#sam & mary + dream worlds

[jenanigans1207]

What I wanted so badly was for Mary to learn about her boys from Cas. Like that night where Cas finds her when she can’t sleep and she expresses that she just doesn’t know anything about her sons since she missed so much?? All I wanted was for Cas to sit down with her at the table and just start telling her about them. Basic stuff at first: their favorite foods, their sleeping habits, the stuff he’s just observed by being their passenger for years.

And then I want him to say something totally Cas, like “Dean always wears more layers but that’s because his body naturally runs two degrees colder than Sam’s. But that’s normal for him and not indicative of any illness, so it’s nothing to worry about.”

And as they talk, it starts to get a little deeper, and Cas tells her more. He tells her about what she missed, about all the horrible things that happened to her sons and how they coped; how it changed them. And he tells her about Sam, he does, but really it ends up being all about Dean.

He’ll tell her about how Dean clenches his fists when he’s upset, even as he tries to keep his face impassive. About how Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel when he’s anxious. He’ll tell her about Dean’s nightmares, about the ways he’s chosen to cope. He’ll tell her how to know when to approach Dean and when to give him space, how to gently acknowledge what he’s feeling without pushing him too far.

And with every word he says, Mary’s curious head tilt from when she’d seen them hug in reunion turns into a bone deep type of certainty. Because Cas is telling her things that only someone who paid special attention would notice. He’s telling her things that only someone very, very close to her son’s heart would know.

Cas will tell her the cliff notes of what they’ve been through; will tell her how the whole world looked to Dean and he rose to the occasion over and over again. He’ll tell her about Dean’s doubts in himself and then vehemently declare them as wrong and explain, at length, why. He will tell her about the people Dean has loved— the people who loved him like he was their own— and lost. He will tell her about Bobby, Ellen, Jody, Donna, and Charlie. He’ll tell her about Claire, too, and how Dean stepped up.

And the whole time, Mary will have this realization that oh, she may not have been around to guide and protect her sons, but there was always someone there to care for them and support them when they needed it. She will realize that she and John may have left them, but they were never alone.

But more than that, there was someone there for Dean. Someone picking Dean over and over again while Dean picked Sam, or the world, over himself. There was someone fighting for Dean when he wasn’t fighting for himself. There was someone who saw Dean, and loved him unconditionally.

Sitting across from her, at the asscrack of dawn, filling her in on all the things she missed was every mother’s dream: someone who loved her child with the kind of devotion that would break the world. And from the sounds of the stories she was being told, it did break the world. Someone whose love is entirely untainted and comes without any strings attached.

It’s so clear to her as she listens to Cas talk that Cas loves Dean with no expectations. That loving Dean is something he just does, like he doesn’t know how not to love Dean, like the possibility of not loving him never occurred to Cas. He loves Dean in a way that Mary knows can and will soothe Dean’s sharp edges and battered heart. He loves Dean in the kind of pure way that tells Mary that it will continue to endure and overcome everything without ever diminishing, even the littlest amount.

Mary, through tears, will tell Cas how she always told Dean that there were angels watching over him. And before Cas can make some comment about Dean being the Righteous Man and the interest of most of Heaven, she will place a hand over his and give him a motherly look that will convey all the things she’s not sure how to say— and the things she’s not sure Cas is ready to hear yet. And Cas will flush and look away, mumbling about how her son is very special to him.

And when she pulls him into a hug and murmurs thank yous into his shoulder, she will be comforted in the knowledge that her sons turned out to be wonderful men, and that they managed to stay together through everything. She will be comforted to know that no matter what happens, no matter her shortcomings as she tries to fill a role she never meant to leave, Sam will have Dean and Dean will have Cas.

And this time, when Cas tells her that she belongs here, she will believe him. And she will tell him that he belongs here, too.

And when Dean wakes up a few hours later and wanders in to find Mary and Cas still chatting over the table, he’ll be surprised— but pleased— to find Mary looking more at ease. He’ll be pleased when she gives him a warm hug and pats him on the cheek and tell him with all the sincerity that only a mother can muster that she’s glad that he met Castiel. And when Dean agrees, a little confused, Mary will just smile at him.

