#dean abuses everyone in his life at some point

[deanwastherealmonster]

I headcanon that Jack gave Sam hero's luck but not Dean because he wanted Sam to be free of Dean's bullshit.

[deanwastherealmonster]

Why would you leave this in the tags?!

And I think the only way people can actually like this abuser is if they don't look at his abusive behavior, or just sweep it away with shit like Oh PoOr DeAn SaM aTe HiS LuCkY cHaRms. They literally ignore how he shouts at his loved ones when he gets mad at them, and has physically abused Castiel and Sam on multiple occasions. And that's not even getting into how much he abused Jack, especially when Jack had just been born. Dean comes across a three day old baby who's self harming and proceeds to promise that he'll kill him if Jack steps out of line. He's a fucking monster, and it infuriates me how few people see it.

It's been a while since I watched Supernatural, so don't take my opinions as gospel or anything. But I think Dean is self-hating to the point of narcissism in some ways. Don't get me wrong, I empathise with Dean and understand why fans largely do too. But his self-loathing warps his perception and becomes the centre of EVERYTHING and at times that really has ripple effects on those around him - particularly Sam.

Take their childhood, Sam has a right to mourn the fact that he didn't get a normal childhood. He's allowed to be angry that he didn't get a home, a present father, a stable community, and consistent education. But whenever Sam attempts to express his complicated feelings about his childhood, Dean immediately interprets it as ' oh I was supposed to look out for you. Are you saying I failed? Are you confirming I'm worthless?' which grinds the conversation to a complete halt. Because of Dean's intense self-criticism, Sam can never really be 100% honest with him or ask for support with his own issues, especially regarding their childhood. As anything outside of 100% gratitude just becomes another stick for Dean to beat himself with, and the conversation is immediately derailed.

Not only does Deans self-hatred mean that Sam's expression of his own experiences are pretty consistently shut down. In some ways, I think Dean strips Sam of his autonomy - he's so self-loathing, he sees every decision Sam makes as being about/a reaction to him. A good example of this is Stanford. Rather than understanding Stanford for what it was, an attempt by Sam to carve out a better life from himself and escape hunting. Dean views it as betrayal or abandonment, some re-affirmation of his own belief that he's not worth caring about. Rather than understanding it's a rejection of hunting, he sees it as Sam rejecting him. To Dean, Sam isn't attempting to find a better life, he's punishing the family.

Overall, it's interesting that people largely and rightfully sympathise with Dean due to his self-hatred. However, I don't see as much discussion about how his self-hatred doesn't just hurt him, it hurts those he's close to, as it colours his interpretation of their every action. Dean's self-loathing is always the biggest thing in the room and that has consequences.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Against Instincts

Summary: Dean made a very serious mistake but much to his surprise, Reader forgives him & the two share a special moment.

TW/CW: Abuse (by Reader's father), Mention of Dean hitting Reader, Dean doubting himself, Mentions of injuries (bruises, welt, etc.), Angst Angst Angst, Dean Winchester x Reader

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,979

A/N: Idek where this came from. It sorta spawned from me wishing Dean could show up & rescue me from my dog shit life (I'm not being abused I just have a lot of bullshit going on with my parents) & also just me feeling angsty as fuck. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Much love to all!

(Y/N)’s POV 

    John Winchester was a hard ass at times but he was never cruel. I think that's why when his teenage son, Dean, returned from what was supposed to be a quick grocery store run with myself around the same age in tow claiming, "Her dad is a monster. We have to help her," he couldn't just ignore me & send me on my way. He visibly stowed his anger at Dean's tardiness & observed me. I’m sure he took note of the bruises scattered across the little bit of skin I had visible, some were old, some were new. He probably noticed the split lip paired with a blossoming black eye. Yet, he ushered me into the car with orders for Sam & Dean to stay put. 

    When he pulled into my driveway my face felt warn with embarrassment. From the outside, my house looked like no one had lived there in years. He walked me to the front door & knocked. When there was no response, he knocked again.  

    I looked up at him, “He’s probably asleep.” I opened the door & walked in. Inside, the house was spotless. When I entered, my father stirred on the couch & sat up.  

    He was very clearly drunk as he slurred his words, “Where the hell have you been, girl?” 

    I looked down at my shopping bags in my hands, “I went out to get milk & bread.” 

    My father rubbed his eyes, still having not noticed John standing just outside the front door, “Ain’t you got something to clean? Make yourself useful & get me beer first.” 

    I hid my face from John as I shuffled over to the fridge & retrieved a beer as instructed. I walked over to the couch & handed it to him, “What would you like me to clean?” 

    He looked up at me, furious, “Are you dumb? You should be able to figure out how to clean by now.” Dean was right, this man is a monster. I took a few steps back & looked around me for something to clean.  

    In the blink of an eye, my father jumped up from the couch & grabbed my arm, “Get your useless ass into the kitchen & wash those damn dishes,” he yelled before shoving me so hard toward the counter that I lost balance & hit the floor. John rushed over & offered his hand to me as my father lazily wandered over to the couch & plopped down. I gently took John’s hand & was hauled to my feet.  

    Suddenly, my father noticed John’s presence, “Who the hell are you?” John said nothing & simply pulled the me to the front door, placing himself between me & my father who was still plastered on the couch. Before the door shut behind us, I heard my father grumble, “Good riddance. She’s worthless anyway.” Tears rushed to my eyes but I fought them back as John pulled me toward the car. Once we were safely inside, he sped back toward the motel. 

    There was never a missing person’s report filed or police involvement. My father never bothered to look for me. People we encountered never questioned why I was with the Winchesters. It seemed everyone assumed I was their daughter & sister. Sure, life on the road was never easy & sometimes John was hard on me but I would much rather stay with the Winchesters than to go back to my father. At some point, I stopped only giving my first name when introducing myself & began introducing myself as (Y/N) Winchester. They were the closest thing I had ever had to a family. 

    I am pulled back to the present at the faint sound of voices outside my bedroom door. They’re too quiet to make out what is being said but I roll over grabbing my headphones to play music to drown them out completely. 

Dean’s POV 

    “What are you doing?” Sam asks, shaking me from my thoughts. I stay silent. “Dean, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting outside of (Y/N)’s door in the middle of the night?” I look down at my lap. “She tried to get you to talk to her didn’t she?” I nod. “What’d you do? Yell at her?” 

    I clench my jaw, “And hit her.” 

    Sam is taken aback, “You-” It’s quiet. “You can’t apologize to her if you’re just sitting out here on your ass.” 

    “She’s hasn’t cried,” I mumble. 

    “How do you know?” Sam asks. 

    “When she ran out of the room, I realized what I did & followed her. By the time I made it to her door, she had already shut it.” 

    “So, you-” 

    “I’ve been sitting here trying to convince myself to knock & she hasn’t cried at all,” 

    “You know when she doesn’t cry she’s-” 

    “I know,” I grit my teeth, “She’s angry.” 

    “Well, like I said, you can’t make it right sitting out here.” 

    “Not long after she left her dad & hit the road with us, I promised her that I’d never let anything happen to her. I’d always protect her.” 

    “Dean-” 

    “I hit her, Sam. I’m no better than that piece of shit that calls himself her father.” 

   “Dean, don’t. That man let a stranger walk out of his house with her. He didn’t give two shits that he hurt her. He wouldn’t be sitting outside her bedroom door nearly in tears trying to convince himself to apologize. You’re better than that guy. You’re her best friend & you need to talk to her.” I tossed Sam’s words around in my head for a few moments before he walked off saying, “If you do decide to get up & knock, I might think about rescuing you when she beats the shit out of you.” 

    “I deserve whatever she does to me,” I mumble to myself. 

(Y/N)’s POV 

    After a few hours of listening to music, my headphones beep that they’re dying. I pull them off & toss them toward the end of the bed, making a mental note to charge them later. For a few moments, all I can hear is the music still playing through my dying headphones. Then, there’s a knock at the door. I hold my breath hoping they’ll go away. I’m sure it’s Dean but I’m hoping it’s Sam. If I face Dean right now, I might kill him. Okay, maybe not kill but definitely maim. 

    Another knock sounds. I begrudgingly toss the covers off of my legs & get up. As I pad over to the door, the knocker speaks, “(Y/N), please let me in. I am so unbelievably sorry. I know I don’t deserve it but please let me check on you.” I’m quiet, mentally arguing with myself about whether I should open the door or not. “Okay... I understand. I’ll leave you alone.” 

    I rush to open the door. His head shoots up to look at me. The worry & fear on his face hurts my heart. I know Dean. I know him better than I know myself sometimes, which is why I never expected the outburst from him that I got. I clench my jaw, “I’m fine.” Dean scans my face before breaking eye contact & looking down at his feet. I leave the door open & return to sit on the end of my bed. He stays put at the open door so I give him a look that says, “Well, come in.” 

    He begins making his way to me, “(Y/N) I-” he drops to his knees in front of me & drops his head into his hands, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me & I know that’s no excuse but please know I never wanted to hurt you I just got angry.” When he looks up again, there is tears in his eyes. His voice cracks as he reaches up, “Can I?” 

    I nod. He gently runs the pad of his thumb over the welt & slowly forming bruise on my cheek. I notice his jaw clench as he pulls his hand away, “Let’s hear it...” 

    I tilt my head at him with confusion on my face, “Hear what?” 

    “How you never want to see me again & I’m a piece of shit. I’m sure you’re probably wanting to give me a couple good right hooks for what I did,” his voice is small & quiet as he continues, “I deserve it.” 

    I think for a moment, “You’re right. I want to beat the shit out of you. The crazy & scary thing is I’d rather crawl into your lap & you hold me like we used to do when I would wake up screaming from a nightmare about my father. I want you to tell me everything is okay & that you’re here & you’ll keep me safe.” I let my words hang in the air for a second & it breaks my heart to see him break a little too. “But... you hit me, Dean... You’re supposed to make sure no one ever hurts me but you hurt me. I want so badly to just brush it off & move on but I can’t. Every instinct in my bones is screaming that I can’t trust you.” 

    He nods solemnly, “I understand. I’ll leave you alone.”  

    He stands to leave but I grab his arm, “Contrary to my usual belief, my instincts aren’t winning this time.” I tug him to sit beside me on the bed, “Dean, you’re the most important person in my life. Somedays, you’re all that keeps me going... I can’t lose you, not when I know that outburst is not who you are.” He’s quiet but a look of hope grows on his face. I continue, “I forgive you.”  

