#of the karl variety

[redheadedfailgirl]

btd6 is an exercise in the protracted people's war. I will not elaborate further.

[my-deer-history]

Francis Kinloch in Müller's letters to his family: Part 3

These extracts are from Johannes von Müller: Sämmtliche Werke, volume 7 (1810).

My translations here, original German transcriptions below the cut. Müller and Kinloch have set off on their tour of Switzerland!

21 Aug 1775, to his brother

From there a narrow, steep path leads between sheer drops and vertical mountains into the Weissenburg hot spring, travelled only by pedestrians. Imagine the most terrible rock faces, with water rushing down and partially breaking up into dust and mist; between these rocks, a forest river flows noisily over rocky ground, over trees that water and wind had torn away from the slopes, and the rubble from the mountains that had broken them loose and thrown them down. A strong servant from the baths carried Mr. Kinloch and me on his back through this river to the healing spring.

21 Sept 1775, to his father

We drove in a Bernese carriage through Freyburg to Affry Castle, where the awful roads necessitated us to send the carriage home. After 2 hours, we came to Cicogne, where with some effort, we managed to interpret out of the patois of the people that we had taken the wrong road. An old farmer’s wife led us back on track through the muck by moonlight. Beyond the Saanen the path became entirely too difficult. There we rented a miller’s cart. Imagine: our suitcases, me and our dog on this cart, Mr. Kinloch beside us, the servant with a pack on our horse.

[...]

On sunday, Mr Boissier arranged a ball for the whole town in our honour, where everyone had to dance - the farmers and their wives and all sons and daughters, and Mrs Boissiere, and Mr von Castela and Mr Kinloch and even Mr Boissier himself - though he is lame - and even I - though I cannot dance very well. This day I translated an Italian opera into French. I forgot to mention the letters that we received at Berne, Mr K one from America, I one from England from Mr Thomas Boone

Undated, 1775, to his brother

My dear brother! I cannot describe my contentment to you enough. [...] I am loved, and friendship is the joy of my life. My Englishmen, my American,* Bonstetten, Tronchin, Bonnet!

*Kinloch

20 March 1776

At the moment, Kinloch and I are reading Tacitus for the second time (me, for the third) [...] Mr Bonnet is giving us 2–3 lectures a week on psychology. But don’t imagine him as an ordinary professor, he does not allow himself to be paid except in the attention and friendship of his audience, and these are only two, Kinloch and me. We go to him at 4pm, his psychology lesson starts at 5 or 6, and we stay until 11.

June 1776, to his brother

Letters from England have convinced Mr Kinloch to move his planned journey forward to the autumn.

21 Aug 1775, to his brother

Von da führt ein schmaler abhängiger Weg zwischen Abgründen und senkrechten Bergen in das warme Bad Weissenburg, niemanden als Fußgänger. Stelle dir die schrecklichsten Felswände vor, mit Wassern, welche da herunter stürzen und sich zum Theil in Staub und Nebel auflösen; zwischen diesen Felsen wälzt sich mit gro��em Geräusch ein Waldwasser über einen felsigen Grund, über Bäume, welche Wasser und Wind ab den Gebürgen gerissen und Trümmern von Bergen, welche sie abgelöset und herabgewälzt hatten. Durch dieses Wasser trug Hrn. Kinloch und mich ein starker Badknecht auf dem Rücken zu der heilsamen Quelle. 

21 Sept 1775, to his father

In einer Bernerkutsche fuhren wir über Freyburg nach dem Schloß Affry, woselbst die schlimmen Straßen uns nöthigten, die Kutsche heimzusenden. Nach 2 Stunden kamen wir auf Cicogne, wo wir mit Mühe aus dem Patois des Volks erdollmetschen konnten, daß wir den unrechten Weg eingeschlagen. Eine alte Bauersfrau führte uns durch den Koth beim Mondschein zurechte. Jenseits der Saanen wurde nun der Weg allzu arg. Daselbst mietheten wir einen Müllers - Karren. Stellet Euch vor, unsre Mantelsäcke mich und unsern Hund auf diesem Wagen, Hr. Kinloch neben her, den Bedienten mit einem Pack auf unserm Pferd.

[...]

Am Sonntag gab Hr. Boissier unsertwegen dem ganzen Dorf einen Ball, wo alle Bauren und Bäurinnen und alle Knaben und Töchtern, und Mad. Boissiere, und der Hr. von Castela und Hr. Kinloch, und Hr. Boissier selbst, ob er wohl estropirt ist, und selbst ich, ob ich gleich nicht wohl tanzen kann, tanzen mußte. Diesen Tag übersetzte ich eine italiänische Opera ins Französische. Ich habe vergessen, der Briefe zu gedenken, welche wir zu Bern erhalten, Hr. K. einen aus Amerika; ich einen aus England von Herrn Thomas Boone

Undated, 1775, to his brother

Mein lieber Bruder! Ich kann dir mein Wohlbefinden nicht genug beschreiben. [...] Man liebt mich, und die Freundschaft ist meines Lebens Lust. Meine Engländer, mein Amerikaner, Bonstetten, Tronchin, Bonnet!

20 March 1776

Gegenwärtig lesen Kinloch und ich zum andern (ich, zum dritten) Mal den Tacitus [...] Herr Bonnet giebt uns wöchentlich 2–3 Lectionen über die Psychologie. Stelle ihn dir aber nicht als einen gewöhnlichen Professor vor, er läßt sich nicht anders bezahlen, als durch die Aufmerksamkeit und Freundschaft seiner Zuhörer, und dieser sind nur zwei, Kinloch und ich. Wir gehen um 4 Uhr zu ihn, um 5 oder 6 fängt er seine psychologische Stunde an, und wir bleiben bis um 11 Uhr

June 1776, to his brother

Briefe aus England haben Hrn. Kinloch bestimmt, seine vorgehabte Reise auf den Herbst zu verschieben.

[nineblades]

playing an 8 int amnesiac durge has some unintentionally hilarious moments

[thesassyspork]

I love the aesthetic switches so much! Karl in a tux is priceless.

the full set (re8 swap au)

[girlthativealwaysbeen]

jealousy is such an ugly emotion but oh my god am i filled with it

[falco-underscore-77]

Companions Quests!

We're helping out Shadowheart, Astarion and Wyll today in Baldur's Gate 3 and work through their story quests!