“I always said I’d like a third son.” She says, “so give him a reason to take our last name, won’t you?”

And Dean will splutter and turn fifteen shades of red as he steadfastly doesn’t look at Cas but mumbles something that suggests he’s not against the idea at all.

And Mary will laugh again and wink at an equally red Cas before heading towards the kitchen like “Cas said waffles are your favorite, so I hope you’re hungry!”

[shallowrambles]

SPNwin 1x12 + fridged feelings + funhouse mirrors

One of the things I REALLY love about the SPNwin 1x12 (Tears of a Clown) episode is this idea of funhouse mirrors, and halls of mirrors. This, I think, is where a lot of the soreness within Supernatural as a franchise and audience, lies.

It's this fact that, mirrors and parallels are not always one-to-one, nor are they necessarily meant to be. Sometimes, it's mix-and-match. Sometimes, it's absurd. Other times, grotesque. Sometimes, it's taking the most black-and-white, least charitable, most cynical take on something and sticking it in the mouth of The Villain.

Other times, mirrors simply reveal that characters are at crossroads of purpose. They're struggling with their own meaning-making or dealing with completely different junctions regarding the difficulties of adjusting to living.

(Mary longs for the clown world in a way John does not. Mary wants to disappear into a world of non-decision, because she's afraid. Then, she shifts all the fault to John, rather than taking ownership of her own feelings.)

MARY: Didn't it feel good to you, not having to worry about our problems for a second, not to have to worry about us?

Mirrors and parallels ask questions, like "how are these things similar, and more importantly, how are they different?" It's not necessarily about the severity of a given situation, nor the weight of the “crime.”

It's not about this couple being lovers and that couple being platonic and that couple waaay over there being enemies, per se. And yet, it's about that, too, because it's making you ask the question.

It's less proof of a theorem and more...indirect.

(Humans see ourselves everywhere. In every pattern. We even see our own faces in puffy, distant clouds. See our face made out of simple stuff: two dots, a circle, and a curved line. And I think that's lovely.)

“It was for a spell to make him forget all of his problems and freeze him like that, so he could stay happy forever.”

[trulyhblue]

Baby England

Lionesses x Young! Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x reader (platonic).

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, coarse language, school, young reader.

A/N — still can't get over Sam's ACL. Like I woke up just to cry? No, thank you.

Masterlist

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The Games Room was quiet for what seemed to be the first time ever. The team was sprawled throughout the room, some of them on their phones, others by mountains of pillows. Georgia and Keira were in the indoor pitch juggling with one another. Alex was having a soft conversation with Hempo, laughing at something one of them had said.

The serenity of the room was something you didn't catch often. Usually, the hustle of the team would echo across the walls, loud pints of laughter and screaming coming from one corner of the room to the other. Lucy was often yelling at Mario Kart, and Ellie was always strutting around Table Tennis in triumph, while everyone else grumbled on about how she was too good.

But for now, it was silent, save for the low conversations from the different groups. Even Lessi and Tooney were keeping in check, sharing a rocking chair with mounds of blankets hauled over the top of them.

For anyone else in the room, it would've been extremely relaxing.

For you, it was anything but.

You wanted to snap your pen in half, feeling the fatigue of yesterday's game daunting on your muscles. The words on your laptop were dancing behind the blur of your eyes. You struggled to stay concentrated as Leah sat next to you, taking her eyes off her phone every once while to make sure you were actually doing your homework.

The Euros were speeding by quicker than any of you could imagine. The outcome of your results, and the number of fans that had started to compile over the weeks, was indescribable. This was your debut camp for the Lionesses, and while you spent most of your time on the bench, making late appearances in the 70th minutes of games, you wouldn't change it for the world.

However, with all the excitement and privilege that came with representing your country in such a prestigious competition at Sixteen, you were faced with the challenge of keeping up with school.

