again slowly.

A silvery dust surrounds me, slowly it intertwines with the red glitter around my mate’s body.

“As you accept this rebirth, you must give your body nourishment,” The priest looks back, “Or certain death will consume you wholly.” His words heavy in my soul.

The only thing I could smell and taste is blood, lavender, and vanilla. The source being him. I could feel his pulse in my bones and his heartbeat so closely in my eardrums.

I face him before continuing my prayer, “I ask that you bless this sacrifice in the name of my holiness.” I say in almost a whisper before the priest drags sage smoke across my body, shaped in an upside down cross.

My brain becomes foggy, so much so it makes me forget this wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to be a monster, I don’t want anything to do with the Black brothers, I don’t want to die if I fail. I don’t want to live this life.

Instead that feeling filled with a thirst, unquenchable by any liquid other than blood. It’s too late.

His blood.

Pumping through his body, keeping him alive.

His blood.

The one thing in this world I wanted.

His blood.

I felt a subtle wind surround me as I stare him down. Our two auras mixing to become one.

Rose gold flecks surround us, I take steps back towards him. The burning within my body getting worse, the thirst driving me mad.

Only him.

I stand in front of his body leaning into his neck, taking in the smell of lavender and vanilla, along with the sweet smell of his vampiric blood. I wrap a hand around the back off his neck, looking into his eyes.

He meets my gaze, his own glossed over in lust, wanton, a different type of thirst than my own.

I grab his hand intertwining mine with his fingers, finally bearing my teeth to latch onto his wrist, I close my eyes in bliss.

An erotic moan escapes Regulus’s lips as he rolls his own eyes back. The erotic nature of the act eliciting a moan from me as well.

I dig my teeth deeper into his flesh, pulling more of the sweet flavored blood, taking a few more seconds before releasing it with a whine.

I look to Regulus with glowing purple irises, my mouth covered in his own blood, meeting his hazy and glazed eyes filled with lust.

“Alukah, an heir has been reborn.” The priest announces, the families rejoice.

[bellaslilpapercut]

Eclipse reread part 2! This is gonna cover a lot of chapters because I forgot to include stuff from chapters 4, 5, and 6 in part 1 (in my defense your honor, this book is very grating to read). Awayyy we go:

1. so chapters 4-6 really could have been one chapter tbh since the plot is: Bella ditches work at Newton’s Outfitters to hang with Jake and then writes some graduation invites with Angela. She pushes her rusty old behemoth as fast as it can go through driving rain but then hangs outside with Jake the whole time so I don’t really know where the rain went. She also manages to hear Jake gasp through her closed car door! Super sonic! Anyway, Bella insists that Edward is a good guy, Jake makes Bella hold his hand, Jake explains imprinting (yuck we can skip that), and then Edward drives threateningly past Bella while she’s on her way to Angela’s house. Angela reminds Bella that, at his core, Edward is a teen boy who is Totally Jealous of how Ripped and Sexy her 16 year old best friend is. Then Alice kidnaps Bella. Fun times!

2. During the imprinting convo it becomes very apparent that Meyer thinks the worst thing that can happen to a girl is getting broken up with. Somehow Leah got the “worst end” of the Sam/Emily/Leah fiasco despite Sam turning into a “monster” and Emily getting literally mauled in the face. What’s worse is later in the book, during the “Legends” chapter, when Bella wonders if Leah thinks Emily’s scars are a form of “justice.” Yea, Bella, that’s justice. 

3. I love this Rosalie quote but hate the entirety of they way meyer writes her story. Others have mentioned it before but Meyer writes Rose's dialogue there as if Rose is an author and not like...a person telling a story. An easy fix would be to format Rosalie's story "flash back" style rather than have her narrate all the way through. Then you can include all the superfluous details of exactly what everyone's voice sounded like and all the excessive dialogue tags you want.

I also Violently Abhor this quote here:

Yea, meyer, the Hot Girl hates your self-insert because her stupid ass brother didn't have the hots for her. It just reads like weird middle school revenge fantasy "I only hated you because you were so Special!!!" Sure, sure. Also "all those females!" People don't talk like that @stephanie

4. I do love the scene when Bella “escapes” from Alice with Jake (I don’t know why i put escape in quotes, Alice could definitely murk Bella) but then that whole adventure ends with Jake telling Bella he’d rather she die than turn into a vampire. And yeah, fair buddy, but also you’ve known Bella for a long time. This should not be a surprise to you at all even a little bit. a) she mentioned it before, b) you knew she would never get over Edward even if your plan in NM had worked, and c) you’ve known that she’s fully obsessed with the Cullen’s since you started hanging out with her again. The last time you guys hung out she went on an impassioned rampage about how lovely and good and fantastic Edward is (footage not found) I really don’t know why you’re surprised that this hard-headed girl is prepared to commit to vampirism for him. She is not normal lmfao.

5. The legends chapter. Oh boy. Stephanie, Meyer, Smeyer. Honestly it might have been less offensive if she had just made up a whole new tribe to give these backstories to, for all that they have in common with real Quileute legends but actually that would still be offensive and terrible anyway. I don’t know how to describe this adequately but if you’ve ever seen G.I. Joe’s portrayal of indigenous people that’s exactly what meyer made Old Quil and Billy’s dialogue sound like. Just absolutely dripping with Mystical Native/ Magical Native trope from the content to the tone. https://mthg.org/ Because it can’t be plugged enough.  