    A small smile graces his features, “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. I promise I will never hurt you again. I promise I’ll do better.” I nod & we’re left in silence for a few moments before he speaks again, “You were trying to get me to tell you why I’ve been distant lately.” I nod, he takes a deep breath, “I-... I’ve been trying to distance myself from you because... because I love you (Y/N). It terrifies me because I know you deserve better & I know you don’t feel the same way so I was hoping distancing myself would make those feelings go away but if anything, it made them worse & I was just super frustrated that it wasn’t working so when you came to me asking what’s wrong I just exploded.” he pauses, “I’m sorry you got caught in the blast radius.” 

    I take his hand in mine, “I’m gonna break this down piece by piece. First of all, idk how on earth you think I’m gonna find anyone better than you. You always take care of me & keep me safe. You know me better than anyone. You understand me better than anyone. I won’t find that anywhere else. Second of all, how dare you assume I don’t feel the same way,” I giggle, “When did you become a mind reader? Thirdly, why didn’t you just tell me you needed space? I would’ve understood. I didn’t enjoy just being left in the cold by my best friend & the man I love.” 

    He looks me in the eye, “I don’t deserve you, ya know that?” I shrug. He chuckles, “I’m sorry I didn’t just say something. I’ll add it to my list of things to be better about.” 

    I squeeze his hand, “While you’re at it, add stop doubting yourself to the list.” I place my free hand on his cheek, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” 

    He leans his forehead against mine, “I love you, (Y/N)” 

    I smile, “I love you too, Dean.” 

More Dean Winchester

Masterlist

[sunsetovertheocean]

I feel like sibling and platonic relationships don’t get talked enough, especially in relation to romantic relationships in fandoms.

Like cool, I love these ship, but can we PLEASE discuss the fact that Dean is the only person who has never lied to Lia? How he is the only person she will listen to, because he’s the only person she trusts? How Dean was the one person who prevented her from feeling trapped all the time? How Dean was the only person Lia ever let know and get close to the real her? How they were the only constants (besides Judd love him too) in each other’s lives for years in their childhood? The way he knows her and she knows him? She knows how to comfort him and distract him and get him to feel things and tried to help him with his father by looking through his father's file, ignoring her own feelings about it because she just wanted to help him only to find out that she can’t help. (Just think for a moment how she must have felt when she realized that. Because this genuinely breaks my heart.) The fact that they are intensely protective of each other, the way they have conversations without talking just by looking at each other, the way Dean trusts her and Lia trusts him, how they are literally siblings.

And this is going into kind of headcanon-y territory, but I like to believe that Dean didn’t ask Lia any questions about her past and waited for her to tell him herself, and refrained from profiling her (too much at least), and truly didn’t/doesn’t know anything about her past that she didn’t/doesn’t tell him. And how Dean told him things about his past he hadn’t told anyone before, not just to get her to trust him, but also because he trusted her. Just think for a moment please, how Lia, a girl who has been lied to and hurt and threatened and abused by every single person in her life, would feel about meeting someone who didn’t do any of that. Who never even lied to her, not once. For every lie she told him, Dean only ever told her the truth. Dean didn’t blame her for anything, for any part of what she went through. How confused she must have been, finding out that not everyone was like that. How hurt she must have been when she realized that what happened in her past, her childhood, was so much worse than she thought. Because before she thought that everyone was like that and it was normal, but meeting Dean who was entirely fundamentally different in every single way, showed her that it wasn’t. Think about how Dean must have felt, meeting a girl so defensive and closed off. How meeting her awakened a side of him he didn’t think he had, the side that felt and loved and trusted and the side that felt the inexplicable need to protect that girl.

And the fact that to protect her, Dean turns the attention on himself and his past, which he hates, just so Lia doesn’t have to face questions about her own past. Lia would go through hell for him, and he would do the same for her.

Think about how before, all of Lia’s love had essentially been very idk submissive almost, like how she followed her mother and what her mother told her. I think she truly believed at some point that her mother was safe to trust. And then, well, we all know what happened and how her mother is actually evil and— Anyway, after her mother, the only person she trusted in her childhood before, completely shattered and destroyed all senses of trust in others, she lets herself trust and love this boy who trusts and loves her. And this love is fierce and protective, infinitely intense and powerful. The kind of love that can destroy worlds and build new ones, defying all logic and all boundaries. The opposite of what her love had been previously. And think about how much she had to have trusted him to let herself love like that.

Also think about how hurt Lia must have been when Dean shut her out. She trusted him with her whole being, she loved him and she saw them as a unit regardless of what happened and what other people entered and left their lives. They would always be with each other. Dean had never shut her out before, and Dean shut her out too. That hurts my soul way too much for it to be healthy. (I am choosing to believe that they had a conversation afterwards and then they both proceeded to cry and it never happened again yay happy ending tbh considering writing that bc I don't think I will survive if it doesn't end happily like that)

And Dean!! He’s lived his entire life terrified of feeling, terrified of becoming his father. He was living in a house alone with Judd and profiling killers which definitely perpetuated his fear, and then here came this girl whom he could protect. A girl he wouldn’t let himself hurt, a girl he could help for once and not mess it all up. And he didn’t mess it up. He saw how hurt she was, and how little she was willing to admit the truth to. And in that, he saw someone he could understand. He saw someone who he could profile for a good reason, but only profile enough to be able to get her to trust him and not enough to violate her privacy and that trust. He let himself get close to someone for the first time in his life. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t a monster. Lia didn’t see him as a monster.

Because of their past and childhood, Dean didn’t trust himself and Lia only trusted herself and no one else. But meeting and loving each other? It taught Dean he can trust himself not to hurt someone. And it taught Lia that she can trust someone who won’t hurt her.

Maybe it’s because of the amatocentric world being way too focused on romantic relationships, but why aren’t we talking about this more??

[shallowseeker]

It took a lot for Dean to want revenge. Time and time again he turns away from revenge. Even in his reversal power/demon Dean arc, he does not reach for revenge per se.

At worst, he became a short-lived Rowena-esque figure, willing to kill Sam to have freedom. He rebels against all friends and family, almost like a test. Crowley verbally abuses him and betrays him, Sam hypocritically does terrible things but in the end loves him and lowers his blade to be willingly killed by him, and Cas too won’t raise a hand to him, only asking him to stop and not to murder the world.

In the end, it is Dean’s “human/angel” family that lower their blades to his rebellion, gently submitting as family must lovingly submit to each other. (This sense of family is why Dean entrusts the first blade to Cas, and it’s also how Dean tries to explain family ties re: Rowena to Crowley.)

///

But it was Chuck killing Jack that seemed to “break” Dean—kinda wild when you think about it. Jack also “broke” the best of Cas, twisting his “where you’ve been isn’t as important as where you’re going” into flirting with predestination.

Dean’s crisis/nervous breakdown was about Dean’s nihilism and the existential crisis, too, but it was also a lot about Jack. Jack’s death was so painful that Dean couldn’t even say his name; used “Bel” as code for having the conversation.

And when they got Jack back, they were so relieved, they just… went along with Billie’s plan. They wanted to “trust” Jack, so they trusted Billie.

It was odd behavior for both of them. They didn’t wanna rock the boat with each other or Jack, and they didn’t question. I still maintain I’d rather have seen them drop-drag fighting in the library rather than toasting each other.

////

But anyway, point being… I think, fandom tends to minimize how much Jack means to everyone, hyperfocusing on the “Jack is not family” of it all.

Dean was hurt. He wanted payback, he wanted poetic justice, for Chuck to be killed by his own grandson. Dean gave up the gun after Mary’s death, but the death of Jack was so painful, it had him buying into revenge. Dean has never wanted revenge.

Jack was family, and Dean saying that Jack wasn’t was a way to steel himself and deaden tremendously painful emotions. Rowena and Sam trade more in this kind of dissociation in order to carry out heinous missions, and I think it just feels odd for people to see it coming from Dean. Sundering Jack from family was a coping mechanism.

But truthfully, Jack’s death was the ultimate thing that “broke” Dean. And Cas.

Cas was raised that to care about something, it had to be cosmic mission—to be important. So he is constantly putting his loved ones on pedestals to justify his own caring/emotions. He’s “allowed” to care if it’s a mission.

Cas partially recovers in 15x18: “We don’t care about you because you’re part of some grand design.” But it’s too late; Jacks bomb was lit and detonated. So, Cas fights death on his behalf.

Dean was raised that to care about something, you lay down your life for it; it’s your mission to protect them. Jack is stronger than Dean, always has been, he defeated Michael when Dean was too weak to do it. This time, Dean told Sam they were going to, “get out of the way.” If family must be protected, then Jack “is not family.”

Dean too comes to his sense in 15x18: “Hey, hey, hey, we're not giving up on you, okay? (to Sam) Uh... magic. Magic. One of Rowena's spells. Come on, we've got to do something!” But it’s too late; Jacks bomb was lit and detonated. So, Dean fights death on his behalf.

[apples-and-heartbreak]

I feel like when I’m reading or watching something, for me to like a hero, they have to

1) have ambition about anything

2) not be annoying

3) not excuse their shitty behaviour with their shitty childhood

4) not be so self-righteous they don’t see their own flaws

For these reasons I hate with a burning passion Jace Herondale, Clary Fairchild, Eli Ever, Tiberius “Cal” Calore VIII, Dean Winchester, and Legend/Dante Santos

Jace is constantly doing something shitty in every book and people don’t care and they just put up with it for some reason. In CoG he belittles Clary because he wants to push her away but keeps coming back to her. He also keeps coming onto Clary when he thought she was his sister and said that cursed sentence in CoG that I need to bleach from my brain. I know if he said that shit to me I would’ve punched him in his stupid face cuz who does he think he is? He mocks the werewolves after they lost a child in their pack, he’s just awful to Alec at times, he doesn’t seem to understand there are consequences to his actions and just does shit because he wants to. He had the emotional maturity of a dried up pinecone.