[dreamep]

Idt it’s fair to lump Karl in w q bc like Karl has literally been with Dream in person recently and his most interactions with q have been like a few tweet replies of the same caliber that he puts under like every single verified person he follows

I think karl was afraid of the backlash like many creators were yet does a shit job especially to this point in time to decide whether he’s dreams friend or not. Like we know that he stays at dreams house and Sapnap and George don’t shy to mention him yet for a guy that networks it is Obvious that he just isn’t there for dream. USMP had been announced for a month now and Karl had noticeably not acknowledged it. I’ll even say this, the feral boys wanting to go to Japan together vs Karl calling George and George not even realizing Karl was in Japan feels Like if banter wasn’t a thing, Karl would try to form a different friend group. I love Karl to death but loving his content doesn’t stop me from knowing that he’s being wishy washy right now

[pinesource]

Steve Yockey, co-creator of the Max series “The Flight Attendant,” is joining Starfleet as the new screenwriter for “Star Trek 4.”

Story details remain under a powerful cloaking device, but Paramount Pictures and Bad Robot still intend the project to be the final chapter for the cast that rebooted the franchise in movie theaters with 2009’s “Star Trek,” including Chris Pine (as Capt. James T. Kirk), Zachary Quinto (as Cmdr. Spock), Zoe Saldaña (as Lt. Nyota Uhura), Karl Urban (as Dr. Leonard McCoy), John Cho (as Lt. Hikaru Sulu) and Simon Pegg (as chief engineer Montgomery Scott). (Variety first reported the news in its cover story on the future of the “Star Trek” franchise.)

Bringing the cast back following 2016’s “Star Trek Beyond” has proven trickier for the studio than finding an altruistic Ferengi. At least three previous attempts fell apart for various reasons, most recently with director Matt Shakman (“WandaVision”) and screenwriters Lindsey Beer (“Sierra Burgess Is a Loser”) and Geneva Robertson-Dworet (“Captain Marvel”) that the studio had slated to open in late 2023. When Shakman left the film in 2022 to direct “The Fantastic Four” for Marvel Studios, however, Paramount pulled it from its slate and sent it back to spacedock.

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Daniel Brühl at the 2024 Cannes International Series Festival for the world premiere of Becoming Karl Lagerfeld, a six-part miniseries in which he plays the titular role. According to Variety, the screening earned a 3-minute standing ovation.

🎥 Canneseries, Vanity Fair FR, Disney+ FR + my edits

[drearycrow]

hiya! Can you do 3 & 6 for Poe and ranpo? (sorry i’m not good at request making😞) also it’s time to take a breather, stretch, And get water +food and make yourself feel like you :)

Notes: I wasn't sure if you wanted sfw or nsfw so I went with sfw for now. I can do nsfw separately if you would like. I went off on the fluff in this one. This is the most tooth-rotting fluff I've written so far. I wrote this at like 2 am so my apologies if there are some errors in there.

🦝Poe🦝

Poe walks into his mansion after hanging out with Ranpo all day. He walks through the hallways of his lavish house trying to look for you. "Darling are you home?" No answer. Poe starts to get worried and checks every room. You always tell him if you are going out. Once he got to the third floor, he heard muffled crying coming from your shared bedroom. He opens the door a bit and peeks through. "Darling is that you?" He sees you curled up in a ball on the bed crying. He opens the door fully and runs to you. "What's wrong my dear?" Poe rubs your back to comfort you. Your head turns to look at Poe. "Oh so now you decide to come home? I hope you had fun with Ranpo. I bet you two had lots of fun together." You sniffle as you try to calm down. "How could you forget our anniversary?" Poe looks at you with guilt. He feels awful for not spending time with you on your special day. He sighs before speaking up. "I apologize for not spending time with you today but I have a good reason." He holds your hand. "The reason why I was gone all day with Ranpo was because of this." Poe gets on one knee and pulls out a small box from his coat. He opens it to reveal a beautiful ring. "My darling you have been with me through hell and back. You've always been by my side helping me with my novels, comforting me when I'm stressed and taking care of Karl. You are my muse, my beautiful angel. Will you marry me?" Poe smiles at you waiting for your response. You stare at him, too stunned to say anything back. Poe gets nervous when you don't say anything back immediately. "Look if you don't want to marry me it's completely fine. I will-" You cut off Poe mid sentence by hugging him tightly. "Of course I want to marry you. You're the only person I want." Poe smiles when he looks at you. He holds your hand and puts the ring on your finger. A golden ring with a light purple gem on top. The rest of the evening is spent with you two baking a cake, celebrating your undying love for one another.

🍭Ranpo🍭

You arrived home after working on a case for a week. You've been out of town and it feels nice to be back home and spend time with your boyfriend. The keys jingle as you open the door. You set your bag down on the kitchen counter. Ranpo is nowhere to be seen. He's usually home by now but he must be either still at the Agency or he's hanging out with Poe. You head to the bedroom to see Ranpo on the bed hugging one of your sweaters. "Ranpo I'm home." Ranpo perks his head up when he hears your soft voice. He jumps up from the bed and tackles you to the ground. "You're home finally!" He nuzzles his head into your neck and hugs you tightly. "I missed you so much. It was lonely without you here and I'm glad you're home safe." He starts to shower you with kisses. You kiss him back and lay down on the bed. You two cuddle and spend the rest of the evening watching a show. When you get up from the bed, Ranpo grabs your arm to pull you back to bed. "Where are you going? The episode hasn't ended yet." You smile at his pout. You give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to the kitchen to get more snacks, I will be right back." Ranpo gives you a thumbs up before you leave the bedroom. He lays back down on the bed pondering if it's the right time to propose. It's been a battle for months now trying to find the perfect way to propose. His thoughts get interrupted when the sound of the bedroom door opens. You hold a tray with a variety of snacks and drinks. You set it down on the bed gently to not drop anything. You start opening a bag of chips but Ranpo hasn't started eating. He stayed there sitting silently looking off in the distance thinking about something. You turn to look at him, worried that something is wrong. "Ranpo, is everything alright? You've been silent for a while and you haven't touched your snacks." He looks at you and sighs. When you reach out to hold his hand, he swats it away. Confused by this sudden change in behavior, you stand up to comfort him. He walks up to his drawer and takes something out. "Sweetie what's wrong?" He doesn't say anything. He turns you, sighing before speaking up. "Look we've been together for years now and-" He rubs the back of his head. "I can't see a future without you around me. I want to be by your side until we are old and gray. You mean the whole world to me." He gets on one knee and opens the small box holding a ring. "Will you marry me?" You didn't say anything to him. You immediately hug him and kiss him. "Yes! A thousand times yes!" Ranpo hugs you back, not wanting to let go. He gently puts the ring on your finger. The gem is a beautiful shade of green. It matches Ranpo's eye color. You two spend the rest of the night in each other's arms.