6. The legends chapter ends with this Wuthering Heights quote:

I have no qualms with it's inclusion, if you really want to push the Edward is Heathcliff and Bella is Cathy agenda, I don't believe it but fine, whatever. But those last two paragraphs are such a dumb way to end a chapter. Every chapter ending should make the reader want to turn the page: this makes me want to shut the book (actually I did take a long break after this lmfao). Anyway, just end the quote on "drank his blood," bold those three words, and end the chapter there. Don't go back and say "the three words that stood out were... Anyway it could have fallen to any page I believe in coincidence teehee!!" That's just annoying.

7. Okay guys I hate to say it but Edward does get a lil bit of ~character growth after the first few chapters. He comes home after having Bella kidnapped (she decides not to be angry, surprise surprise) and is all "so I've been thinking about it and you're right my Beloved Angel Face or whatever, please hang out with Jacob but also wear a helmet on your motorcycle my Beloved Dumb Idiot or whatever" (paraphrase). And he also says this in chapter 12:

Which is like, man I hate when I agree with Edward but I agree with Edward here. Now I know from MS that he only wants Bella to stay human because he's creating an Unfolding Drama in his head but this bit of dialogue is really sweet. And it's funny that he thought Bella didn't want to marry him because she just wanted to use him for immortality but it's also a Dark Reminder that he's literally only romantic with her because he can't read her mind and can't tell that she's just as obsessed with his looks as the other Teen Girls TM.

8. uuuh Jasper’s Backstory Time. This is so infuriating to read for so many reasons. So we know that smeyer got Jasper’s name from a confederate memorial/ listing (from a New Moon Q&A but the link isn’t secure so I can’t share) so I know that his backstory was always meant to be Confederate Soldier which makes everything else about his characterization just baffling. Again, he was the only Cullen that was genuinely kind to Bella besides Carlisle for the entire first book and he’s still incredibly kind during Eclipse (which is another issue I have though because no one mentions again that Jasper tried to eat Bella and they stand close to each other and hang out and Bella’s never like “this is scary, this dude tried to kill me” but i digress). The point is: smeyer knew he was going to be a confederate from book 1. She never addresses that this was bad, she never has Jasper mention that he regrets his role in the war, he is the only Cullen that’s actually capable of empathizing with humans anymore (Carlisle cares but I would not categorize him as empathetic), it just... None of these pieces fit together. This is a fraught and bloody history that smeyer throws in with no thought to how it might alienate black readers (though tbh she constantly emphasizes “white beauty” throughout the series so I doubt she cares) and the editors don’t question it either. No one, at any point in time, said “Hey, steph, you know confederates fought for slavery, right?” Every black american deserves reparations. White women and men who glorify the civil war should be the first to pay up. 

9. I’m gonna jump back to chapters 9 & 10 here (target & scent, respectively) to say: no tension is being effectively built. I get it, someone stole your clothes. You’re annoyed because you have nothing to wear and Victoria is scary. But where is she? Where is the volturi? Move it along, please! This is one of the challenges of 1st person narrative because the author is stuck in the eyes of, usually, the person who knows the least. Meyer is not a talented enough author to make this interesting. Not to bring up THG again but Suzanne Collins really knew how to work 1st person. Everything that Katniss asserts with certainty throughout the series gets either confirmed or denied by the narrative, keeping it interesting. She assumes the worst of the people around her so we’re pleasantly surprised when people violate those assumptions. We’re kept on edge by how little Katniss knows and SC never gifts Katniss with more knowledge than she could be expected to have. Bella is constantly gifted with knowledge and her assumptions are rarely proven wrong. You can dig into the canon a little bit more, read the lexicon and the guide, and find all the examples of Bella being unreliable or making wrong assumptions. But within the narrative she is rarely incorrect. She doesn’t get opportunities to grow out of her false assumptions (while Edward does, at least in Eclipse). So to keep the Victoria debacle interesting, smeyer has to plant seeds like- during these two chapters- Bella thinking of Laurent and Victoria while the cullens discuss who could have been in Bella’s room. That just doesn’t cut it for me. 

This is hella long and I’m only halfway through the book. I probably should split the second half into two parts as well but based on how talented smeyer is at stretching out the mundane, especially just before the climax, I probably wont need to. 

[evqnbuckley]

Chapter 1: Hopeless

Okay so i wrote my thoughts on what I wanted the finale to be and this got out of hand...this is like almost if not 6k and i’m not even finished. If this is popular enough I’ll continue to post on here but I’m gonna continue to update on ao3! @princesscas

Sam awakens from his nightmare, disoriented. The visions of seeing himself grow old, having a family and dying feel all too real. The beginning of his nightmare is fading and somewhat fuzzy but he remembers Dean making an appearance. He remembers seeing himself fight alongside his brother, killing some vampires, a normal hunt. Then his memory clears and the image of his brother impaled against a wooden pole catches his breath.