Clary also does so much shit and people don’t call her out because she’s the protagonist and she just lets Jace do whatever to her because he’s hot. Girl please get a grip. She slut shames Izzy because apparently women aren’t allowed to have a sex life or wear revealing clothing 😒 girl you kissed someone you thought was YOUR BROTHER!! She dated Simon to get over Jace and then kissed Jace in the Seelie Court, and repeatedly thought about Jace in a romantic sense WHILE she thought they were SIBLINGS! I can’t.

Eli is so self-righteous, annoying and hypocritical. He uses God and religion as an excuse to kill innocent people which is just disgusting. Like I get that he thinks being an EO changed a person because Victor became different but he is an EO himself and he just takes it on himself to murder innocent people for simply existing.

Cal has no desire to do anything, at least up to the beginning of King’s Cage he doesn’t (where I currently am). He knows how poorly the Reds are being treated and he doesn’t want to change anything because (and I’m paraphrasing) there would be outrage among the Silvers and a war would break out. Bitch you are already at war! He’s the reason why so many innocent young Reds have lost their lives fighting in a war they have no say in. He sees the Scarlet Guard killing Silvers and he doesn’t try to stop them. He sulks and whines but doesn’t take any real action, which he could if he actually wanted to. He stalks around the camp like Mare’s dog and thinks he’s better than everyone.

Dean Winchester is an abusive asshole. He locked Sam in the cellar when he was addicted to demon blood when he knew the withdrawal could kill him. He shit on Sam for being manipulated. He’s made horrible perverted jokes about women, might I remind y’all of the high school episode (he was at least 26 at the time). He guilted Sam for leaving him in Hell and Purgatory when he did THE EXACT SAME THING when Same went to the cage. He threatened Kaia, a teenager at gun point for his own selfish purposes. He abused Jack til the very end, yelling that he wasn’t family when Jack had sacrificed his soul and life for the Winchesters, and made Jack hate himself for being born. He was shitty to Cas in so many seasons and didn’t care that Cas just went through seeing his son die and wasn’t able to save him. He violated Sam’s body by tricking him into letting Gadreel in which led to the death of Kevin and had the audacity to think he was wronged.

Dante is shit. Julian, his brother, lived with him for centuries, followed him wherever he went and loved him unconditionally. All Julian asked was for Dante to love him back, which he never did. When Julian finally found someone who loved him, Dante made fun of him. And then in the next book he gives up his immortality for Tella, a girl he has known for literal months at most. He didn’t love his brother, who has been with him since the beginning, enough to give up his immortality but he loved this random girl he has known for a couple months at most to give it all up?? Tella should’ve left him in the dust just like she did Jacks and went off on adventures by herself and met someone that wasn’t a twat.

[soullessjack]

Full disclosure I am not the previous anon but building off of their message: I'm saying this with all due respect. Not accusing you of abuse apologia for your opinions on a fictional character, but I honestly feel like you have a strange bar for what constitutes an abuser. I strongly disagree that abusers don't regret their actions. An abuser can 100% show regret or remorse for what they did, they can show genuine love and affection to the people they victimize and still be an abuser. Dean is obviously not a black and white villainous caricature, but very rarely in real cases are abusers black and white villainous caricatures. We tend to single out Dean when dissecting the family dynamics because his abuse was the most extreme but all of them, Sam, Dean, and Castiel, are a murder cult who groom Jack into their line of business. So I don't really see the point in the semantics game.

1. that’s a fair point! I just think there’s some distinction between being abusive and being a straight-up abuser, if not distinctive connotations for those terms. I’m also not trying to be apologetic about Dean’s behavior more so than I’m just trying to explain it and make it more understandable than a surface level viewing of him.

2. agree again! nobody is completely black and white and that’s always been a consistent theme (alongside free will and family) within the show, as well as the choice to be a better person, so it’s very confusing to me when fandom discourse is all semantical about who’s worse or who’s better. your favs are wanted by the FBI and violated the Geneva Conventions numerous times, but they still try to do the right thing where it counts.

3. actually I think dumbing down TFW’s dynamic with jack as a “murder cult who groomed him into their line of business” is playing right into the semantics game and the villainous caricature.

for one, hunting just is not a cult. please can we not turn cult into the next internet buzzword. it’s a lifestyle that almost nobody involved actively enjoys living (Gordon and the other dude from Black Rock are outliers) because it’s nothing but trauma and loss and violence constantly, but for one reason or another it’s incredibly difficult to leave, or even compromise with a somewhat normal life. even Dean views it as a death sentence, and the violence he regularly commits within it only ever added to his low self worth as he considers himself a designated “grunt.” even in the later seasons when it’s framed more casually or comedically, the violence and murder of hunting is still ultimately a bleak and begrudging necessity; grunt work for the grunts. to say it’s a “murder cult” is just wrong and, well, a little cartoonish if I’m being fr.

second, jack wasn’t ‘groomed’ into being a hunter/murderer. I swear takes like these make me question what show everyone else is watching ,I’m sorry. he’s literally a born-adult supernatural creature with a heritage and birth circumstance that’s been intertwined with the lives of all three of his chosen fathers since before they all existed and cosmically dangerous powers. there is no way he could ever be normal or have a life outside of hunting (or one that lasts, at least). and considering what we know from his first death now, he probably would’ve just died as a normal baby if Cas had removed his grace. Yes, TFW has some major dysfunctions in their parenting with Jack and it’s absolutely worth talking about, but they still make an effort to be good father figures for him, even with fathers that frankly set them up for failure in that regard. to say they’re all groomers is, to put it mildly, insane and ridiculous

[thegeminisage]

oooh envesseled, please!!

HI wow thank you for asking, because i love talking about this, and i promise no one is obligated to read the whole answer lol. envesseled (partially, but only partially, up on ao3...) is part of cambionverse, which is a sort of spin-off about some EXTREMELY minor characters in s*pernatural that my buddy @callowyn and i have been chipping away at since 2011 or so.

for anyone with a passing familiarity with the show: we were so sure they were going to kill lisa braeden at the end of season 6 (can you blame us?), we whipped up a little scenario where her son ben was partially raised by sam, dean, and bobby instead...until sam and dean go mysteriously missing, a la john winchester, and now ben has to go and look for them the same way they once searched for their own dad.

but since supernatural has those big 3 characters (sam dean cas) and ben is our dean-character (he is sort of like a dean who broke the cycle of abuse and is also a huge lovable dork), we also needed a sam-character and a cas-character. for our sam we picked jesse (a one-episode wonder, the antichrist kid who turned cas into an action figure), and claire novak, the daughter of acstiel's vessel, who at that point was also a one-episode wonder and also had a collective total of less than 50 words of dialogue. we made her up on our own, essentially. jesse struggles with anxiety and controlling his demonic half and trusting hunters/himself after doing so has burned him in the past (or...gotten other people burned, i guess), and claire struggles with trusting anyone at all and the total emotional unavailability/other after-effects that come from being possessed by something with a thousand eyes at age 11.

in the first two "big" stories (one for jesse, one for ben, though there's a shit ton of additional content) they battle meg (my beloved, don't worry, she'll NEVER die), find the missing sam and dean, resolve various other personal traumas, be mentally ill together, and flirt ever closer to a three-person situationship that would make dean actively long for death if he ever found out about it. meanwhile cally and i kind of throw tomatoes at various things in the show proper that annoyed us, such as how much they hate women, how often they forget their own canon, or the double standard of sometimes letting monsters live when they're dangerous and sometimes killing them when they've done nothing wrong.

envesseled is the third "big" story, for claire, and it takes a significant turn because at the very beginning of it, while she and ben are in the middle of a huge argument, he dies (fridged a la MARY winchester), debatably because of something claire did, and the only way to resurrect him is to ask castiel for help. except he can't help because his various misadventures have left him broken into a thousand pieces and his current jimmy-vessel has no soul to put them back together. and so she's still dealing with this castiel trauma, and the grief/guilt over ben, and the grief /guilt over her dad she never processed, while going around collecting all the broken pieces of castiel in her own body so he can envessel HER (hence the title), bring ben back to life--except the catch is the more grace she takes into her body, the sicker she gets, so it's a question of whether or not she has enough time to finish collecting the pieces, and whether or not she can actually bear to be in castiel's presence and also say yes to him in order to allow him to do this.

as one might guess from the summary it is. an INCREDIBLY niche fanfic series with like a dozen fans worldwide, though i am proud to say pretty much everyone who's tried it has liked it, probably because it's diverged so heavily at this point it aaalmost reads like original fiction. like, i wish there were words to convey how deeply you do not need to have seen the show to read it. we are still writing "envesseled" which is why it's on the wip list (it is fighting with us SO MUCH) but we really really really hope we get it finished in time for "cambion day," which is march 29 (jesse's birthday). i tried very, very hard to find an excerpt from what we haven't posted that isn't full of giant spoilers, but i can't, so i'll post an excerpt from what we have on ao3 instead that i really like. this happens right after claire absorbs the first of many of castiel's broken pieces and is kind of a microcosm of the dynamic in general:

Castiel stands, not far enough away, watching her like a crow inspecting carrion. "How do you feel?" Claire takes a deep breath, assessing. There's no apparent difference between the new grace and the old—after all, both are pieces of the same angel—but she feels their presence more keenly, a stronger heat than the one she's been accustomed to for so many years. Apparently she's more sensitive to the powers of the Antichrist, too. "I've stopped feeling like there's a stab wound in my side, if that's what you mean." "Hm." Two fingers brush across her forehead. Claire's entire body thrums, and then she's grabbing Castiel's wrist, crushing it in her grip as she pulls his hand away. "Don't touch me." Her heartbeat is wild, squeezing the bones under her hand with all her strength, knowing she can't damage him but too angry to care. "Don't you ever touch me." Castiel holds motionless in a way no human could ever achieve, lights flickering over his head. "Let go of me, then." He could break free of her grasp with a fraction of effort, but it's still satisfying to throw his hand aside. Claire catches Jesse's eyes, and sees just a moment of ink-black there before he blinks and the light fixtures stop shaking. "Very well," says Castiel, after a long tense silence. He leaves the kitchen, giving Claire a wide berth, and moves to stand in the center of the dusty library. "Try this one."

let people send you an ask with the WIP title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

[lightofraye]

Jensen is fine, i saw it with my own two eyes, he's the sweetest guy.

Reading your blog upsets me, because you claim to care about him, and yet you do this.

I don't understand, you love him, but you don't think he deserves respect and privacy?

if you want to talk about abuse, and create awareness, why don't use Sam and Dean as examples?