When you first signed with the Lionesses, your parents were determined to keep you in school. Your education was very important, and if football ever ended badly for you, they wanted you to have something to fall back on. Growing up through the youth groups, and developing skills in the Arsenal Academy, you were used to the physical and emotional demands of a professional football career. Your parents were incredibly supportive of your dream to play, but their underlying worry when you were called up to the National Team was daunted on them.

So, to make everyone happy, you decided to take on the complicated challenge of juggling both football and school. This meant that in your spare time, all you did was study for exams, take the exams, and then study for the next one. It was an endless cycle of school and work, but you knew that it would be all worth it in the end.

The worst thing about it was that none of the girls were your age. Some of them had Uni work to do, but you were still mastering high school subjects. The workload wasn't nearly as draining, and they seemed to have it all sorted out in a few short hours while you were spending all of your extra time peeling away your useless worksheets, essays and papers.

Lots of the girls were lenient. None of them liked the idea of you cooped up in front of a screen. Hempo would buy you some crisps from down the road. Mary would make TikToks with you, Beth would scoop you up for cuddles and a movie. LJ would pull you away for Mario Kart. All the girls believed that you needed a break, especially in such a stressful time.

But Leah was the exact opposite.

You had known Leah since you were seven. You had met her during one of your Arsenal Youth games, immediately looking up to her as an older sister and role model. Even as a teenager, Leah holds a protective arm around you. She was always ready to defend you on the pitch, not only as a Captain, but as a friend. She wasn't afraid to put you in line — she was the only one who could send you running laps if you were too cheeky. She was strict, especially when you parents weren't there to boss you around, and everyone knew that her authority over you was nothing to debate.

You were training with the Arsenal Women's Team while you were still at the Academy. You're not quite sure why you were chosen in the squad, as you struggled to believe you made the cut at such a young age, but the England Captain didn't hesitate to make you put in the work.

She was a bit like your agent, always persuading you to do something when you weren't sure what to do yourself. You still weren't signed with a WSL team, but as the Euros progressed, teams from everywhere were banking up to sign you as soon as possible. You tried hard not to delve too deeply into it. You knew Arsenal was a main contender, and that's where you most wanted to go, but your focus right now was the Euros... and the essay in front of you.

"C'mon, get it done," Leah ordered, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, her hand carrying the weight on her head against the desk. You had been sitting there for over an hour, a total of one paragraph typed out on your screen. Outside, you could see Beth and Lotte playing Basketball. You threw your head backwards, groaning in respite. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

"No use whining about it." She spoke, still not looking at you. "'Might as well smash it out now so it's done."

"'Dunno what to write about." You grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets. You managed to slip a glance towards Esme, feeling your hopes lift up when she gave you a knowing nod.

But of course, Leah caught the interaction. "Hempo, no." She snapped, sending the Forward back to her seat. "You don't get crisps when you've done nothing to deserve it."

"Leah-"

"-Get on with it."

You slouched back into your chair, making sure your Huff was loud and overly obnoxious. Leah had no reaction, leaning back in her chair, and continuing to scroll on her phone.

"Y/N." She murmured in warning.

When you made no effort to keep going, she finally looked at you.

You could tell she was over it. She wasn't obliged to sit with you, but it was an unspoken rule that she did, otherwise, you would never get it finished. The older woman secretly felt bad for making you do it. If it was her choice, you wouldn't be doing school during the tournament. She understood your reluctance, but both of you could guess the consequences of your actions if you weren't handing it in.

"You've got half an hour." She snapped, her glare darkening. If she wasn't strict now, it'd end badly. "If it's not done, I'll bench you."

From the corner of your eye, you could see Lauren stop her Lego abruptly. Esme was no longer looking at her phone, instead tilting her head away from the tension rising in an attempt to not get involved.

Leah didn't have the power to bench anyone, the older girls knew that. But to your virtue, you thought that Leah was capable of anything. An abuse of power, maybe, but it worked all the same.

You begrudgingly tapped at your keyboard, making a point to roll you eyes when Leah set an alarm for half an hour. You were determined to keep your spot as a preferred sub, refusing to let Leah feel all smug at the fact that you couldn't finish the stupid essay.