He wipes a hand across his face, trying to erase the images of Dean saying goodbye, of Dean's hand dropping as he took his last breath, and the image of lighting his own brother's pyre.

Sam pulls the covers off and walks toward the kitchen for a glass of water. The bunker is quiet, peaceful even. He still hasn't gotten used to calling it home, not really. The thing about a home is, four walls don't constitute it. Family is similar. It's not based on who you're related to but who loves you and has your back. Family, a home, whatever they are things you build around you. He had learned that long ago.

The wooden floors creak as he walks through the library. The silence is deafening yet comforting. It's a reminder that, for once, the world isn't ending. The linoleum sends shivers down his spine as he enters the kitchen. Sam replays the nightmare in his head while he downs a glass of water from the sink. The images slowly become distorted and misplaced in his memory. He eventually cannot picture it in his mind.

Sighing, Sam places the glass in the sink and walks back to his room. His feet make a pit-pat noise, approaching the hallway. Dean's door is cracked open slightly with faint light seeping through. Sam turns toward the door and peers in. His face softens, taking in the scene. Dean is cuddling a pillow adorned with a worn, rough, blue pillow case. The light emits from a lone lamp on his desk. Some type of paper for a mechanic position sits atop a few books from the library. Sam eyes the paperwork, puzzled. Dean never told me he got a job. Underneath, one of the books has a bookmark in three different places. There are a few crumpled up papers on and around the floor. Sam picks one up and unravels it.

Cas I know you're in the empty and you probably can't hear me….why did you do it? Why didn't you tell me about the deal before? I know I messed up and Billie was about to kill us both but….we could have died together found another way.

Why didn't you tell me?

Sam picks up another one. This time it's the one closest to the trash can. The markings are a bit sharper than the paper before. Almost more angry. It appears some words are smudged but still legible.

I try to move on and put on a brave face for Sammy. He needs to know now that Chuck is gone we can move on. We have to. I have tried to find a way to bring you back Cas. None of the books are fucking useful. I can't read Enochian. I don't even know if Enochian text is the key to saving you. I've tried contacting Rowena but i think she's busy. I'm at my wits end. I haven't gotten much sleep to be honest. As I'm writing this I have looked through 28 books all based on portals to other dimensions, hell, sacrificial rituals and reverse rituals. Even Astral projecting. I don't know what to do….

Sam swallows past the dry lump caught in his throat. He glances at Dean, making sure he's still asleep. Dean briefly shifts, pulling the pillow closer. Sam relaxes and picks up one more crumpled up paper. This one appears fresh, as if Dean wrote it tonight.

I tried praying to the angels. They didn't listen. No one is listening. Jack isn't even listening. He took himself out of the story, I know but this is you I'm talking about. How can he just sit by while you're suffering. I guess I'm on my own.

Why did you say that now?

The last sentence confuses Sam. He burrows his eyebrows as he studies the three entries. Dean is searching for a way to save Cas. To bring him back. And he didn't tell me? Sam quietly crunches the papers back up and places them back where he found them. Dean doesn't move. As Sam switches the lamp off, he feels the heaviness of the dark engulf him. I have to talk to Dean tomorrow.

Dean rolls over as the aroma of burnt bacon fills his room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. Realizing that Sam is about to burn the bunker down, he slips on his robe and jogs to the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Well good morning to you too," Sam replies a bit offended. He's flipping bacon as Dean yanks the tongs out of his grip. "What- I am making breakfast. Can I not make breakfast?"

"I don't know what you think you're making but it definitely, definitely ain't breakfast," Dean smarts. He trashes the burnt bacon and starts a new batch. "Sit. No, why don't you make some coffee."

"Already did. Here ya go," Sam slides Dean's mug across the island, "your highness," Sam says under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, me too," Sam perks up. "I think I found something that screams our kinda thing. We should head there after we eat breakfast. It's not too long of a drive." Dean finishes as he places the cooked bacon on some paper towels and grins from ear to ear. Sam just watches as his brother starts on some scrambled eggs. This might be more challenging than I had hoped.  

"So when you said our sorta thing you meant pie?"

"I meant pie," Dean confirms with a satisfied smirk. "Now, I'm gonna go eat me some of that pie."

"Didn't we-Dean we just had breakfa- nevermind," Sam gives in and follows Dean through the crowd.

Several families are participating in the pie fest. Some are gearing up to find out who can eat the most pie, who makes the best pumpkin pie, and some are just making whip cream pies and pieing each other. Sam observes those around him with a small smile. A life he desperately wants someday but knows he can't have. Or can I?

Dean approaches Sam with a big box and almost runs into some bystander. "Hey, watch it."

"What is that?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"I couldn't pick just one! Come on, Sammy we're at a pie fest. What do you take me for?"

"An idiot."

Dean ponders his answer and let's it slide. He picks up one of the pies and offers it to his brother. Sam declines. "Dude, you gotta at least try it."

"No, really I'm good."

"Alright, what is it? What's got you so down today?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Sam replies.

"No, see I know my baby brother. So I know that is your sad Sam face. Fess up, what's wrong?"

"I'm not-" Sam begins, but Dean gives him a look.

"I don't know. I'm just thinking about Cas, about Jack."