They got massive amounts of abuse, of several types, from several people, including from eachother.

Sam and Dean aren't real, talking about their abuse hurts nobody.

Remember Jensen is a real human being, and he deserves to be treated with kindness, respect and dignity, just like everyone else.

what makes you think you're entitled to his private life?

Hello anon.

Your ask was one I also thought over carefully. There's a reason. I'm going to address your ask as carefully as I can.

Jensen is fine, i saw it with my own two eyes, he's the sweetest guy.

You mean physically fine. The vast majority of the abuse he's enduring/had endured is emotional and verbal. You're not going to ever see that, not unless he wants you to. And yes... he's sweet. Most of the time, abuse victims fall over backwards to be people pleasers.

Reading your blog upsets me, because you claim to care about him, and yet you do this.

I don't understand, you love him, but you don't think he deserves respect and privacy?

I'm sorry, anon. This is where it's going to hurt.

He's a public figure. He's a celebrity. Just about all of what I've analyzed, speak over, is available for public consumption. Interviews, con/panels, photos, all of it has been available to the public. That is the only thing I touch. I may make some speculations about other things, but I try to point it out when I do.

What I don't do is stalk his home, invade the privacy of his children. I would never, ever touch the children (aside from expressing concern about their wellbeing in witnessing their parents hate each other, sigh).

I do respect him--which is why I'm speaking out! You think he'd ever admit this? Any of it? As it is, he admitted his own father beat him in a con, for crying out loud! He even indicated that his father insisted he wed Danneel instead of breaking it off right before the wedding.

When people around him around giving him no comfort, no respect, no freedom to relax and be vulnerable... what do you think then?

If I could meet him in person, I'd offer him the sanctuary of my home. I've done it before, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. For anyone.

You should be upset over the abuse he's experienced and endured, instead of someone speaking of it so we can actually ask him if he's freakin' okay!

if you want to talk about abuse, and create awareness, why don't use Sam and Dean as examples?

They got massive amounts of abuse, of several types, from several people, including from each other.

Sam and Dean aren't real, talking about their abuse hurts nobody.

Because in the end, it's fictional. And a bad representation. You think the writers actually researched abuse, the psychology behind it, or even cared about how they may be misrepresenting it? Hell, even Law & Order: SVU gets it painfully wrong. A lot of television gets it wrong--from medical science to law to abuse.

What we need is real life examples. Sadly... Jensen and Danneel are one of them.

Remember Jensen is a real human being, and he deserves to be treated with kindness, respect and dignity, just like everyone else.

You think I'm not doing that? Please, point out one harmful thing I said about him that wasn't/isn't couched in concern and support? Oh right... you mean Danneel.

She isn't entitled to my respect. She's cheated on him, admitted to it in a podcast. She's dunked on him countless times. That isn't someone worthy of any respect.

Jensen is. And I give it to him. Couched with loving criticism for his bad decisions and support for his hopeful full recovery.

what makes you think you're entitled to his private life?

Now that, I've never claimed. But everything I've spoken about is available for public consumption.

The day he announces he's retired, I'd stop. I have more respect for him than a lot of fans, believe me. (Just check out the destiel/cockles fans; bleh.)

I'm sorry this upsets you, anon, but I shan't stop.

I'd recommend, perhaps, blocking the tags I use so you never have to see my posts again.

[future-dregs]

Ep. 1 & 2 Bullet Points

I was gonna post my thoughts about the episodes in real time, but then I got caught up in it and didn't do that. So now, I'm summarizing.

------

Sam had houseplants in his windowsill.

Can't decide if Dean was pacing around and making noise to test Sam/give him a heads up and see how he'd react, or if that was just him being a kinda inexperienced kid.

I like that Sam was fighting with his whole body. Like, he brought his feet and legs into it. Comes across more genuine that just punching. (Also his little end of spar pat on Dean's arm? Mwah. Falling back into the rhythms already.)

Sam kept his hand scythe. In the house. Didnt leave it as far behind you claimed baby. Because as Dean said, you know what's out there.

That's two "Sammy"s, an arm across the back of the diner booth and an in unison talking moment in close succession. Dean's playing for keeps.

John fucking Winchester. Freaked out by a vengeful womans spirit for real, or ninth level cat and mousing your kids?

Dean getting thrown and pressed over the hood of the car and his "squeal like a pig" comment are stacking up in my brain. Debating about if I wanna make a sexual abuse post or not.

Also, people have been saying from the day the show aired, but that is the second time Dean carried him out.

I dont want to talk much about Mary right now, theres some episodes in later seasons with her that I havent seen, so I dont feel I have enough contact to say something accurate. But I will say this- she knew better, and she should've done better, cause it ALL comes back to her and what she did and didnt do. She doomed her family, and everyone who touched them.

I think Dean was circling around to try again. In hindsight we know he was hanging out for hours before coming in (and oh how bitter bitter it is to see him young and "careless" like that, and have to amend it knowing how very very frightened he actually was) so I think it stands to reason that Dean would skulk around a little longer afterward as well.

Episode 2!

First off, really like that Sam's dream, though still with that beautiful early season low saturation, has more color, and brighter colors (pink in the bouquet, red candles, ect) than the real world does.

Also very funny to see Dean being the one who wants to open up and talk about feelings, and dealing with loss in a healthy way.

Also Dean offering the car to Sam for comfort because that's how Dean feels in control and comforted is killing me.

"Lookit this friggin bear!" My love my love I'm kissing you on the face.

Y'know you never see those shell necklaces anymore? But they kinda rocked.

Also I'm not gonna get pedantic about them getting the mythos wrong (don't get used to it, I LOVE being pedantic, esp with things I actually know about), so I'm not gonna mention it again, but oh! they got the mythos wrong.

Now. I've mentioned this briefly before, but its intriguing to me that in an episode about a corrupting hunger, we see Sam start down the path of vengeance AND get horny over his brother. He's growing enamored with Dean again, and he's watching him when he interacts with other people, looking for threats. Both physical, and not.

(I have a whole separate post in the works about Sam standing bodily between the victims and the threat, but suffice to say, babydoll I love you and you chosen efforts towards goodness from the bottom of my heart.)

Back to above point. Girl of the week kisses Dean's cheek, Sam comes over, sits on that side of him, and stares at that spot on Dean's cheek until he gives him the keys.

Fly by night away from here/change my life again/fly by night goodbye my dear - they knew how to use their music for effect. Also my introduction to Rush, years ago. Thanks guys.

So I think that about covers the thoughts I thunk while watching. Next time I'll try to at least make active notes if I'm not live blogging through it.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Poetic Tragedy (Part 7)

Pairing: Reader X Billy Russo

Warnings: Cursing, angst, sadness, substance abuse, mental health issues, mentions of sexual assault. This one’s a little dark and not really in a violent way (okay some of it is lmao). Just more the themes explored, I guess? 

A/N: This whole story is free written. The only idea I had was the scene in the first chapter where the guys corner her in the alley after she steals, after that, I’m just winging it lmao I have no idea where this story is heading right now, I’m just along for the ride like you guys loooool 

—------------------

The next day, you lay on your bed blinking slowly at the ceiling. After your little argument with Billy, you’d hidden in your room and you hadn't come out. You didn’t want to bump into Billy, you couldn't promise that you wouldn't hit him the next time he decided to take his anger out on you. You were done being a punching bag, you’d left those days behind. Like hell you were going to let him use you to take his frustrations out on. Everything was too much. You were used to a simple life, one that was mostly peaceful. You couldn't even enjoy being clean after all these years with the darkness looming over you. It felt like it was raining down shit on you and you weren't sure when it would end. What next? The building would catch fire and everyone would die? You wouldn't be surprised at this point. You missed the quiet that came with the solitude of your alley. Missed the drama-free nonsense. It was simple. Steal, eat, use and sleep. That was what you were used to, only now it would be even simpler without the drug use dangling over your head. You really couldn't wait to leave here. You felt trapped and it was stifling. You weren’t used to all these people, weren’t used to all this death and violence. You just wanted to be alone again, it was easier than this. 

Your thoughts drifted to Dean, remembering the awful moment the gunshot echoed outside. You didn't know how to feel about it all, about Dean acting so unaffected. His brother was a giant piece of shit and you had no doubt he was abusive to Dean, but still, the idea didn't sit well with you that he’d signed off on his death like he did. You hated your parents for what they did to you but you wouldn't tell someone to kill them. The mobs of New York, you got it. They were destructive and deadly and they needed to be gone. But not everything was black and white. It all bled into shades of gray and it seemed the lines that should be set were getting blurred here and it concerned you. Frank was one of the only ones to agree with you on that front and it surprised you a little given his history. But you wondered if after he was done with his revenge and he finally got it, he’d had time to think about everything. Realized needless violence wasn't the answer. There needed to be rules to this chaos or innocent people would wind up dead. Petty criminals like yourself would wind up dead. Some people just made bad choices and while yes, they may hurt people along the way, it didn't mean they had to die for it. You didn't believe for one second the police couldn't handle the petty lowlives like that. It was the big guns they had difficulty getting a handle on. That's where the vigilantes were supposed to step in, not for shit like this. You wanted to speak with Dean and make sure he was okay. You weren't sure if his brave face was just an act. You had no idea what had gone down with Billy and Dean when you weren't around, when he’d told him to stay away from you, but Dean was playing the good little soldier bit down to a tee and you felt like maybe he was going along with what he thought Billy wanted. You wondered if he’d threatened him. You wouldn't put it past the bastard. 

You heaved yourself off the bed, forcing yourself to get dressed. It was almost 9 am and you weren't sure where Dean would be. Breakfast was between 8 and 9, training starting at 10. After you got ready, you trudged down the stairs feeling heavy. The night before had been hard for you, harder than you’d like to admit. Without the crutch of drugs to fall back on, you’d lay there all night with your mind on a loop of what you witnessed. The cracking of Josh’s arm wouldn't scrub from your brain and all it did was make awful memories of your own surface. You didn't want to hear another bone break in your life. When you got downstairs, you looked around but saw no sign of Dean. Frank and Billy were talking to some of the recruits, they looked all business. Billy’s eyes drifted over to you then and you looked away quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you made a beeline for Karen. You didn't want to give him any opening to speak to you at all. With how you were feeling, you thought you might snap. You hadn't allowed yourself to cry over everything. It felt wrong, crying over Josh as if you missed him because you didn't. It just brought up a lot of trauma for you and the whole thing made you feel upside down. You were only a baby when it came to being in recovery and the tempting voice in the back of your head wouldn't leave you alone.