[lemon-wedges]

Hello!!! I love your art and your style. I'd love to hear your inspirations behind how you draw and, in addition, hear a bit about your painting process (I love the impressionistic look your paintings have)

ahh!!! thank you so much ;u;

Ill tried my best to break down my thought process behind my drawing, so i hope this all makes sense aahaha

undercut cause it came out real long

SO Karl Gnass is an instructor that i took an anatomy class with. and who broke down anatomy in a way that really helped me grasp space. like space a figure occupies. and from that i think my characters feel a bit more...grounded? im not sure what the right word would be but tangible is something people sometimes say about my art.

And i do think when youre able to make a figure look like its really wrapping its hands around something it makes character interactions a lot more intimate.

heres a few under sketches i do when i start a drawing (i am trying REALLY hard not to use my nsfw ones tho those are pretty perfect when it comes to showing u anatomy RIP)

after i got the poses done ill turn down the opacity and rough sketch out details on top of these. and once THATS done i move onto lineart. and the most important aspect of this step is NOT TO TRACE YOUR UNDER DRAWING!!!! thats what sucks the life out of your work!!!!

instead you use your undersketch as a guide. ilI actually redraw the simple anatomy underneath very lightly, erase where they over lap and then add line weight variety + darken up the details.

examples of this are gonna look a little messy but. Left is the original pose i drew out with rough details. right is the drawing i do on top of it. you'll see theyre not one to one and theres some lines i didnt fully erase out when redoing the anatomy. i find my clean up has a lot more energy when i do this.

the thing about my style is that you'll notice i never actually do actual clean smooth lineart. and thats because i HATE DOING THAT SHIT. like i did learn how to do it and consistently forced myself to do it for over a year. and while i do think i learned a lot about line weight and drawing clearer. i realized? its just not for me. I like a textured brush and i like being able to see those small lines i didnt get to fully erase out because i think they look cool lol and thats ok!! do what you want forever man!!! its your art!!!

Also before i move onto painting ill show you this neat little trick. you know those more "loose" drawings of mine that feel more gestural? the begining process is exactly the same. the difference is i use a chunkier pen and try to see how much i can simplify details + just feel out the energy of lines

NOW PAINTING.

man. where to even start.

the thing about painting is that its an entire different set of skills that need to each be honed on their own and will slowly build up together. ill break it down like this.

VALUE, COLOR, and TECHNIQUE

I've said this on another ask before but you'll notice ill do a lot of black and white sketches. and i do that to practice choosing how to group values.

like this example. how light is laios' wolf coat compared to his skin? or kabrus skin color compard to laios coat. when do you want to really push the contrast of light and dark and when do you let values be closer to each other when you DONT want attention

the next step from this is adding a light source.

and when you're working in black and white its a lot easier to pay more attention where you want your light/how its gonna look like hitting youre characters and how far youre gonna push your shadows.

and you know if you get good at this you can play with limited color palletes

this is literally just be picking out blues and hitting the bottom with the gradient tool to light it up

NOW COLOR

is a lot harder and also very subjective. I do a ton of impressionist studies where i just color pick the fuck out of a piece to see what colors masters used + knowing the history of paint and what colors were available during that time period. +knowing what colors = what mood + knowing what colors to use when you want to be more realistic vs when you want to lean into more stylized+ what colors YOU specially incline towards + AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

its a lot and im actually still learning myself

But when i do a painting i collect a LOT of refrences of the kind of mood i want my own painting to feeling like. I've show the first example in another ask before but heres one from my latest labru too

WHen i actually start a painting tho they look like this. The top drawings are just flat colors with a simple outline of where i want the light to be hitting. like in my value studies im just trying to get the idea down, seeing what values need to be darker vs what is lighter. and how the light source covers the character.

figuring this out in the begining makes the rest of the painting so much easier because youve essentially made all the big compostion decisions NOW. from here you can start playing with colors.

my second stage, youll see with drawings at the bottom, is when i start using my texture brush to lay in extra shadows and just play with variety.

and then? i start rendering

that would be TECHNIQUE

And well....thats also something thats gonna be very subjective.

With my own style im not interested in rendering everything to perfection. Im trying to figure out how to texture hair/skin/clothes in ways that make them feel like the materials they are while also showing the energy of my brushstrokes.

I dont zoom in while i paint btw. everything i do is zoomed out so i can see the entire drawing. it helps me not tight up my strokes while also letting me build up all areas of the painting equally. the only time i zoom in is when im lining out the eyes/mouth of a character. and yeah. it drives me insane doing this because ITS SOOOOO Tempting to obsess over paint 1 area forever then zoom out and see that nothing matches lol

The other thing about my style of painting. Is that im not gonna use the exact same formula for every piece. like this isnt cell shading. you can have an idea of how to texture skin/clothes/hair and sometimes it looks great and beautiful in one painting and then it looks like shit in another. ive overhauled a lot of paintings multiple times because what i thought would work doesnt and ive had to force myself to explore and play with my brushstrokes. and you know? i wouldnt have it any other way. it means none of my paintings are gonna look alike! and i think thats pretty cool :D

ill leave you with this in the end. a painting im in the middle of doing and debating to overhaul cause im just not feeling the strokes. who knows what ill look like in the end

anyways i hope this helped a little? even if you look at all this and go. IM NEVER GONNA DRAW LIKE THIS BOZO ahahah

BUT I WISH YOU LUCK ON YOUR OWN ARTS :DDDD

[robdelicious]

lvmhprize on Instagram:

★ ROBERT PATTINSON: 2024 KARL LAGERFELD PRIZE AMBASSADOR ★⁣

We’re excited to be joined by the exceptional actor Robert Pattinson who will be one of the Ambassadors of this year’s final.

His impressive career spans a large variety of roles.

Welcome Batman!