Dean's expression falls. He looks down and places the pie back in its spot. "Yea me too. I think about them too. Every day. But we have to move on, Sam. Live our lives. Or else that sacrifice, it will all be for nothing," Dean looks at Sam. "So help me finish this pie."

Dean reaches down for the same pie again but his face is met with a cold surface. Sam smothers the pumpkin pie in Dean's face, laughing. "You know what, I do feel better!"

Sam shakes his hand to free the whip cream, watching Dean rake the remainder of the pie off his chin with his fork. Suddenly, Sam's temples begin pulsing painfully and he has an immense sense of deja vu. His smile falters and he feels out of place. Almost, as if he's reliving this moment. It's similar to the feeling he had this morning.

"Hey, Sam. You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." He's not honestly sure if everything is okay.

Sam texts Eileen and tells her he wants to make up for the date they missed months ago. She agrees it has been too long and tonight would work for her. Sam doesn't want to make promises, as the day is still young, but they plan for their date tonight at 7. Dean teases Sam about it even though the two are already a couple. Saying things like, "don't do anything I wouldn't do" or "make sure you use protection." Sam just sighs and shakes his head.

It's 6:35 pm and nothing has come across the wire. Social media is quiet, so Sam texts Eileen that the date is a go. She replies five minutes later, ready to go and excited to see Sam. Dean offers to let Sam take the Impala out to pick Eileen up. For once in a long time, Sam is excited. When he reaches the garage door, Sam glances back at his brother and sees him nursing a brand new whiskey bottle. Sam frowns at the sight. Dean deserves to feel excited, to be happy. Sam will go on this date with Eileen, tell her about Cas, and they will come back to help Dean. Help Dean get his best friend back. Our best friend back .

Dean waves his brother off and slumps into the chair in the library. It's not very comfortable. In fact, the wooden back is digging into his thoracic spine and causing some pain. But it's better than the alternative. The alternative of thinking about what he's lost, who he's lost, and how he lost them. That pain will never go away. Right now I can focus on this acute pain and center my thoughts on it. Keep myself from sinking into the dark hole of nothing I've been trying to climb out of since I lost - since I lost

Dean finishes the whiskey bottle before Sam gets home and he's still not drunk enough. He rises from the chair and walks to the liquor cart. All the bottles are half empty or nothing but drops of whiskey, gathering at the bottom of the glass. He picks up one empty glass bottle and stares at it for several moments. His vision becomes distorted from the small glass textures, his left ear begins to ring from the silence as he falls into a trance like state. Then, a glint of sapphire reflects in the textured glass. It catches his eye; Dean swallows. Suddenly, he's thinking of Castiel. Cas. He's thinking of "I love you's" and "Goodbye, Dean" and black goo. He's thinking of how the image of his best friend disappearing into a black mass of nothing is seared in his memory forever. He's thinking of how he didn't get to say goodbye, or anything really, and now he never will.

He grimaces at the bottle, squeezes the neck so hard his knuckles blanche, and throws it across the room, into the kitchen. It lands by the island, shattering to pieces, with a deafening crash. Dean feels his eyes burning and hot tears gathering at the corners. Before he realizes, Dean is grabbing all the glass bottles and throwing them into the kitchen. In his fit of rage, Dean throws one bottle too high and it shatters against the side of the kitchen table. Glass spreads across the floor. He doesn't even register the intensity of the mess until one bottle knocks off another, shattering it at his feet. He stops throwing the bottles, breaking from his trance.

"I tried everything! I can't save you! There's nothing left! How could you do this to me, you son of a bitch," Dean cries. He places his hands on either side of his head, thinking. "Jack! How can you just leave us? We need you. Cas needs you! Fuck this all powerful, all knowing God bullshit. We're family!" Dean tosses the cart over. "Isn't that enough?" He pauses and glances around for a moment. Nothing. "Dammit, Jack. Why won't you answer my prayers? I need some help!" He cries out and slowly sits down. "I can't do this on my own," he whispers between his sniffles. He begs over and over again please please please in his head for a few moments. But he's met with silence like every other time. Dean accepts this and wipes his tears away, picks the cart up, grabs the broom and dustpan from the kitchen and picks up his mess. He can't have Sam see what a hypocrite he truly has become.

Dean cuts himself on a few lone pieces of glass, but it's nothing he can't handle. In fact, for a brief moment, the pain gives him something to focus on. He mindlessly watches the crimson slowly drain down the sink as he holds his palm under the running water. He wonders what it feels like to float down the water, through the pipes, through the darkness, into nothing. What is wrong with me? But that's where Cas is right now. A bunch of nothing. Dean grabs a hand towel and wraps it around his left hand before returning to the broom. The kitchen is just about clean. Within about 5 minutes, all the glass and spilled whiskey is gone. Almost as if it never happened. Dean places the broom and dustpan back in the corner and trudges through the hallways.