“Hey, have you seen Dean?” you asked softly, nibbling your lower lip. Karen glanced around before shaking her head.

“I haven’t seen him, I don’t think he’s been down here yet,” she replied with a smile. 

“Do you know what room he’s in?” you asked hopefully. It would be even better to talk to him in private if you could catch him before he came downstairs. 

“104,” Karen supplied easily. You wondered how she kept up with all the names and faces and apparently, room numbers too. She was just good at this shit, she was nothing like you. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, going to walk away.

“Are you okay?” she asked, halting your steps. You felt tense at her question as you turned back to her.

“I’m fine,” you lied, giving her a fake smile. Her eyes narrowed a little as she scrutinized you. 

“You know it's okay not to be fine, right?” she asked with a sad smile. You stuffed your hands into your hoodie pockets and shrugged.

“Look, I know yesterday was intense and I’m sorry you had to see it. And I saw your face when my hand went up at the vote. I didn't mean… I never wanted you to feel… betrayed or anything. But we’ve worked so hard building this place. Most of the people here… they’ve suffered in one way or another. We don't get normal guys with white-collar jobs turning up here signing up. The people here had a rough go of it and they're here to make a difference. To really help people. It's a safe space and if we kept him here… We can’t have someone like that here, we can’t have our people feeling unsafe. And letting him go wasn't an option because you’d wind up dead and he’d tell the Irish where we are. I’m not saying what happened was good, because it wasn't. But they were all bad choices and this was the one where only one person got hurt,” she explained shakily, a small frown on her face. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I know he was a bad man, trust me, I get that more than most. And I get that you're protective of this place, the people here… but I’m not. I look out for myself because that's all I’ve ever had to do and it’s what I’ll keep on doing. He might have been a threat to me but I still couldn't just sign his death warrant like that. I don't have it in me,” you murmured tensely. She nodded, looking thoughtful as she sighed.

“I understand. I just wanted you to know why I did it. Frank’s been upset with me since. The old Frank would have killed him before Billy even got to him,” she said with a sad smile.

“Well it seems the new Frank might have gotten his conscience back,” you replied, giving her a meaningful look before you turned away. You understood her reasons, it made sense. But it didn't mean you had to like it. You could go around and around in circles with her or Billy until the earth stopped rotating but it wouldn't make any of you see differently. And this was why you didn't belong here. You weren't built that way. 

You walked back up the stairs, this time stopping on the second floor and not the third. You remembered Karen telling you the rooms were smaller and there were more of them as you took in the differences between this floor and yours. You stopped outside of 104, taking a deep breath before you knocked on the door firmly. The door opened and Dean blinked at you for a moment. He was dressed but his bootlaces were undone like he was in the middle of putting them on when you knocked.

“We need to talk,” you said, pushing your way past him inside. You weren't about to give him another chance to shut you down or evade you. You moved into the room, sitting on his bed as you watched him sigh and shut the door. He moved over to a chair in the room, starting to tie his laces.

“What's up?” he asked, his voice not giving anything away about how he was feeling. 

“You know damn well what's up. Josh was murdered yesterday, how can you be so okay with it?” you asked with a frown. He scoffed, sitting up properly in the chair now his laces were tied.

“I don’t get how you aren’t,” he bit out, shaking his head at you.

“He was a drug dealer and shitty person, it hardly warrants being executed like that,” you muttered tensely. 

“It's like you want to die,” he huffed incredulously.

“Excuse me?” you asked as your brows raised.

“You know what he would have done if we let him go. You’d be dead, maybe we’d all end up dead. I did what I had to do to keep you and everyone else safe,” he bit out with a glower.

“I get all that, I had Karen feed me the same bullshit. But what I don’t get is how you were so okay with it, how it was so easy for you,” you couldn't keep the hard edge out of your tone and he snorted joylessly.

“It was easy because he’s been dead to me for years. You only know half the shit he did to me. You can think I’m a monster for not caring all you want, but I’m okay with what I did,” he insisted firmly. Your shoulders sagged a little at his words and you frowned.

“I don’t think you’re a monster, Dean. I’m just worried about you,” you murmured, feeling guilt gnaw at you. While you didn't quite get why he was so okay with his brother being killed, you weren’t him. He was right, you didn't know everything. You knew he would have had his reasons. You just hoped that being here with these people hadn't desensitized him to violence. 

He got up from where he sat, moving to sit next to you on the bed.

“You don’t need to worry about me. Really, I’m fine,” he said resolutely. When you looked at him, you knew he meant it. There wasn't much else you could say on the topic. What was done was done and as long as it wasn't eating at him, you had no choice but to drop it no matter how much it didn't sit right with you.

“Enough about me anyway. How are you?” It was such a simple question, one that Karen had asked just moments before. But when Dean asked you, his blue eyes looking at you with all of their concern, you mortifyingly felt your lower lip wobble and you quickly looked away. You wanted to hit yourself.

“It's okay to be upset. Josh was a big part of your life since you were 17,” he murmured softly. You shook your head, the tears burning your eyes deciding to free themselves as they fell down your cheeks.

“I’m not upset… not like that. It’s not like I’m gonna miss him, I just… It’s all too much. There's too much happening one after the other and my brain can’t handle it. There’s so much… death and-and violence. And watching Billy beat him like that… it was like being back at home,” you lamented, angrily wiping your eyes. Josh had been a huge part of your life for a long while but you didn't lie when you said you wouldn't miss him. Seeing him was the worst part of your week and it would always fill you with dread, anxiety and shame. You just didn't think the right justice for his crimes was a bullet to his head. You didn't like how easy it was for them all to resort to murder. Dean put his hand on your back carefully as if not to spook you, rubbing it softly to comfort you.

“I know it's a lot for you. I know that violence upsets you,” he muttered quietly as you sniffled, getting a reign on yourself. 

“I just can’t wait to leave,” you whispered, shaking your head. 

“You know what I think?” he asked. When you looked at him, he gave you a rueful smile.

“What?” you asked, wiping your eyes of the last of their tears.

“I think you need cheering up. I know a great ice cream place,” he shot you a grin and your lips quirked up a little at him. 

“I’m not allowed to leave, remember?” you asked with a roll of your eyes. 

“It’s not far and we won’t be too long. We could just grab it and bring it back here. I know a way we could sneak out,” he smirked. 

It was a little exhilarating sneaking out. He’d led you to a secret staircase that you would have never known existed. It had an exit to the back. He chose one of the many cars parked outside at the side of the building before leaving quickly before anyone noticed. You felt a thrill at being free, at being out of the intense atmosphere there. 

“So this is what freedom feels like?” you asked playfully, looking out the window longingly. You missed it out there. Dean chuckled, glancing at you as he navigated the road easily to get to his destination. 

“You must hate being cooped up there,” he answered lightly. 

“Just a bit,” you snorted, making him smile at you. It didn't take long to get to the ice cream place and once inside, you felt overwhelmed. There were so many flavors that it made your brain ache. You couldn't remember the last time you had ice cream, you didn't even remember what it tasted like. 

“What can I get you, hon?” the older woman behind the counter asked with a polite smile as she looked at Dean.

“Uh… I’ll have the rocky road,” he supplied, looking at you for your answer. You couldn’t give him one though, staring at the many flavors like you were about to have an aneurysm. 

“And a chocolate chip too,” he smiled. You looked to him then, body feeling relief sweeping through it. You were glad he picked for you, you thought you’d be there forever if he didn't. It reminded you of years ago, back when he would visit you in your little alley when he could. He’d bring a pack of chocolate chip cookies with him. You didn't devour them like your starving body wanted you to. Instead, you’d rationed yourself to one a day to make them last until his next visit. When the woman handed the ice creams over, Dean handed yours to you and you took it gratefully. You ate a mouthful of it and you moaned softly at the taste. It was the nicest thing you’d tasted in forever, even if the cold was strange to you.

“Good, right?” he asked teasingly at your reaction as you both left the store.

“You’re spoiling me. I hope you know you're gonna have to come visit me when I leave and bring ice cream,” you smirked cheekily as you both made your way to the car.

“Do you want me to get you another scoop?” he asked, standing next to you with an amused look on his face. You were honestly considering it.

The sound of tires screeching had you both whipping around to see a black car come to an abrupt halt outside of the shop, four big men jumping out. Your body froze, heart beating rapidly and you felt Dean tense next to you.

“We’ve been lookin’ for ye, little girl,” the bigger man smirked cruelly, his accent giving him away immediately. You felt like you might throw up. He drew his gun and Dean rushed over, reaching for his own that you didn't even realize he’d had on him. But before Dean could even grab it, a bullet went right through his head and he fell into a lifeless heap on the floor.

“No!” you screamed, ice cream slapping the floor with a splat. Your heart felt like it was being ripped right out of your chest. As you made a move to get to him, you suddenly flew backwards by a force, your back hitting the ground hard. You gasped, pain spreading all over you like you were on fire. You couldn't move your left arm. You glanced down, seeing blood quickly soaking into your shirt under your left shoulder. You heard people shouting and the sound of tires once more but your brain felt like it was working through molasses at the shock and pain and you rolled onto your side. Dean was looking right at you but there was no life in his eyes and you sobbed brokenly, the gunshot in the middle of his head oozing blood.

“No… No, I’m sorry,” you wailed, dragging your pain-riddled body over to his. He couldn't be dead, this couldn't be real. You made it far enough to grasp his hand, clutching it desperately like you might float away. Your broken pleas became silence as everything turned to darkness. 

—-

You gasped as your eyes shot open, looking around panicked as you took in the bright white room. Your head felt fuzzy, your body heavy, as painful flashes of what happened came back to you. Dean was dead. He was dead because of you. 

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, trying to sit up.

“You need to stay still, sweetie. Just relax.” The voice made you tense as your blurry eyes focused on the nurse that was hovering over you, chart in hand. 

“It’s okay,” she added with a kind smile. You felt panic gripping you tightly. You had to get out of here, if the Irish turned up, you’d be dead. 