Photo by Alasdair McLellan

[germanpostwarmodern]

Hannover, the capital of the federal state of Lower Saxony, isn’t the most picturesque city in Germany: after the Second World War it not only lay in ruins but under the aegis of city planning director also was transformed into a very car-friendly city in which urban motorways cut through the originally quite dense prewar city quarters. Fortunately not all significant prewar buildings fell victim to either bombs or the wrecking ball and also in the decades after the war numerous architects added interesting buildings to the city’s urban fabric. Many of them have been documented over time by a multitude of photographers but their interiors have frequently been left out, a circumstance that Hannover-based photographers Olaf Mahlstedt and Marc Theis change in their most recent book project:„Hannover: Innen - Ein Fotografie- und Lesebuch“, published by Leuenhagen & Paris, collects beautiful interior photographs of pivotal pre- and postwar buildings. Among the latter are the stunning vault of the Deutsche Bank (1898-1900) by Karl Börgemann or the cinema in Fritz Höger's Anzeiger-Hochhaus (1927-28) but also often overlooked postwar buildings like the bright and cheerful Mühlenberg School (1975) by Bassenge/Puhan-Schulz/Schreck or the in the meantime demolished Postscheckamt (1972-73) by HPP Architekten in collaboration with local Oberpostdirektion. But what sets the book apart from the regular architecture (photography) books isn’t the careful selection of photographs alone but the the contributions of writer Sebastian Hoff: alongside each of the building’s set of photographs Hoff wrote short stories that directly engage with the buildings and the goings-on inside of them. The result is a variety of touching stories that range from a granddaughter discovering the secret her grandmother hid for decades in a deposit box at the Deutsche Bank to a post employee saying goodbye to her decade-long workplace at the Postscheckamt in a letter to a friend prior to the building’s demolition.

These emphatic stories forge a direct relationship between the reader and the and photographs and initiate a reflection about the all the other stories written into the different buildings’ histories. This unusual juxtaposition of poetry and architectural photography was a risk taken by Theis/Mahlstedt/Hoff but it paid off handsomely and makes the book a truly wonderful read!

[themagical-soup-spaghetti]

Not requested!!

Karl Heisenberg x abused!male reader

Summary: Reader has stumbled across the factory while running away from his abusive ex husband who is seeking revenge for their divorce. He quickly finds a way into the factory and finds a place to hide, awaiting his ex husband's departure from the premises, where Reader meets Heisenberg for the first time.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abuse, memories, abusive husband, trauma, mentions of attack, blood, scars, mentions of open wounds, mentions of attempted murder, semi soft Heisenberg

~

~

Cold, harsh air whipped Y/N's face and wounds as he ran through the snow that wad laid so softly on the ground. Snow was falling all around, and Y/N wasn't really prepared for the weather today. He expected to stay in his home, near the fire with a good book, maybe some hot cocoa or coffee or tea. So for the past 5 minutes, he's been running in a tank top, red flannel pajamas bottoms, Santa socks, slippers, and a long red robe. Not the most ideal running attire, especially in the cold and snowy weather.

Y/N's cheeks were extremely red and cold, but he was to fear struck to even notice the cold nipping at his exposed face and hands. All he was focused on was trying to find a place to hide away until his ex husband, Markus, had given up on his pursuit. His eyes scanned the open lands, nothing but snow and the occasional rustling of bushes or trees. Along with snow crunching under Y/N's slippers.

A little background on Y/N's relationship with his ex husband, and why this is all happening.

Y/N had been married to his ex husband Markus for 10 years, withstanding abuse of different varieties. Being physically hit with fists, knees, feet, beer cans and bottles, glass or ceramic vases, basically anything that was in reach that would do some sort of damage to him.

Once Y/N's parents had heard about this, they had called the cops and Markus was brought to jail. During his time in jail, he was served with a divorce notice and was taken to court. Ultimately loosing everything that he owned during his marriage, being his home, his cars, ect. Markus had plotted throughout his entire jail sentence to destroy everything that was now in Y/N's possession, or to ultimately kill Y/N altogether. On multiple occasions, Markus had tried to kill Y/N in subtle ways that wouldn't point to him. Cutting the brakes on Y/N's car, messing with Y/N's engine, ect. Soon Markus got tired of his attempts failing and decided right out he was going to murder Y/N himself.

Which is what got Y/N into running for his life. Now back to the story!

Y/N's head spun in all directions, looking for somewhere to hide. He grew more dizzy by the second; the cold and his open wounds finally getting to him. He then came across a building, factory looking. And he decided then that he would hide there. Y/N checked his surroundings, and hearing the steps of Markus become closer with every passing second. He immediately started to run towards the factory. The first entrance Y/N tried was sealed shut by something on the inside, so he ran around the building to see if there was another way in. Low and behold, there was another door that was wide open, which was a little worrisome. But that was his only option of safety so far, so he went into the building.

~

Several minutes had passed since Y/N had entered the factory and found a hiding spot amongst a bunch of machinery and metal scraps. It was silent inside other than machines moving, and the sound of Y/N's soft breathing. He could feel blood slowly rolling down his face, and his leg. But he tried not to move to wipe it or cover the wounds. He wasn't sure if there would be any noise if he moved. The wind whistled outside, and soon there was the sound of shouting. Markus has found the factory. There was the heavy crunching of snow before there was a pounding on the locked door Y/N had tried to enter through earlier. Then there was a sound of heavy footsteps on the wood inside.

"Who's inside of this place?! Are they going to kill me when they find me...?"

They subsided just as quickly as they came. It seemed the person who was inside was standing relatively close to Y/N's hiding spot.

"Y/N you open this goddamn door right now before I fucking bust it down!!" Markus shouted, pounding on the door with a good amount of force. Metal could be heard moving, and the door slamming against the walls inside was very evident. Markus was clearly about to start shouting, but instead took a step back in the snow. "Who- Who the hell are you?!"

"I assume that I could ask you the same thing," A voice unbeknownst to Y/N spoke, semi-deep, a hint of an accent in some words, it wasn't an accent that he could make out from his hiding spot amongst the metal scraps. Y/N listened further, "But... Since you so kindly knocked on my door, I'll give you three seconds to leave before things get ugly."

Markus was about to protest, but hearing the unsheathing of something metal, the sound of running across the snow could be heard getting fainter by the second. The door closed and was locked once again with metal, and heavy footsteps rang across the wooden panels of the floor once more.

Y/N stayed silent, shaking softly from the fear of being found by the person who was currently walking around in the exact room he was in. He took a shaky breath in, and right at that moment the metal he was hiding behind was moved at a rapid pace.