Lauren continued on with her Lego. Esme was starting a new bracelet. Beth and Lotte's giggles were drowned out by the determination written all over your face. Without your knowledge, more and more people began to cram into the Game Room. First, Lucy, then Kei and Gee. A few minutes later, Alessia and Ella were doing a TikTok, their voices growing louder as the minutes went by. LJ walked past with confusion written across her features. She leaned over your shoulder, eyes slightly widening at the page full of words. She glanced to Leah's phone and the timer, then at Leah, who was staring off into the distance.

By five minutes left, you had written nearly two whole pages. Your hands were cramping, and your feet couldn't keep still. Chloe and Katie were surrounding you behind LJ, waiting for you to snap out of your trance and notice the crowd that had complied.

You were reading over your final sentences when the door crashed open, revealing Millie and Rach running in frantically with a cameraman hot on their trail. Their presence was so boisterous that everyone stopped to see who it was, watching in curiosity when the two women started searching the room.

"We need the Baby!" Millie screamed, scrambling onto the floor to check underneath the lounge. "We need the baby!"

Rachel was running to the bean bags, dashing past Lucy, Keira and Georgia playing Mario Kart. Everyone laughed in amusement at the cameraman struggling to keep up with the two of them.

"Where is she?!" Rach screeched at Esme and Lauren, ignoring the fits of giggle the pair were in. "Where's the baby?"

"Over here, idiots," Zelem stated, causing both their heads to dart in your direction. The girls surrounding you were quick to scatter, knowing the wrath of the two women was not something easily escapeable. Millie was about to yank you from under your shoulders when Leah moved in front of you, her prior amusement halting, replaced with her usual sternness.

You were closing your laptop at the sight of the camera, beaming at the thought of freeing yourself.

"Not now, Bright," Leah uttered, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. "She's got school."

Instead of leaving you be, the duo closed in on you, beckoning the camera over to your work sprawled across the table.

Both of them held tiny mics, holding them up to their mouths as they spoke.

"Here we've got the Arsenal Protege in her natural habitat. Born and raised in red, she seems to be researching ways to leave."

"Both Arsenal and Leah."

Leah's face contorted into deep offence. "Hey!"

"Yes, it appears she is." Rachel nodded vigorously, picking up your book, pretending to read it. "She has written down Aston Villa as her top contender. Not only is she fast, but smart too."

Millie hugged you from behind. "But we all know what side of London she's thinking of, isn't that right? Smart, little, blue she'll be, am I right, Williamson?"

The camera panned to Leah, who was not looking at all amused. The thought of you being at any other club felt absolutely gut-wrenching to her. Like her, you had grown up bleeding in North London. She wouldn't trade any other player twice as good as you if that meant you'd stay. But while she'd never admit it, Leah wasn't worried about you leaving Arsenal. She was more worried that you'd leave her.

"Over my dead body." She snapped, wrenching the Chelsea woman's arms away from you, swerving your chair back to face your laptop. "Now, off you go, she needs to get this done."

"I've finished it, Lee." You muttered, feeling embarrassed at the fact that fans would prune over the way you were bossed around. When it came to your figure in the media, it was mainly regarding your blamelessness in comparison to your more experienced teammates. You were often babied by the girls, and fans adored the interactions you would have with them, especially with Leah.

Your Captain looked at you, crossing her arms. "You promise me you're done?"

"Promise." Your cheeks heated as the snickers fell from Daly's lips. You nodded, slowly inching off your seat. "Please, Lee, I've been stuck here for hours."

"Yeah, c'mon, Williamson, let her come to the dark side." Millie barked, causing Leah to grumble at the notion.

It took her a few moments to decide whether or not to let you go, huffing in defeat when she turned off her phone. "Fine. But no Chelsea or Villa talk, swear to Go—"

You were off before she could finish her lecture. Millie had picked you up, lifting you over her shoulders as Rach followed behind. The three of you ran into the indoor training pitch, with the poor cameraman following after you hopelessly.