“I… I need to leave. I have to…” you pleaded, once again trying to sit up. The nurse moved your bed to sit up for you as she hovered next to you.

“You can’t leave just yet, you’re under observation. You’re lucky that gunshot didn't hit anything important. The police have also been waiting to come and take a statement. You've been out of it for…” she trailed off, glancing to your chart, “four days,” she murmured with a concerned frown. Four days. For all you knew, if you turned up back at the warehouse, they’d all be dead just like Dean. You felt sick.

“I really need to go, I don’t want to be here,” you lamented as tears stained your cheeks. She gave you a sympathetic look but shook her head.

“Just let the doctor see you first. If he clears you, then you can leave and arrange to see the police at home,” she insisted. You blinked ahead of you, unseeing as your brain replayed the horrors you’d seen over and over.

“Can you tell me your name, sweetie? You didn't have any ID on you when you came in, we’ve had you down as a Jane Doe,” the nurse asked lightly. You frowned, shaking your head. Of course, you didn't have an ID on you, you didn't have any at all. You were a nobody in this city, a ghost. And that's how you liked it.

“You don't remember your name?” the nurse asked, concern dripping from her voice. You shook your head again, not even really listening to her. You needed to leave before you wound up dead. Your hazy eyes drifted to your right hand, seeing an IV in it. You frowned again, moving your left hand to get it out of you. While you could move your left arm now, it was uncomfortable and painful.

“No, no, no! You have to leave that in, it's the pain medication,” the nurse tutted as she came over to stop you.

“Pain medication?” you asked with a hollow voice, dread seizing you tightly. 

“For your wound. The doctor made sure to give you the good stuff,” she gave you a bright smile but you felt like you were being sucked into a black hole. You were a recovered opioid addict and they’d given you strong pain meds. That was why you felt so fuzzy and out of it. You thought it had been the blood loss. While it wouldn't make you go through withdrawals again since it wasn't as strong as the heroin you were used to, it would make abstaining a lot harder for you, which in your current devastated condition, wasn't great. You didn't speak, glaring at the IV like you wanted to set it on fire with your mind. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go and grab the doctor. I’ll be back in a minute,” the nurse said awkwardly before disappearing. 

You wasted no time as you ripped the IV from your hand with a wince. There was no way you were waiting around here to get killed or to be questioned by the police. You swung your legs over the side of the bed with a groan. Your shoulder was hurting, although you guessed not as bad as it would have been without the pain meds. Your emotional turmoil was worse though. You rummaged in the bedside cupboard, hoping to find your clothes. All you found were your boots though so you slipped them on as you stood in just your hospital gown. You crept to the door, peeping out for a moment. When the coast was clear, you hurried from the room and down the hallway. Near the stairs, you spotted a staff room and you pressed your ear to it for a long moment. With no sounds, you carefully pushed open the door. The room was empty but you looked around, finding some clean blue scrubs in a drawer. You made quick work of getting out of your gown and into the scrubs, putting your boots back on afterwards. You left the room, hurriedly darting down the stairs and out of the building. Outside held no comfort like it used to, your body on high alert after what happened. You felt on the edge of breaking, like all of your feelings were contained in a glass box that was about to shatter into a million pieces. You couldn't get Dean’s lifeless face out of your mind, how he stared at you blankly, devoid of life. Your whole body was trembling with pain and anguish as your feet carried you to wherever they wanted to go. It turned out it was the warehouse. It was still standing but you couldn't find it in yourself to feel the relief. Not after what you did, not after Dean had died because of you. 

You heard the raised voices before you’d even opened the door and it made fear prickle you as you pushed it open. All eyes seemed to turn to you then, incredulous and shocked.

“Y/N… where have you been?!” Karen asked, rushing over as her eyes assessed your current outfit.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you bit out, voice rough and hollow. 

“The fuck you mean you don’t wanna talk about it? We’ve been lookin’ for you for days, thinkin’ the Irish got you,” Billy snapped harshly, his eyes ablaze. Your body shook with the sheer force it was taking you not to break down. 

“Where’ve you been, Y/N?” Frank asked with a softer tone, his eyes worried as he looked at you. It felt like everyone was talking at once, numerous recruits all talking over each other and you clenched your jaw and resisted the urge to cover your ears. 

“Where’s Josh?” Curtis asked quietly, the straw that broke the camel's back.

“He’s dead!” you exploded. Suddenly, the place was overtaken with silence before all the murmurs started up again, it felt like a million people all asking you the same question. What happened?

“Dead?” Curtis asked slowly, his face contorting with pain. 

“Come on, Y/N, you gotta talk to us here. What happened?” Frank asked carefully as he took a step towards you, Billy mirroring him. Your eyes were ahead of you, unseeing and unfocused as all you could see was Dean with his blank eyes, all you could hear were the gunshots, the sound of Dean hitting the floor. Ice cream. It had all been over ice cream. 

“You better start talkin’, Y/N. What the fuck do you mean he’s dead?” Billy growled at you.

“He’s dead! What do you want me to say?! He’s dead and it's all my fault!” you yelled, the dam breaking as a heaving sob wracked your chest. Karen made a move to grab you but you stepped back quickly, your right hand moving over your heart like you were trying to stop it from spilling out of your chest.

“I was upset and he… he took me to get ice cream. We were… we were happy, laughing and then… the-the Irish found us. They shot him and-and then they shot me and I’ve been in hospital,” you murmured, sounding in shock. All the talking started talking again and it was grating on your very raw nerves. Everyone was hounding you, asking more questions that you didn't want to answer. How could this happen? Why did you even go out there? How did you sneak out? How did the Irish know where to find you? But then you felt a jolt of anger inside of you as your brain turned your pain and hurt into rage instead.

“Just shut up!” you bellowed, making everyone go quiet instantly. 

“I’ve just watched the closest person to a friend get a bullet to the brain all because he wanted to cheer me up and then I got shot myself. Then I spent four days being pumped full of pain meds and all I can see is his fucking face and I can’t unsee it! I’m not gonna stand here and have you all fucking question me for answers I don't have when all I wanna do right now is die! So just shut up and leave me alone!” you roared, voice cracking as you felt like you were going to drown under the weight of your emotions. Karen's hand went to her mouth, her eyes tearful as she looked at you. But you just gave them all a scathing yet tearful look before storming past them all. Your chest was heaving as you ran up the stairs, pain consuming every inch of you. Withdrawals hurt less than this.

When you got in your room, you slammed the door shut before letting out a gut-wrenching scream, so full of all your rage, pain and anguish you were shocked the window didn't shatter. You couldn't breathe through your broken sobs and you slid down the wall, bringing your knees up to your chest as you hugged them with your right arm, your left hanging loosely by your side. You didn't get it, couldn't make sense of why life kept wanting to hurt you like this. You were a disease, spreading to everything you came into contact with. You heard the door open and shut and you should have known Karen would come and check on you, despite you not wanting anyone around you right now. But as they sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, you became very aware that it wasn't Karen at all. It was Billy. 

“Leave me alone, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now!” you sobbed, trying to push him away. But he was stronger and he pulled you to him.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he murmured. The soft voice from when he helped you through withdrawals was back but you were too fucked in the head to try and care. In your sheer pain, you gave into him, head going to his chest as you sobbed almost violently into his shirt. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand stroking your hair softly. You were taking big painful gasps of air between your sobs and your head felt dizzy. 

“It’s all my fault,” you lamented through your tears painfully. You felt him shake his head above you at your words.

“Don’t say that, this ain’t on you, sweetheart,” he insisted. You pulled away from him and the hand that had been around you slid to your knee, the hand from your hair now on your shoulder as you gave him the most heartbreaking look and he winced.

“How isn’t this on me?! The only reason he was out there was because I was upset! He died because he was with me! Why do I get to live when he’s…” you trailed off brokenly, your good hand slapping over your eyes as if trying to stop the onslaught of tears that was assaulting you. Billy’s hand on your shoulder moved to the back of your head as he soothingly rubbed your scalp. 

“I know about guilt. Ain’t no use in carryin’ it around for shit beyond your control. Sometimes bad shit just happens and there ain’t a damn thing we can do to stop it,” he muttered firmly. 

“My whole life’s just been bad shit, when will it fucking end?” you agonized, wiping your tears angrily with your good hand. 

“You didn’t pull that trigger, Y/N. You’re not to blame for this,” his dark eyes bore into you and you shook your head with a shaky breath. You wanted to argue with him, you didn't agree with him for one second. But you just felt exhausted. You felt like you had nothing left in you to give. 

A silence settled over you both then and you would have thought you were too far gone for it to bother you but you were wrong.

“Why are you even here anyway? You hate me so I’m not sure what your end game is,” you huffed, unable to help yourself. His hands moved away from you as he shifted to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, hands in his lap.

“I don't hate you, Y/N,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder. 

“That's a joke right?” you asked mockingly. A deep frown creased his brow as he looked away, rolling his shoulder again as he licked his lower lip.

“I don't. It's just… you fuckin’ scare me,” he bit out reluctantly. An incredulous laugh flew from your lips that you were powerless to stop and he turned to shoot you a glare, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time believing the bad boy Marine sniper turned vigilante is scared of a frail homeless girl,” you scoffed. He looked away again, his jaw ticking as he shook his head.

“It ain’t like that… It’s just… I don’t let people in. The people in this place, I care about ‘em ‘cause I’m responsible for ‘em. But the people I really let get close to me I can count on one hand… And then you happened,” he muttered, his dark eyes turning to you. They were burning so intensely that they felt like they were searing into your skin. 

“When I met you in that alley it was like… like somethin’ was eatin’ at me and I didn’t get it. Didn’t like the way you were just livin’ your life like you didn’t want it to get better. But I tried to ignore it, tried to forget you since I figured I’d never see you again but then you wound up here. I knew there was somethin’ off with you and it irritated me and then I found out it was the drugs and that… that bothered me,” his face hardened as he looked away, his hands clenching into fists.

“You said I got mommy issues and maybe you’re right ‘cause that’s all I could think about. And it bothered me because I didn't want that for you, didn't want you to wind up like my mother. I couldn't stand there and let you just waste away like that and that's why I needed you to get clean,” he explained, letting his head fall back to the wall with a quiet thud as you just watched him, unsure where this was going.