His hands lift in front of his face, and he scoots closer to the wall behind him. He can almost feel the cold through the wall. Footsteps grow closer, slowly, slowly, then they stop. Right. Infront. Of Y/N. There isn't any movement for a while between the two, just small breaths and hicks from Y/N as he slowly begins to cry.

"Please don't hurt me..." Y/N finally speaks up, softly, quietly, almost inaudible. There was a small gasp from the person in front of Y/N. The floorboards cried out as the person sank down in front of the shuttering man.

A rough feeling hand grabbed one of Y/N's, pulling it away from his face. He shut his eyes tightly, pulling whatever he could away from the person in front of him. "Come on, I'm not gonna kill ya, open up." Y/N was hesitant, but slowly opened one eye. There was a man with a beard, brown hair that reached the bottom of his neck, and a pair of sunglasses. He had his hat to his chest, his lips pressed and brow furrowed with a bit of worry. "Here, stand up."

The man spoke, helping Y/N stand. The man was much taller than Y/N, standing around 6'5 at least. No more than 7 feet though. Y/N cowered before the man got on his knees to seem less intimidating. "Hey, hey, relax. I'm not going to do anything to hurt you." This put Y/N slightly at ease, but he was still tense. The man sighed softly before dipping his head slightly. "My name is Karl Heisenberg, I own this factory."

"Own it? This place?" Y/N thought to himself, curious about how this man came to own a place like this.

Y/N grew less tense as he stared at the man, Karl Heisenberg. He took a deep breath in slowly. "That's nice..." Heisenberg watched Y/N for a minute, then two, then he spoke again.

"Who is that guy to you?"

~

Hours passed, Y/N had explained his relationship with Markus to Heisenberg; the taller man had patched up his wounds, and they were now sitting down for a cup of tea.

"How did you find this place anyway?" Heisenberg asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Y/N smiled and laughed a bit. "Well, it's a giant factory in the midst of a bunch of snow... It kind of stands out.."

"Well I suppose you are correct.." Heisenberg spoke before trailing off. He stared at Y/N for a bit before he spoke again, "If he did this to you before, he's bound to come back again. We'll go to your house and grab your things. You're staying here until I can build you a home closer."

Before Y/N could protest, Heisenberg had stood and walked off, probably getting something ready to take him back to the house to collect his things.

~

Time had passed once again and now all of Y/N belongings were in a room that Heisenberg had cleared out for him. He sat in the room, looking at all the things thst had been brought. His bookshelf, his recliner, the mattress that was now on a bedframe thst Heisenberg had made for him, and some extra things that Heisenberg had made. It was really generous of him.

Y/N wasn't sure what to expect, but he prayed that it would be better than his time with his ex-husband.

A/N: HI!! I finally posted again, if you have any requests for me I will gladly complete them! Have a good day <3

[onecornerface]

Accidentally agreeing with the strawman

Common phenomenon: People misunderstand a famous theory... and then agree with the misunderstood version of the theory.

Example 1: Misunderstand Karl Popper's theory of falsification (or his view of the "paradox of tolerance"), and then agree with the pseudo-Popper theory.

(Okay, that's two examples, but people do this to Popper in both ways. They misunderstand both of his theories, and then agree with stuff Popper never said.)

Example 2: Misunderstand Milton Friedman's "shareholder" theory, and then agree with the pseudo-Friedman theory. (For very interesting discussion of this, see Roderick Long's paper draft "Stakeholder Theory for Libertarians.")

The phenomenon also seems to come in some varieties. Sometimes people misunderstand the theory as better than it really is, and then agree with the better theory-- unintentionally improving on the original.

Other times, people misunderstand the theory as worse than it really is... and then agree with the worse theory. This latter version is weirdly similar to strawmanning-- followed by agreement with one's own strawman!

Sometimes people do both at once. My (very rough) impression is that the popular misunderstanding of Popper's theory of falsification is both better AND worse than Popper's actual theory.

This combination might not be uncommon when academic theories get co-opted by the public. Academic theories tend to be both sophisticated and weird-- situated within a fairly elaborate discursive context and strange theoretical assumptions and aims. Popular misunderstandings of them may well tend to be both less bizarre and less properly contextualized, thus resulting in new pop theories that are both better and worse.

[princessmisery666]

Please don't leave. Jensen Ackles and reader

Please Don't Leave

Summary: Friends to lovers to friends, that can work, right? 

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, fluff, Jensen in his thicc Soldier Boy era (that’s a warning in itself!)

W/C: 4.3k

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki. Small Parts/Mentioned: Karl Urban, Jack Quaid, Gen Padalecki.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Notes: For the purpose of this fic, Jensen is not and never has been married. 

A/N: This drabble got way out of hand. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // any mistakes belong to me.

Graphics: Title card Jensen photo credit - https://twitter.com/_AlanaKing_ Soldier Boy image from Variety. Fly video belongs to me.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // Main // Made Up Fic Titles

“Help me understand,” you implore. 

The first domino to set off the chain reaction was in the form of a famous and beautiful actress, Mae Nova, sliding into Jensen’s DM’s—a  very detailed offer with an accompanying photo that you saw by no fault of your own. How is irrelevant. Why is the issue. Why didn’t he delete it or immediately set her straight? 

“You’re the one that wanted this, Jay,” you say when he remains silent. “You're the one who pursued me, convinced me we should try and turn the ten years of friendship into something more.” 

“I know.” He sighs, pushing a hand through his longer hair. “And I don’t regret a second of the last six months we’ve been together…” he doesn’t say it; however, the ‘but’ demands attention like a flickering light.

“But you're having second thoughts?” 

“No!” he denies vehemently, finally looking you in the eye. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

“Well, one of us has to!”

He shakes his head, exhaling loudly. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, sounding like a broken record. His heart rate is running high, and his chest heaves with every breath, but his vocabulary appears to be running low.

You tsk, fighting back a scathing comment about needing a script writer to make him talk. But it wouldn’t be fair. He’s not a man who runs from his emotions. He’s just trying to make sense of it all like you are. You have to remind yourself he’s not Dean Winchester. He doesn’t look much like him anymore either; longer hair, beard growing almost wildly, no plaid in sight in the Soldier Boy wardrobe at the back of the fancy trailer. 

Is that where the lines blurred? Working together for so long on Supernatural, have you both confused the other for your characters and their feelings toward the other?