When Millie plopped you down, you engulfed the warmth of someone's lap. You craned your head back to find Jordan looking back at you, her beady, toothy grin beaming back at you. The Arsenal midfielder wrapped her arms around you as you made the effort to snuggle into her body. Jordan was like your second mother when you were away from home. She was an ongoing support that wore her heart on her sleeve. She was different from Leah's opposing relentless, being more of a calm before the storm, less sentimental but effusive nonetheless.

You were supposed to be Jordan's substitute during your time at the Euros, but her knee injury had ruled her out. Therefore, the woman was only there when the squad wasn't training.

You noticed the multiple cameras surrounding the couch you were all squeezed on, but the attention felt a little less daunting with the comfort of the girls around you.

"We've got some questions for you," Millie spoke, revealing some palm cards from God knows where.

You nodded, keeping your head on Jord's chest. "Ask away."

"Who is your favourite teammate?"

You thought to yourself for a second before shrugging. "Jordan."

Rach scoffed. "Boring."

"Yeah, next!" Millie rolled her eyes. "Who would win in a fight, me or Daly?"

"Why am I answering these?!" You laughed, shaking your head. "You could've asked anyone."

"Those aren't the real questions." Jordan prodded, leading the two women to laugh their heads off at their supposed humour. You looked around at everyone, extremely confused about what you were here for. There were a few PR Managers behind the media setup, all with clipboards in their hands. You managed to catch Jordan eyeing Bright and Daly, squeezing your body a little tighter.

"Yeah, yeah, we're just having a laugh." Mils chortled, straightening up before continuing. "We're to announce that Baby England here has been asked to answer a few questions on behalf of the team."

You watched the centre-back intently. "Why me?"

"Dunno." Rach shrugged, followed shortly by Mil's voice. "Just 'cause."

"Alright, then, by who?"

"God, you'd think with all that schoolwork you'd be a bit brighter."

Jordan huffed from behind you. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright." Rachel scoffed, taking out the same cards as Millie had, the England Lioness logo plastered on the back. "So, seriously now, how do you think the Lionesses have worked throughout the Euros?"

You were never the one to be faced with serious questions in interviews. In fact, you had only ever attended one or two. At Arsenal, you were in the Academy, meaning the media surrounding you and your team was very scarce. As a representative of your National Team, the two interviews you had been a part of were your induction and your Player of the Match award at the end of one of the games. You weren't used to being in the spotlight like your England teammates, but you were not opposed to being overshadowed by them either. You knew you had a lot to learn, you were happy to play alongside them.

“Erm, I'm not quite sure.” You posed, blushing at the laughter that followed. “I'm very proud to be a part of it… this is a big opportunity for me, and I'm grateful for having the chance to represent my country.”

“True English,” Mils said fondly, finding the camera with her eyes. “Modest as always.”

Jordan hugged you tighter. “Let her finish, Millie.”

“But I think all of the girls think that, even to a bigger scale than me.” You continued, fidgeting with your hands. “It's a home Euros so… we all want to bring it home. I think that's one of the main contributors — the pressure, but also the idea of winning. We all want our families and country to be proud. So, yeah, and because we all love football. That's a given.”

“That was a bloody good answer, Baby England,” Rach commented. Her hand was rubbing your shoulder, her legs crossed over each other on the lounge. The Defender behind her was smiling, propping herself into a more comfortable position before she spoke.

“Speaking of,” She smirked. “Are you bothered by your nickname ‘Baby England?’ Do you feel a bit bugged by it?”

You giggled into Jordan, your cheeks inevitably heating up. “Erm, yes and no. I mean, I know I'm the youngest but I’ll go back to training and the girls will be teasing me for it.”

“Do you want to stay in the Academy?” Rach asked. “What’s your plans after the Euros?”

“Not sure.” You shrugged. “Hopefully we finish with Gold, that's the hope, obviously. But, I’ll just have to see.”

Both women looked at each other, then the camera, hiding their smiles concurrently. Jordan and you watched in confusion.

“Should we start the list of offers you've got right now?” Daly chortled. “I can think of five on the top of my head.”

“Who’s your top five?” Millie continued, leaning in and mouthing her club Chelsea.