“I let you in. I told you things I’d never tell someone I’ve only met a few times, but it was so easy with you. Especially after the shit you told me ‘cause it fuckin’ resonated with me. And then I’m takin’ care of you, watchin’ you in so much pain and it hurt me. I wanted to make it better, wanted to take it away. I'd have taken that pain so you didn't have to feel it in a heartbeat,” he frowned, still unable to look at you.

“But then… then it was all over. You were better, it was done. And I realized this… this bond I thought we had was one-sided. You only let me in ‘cause I was the only one around. You didn't need me anymore and that was… well it was a bitter fuckin’ pill to swallow,” he chuckled but it wasn't happy. 

“I’ve never been good with rejection or-or negative feelin’s and shit. It always just turns to anger with me and after Rawlins… it only got worse. My brain got scrambled and sometimes it's so goddamn loud in here that nothin’ makes sense and I lash out,” he sneered at himself, gesturing to his head as he shook it.

“I’m sorry for the way I made you feel. And you don’t gotta believe or forgive me, but I need you to know that. It’s not your problem my mind’s fucked up and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't hate you,” he implored, his gaze turning back to you. It was so earnest that you felt like all the air got sucked out of your lungs. You couldn't help but eye him warily though. You thought you’d gotten to know him in the days spent in here with him, only for him to pull the rug on you. 

“This right here, this is the real me. The one that held you when you cried, the one that tried to comfort you and help you through your pain. The asshole you’ve seen since is just… he’s a broken man who can’t make sense of his own head. But that ain’t me,” he uttered softly as his eyes took on a pleading edge.

Part of you couldn't fault him without being a hypocrite. You had a temper yourself, something you knew you got from your father even though it made you sick. Your own negative emotions would often turn into anger instead because it was easier to deal with and it wasn't like you’d never lashed out at anyone because of it or to push them away. You knew he’d been hurtful, you knew he knew it too. But the look on his face right now made you think that he was being honest with you. That he meant it. And you knew it would have taken a lot for him to open up and admit that to you. To apologize. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn't missed the Billy that had taken care of you back then. He’d been so gentle with you, giving you more care and affection than your own parents ever bestowed on you. And you’d felt that bond too which is why you’d been so hurt when he acted like an asshole again. You knew you could make things difficult for him. To laugh at his apology and tell him to go and fuck himself. But you didn't want to. Especially not now with how fragile you were feeling. You blew out a sigh and sagged into the wall a little, trying to ignore how your shoulder was stinging.

“Consider your apology accepted,” you murmured tiredly. When you chanced a look at him, he was staring at you and you both shared a look. It was a strange friendship you had with him in such a short space of time. You’d gone from having issues with each other to connecting over trauma, to having issues again and back to reconnecting. It was giving you whiplash. But you knew this bond you shared wasn't exactly normal, forced out of shared trauma and grief and enough baggage to sink a cruise ship. His lips quirked up into a hesitant smile as he held his arm open for you in invitation. Desperately needing comfort, you scooted right to him, being mindful of your sore shoulder as you curled around him with your head on his chest. You sank into him as he wrapped his arms around you, letting his scent soothe you much like it had when you’d been suffering from withdrawals. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked after a peaceful moment of silence.

“What? The overwhelming grief and despair?” you asked self-deprecatingly. 

“No, I meant the uh… the gunshot,” he murmured, sounding a little unsure.

“A little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. The gunshot was the least of your worries right now.

“Should get Curtis to look at it. Make sure it's alright,” he mused, fingers toying with your hair. You hummed in agreement, letting the feeling soothe you. The last thing you needed was to have the wound get infected or anything. Then you’d be stuck here longer. 

“Everythin’ will be over soon. We’re gonna hit the Irish in two days and I’m gonna make sure they suffer for what they did to you,” he muttered darkly, his arms tightening around you. This time, the idea of violence didn't repulse you. Dean’s lifeless face swarmed your vision again and you closed your eyes to rid yourself of it. You wanted them to suffer for what they’d done. What they’d taken away. You ended up falling asleep against Billy’s chest on the floor as his fingers in your hair soothed you to sleep.

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

[confusedkittensposts]

We know destiel shippers don't care about Castiel but a few days ago, I realised, how they aldo actually hate the confession and I want talk more about it.

Many shippers treat Castiel's confession as a crime against Dean Winchester

Now there are tons of posts about how horrible, selfish and even abusive, Castiel confessing his love to Dean on death bed was.

And You can always find posts and HCs and fics about characters like Sam and Claire and Charlie or Bobby and even Jack just ripping Cas for the confession.

Most shipper also loathe that castiel was the one who confessed first. They just can't accept that. There are piles upon piles of arguments and stories about how Dean confessed in purgatory trip 2, or worse how THE PRAYER, that is actually Dean making excuses for his anger instead of accepting he was unfair and he hurt Cas and "forgiving" Cas for comes crimes that were never his, is Dean's love confession.

Here is how some of this gets turned into a fic

Let me first say I respect all fanfic writers and I am not saying the docs are "bad" in any way. I am just making a point

Castiel is brought back from Empty and dropped either at the bunker of somewhere on Earth by Jack- he is human- Jack offers him half explanations.and tell him to stay with Dean- Dean is cold at their reunion- his reaction goes from surprise to either anger or ignorance- Sam give him a waer welcom and then tears into Cas for dying on dean- characters like claore and Jody do the same- Cas tried to accomodate to an increasingly suffocating life in bunker- he prays to jack recives no reply- his girf at his son having to take on such a huge responsibility and how being there for him is mentioned is two lines, never talk d about again- Jack comes to Dean, who has been moody and sulking, and comforts Dean tells him to take all the time he needs- Cas tries to leave the bunker cause he feels he isn't wanted, and funnily enough the author who has benn making pretty much everyone hostile towards cas treats him wanting to leave as a bad decision- Cas isn't allowed to leave- the fic ends with Dean punching Cas (a very common and beloved phenomenon in post 15x18 fics) and kissing him but he never says "I love you" to Cas

This isn't anti anyone, this is just a observation of how the fandom at large views a few things. Try not to be offended and even if you are don't come to replies. Just scroll past 🙏

[ravenrose18]

Shadows of Destiny

Chapter 3

As they pulled into the junkyard lot, Dean took a deep breath. They were safe because they were home. He pulled the car to the side, making sure that Bobby wouldn't complain too much about him blocking the lot or the trucks or the trash man. It was Bobby. "Home sweet home!" He beamed, glancing up in the mirror at Raven. He knew Bobby would be happy to see her but also he knew that she was expecting a massive lecture. "Sam. Why don't you take the bags in and let Bobby know we made it? He can order a pizza or something. I want to um...give Raven a breather before we go in." "Um. Yeah. Sure. Everything okay?" Sam asked and Dean waved him off. "Yeah! I just want you to butter him up real good before she comes in. No dad talks." "Got it. No dad talks." Sam confirmed, snatching the keys from Dean's hand, before climbing out of the car and grabbing the bags from the trunk. Dean got out and opened the back door for Raven, staring off into space as he waited for her to get out, "Let's go for a walk." Raven filled her lungs with a deep breath as she laid eyes on the familiar junkyard. It had been two years since she left, and she hadn't spoken to Bobby during that time. She had missed him, although she was relieved to have left the town behind. However, she knew that the demons from her past weren't finished with her just yet. Looking up at Dean, she mustered a smile before stepping out of the car to take in the unchanged landscape of the junkyard. "Sure, Dean," she replied, allowing him to close the car door as she ventured forward. "Same cars. Same leaky roof. A few more stray cats. Just like you left it." Dean sighed as he walked beside her, their shoulders brushing. He walked them toward the tiny garden Bobby kept hidden behind a wall of cars. He would never admit to loving gardening, but the boys knew he was very proud. "I just thought we could walk some of the tension off. No sense in going into meeting up with everyone all at once. And I had to tell you, without Sam butting in with his...bodily noises...I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you're home. I may be horrible at showing it but we're family, you know?"

Raven offers a gentle smile as she strolls beside him, noticing the garden that she has never seen before. It seems like Bobby has taken up a new hobby. Instead of merely assisting hunters with research, as evidenced by the multitude of books he has collected over the years, he has now ventured into gardening. "I understand, Dean. I'm truly grateful to be home and safe. I can't believe I made it out of that situation alive. It's unnerving to think that my inability to handle the demon properly has put us in this perilous situation. A demon is trying to track me down and end my life. However, your concern and reassurance mean the world to me. Even just a hug or your comforting words can provide so much comfort. I know you find it difficult, but you're good at it." She expresses.

Dean huffed a chuckle as she explained how difficult it was for him to show that he was soft. He was nice enough. He was polite to the people they helped. He even hugged a few! But it amused him. The reality was...he had a soft spot in him. And the truth was, he didn't like to admit it. "You're right I guess. If I have to lose a little bit of my street cred to make you more comfortable after what you went through, I can live with that." He teased, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk."Do you love him? The guy I mean. Like...if all of this was a demon thing, would you go back?" Raven's smile and giggles faded as soon as he asked her that question. Her expression turned to a frown, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I did love him at one point, Dean. But whether he was possessed or not when he started cheating and abusing me, I can't be with a man who treats me like I'm worthless. He made me feel that way every day," she confessed. "I've had the worst life out of all the hunting life. I thought I was going to be happy for once and have someone. I never dated anyone while doing this hunting stuff, you know. I did try when we were teenagers in school, but I hated hopping from school to school, and I ended up heartbroken anyway," she said, looking up at him with a mix of sadness and resignation in her eyes.

Dean frowned. Hearing Raven speak of the way the downward turn of her relationship had affected her killed him a bit inside. He met her eyes for a moment but looked away, snarling his nose. "I could have told you that dating around and getting attached was a bad idea. That's why I kept them all at a distance. Don't get attached." But he quickly changed the subject away from his habits, since she had never seemed very open to discussing the women he chose. "We can love people. But we don't get to have relationships, you know? I think we've all learned that the hard way at one point or another. But we stick together." He raised his eyebrows, making sure that she read his expression the way he intended. She was safe with him, and as long as she was near him, he would do everything in his power to protect her.