There is a secret stash of whiskey in his man cave that Dean hid for emergencies. And this constitutes an emergency. He walks to the wall, removes a Star Wars poster from the fifth movie, and pulls out a few bricks, revealing the beautiful brown bottle of Jack Daniel's. Not his favorite but Dean was in a rush when he bought it a couple of weeks ago before they defeated Chuck just in case anything went sideways. Also, in case Sam found his stash at least it wouldn't be his good whiskey. Popping the cap off, Dean takes a long swig as he stumbles toward the couch. Sam should be home soon. I'll be done with this bottle by then and be able to forget anything blue for a while. Except all he dreams of is blue.

Bright blue swirls fill his dreams as he drifts off. He feels immense warmth as the blue wraps around him like a large ribbon and he floats above the grass. The ribbon caresses Dean like a soft, silk cloud, holding him in place. A slight breeze causes the ribbon to ripple in harmony and alternate between hues of blue. The colors circulate between indigo to azure to cobalt to cerulean to teal and finally midnight blue effortlessly. Dean sees dark angels wings above and feels safe. He flies higher as the ribbon ascends toward the wings. Flashes of cerulean eyes skip by, sad and yearning, before Dean is pulled down into dark azure ocean water by the wings. The ribbon of blue dissolves into nothing. Dean feels alone. In dreams, people don't usually have their sense of smell, but Dean swears he smells hints of sandalwood, a campfire, and honey. Then, he sees Castiel materialize before him with his wings extended, long and wide. Beautiful. They're untouched with no sign of rebellion or impurities. Just as Dean had first seen them. Before he met me. Before he rebelled and lost everything for me. I cursed you, Cas. Green eyes lock with blue and Castiel smiles at Dean. Then suddenly, Castiel's wings begin to dissipate and burn away. He appears to scream in pain. Dean reaches out just as soon as the water darkens and swarms around Castiel. He thrashes against the thick water but cannot break free. Dean is frozen in the water and at once cannot breathe. He screams out to Castiel but no sound comes out. He, instead, inhales the water. Castiel disappears within the black, thick water just as soon as he appears. He's gone.

Dean's eyes slowly open. This is a recurring nightmare he's had since Castiel sacrificed himself. Since he left. Dean had hoped the alcohol would impair his subconscious enough to avoid the nightmare. Beer hasn't been strong enough, nor tequila, or vodka. Whiskey is his last resort and apparently it does jack-shit. I need something stronger, if I am to get any sleep. Although the whiskey does not keep the nightmares at bay it does keep him numb. That is enough to continue drinking. He reaches for the bottle and misses. I may be seeing double. After a few tries, Dean successfully retrieves the bottle and downs the remaining third of the whiskey. His head feels heavy and his chest feels hot. Dean can feel his fingers tingling and toes numbing against his socks. This is the sweet spot of feeling drunk, he thinks.

Sam returns from his date, unnoticed, and walks into the room, seeing Dean spread out on the couch. He eyes the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table and sighs. Sam remembers the other whiskey bottle left on the library table. The same one Dean had been nursing before Sam left. Dean is on a bender again. Eileen shuffles up next to Sam and glances at the couch. She looks at Sam with a sad look. At dinner, he filled her in with everything he knows about Castiel and his sacrifice for Dean. But Eileen didn't realize it would affect Dean this badly. She walks over to Dean and pulls the blanket from on top of the couch and covers Dean. He's passed out again and is slightly twitching. His eyes are racing back and forth.

"We will regroup tomorrow and discuss Plan SOC," Sam whispers while signing.

"I'm still not sure about the code word," Eileen signs with a grimace.

"We'll work on it," he signs with a shrug.

The next morning Dean wakes to his Jack Daniel's replaced with three ibuprofen pills and a glass of water. Grateful, he slowly takes them one at a time due to the agonizing headache. Usually he doesn't have headaches or hangovers but the nightmares don't give him much rest. He really isn't able to sleep off the alcohol. Pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes to push back the headache, Dean sighs with exhaustion. He doesn't even know what time it is. His watch reads 4:32 but Dean is unsure if it's AM or PM.

Suddenly, he feels his stomach growl and Dean realizes he hasn't eaten since about noon today. Yesterday? He sloppily rises up and makes his wake toward the kitchen. Nothing really sounds appetizing except for some string cheese. Only, they don't have string cheese. Of course. So, Dean settles for the two day old pepperoni pizza in the fridge. Not too bad, and he will never say no to pizza. Dean isn't sure how long he was passed out but the effects of the whiskey have certainly worn down a bit. He can't walk a straight line, but his vision is more clear. He clumsily carries the pizza box over to the library table next to his laptop and sits it down. Quietly, he pulls the chair out and takes a seat. The hunter in him wants to make sure everything is quiet out in the world. The clock on his laptop confirms its 4:38 AM.

A few clicks and searches show there's a local mysterious killing. Our kinda thing. Dean smiles, knowing that this case will help keep his mind busy. And he will be able to save someone. At least this way he will feel like his life was worth saving. Ironic. I feel like I've said that before. Why do people feel the need to jump at any chance to save me? I don't deserve saving. Dad sold his soul for me and now Cas. I don't deserve it. He shakes his head and munches down on cold pizza in silence.

Dean finishes the last three slices of pizza, underestimating how hungry he had been. He watches a few dumb YouTube videos for a while, to keep his mind off things, waiting for Sam to wake up. Dean is tempted to grab a beer from the fridge but decides against it. He needs to be as sober as possible for the hunt, for Sam. If Dean were to go alone, he would not care. Not at this moment anyway.