“Leah would kill me!” You laughed, shaking off the question. “I was talking to Lessi and Lotte about the States, cause my parents still want me to have an education. But to be fair, my agent hasn't told me any offers. I don't think she will until the Euros are over.”

“Well, you heard it hear first.” Rachel beamed. “Baby England to Villa!”

The Cameraman was about to end the video when a booming fury echoed from across the room.

All heads turned to an enraged Leah storming over. “I said no Villa talk!”

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yourusername (pretend it's you and Leah)

yourusername — sorry @ rachdaly, no Villa talk

Comments

milliebright — u say nothing about Chelsea, right?

^ leahwilliamson — don't even go there.

lionesses — football’s coming home 🫶🏼

racheldaly — I’ll find a way

^ leahwilliamson — no you won't.

user1 — Leah fighting for Y/N’s spot at Arsenal more than Arsenal themselves LMAO

^ user2 — she really said North London Forever

lottewubbenmoy — Baby England 🫶🏼

alessiarusso99 — beautiful girls

*liked by yourusername, leahwilliamson

User3 — is this an Aston Villa denial confirmation?

^ user4 — I think shes just referencing the YouTube video or Her, Jordan, Mils, and Rach.

^ user5 — shes got all these offers, who knows

^ user3 — she practically confirmed she was going to North Carolina in that video tho

^ user4 — 🤷‍♀️ you could say that is is an Arsenal Confirmation since Leah’s in it. Fr tho idk.

Leahwilliamson — my 🌟 girl

^ user6 — their friendship is so cute

User7 — All these clubs want her, WHERE WILL SHE GO

^ yourusername — 👀

^ user7 — STOP DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

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[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XII)

Chapter 12 : Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again

Hi! Here is new chapter! This one is… interesting… Whiskey is very dangerous, indeed…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2527

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body        love what it loves. Tell me your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Dream work, 1986

You ended up at your place with Andrew. After that awful dinner you both needed some emotional support.

You didn’t talk about the meal though. He didn’t mention how Frank had hurt you, you didn’t talk about how Andrew deserved better than Sam.

That was your final conclusion after the evening. Andrew deserved better than her. You didn’t know all the details that had drawn him away from a professional career in music, but you knew that it had been a tough decision to make for him. The way Sam made it sound, Andrew had simply given up. And yet, his eyes still lit up every time he talked of music.

You sat down on your couch with a bottle of whiskey, getting lost in thought as you replayed the conversation through your head. You had noticed how Sam had stopped listening the second you had started talking about your job, about music… about things Andrew loved. And perhaps you were too busy grieving for him, but was Frank the same with you? Because Andrew deserved someone who listened, someone who actually cared…

What did both Andrew and Frank saw in Sam that you didn’t? The question was relentless, spinning in your head again and again, a fly trapped under a glass trying to escape. What did you lack that she had?

You watched Andrew as he downed his first glass of whiskey. Neat. No ice or anything. He didn’t flinch, merely let out a long exhale as he let his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch.

“God… that felt good. I needed that,” he sighed, pouring himself another glass while you drank yours as well.

You winced slightly at the burn of the liquor, but silently asked for more anyway.

“What’s next on the list of things to ruin?”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“I reckon we haven’t really ruined anything yet… but… I guess not much until the New Year. You’re still coming to their party?”

“Of course,” you sighed. “We need to make a plan for this. We need to ruin something and then save the day.”

“We should ruin the champagne.”

“And replace it with another excellent one? Good idea. That could work for you.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know… Maybe help Sam. That would impress him.”

“Hmm… a knight in shining armour? Ruin her dress and you fix it?”

“Oh…. That’s nice! You’re very good at this Andy, that’s a little scary!” you joked, nudging him. “I could give her my dress, and wear some disgusting clothes instead. The self-sacrifice will make him grow fond of me.”

“I’ll make sure to have the worst change of clothes in my car.”

“Perfect.”

“They said they wanted to organise the party in some sort of club…”

“Hmm… I bet you love the idea.”

“I’m already panicking at the mere thought.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

You thought yourself silly for offering such a useless argument, but Andrew didn’t seem to think of it that way. Instead, he gave you a grateful smile.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, question aimed the ceiling as you sighed, Andrew shifted by your side.