“You can stop saying your sorry. I forgive you,” you say, and he turns a watery gaze your way. It almost breaks your resolve, but you realize it’s down to you to be the strong one. “I just need to understand why? Why didn’t you reply and tell her you're in a relationship? You’ve done it a hundred times before.”

“I don’t know.”

To make matters worse, Mae had landed a role on The Boys and would be working alongside Jensen.

“Jensen, you spent fifteen years of your life devoted to Supernatural, ten of those with me around. I think you were scared of the end, afraid of losing such a big part of yourself.” 

“I was,” he agrees, in a whisper as if you speaking the words is the reason for his realization of it being the truth.

“Maybe us being together was a knee-jerk reaction?” you suggest, “a way to cling onto the past.” You take a deep breath, and your chest tightens as if begging yourself not to say the next part. “Maybe you need a clean break, see what the world looks like without Supernatural… without me.” 

“What? No.” He looks offended but can’t hold eye contact and doesn’t offer anything further.

You can’t keep going around in circles, so you make a decision, sitting down at the small table and firing up your laptop.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, rushing to look over your shoulder, perhaps worried you’ll take it upon yourself to reply to the woman. “Searching for flights back home?” Jensen says, panic clear in his tone. Harshly he slams the laptop shut, and you look up at him. “You can’t leave.”

“Give me a reason to stay.” 

“Me, us!” he yells, “we can work this out.” 

You stand up and gently press your lips to his. Jensen’s hand automatically goes to the small of your back, guiding you around the chair to better press himself against you.

The kiss is natural and unhurried, but there’s too much tension in his body, and you know it’s because he feels it, too. This is your last kiss. 

A little breathless, you pull back. “I don’t wanna fight, Jensen.” 

“Me neither.” 

“So let me be the bad guy,” you say, heart aching but trying to hold it together. “Let me walk away before the wound is too big to save our friendship.”

He grimaces as if tasting something bitter but nods once, “I’m sorry.”

It’s been a long day. All Jensen wanted to do was take a shower and crash, but Karl convinced him to go for dinner with the cast and crew. 

The conversation is light, everyone enjoying their food and making small talk. It’s nice enough, but it’s incomplete because you're not there. 

He wishes it was you beside him instead of Mae. The seating arrangements have no rhyme or reason. It just happened that way. But still, he almost resents that she’s the one next to him. So much has happened in the weeks since he last saw you. He wants to share it all with you, and wants to know how you are - if you’re struggling with his absence as much as he is with yours. 

“Okay there, Ackles?” Jack asks, “You're a world away.” 

“Yeah,” he lies, sitting up straighter and smiling. “Just thinking…” 

Karl must know the look of a man missing his significant other because he asks, “About your girl?”

“Yeah,” Jensen admits, sighing heavily. He hasn't told anyone you broke up, and there’s been no speculation in the tabloids.

“Tell us about her. You never did tell us about your first date,” Jack says, “we all know you met on Supernatural, but not the story of your first date.” 

Jack’s an awesome guy, sweet and kind, he doesn’t know the reminder is like a kick in the teeth, but Jensen obliges. 

Jensen hurried across the lot, a coffee in each hand, the brown paper bag containing two cinnamon rolls dangling from his mouth. He was late, and Jared would give him shit for it, but it would be worth whatever Jared threw at him if it improved your morning.

Your latest Instagram post was a photo of a fly swimming in your coffee with the caption: “It was my last coffee pod. This just topped off a crappy weekend😭. #HappyMonday”. You were one hundred percent a coffee snob. You made it in a particular way using a fancy - and stupidly expensive - machine. You wouldn’t settle for the coffee on set. You’d rather go without. However, Jensen knew when you didn’t get her morning beverage, you’d be grumpy all day, and he hated to see you without a smile.

He headed for the makeup trailer, knowing that’s where you’d be. He kicked the bottom of the door gently as a way of knocking, then waited. 

He didn’t expect Jared to be the one to open it. He wasn’t due in makeup for another half-hour, but his lanky frame filled the space of the open door. “Look who decided to show up,” Jared jeered playfully. 

“Shut up,” Jensen mumbled around the bag, walking past him.

You were already there, looking through clothes on the rack, but stopped to smile at him. “Morning, Jay.”

“Here,” he said, handing over the coffee that was for you. “Hi, hey, morning.”

Confusion wrinkled your brow, but you took it. “Um, thanks.” 

“I saw your Instagram, and I know how cranky you get without your coffee, and you said you had a shit weekend, so I wanted to try and make it better,” Jensen vomited words without thinking. “I don’t like seeing you upset, and you’ve been down a lot lately, and I just thought maybe this would help, some, a little, maybe.” Breathlessly he shrugged and prayed the floor would open up and swallow him.

Your smile beamed, and you lifted the cup to your nose, inhaling the aroma, and hummed contentedly, “Mmm. You even got my order right,” you said and stepped closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s cause you're always posting about it on social media,” quipped Jared.

You tutted, rolling your eyes at your co-star but kept your eyes locked on Jensen. Dropping back down from your tiptoes, you said, “Thank you for this. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

“It’s nothing,” he lied. It was everything, and as your kiss dried on his cheek, it reminded him of your evening plans. “I know you’ve got a long day ahead, especially with your date later.”

As part of a charity event, you had agreed that they auction off a date with you. The auction had been silent, so you had no idea who had hired you for the night. Though the studio had assured you they had vetted the winner, you’d asked that he and Jared be in the bar next door in case of emergency.

“Oh god,” you groaned, “don’t remind me. I wish I never agreed to that stupid silent auction.” 

“Ah, don’t be such a downer,” Jared said, winking. “You never know. He might be the man of your dreams.”

Oh god, I hope not. Jensen thought. He’d already had to watch you be in a relationship with Chad, a man who neither deserved you nor treated you well. He couldn’t bear to watch you be with someone else again. He wanted to be next in line, and he would treat you as you should be, like a Queen. He just needed to work up the courage to tell you.  

“I doubt it,” you sighed, and Jensen swore your eyes flicked to him and away again. “Besides, who said it’s a man who hired me?”

“C’mon, you two,” Zara, the makeup artist, said, waving them toward the door, “out! I’ve got to get this one ready.”

Amongst a chorus of goodbyes, Jared and Jensen left. “What is it with you when you’re around her?” Jared asked as soon as the trailer door was closed. “You’re a bumbling idiot, and she’s starting to notice.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, she asked me what’s wrong with you. Thinks she’s done something wrong ‘cause you either avoid her or barely speak to her.” 