Dean has realized his mood swings are ridiculous lately. At one moment, he's super depressed and doesn't care about anything. He honestly doesn't care if he lives or dies.  The next moment he can't wait to see what life has to offer. It's as if his brain doesn't know how to comprehend what Castiel's sacrifice means to him. His thoughts can become so tangled and incoherent Dean doesn't know how to act - what to say. That's why he started writing down some of his thoughts, and then thought how much of girl that made him and crumpled the papers up. Right now, he can really use a moment to write down his thoughts.

He grabs the notepad and pen on the table and scribbles away. I hate this feeling. What am I supposed to feel? Anger? Sadness? Relief? Emptiness? Frustration? All of the above? Others? You left me with so many unanswered questions and I left you with nothing in return. How am I supposed to go on knowing this? Cas, how can I go minute to minute, hour to hour, knowing what I know now? I fucked up. I had a chance to say what I've been wanting to say for a while and I couldn't. I didn't. Did you even know? I mean do I even fucking know? I can't even hate you to make myself feel better. I can't bring myself to say I hate you for doing this to me. Because I could never hate you. The paper becomes wet with a few tear drops. I will find you, Cas. Just wait for me.

Dean places the pen next to the notepad after a moment. He wipes his nose with his flannel sleeve. Not many tears fell but his nose is running pretty good. Out of all of his thought entries, this one felt the most cathartic. He sometimes pretends that Castiel can hear him read the words to himself or even hear him as Dean writes the words. Just as Castiel heard his prayer in Purgatory. But he doesn't. He won't. The empty is a dark and torturous place. My prayer and words will be the last things he'd focus on.

Dean lays his head on the table from exhaustion, but doesn't shut his eyes. He won't risk falling asleep. Instead, he focuses on counting the books on each shelf to his right. Then, once he's done with those he counts the ones on his left. Dean notices some of these books, he nor Sam even use. He doesn't know half of the content in these books. Unfortunately, Dean underestimated how counting can cause drowsiness no matter the subject at play. His eyes begin to drift when Sam walks in with loud footsteps.

Yawning, Sam says, "What are you doing in here? You should be in bed."

Dean jerks up, shaking his head from thoughts of sleep. "I found us a case," he replies.

"Mhm. Is that all you were looking for during the early morning?" Sam asks, eyeing the covered notepad. Dean notices and quickly turns it over.

"Sam," he warns. "mind your business."

"Good morning," Eileen joins the boys in the library.

Dean isn't too surprised to see her here but is happy for Sam nonetheless. "Morning, Eileen. I hope sasquatch here didn't take up the whole bed."

Eileen blushes and laughs at Dean. "I don't kiss and tell," she winks at Sam as she kisses him on the cheek. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Yes, please!" Sam signs.

Sam joins Dean at the table and a long beat passes between them. Sounds in the kitchen of water running, the clinking of plates, and banging of pans fill the silence instead. Dean repositions himself in the chair, still not making eye contact with Sam. Sam, however, is studying Dean. He appears disheveled, bags under his eyes, day old stubble and crust around his lips from dried whiskey. He's a wreck.

"So this case-" "We need to talk-" They start simultaneously.

Dean glances up for the first time. "You first."

"I know about Cas." Dean's eyes widen slightly. "At least I know there's more to the story. You didn't tell me everything and I know whatever happened is eating away at you." Dean gestures to dismiss Sam. "Dean, I know you. I can see it. I know when you get like this it's because of something close to you." Sam pauses. "I also read some of your crumpled up papers." A dark look crosses Dean's face. Almost like he wants to punch Sam.

"You did what?" Dean says.

Sam continues, ignoring Dean's comment. "I know you're trying to bring Cas back. I want to help," Sam offers.

Dean sighs, looking to the side. He knows the many dead ends and how disappointing it is trying to save Cas. He doesn't want to subject his brother to the very same thing. "It's no use, Sam. Everything is a dead end. I've tried everything I can think of. Cas is gone," Dean resigns, defeated. "All we can do now is save people, hunt things, and live our lives. It's what Cas would want. It's what everyone, who we have lost, would want."

"Dean," Sam starts. "You're giving up way too easily. There is always another way. Don't you always say that?" Dean doesn't respond. "I know how it may seem hopeless but we have options. We have the resources to continue the search to save him. You can't give up now, Dean. This is Cas."

"I've tried everything I can think of, Sam. Everything! Praying, research, calling Rowena. She doesn't answer. Jack is off grid. I've tried! There's nothing. He's gone!" Dean's voice cracks. He swallows down the pain. "We have to accept that. And however I deal with it is my business. So don't give me those judgy eyes like you are now." Dean says pointedly.

"But, Dean-"

"I said no Sam."

Dean gets up, signaling he's done with this conversation and takes the notepad with him. He doesn't even acknowledge Eileen as she brings breakfast to the library. "The case is pulled up on my laptop. I'm going to get ready." Dean turns the corner and is gone before Sam can reply.