As they strolled together, Raven couldn't help but roll her eyes and cast her gaze downward. "I appreciate having you and Sam there to protect me, Dean. You've shielded me from those guys back in high school, even though I insisted they wouldn't harm me. Truthfully, I never truly connected with any of the guys I dated, knowing we'd have to leave every time. However, I must admit that your taste in girls back in school wasn't the greatest. I didn't feel the need to bring it up then, but those girls despised and bullied me simply because we were close. They believed I had stolen you away from them, and as a consequence, I faced their torment at every school we attended," she confessed, stealing a glance at him before lowering her gaze once more.

Dean frowned, tempted to shake his head at Raven's words about the girls he had essentially used in school. He had never planned to see them again. So, he didn't think of them...at all. "I never really thought about it. I mean, it's not like any of them thought I was sticking around. I made it clear...to most of them." He thought hard and eventually cringed at the thought that he had led them all on to believe they were in a relationship with him. He glanced back at her, "They were jealous because you had me. From town to town, it was me and you...constant. A lot of girls can't handle that."

Raven expressed her frustration by rolling her eyes, glancing at him, and shaking her head. "They always told me that you described me as just a sister to you and that you found me annoying and felt that I should go away. But I know they were being unkind, although it's all in the past now," she said, gazing at the garden as they strolled along. Dean shrugged, but he was taken aback by the fact that she was bothered by being called 'his sister'. He had always seen her that way, for the most part, because they were always...together, like he and Sam. But he brushed past that and figured he could pressure her for more of those feelings when the situation was more appropriate. "I never felt you were annoying. That part was just the jealousy talking." He confirmed, waving his hand. "I'm a little better now, right? Like...I'm a little better at communicating with people that I'm not the 'in love with you' kind of guy..."

Raven gazes at him and affirmatively nods, "You've improved, no doubt. But sometimes, women fail to recognize that. These days, it seems like all people do is hook up at bars. They don't see it as anything more than a one-night stand or as a reason to pursue a relationship. I guess I wouldn't know since I've never been in that kind of situation. And you, you've never been with someone for an extended time, except for that one girl you dated. You trusted her enough to tell her about our line of work.

Dean stopped and almost had a proud look on his face, at the fact that someone was giving him credit for being better. But then Raven continued and his shoulders dropped a bit. His habits were...well known. He took a lot of his frustrations and emotions out through getting wasted and having sex. He was just wired that way, from his teenage years on. But when she brought up Cassie, his nose crinkled for a split second in regret. "Yeah. Cassie was different. She got it. She never made me feel like a piece of meat or a freak. It was pretty easy to let her inside...and then she just, decided it wasn't what she wanted." He muttered, his voice a bit sadder than he meant to lead on. "I don't even know what a stable relationship would look like, anymore. It's not like we have had a lot of role models in that area."

Raven gazes at him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "I'm sorry things didn't work out, Dean. It's her loss. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're kind, caring, protective, and undeniably good-looking. But, you know, we never had any real role models to teach us about healthy and stable relationships. I even considered dating another hunter instead of someone who's not part of the hunting life." She pauses, reflecting on the challenges they've faced. Dean's brain once again caught onto how positively Raven was speaking about him. He almost brushed off her words about Cassie. But she was complimenting...him. She was complimenting his personality, and all of the things that he saw as negatives about himself. It opened a weird emotion in the back of his mind. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, me too. I've met a few people that honestly would be perfect but then there's the small problem of getting attached. We all seem to have a death wish." He stammered out, finishing a little more put together with the tilt of his head. "That's why the three of us just stick together."

Raven's gaze softened as she looked at him and offered a gentle smile. "Well, once we started hunting, we signed our death warrants. I'm just glad we have each other... we should, I guess, get back to the house. I'm sure Bobby wants to see me," she said, clearing her throat and looking down, absently fiddling with the fabric of her flannel sleeve as she began walking back toward the front of Bobby's place. She knew Dean was trying not to get attached to anyone, but she had always felt deeply connected to him. The thought of losing him was almost unbearable, but in their perilous line of work, she understood that the dangers were unpredictable and unavoidable. Dean sighed and nodded in agreement that they should probably go find Bobby. No matter how much he tried to stall if they didn't go inside, Bobby would find them. "Yeah. We should probably go find him before he finds us.", he teased. As she stepped away from him and started to walk toward the house, he quickly caught up with her and gently placed an arm around her shoulders, tugging her head toward him to place a quick kiss against her hair, "Just remember. He's happy to see you...no matter how grumpy he is. He hasn't changed a bit."

Raven looked up at Dean with a soft smile, her cheeks slightly blushing. "I know, but you know how he is. He's been very protective of me ever since he and John found me in the woods. He could never stay mad at me for long. He treats me like I'm his daughter, the one he never had. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he hugged me and then gave me a playful hit on the head afterward," she said with a gentle nudge to Dean's shoulder. Raven then walked up to the porch, took a deep breath, and entered the house.

Chapter 4

[mangonatural]

Rules: Make a 24 hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then work for 10 minutes for every vote the winner receives.

Thank you for the tag, @angelcasendgame!!!!! I am not sure I will be able to work on anything very soon just because life came after me again, and turns out I'm gonna be moving over the next month or so, but I really do hope I can find time!!

None of these have names yet lol. I put the SPN ones first, but technically I've been trying to break my writer's block by returning to The Great Gatsby (It's all Nick/Gatsby btw, just realized that might not be immediately evident) with limited success. It's always come easier for me. But all of this is stuff I do actively want to work on.

Ohh I don't know who to tag. I'm sure everyone in this circle has been tagged already, and most of the people I talk to regularly enough to know about their projects have more or less left Tumblr... I do absolutely want to pass this your way though, @antique-ro-man!! (It's Wes, btw!) I also wanna tag @heyfagbutt! And then anyone else who sees this and wants to participate, I also encourage it!! This is such a cool idea :D !!

Long, rambling explanations down here ⬇⬇

I think the name is pretty explanatory? The gist of it is they go after the same guy and become pseudo-enemies but they keep bumping into each other like this and decide to work together after a while 👍 this is a really bad hook LMAO. Anyway, I'm trying to build on the idea that they work REALLY well together when they do it intentionally but fail comically when they don't.

Pretty much what it says on the tin as well. No Supernatural AU. Dean goes to a community college to get a certification to help with his work elsewhere, but Cas, a figure drawing model, catches him drawing (which Dean's been doing on and off as a hobby) and tries to get him to sign up for the arts program.

I technically only have a summary of this, and I'm not entirely sure if I will write it all out, but I do want to at least put more time into the development before I dedicate to giving up on it bc of scope lol. I just have SUCH a soft spot for fake relationship AUs. Also, I just found out that while I have FINALLY aged into independent FAFSA eligibility, I am once again tax bracketed out. Anyway, financial abuse is real and I want to project my suffering onto Dean. Also immigrant Cas, but I haven't decided where I want him to be from yet. I think this has a lot of potential for some pretty hefty character redesigns too so it's also compelling to me from that angle. I guess I could also write it for TGG, but I did initially think of it for Destiel, so.

I don't know how to explain this one very well except that I had unhelpfully written "poolboy au" in my notes and then proceeded to forget what the hell I meant. This fic was an attempt to resurrect that but ended up being a funky modern West Coast re-imagining where Gatsby can't even "make it" as much as he wants to, and Nick can't find a place to live except for a less-than-legally rented pool house. It's not meant to be a full rewrite or anything though.

Uhhh yeah, I'm keeping the details private for this one ahaha but that's just because it wasn't supposed to be a big deal and I told a friend she would see what it was when it was done...like oh god probably a month ago at this point... My original scope for this was quite small, but research for it, indecision, and a nasty case of writer's block that I've had for nearly a year now have kept development a bit slow. Hopefully, I'll finish it before the year comes to a close.

I also don't know how to explain this one well other than "after being rejected by Daisy (Canon Divergent), Gatsby attempts to buy his way into a bewildered Nick's heart. Though the fic is from Nick's POV, Gatsby's just had his worldview shattered and is in a bit of denial, but instead of pursuing Daisy harder, he channels all of that energy into Nick (though he's not really sure why he's doing it at first). I wasn't sure what to put up at the top because I absolutely don't want my code name for this public at least until it's done LMAO.

[redwoodwv-hq]

Name: Isaac Apatow Age: 57 Town Occupation: Council Member + Head Raider Previous Occupation: Manager of halfway house Redwood Resident Length: Since creation Faceclaim: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Bullet Points:

Ike lives in Boneyard Cottage, outside the town walls by the cemetery.

Ike’s still very influenced by his upbringing in Ark but he’s an old white guy and doesn’t have much insight into this despite rehab therapy. He’s a compartmentalizer.

He believes in God and prayer but hates evangelism. Working with a vulnerable population stripped him of most of his bigotry, but his weird beliefs come out in different ways.

He'll get tattooed at the drop of a hat.

Being a raider gives him an outlet for his nervous energy and yen for the unexpected. 

He worked an insane number of random jobs while he was addicted and had no fixed address, so he's got a tiny bit of experience at all sorts of unconnected things.

Biography:

Ike didn’t talk much about how he grew up. How to explain it to people who didn’t live it? There weren’t many people who’d hear him talk about the tiny community in north Washington State that wasn’t even on the maps, housed a total of eight big families, and was a mess of religious nutcases and sovereign citizens, without it changing their opinions of him. So he kept it to himself once he turned twenty and got out, and moved to Brooklyn.

The shift was hard and he found himself indigent for a while, abusing substances, until he pulled himself together (oddly, through the grace of God or at least a street outreach programme) and ended up working there. Eventually becoming the manager of Good Apple Halfway House, making something productive of his life. 

(That’s not to say he didn’t make mistakes along the way. A trail of failed attempted relationships, some kids he never saw. But a man’s more than his mistakes, if the good he does outweighs it, right?)

When the virus hit, well – Ike worked among one of the most vulnerable populations and they got hit *hard*. With social services the first to degrade as the city’s infrastructure crumbled, Ike threw everything he had into keeping his people safe but when you lived in an urban centre with everyone scrabbling to survive? It was a shitshow. He got out. Not without remorse, for the people he abandoned, but Ike was a survivor.

He struck out mostly on his own, using what he’d learned growing up in Ark, and by the time he shored up in Redwood he’d lost little pieces of himself, shaved and nipped off of his conscience with each new desperate act. But nobody knew the things he’d done to stay alive, and in this town, there was the chance to wash himself clean. Right? Right??