“I know, man,” Jensen groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Ever since you put it out there that we could be more than friends, I can't stop thinking about it. I don’t want to blurt it out at the wrong time, so I try to be careful about what I say, but I just end up tripping over myself.”

Jared clapped him on the back, “You just need to fake some of that Dean Winchester confidence.”

“Maybe.” 

“You better find a way to be around her ‘cause you’ve got a date with her tonight.”

“What?” 

“The silent auction,” Jared explained, “I paid for the date with her for you.”

“Jared, what? No!”

“I think Gen will have an issue if I show up for a date with her, and are you really going to leave her sitting on her own?”

“No, but Jared, I can’t,” Jensen panicked, “I’m going to make a fool of myself.” 

“You’re an actor. Just act normal.” Jared suggested before walking off.

Seeing you through the restaurant window, Jensen wanted to hug Jared so tight to thank him he’d crack a rib. But he also wanted to punch him so damn hard in the arm it’d be limp for a week. Why had he agreed to this? Okay, he hadn’t agreed. He’d totally freaked out, drank two beers, took three shots of whiskey, and then forced himself into the waiting car.

He was going to mess this up. He knew it. He was a fumbling, mumbling idiot around you, and dread settled firmly in his gut as he watched you scanning the menu. He regretted the whiskey and allowing Jared to talk him into this. 

He swore he was having an out-of-body experience as his feet took him closer to you. You glanced up when he got to the side of the table, and your face glowed with a smile. “Come to check in on me?” you asked, rising and pulling him into a hug. 

He held you a little tighter than he usually would, savoring the moment before releasing you and taking a seat. “Not exactly checking up on you,” he said, “this wasn’t my idea, but Jared brought you for me.” 

“What?”

“The silent auction, Jared was the highest bidder.” 

Confusion took over your features. “Why would he do that? I mean not that I’m not grateful, I’d much rather be here with you, but I don’t understand.” 

He realized it was now or never. “‘Cause he knows how I feel about you,” he admits, holding his breath for a reaction. 

“Care to elaborate?” you ask after a long silence.

“The truth is, I like you... a lot.” 

“I like you too.” 

“No,” he shook his head, “you don’t get it. I cherish our friendship and don’t want to lose it, but it's more than that. My feelings for you go beyond friendship, and I want to see if we could be more.” 

“I was so nervous,” Jensen chuckles. “I felt like I was auditioning for the rest of my life.” he contemplates it for a moment, “maybe I was.” 

“Well then, it’s good she reciprocated,” Karl laughs. 

“It took her a minute,” Jensen remembers, “but yeah, she came around.”

Your phone rings as you slot the key into your door’s lock. You’re juggling coffee, a pile of scripts to read, dry cleaning, and a bag of groceries. You have no hope of answering without dropping everything, so leave it to ring. You assume it’s Jared checking in on you after seeing the photos on TMZ. Jensen and Mae were pictured at a restaurant in Ontario. 

The phone stops as you enter the kitchen and set everything down on the countertop. 

Gen had already checked in to make sure you were okay, and you’d been anticipating a call from Jared to yet again invite you out to the set of Walker to meet one of the crew he was insistent you’d “hit it off with.” You’d politely declined, having already been on a date that had been pleasant and ended with a goodnight kiss, but you’d told the Padalecki’s it had left you feeling guilty as if you were cheating on Jensen. You needed time to let that feeling pass and allow the wound to heal completely.

You set about emptying the bags of groceries, and your phone rings again. You shuffle the contents of your bag, looking for the device, sure that it will cut off to voicemail before you find it. 

“Hello,” you answer, pressing it to your ear. 

“Hey.” 

Jensen’s voice freezes you to the floor, and you hold your breath. It’s been more than a month since you left him in his trailer, and you’ve only exchanged a few text messages. Why is he calling now? Does he want to be the one to confirm that he and Mae are together?

He says your name when your silence stretches. 

“Um, yeah. Hey, hi,” you say, clearing your throat to rid yourself of the shock.

“You sound out of breath,” he notes, “is this a bad time?” 

“No, no, I just wasn’t expecting it to be you,” you explain, “caught me off guard.”

“Who were you expecting?” he asks, sounding accusatory.

“Jared,” you sneer, unable to stop the ire you feel.

“Sorry,” he says, and the apology tightens your jaw with the frustration it evokes. “I should have called sooner.”

“I haven’t called you either.” 

No one is to blame for the lack of communication. You both needed some space, so you were both right not to call. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment, and you debate whether to tell him you're busy so you can end the call and be done with the awkwardness. But he obviously put his awkwardness aside to call, so you might as well rip the stitches out and reopen the wound if that's what this is about. 

“Why are you calling now?”

“I need you to know that me and Mae aren’t together,” he says, firm and direct. 

You try to interrupt, “Jensen, it’s fine.” but he determinedly continues. 

“The picture they posted was cropped,” he explains. “The whole cast and some of the crew were there. The photo made it look like it was just the two of us, and that’s not the truth.”

“Even if it was, it’s okay.” It’s not okay, and from the moment you saw it, you’ve felt nauseous. Still, you assure him, “You’re free to do what you want. You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

He sighs, and you can hear the scowl in his tone, “It’s important to me that you know.”

You think it’s sweet that he’s taking the time to explain himself, even if it’s not what you expected. But Mae was never the problem. The situation she presented only shone a light into the crack that you had both been ignoring. Yet the information that Jensen has shared is a welcomed relief in the wake of the storm, but it’s just the eye. More questions are coming, questions that will likely only cause more hurt and confusion.

“Why?” you ask, “why do you want me to know?” 

“Because I wanted it to be you next to me…” he pauses. 

You're not sure if he wants you to say something or read between the lines, but you can’t let yourself trust the spark of hope that jabs your heart like a pinprick. 

“Even if we’re just friends,” he adds. 

That pinprick pierces the thin shell you’d managed to build, and it feels like a thousand jagged pieces of glass lacerate your heart, and you chew your top lip to stop the emotion from escaping in a sob.

There’s a loud bang on his end of the line, and someone calls out, “We’re ready on set, Mr. Ackles.” 

“I gotta go,” he says. 

“Okay,” you say, and immaturely add, “Bye, buddy,” before hanging up. 

The party has been a monumental success. You helped Gen, along with a professional party planner, to pull it off.