Eileen's face falls as she holds a plate of french toast, bacon, sausage, and lots of syrup. Then one plate of regular scrambled eggs with toast for Sam. She sits the plates on the table and watches Dean leave. "Is he not hungry? I made his favorite." She says.  

"It's not that, he's dealing with some, he's just-" Sam doesn't seem to know how to finish his sentence, or fully explain his brother's behavior.

"Cas?" Eileen offers. Sam nods.

Sam reads the case on Dean's laptop and begins to feel nauseated. He has a bad feeling. He, again, has a sense of deja vu. Two days in a row, it can't be a coincidence. It's like there is an itch at the back of his brain, crawling to the surface, wanting to show him something. He feels a headache come on and the pain is similar to when he used to get visions as a young adult. The pain grows stronger as the itch continues, pulling toward his frontal lobe.

Then, a flash of images of Sam and Dean dressed in their normal FBI threads quickly blink by. Another image of them at an abandoned barn fighting some strange, masked creatures. Sam recognizes the mask from Dad's journal. And then a burst of images, showing Sam and Dean fighting these creatures appear. They're vampires! The brothers are winning, slicing the vamp's heads off one after another. The last image shows Dean pushed against something sharp and… Oh no, Dean Sam thinks.

He grabs his head and shakes the images away. Groaning in pain, he sees he's on the floor. He must have fallen while the vision took over. Eileen is at his side, freaked out. She's signing, "Are you okay?" over and over again.

Slowly, Sam regains his thoughts and tells Eileen he's okay. Dean rushes by Sam's side by this point after hearing the loud thud from his fall. Dean places his hand on Sam's shoulder, in concern.

"Dude, what the hell happened? Say something. You alright?" Dean glances over Sam, and around the bunker, checking for any intruders.

"Yea, yea. I'm fine. I feel like I just got hit by a freight train. Like how my visions used to feel." He pauses. "I actually think I just had a vision." Sam looks at Dean with bewilderment and Dean returns the look.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say you had a vision?"

"Yea." Sam breathes.

"You haven't had one of those since you were like in your twenties and yellow eyes was after you. Why the fuck now?"

"I-I don't know. I thought it was a nightmare, but last night the same images played in my mind. I went all day yesterday feeling a sense of deja vu. The pie fest, reading the case, even eating breakfast."

All three are silent for quite a while. Their breakfast grows cold but no one pays it any mind. "What if it's a sign?" Eileen questions.

"Like from God, uh, Jack?" Sam offers.

Dean huffs in response. He knows damn good and well Jack is staying out of everyone's business. There isn't any possibility Jack is interfering. "I doubt it."

"It's possible," says Sam. "Maybe he has taken himself out of the narrative, but what if he's helping us still by guiding us through this vision?"

"He hasn't answered any of my damn prayers since two months ago. Why would he start now?"

"I don't know, change of heart?" Sam offers, half-heartedly.

Dean stands and laughs with a bitter shake of his head. "You honestly believe that? Come on, Sam. The kid has a new sense of almighty. We, you, me and Cas, we are now left in the dust. He said so himself. You're just having some freak migraine."

Sam stands, with Eileen in tow. She helps him up by the arm. "You're wrong. I know he's not like Chuck, and stays away, but he still cares. I know he sent me this vision to help us. All of us," Sam stares at Dean's glare of hopelessness. "I have faith, Dean."

"How can you be so sure? How can you be so positive that this is from Jack and he's trying to help us? Doesn't make a lot of sense that out of all the times I've asked for his help, to save Cas, or help me bring him back, he's now warning you of an ordinary hunt?" Dean says frustrated.

"Because in this hunt you die, Dean," Sam blurts out. Dean stays quiet. "You die and I have to go on without you. You leave me and I have to live a life without my brother."

Dean's gaze falls to the floor. He's quiet for a moment, processing this information. "You live a happy life?" He barely says.

"What?"

"After I die, do you go on having the whole white picket fence, apple pie life with the 2.5 kids?" Dean clarifies, calmly.

Sam searches Dean's face for any kind of sign of self actualization or will to live. "Why does it matter? I can still strive for that with you alive. We both can," he adds.

Dean smiles, that tired, sad smile. "No, Sammy. You and I both know as long as I'm alive you will always be in this life." He looks at Eileen. "You two will never have a chance at a happy, normal life with me around. Besides, hunting is what I do. There is nothing else for me. Not anymore.”

"That's not true," Eileen says, with tears in her eyes. She reaches out and places her hand on Dean's cheek, pleading for him to understand how wrong he is.

"It is. I'm the one that dragged you back into this life, Sam. I'm the only one keeping you here. Let me give you an out."

"Stop. Okay just stop. We are not going on this hunt. If you want to be suicidal, fine, but I'm keeping you out of danger. You are always so quick to jump in front of a gun or blade. Do you still care that little about yourself, Dean?" Sam searches his brother's eyes. "What about that job paperwork on your desk? You must have cared at some point. Wanted to live!" Dean is quiet. Sam sighs. "Cas wouldn't want you to die. He died to save you, remember? So, what I am going to do is bring Cas back. Are you going to help me?"

Dean ponders Sam's offer for a moment. "What about the people that will die, if we don't save them?"