“So you really had no idea?” You ask Jared once everyone seems to have greeted him and wished him a very happy fortieth birthday. Technically it's not his birthday for another four hours, but the surprise party had needed that early element to make sure it went off without a hitch. 

“None,” Jared says, smiling. “I was fully prepared to fly home tomorrow to spend my birthday with Gen and the kids. I was looking forward to it, actually. I didn’t want a big fuss,” he chuckles, looking around the room, “but I’m glad you helped Gen make a fuss. It’s nice to see all the old faces.”

“Not all of them,” you note sourly, commenting on Jensen’s absence. “He wanted to be here, but you know how tight filming schedules can be.”

“I know,” he nods with a tight, sad smile. “It would have been good to see him. For me, at least.” 

“Don’t.” 

“It’s my birthday. I’m allowed,” he teases.

“It would have been nice to see him,” you agree before Jared can start in on the lecture. “I think. I don’t know. It’s weird and painful, and maybe I'm better off not seeing him until it’s not weird and painful.” 

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Sounds like you have it all under control.”

“Absolutely.” 

You mingle with old friends from Supernatural and new friends from the Walker set. The crew member, a camera operator named Vince, is as cute as Jared promised him to be, and you find yourself tucked in a corner talking with him as the night continues.

You hear the cheerful reunion before you see it. People applaud and shout greetings as Jensen crosses the room and embraces Jared in a tight hug. They hug for a long time, whispered words exchanged between brothers, and you see Jared’s eyes tear up. His night is complete now that Jensen is here. 

A few people greet Jensen with hugs and shakes of his hand, but his eyes never seem to focus on them. He distractedly looks around them and seems disappointed when he sees the next person waiting to greet him.

You mostly manage to keep your focus on Vince, but you can see Jensen in your peripheral. You don’t react, but you notice when he finds you. He stares for a long moment, maybe hoping you’ll feel his eyes on you and look at him, but you don’t, and he doesn’t approach.

You're doing nothing wrong, but an uneasiness sneaks up on you. It’s not that you feel like you're somehow betraying Jensen. It’s that you're betraying yourself by denying how you feel. It wouldn’t be fair to start anything with anyone new right now. They’d be a rebound. 

Vince seems to notice your focus has shifted and politely parts ways with you.

You spy Jensen across the room, catching up with Brianna, and head for the bar, needing something more potent than wine to make it through the rest of the night.

If possible, Jensen seems to have grown broader, arm muscles bulky beneath the material of his shirt, and you're definitely a fan of the Soldier Boy look. He looks good with a now-trimmed beard and long hair. The sight sends an ache of loneliness through your chest, remembering how it felt to be wrapped in those arms. 

A shot turns into two, and when the bartender steps away to refill your wine glass, you feel the air next to you shift. You don’t have to turn to see who it is, the cologne gives him away, and as it arrests your senses, he nudges his shoulder into yours. The familiar heat of his body makes your chest tighten. You so desperately want to turn and embrace him, but you know your fragile emotions would crumble under the weight. 

“Whiskey, neat,” he tells the bartender, his voice deep and gruff. He turns his body towards you, one arm resting on the bar, and you sip your drink, silently wishing it was hard liquor again instead of wine.

“Hey,” he says when you don’t look at him.

“Hi,” you respond blandly.

“How are you? You look good.”

“So do you. Really. You look incredible,” you say, without actually looking him in the eyes. 

“I hate having to do the diet and exercise thing, though,” he chuckles, “it was so much easier when all I had to do was wear flannel.”

You laugh, but it's bittersweet because everything was easier when he was wearing flannel. “How’s it all going? Stepping into the shoes of a new character?”

“Daunting, but fun.” Jensen talks, and you do all you can to listen and engage but can’t bring yourself to fully meet his eyes.  

He says your name so delicately it feels like a caress that sends a shiver through you. You close your eyes and know what he’s asking before he pleads, “Please look at me.”

His eyes have always been mesmerizing, and you know if you gaze into them, the spell will be cast, and there will be no escaping him, even when he’s miles away again. He waits for a beat, but your eyes remain firmly shut, and he closes the space between you, demanding attention. 

His exhale wafts through your hair. It’s too close because it's not close enough, and you feel the heartache rising in your chest.

“It was good to see you, Jensen,” you flash a smile in his general direction, picking up your glass.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your wrist as you turn your back to him. “Don’t leave.”

You freeze in place and turn to look at his hand cuffing your wrist. Slowly you raise your gaze from his hold to his face, preparing yourself for the enchantment of his eyes, but his sad expression is downcast. His chest heaves with a deep breath before he finally looks at you, despondence turning to tentative hope.

“I know I should have said it back then, but I’m saying it now.” His voice is nearly a whisper beneath the muted conversation and ambient music, but it’s clear as a bell to your ears. “Please, don’t leave.”

You turn back to face him, and he takes two deep breaths before he finds the words.

“The last couple of months, I’ve been miserable without you.” He admits, “I’ve had to fight myself to eat, to work out, to do anything that didn’t involve staying in my trailer with a bottle of whiskey. I know that things are weird, but I realized my hesitance had nothing to do with the ending of Supernatural. Yes, I was scared. But I was scared of how easy it was with you, how much I cared for you, how quickly I realized that I am head over heels in love with you.”

You choke out his name as tears well in your eyes, and he steps forward to swipe the first droplet from your cheek.

“I was ready to tell you I’m in love with you, and you were booking flights home,” the heartache of the reminder dims the light behind his eyes, and he drops his gaze to battle whatever emotion he’s feeling. “That scared me more than anything. I didn’t want to say it in the heat of the moment or on the phone, and I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. It doesn’t matter if you don’t. I need you to know that I love you.”

You don’t have words, unexpectedly wishing you had a script so you don’t say something stupid. Then, just as surprisingly, you realize you don’t need words. You take a half step forward and kiss him. Jensen responds immediately, a hand caressing your cheek and drawing you closer as the other slips around your waist to tug you flush against him. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and he groans into your mouth. His kiss gets you drunker than any alcohol ever could, and after a moment that could have been a minute or an hour, you feel lightheaded. 

Jensen chases you as you pull back, placing swift kisses on your lips and pressing his head against yours.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” you sigh.

“Well, don’t get used to it,” he says, “I’m never letting you leave me again.”

Tag List Info

Tagging Dean Winchester and Supernatural List. Sorry if you don't like RPF.

@alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // Main