"I'll call some hunters and give them a heads up on what to look out for when they go there. It'll be taken care of," Sam reassures.

Dean glances between Eileen and Sam. Fiddling with a loose string on the end of his flannel sleeve, he sighs. On one hand, he'd love to see Castiel again. He'd do anything- to hug him and tell him all the things he didn't get to say. But on the other hand, he's so tired. So very tired. There are no leads. And he's lost all faith in his search to save Castiel.

"Dean?" Sam starts.

"Okay. Let's bring Cas home."

[incorrect-mcu-quotes101]

Rant about Marvel New Warriors

(spoiler they are shit - Ps. I know I'm late to this)

This is about to be long-

Since evryone is roasting the shit out of Marvel's New Warriors. (I'm late I know shut up) why not hop on the train of anger and give out my opinion.

First on the list is Screentime.

Now I dont really have a problem with the design. It think that the green goes well with his backstory being all sciency and shit (which is the problem but I'll get onto that later) If we ignore the fact that they ripped off the ben10 colour palette I kinda like how he looks.

But oh boy the backstory.

"A Meme-Obsessed super teen whose brain became connected to the internet after becoming exposed to his grandfather’s “experimental internet gas.” Now he can see augmented reality and real-time maps, and can instantly Google any fact. Does this make him effectively a genius? He sure acts like it does."

Okay first of all. "Internet gas"? Wtf is that supposed to be. Also meme-obsessed just makes me think he would be a redditor making him very fucking annoying.

Now his powers I think are shit. He's always connected to the internet? Couldn't the others just get out their phones and do exactly the same. (Maybe like 10 seconds slower since it takes time to open your phone)

I think it would be cool to see him do more than look up "how to beat up bad guys" on wikihow. Maybe make him control other computers or phones. And he could possibly teleport using electronics.

Alright that's screentime on to the next mistake.

Second is Trailblazer

Her design is... Uhh. Acceptable. In my opinion the costumes are a bit too colourful. It reminds me of those girls who put on different socks and walk around saying how qUiRKy they are.

Now uh backstory/description (idk why i have been calling it backstory all this time tbh) it's definitely better than Screentime. But still. Bad.

"A regular kid scooped up into the world of teenage Super Heroing. Her “magic backpack” is actually a pocket dimension with seemingly infinite space, from which she can pull out useful or random objects—it’s not always under her control. She claims to get her power from god, but “not the god you’re thinking of.”"

So uh. Dora?

I like how they made it sound more interesting saying that she never knows what she'll get. But the thing I want to know is what if someone gets her backpack. It's not hard to take a backpack from someone tbh. Is it glued to her back? Or can she like leave it in school and forget about it? "A regular kid scooped up into the world of teenage Super Heroing." This makes me think that she didn't chose to have her powers. Which i can understand. But it's a fucking backpack.

If it's not connected to her and someone takes it SHE WILL BE FUCKING POWERLESS?!

Alright. That's that. On to the next one.

B-negative. Uh-

Alright the name is clever I'll give them that.

But the design. Ughhh. Again. The oversaturated colours they used. I personally dont like the use of bright pink. They could have used dark red instead. Red symbolizes blood, death, anger and the pink doesn't make me think about that sort of stuff. It clashes with his dark edgy design and face. Other than the fact he looks straight out of a Twilight edgy fanfic.

"A teen “living vampire” exposed to Michael Morbius’s blood as a child in a rogue, but life-saving medical procedure. He still ages like a regular kid, but has all the abilities of Morbius. He’s also obsessed with all the music and attitude of a “classic” long-past decades like the '90s, and the '00s. “The world is a vampire…and so am I.”"

I don't really have anything to say to this. It's just once again marvel trying to relate to the youth. Tbh his description. As crazy as it sounds. Is the one I have the least problems with.

Alright now to the one people hated the most.

This thing-

A lot. And i mean. A LOT of people have criticised and even took the time to redesign the characters. And yea. They are shit. I'm not going to take the time to redesign them myself because I don't have that kind of time at the moment. (Maybe I'll make another post where I remake them myself. But idk)

Now my biggest problem with the design is the fact they are twins. TWINS WHO ARE FROM THE OPPOSITE SEX SHOULDN'T BE IDENTICAL TWINS. That is literally impossible. Also they kinda remind me of the characters from that online game everyone was obsessed with called 'Fireboy and Watergirl'. Don't know if anyone remembers that.

Their costumes are hideous. Again the vibrant colours are giving me a goddamn seizure. The whole idea of those characters is for Snowflake to be the more self assured and most likely to beat you up for being a bit racist to Twitter. And for Safespace to be this big soft dude who looks though but is actually an angel when you get to know him.

But looking at them I do don't get those vibes. I think they should have made Snowflake look more sassy and wear like a coat to be more mysterious and shit. And for Safespace to have more fur and armour (he can create shields for other but not for himself so he should have atleast some other type of protection) I think having like fur on his jacket would give off a more 'soft uwu boi' vibe.

I'm not going to shit on their description because to be honest. Everyone already has. And this has become way too long for a normal post. I hope ya'll enjoyed it. If you took the time to read me ranting about some weird fictional characters I really appreciate that.