“Because we love them.”

His voice sounded like a lie. It was true though. It had to be, somehow…

You drank again, tried to think of something else, let silence settle instead. It was okay. Silence with Andrew felt comfortable, like the world shushed under a blanket of snow. Natural. Slow.

And outside the world kept on turning, as if you weren’t in pain, as if you weren’t grieving. Wasn’t that a strange truth? Frank had left, and the world hadn’t stopped with him. You wished you could feel it spinning again, look at the rest of the world and feel its beating, and be part of it once more. Maybe, if someone listened to you, and understood you, and made you feel safe again… if you could be yourself with them…

“I’m glad you listened to the record,” Andrew spoke after a while and another emptied drink.

“I loved it.”

“It’s one of my favourites. My father listened to it often when I was a child.”

“Is he the one who made you love music so much, your father?”

Andrew nodded.

“He was sick when I was a child. Bad surgery on his spine. He never recovered.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a drummer, back in the days. And even after everything changed he just… I don’t know. No matter what we said to each other, how angry we were, how much we argued… we’ve always had music in common. Even when we couldn’t communicate properly, we would put on a record, sit in silence and listen to it, and then we’d discuss it, and things would get better.”

You knew that he was blinking tears away, heard him sniffing. He wasn’t looking at you and you were still staring at the white ceiling. It didn’t matter. Perhaps it even made it easier.

“I just… I didn’t… I made a choice, back in the days, you know? I wasn’t being a coward or something, I just… I didn’t want to tell other people’s words; words that I didn’t care about, I wanted people to listen to me. I wanted to make something that was true and earnest. I wanted… I wanted for someone to listen to me…”

He sniffed. You reached across the couch for his hand, easily found his fingers. He held your hand so easily, like it was obvious, like your hands were meant for that gesture, for holding onto each other. His so large, yours so small in comparison…

“I thought she used to listen, but I don’t know anymore. She wasn’t listening tonight. She hasn’t listened in a while. Do you think…? Do you think she ever listened to me? I had so much to say that I couldn’t express, I didn’t know how, I still don’t know how… I wanted her to listen… God I wanted for someone to listen, just once… just once…”

You tightened your hold on his hand, and you hoped that he would understand what you meant by this simple gesture. That you were listening now. That you listened. That you understood him. That you were there…

“Thank you.”

His voice was a mere whisper, but it was enough.

You struggled with your own tears as you spoke again, your voice shaking.

“I don’t understand why Frank needed to wait for me, and not for her. What… I feel like I’m lacking something…”

“You’re not.”

You felt his stare on you now, but you kept your own gaze set on the ceiling.

“You’re not lacking anything, stop it. Frank is the one who left…”

“Because he saw something in Sam he didn’t see in me. And I don’t know what it is. And I’m scared… I’m scared that I thought he cared about me, and he didn’t. I’m scared to have built my life on that kind of lie. And the worst is… I still want it. I want the life he promised me.”

You were surprised when Andrew let go of your hand. But then you felt his palm cupping your cheek, the brush of his thumb drying your tears.

You finally turned to him, he gave you a sad but soft smile.

“Don’t cry over him. Please, don’t cry.”

You sniffed, let him caress your skin for a moment longer. It felt reassuring, anchoring. Soft and tender. Safe. You felt safe with him…

You shook yourself, moved to the bottle of whiskey again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t cry,” you nodded, drying your face on your arm. “Let’s get hammered instead, that was the deal!”

Andrew silently agreed by handing you his empty glass for a refill.

“Tell me something silly,” he requested.

“Something silly?”

“Something about… your college days. Those are always worth a good laugh.”

“It’s good craic,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Alright… I’ll tell you a couple of stories. But you’ll have to tell me some as well!”

“Fair enough.”

You exchanged a smile, united your glasses with a cling.

And then you talked about yourself. And he listened.

Your head was spinning, you weren’t sure anymore if it was because of the alcohol or how much you were laughing.

You let yourself fall back into the sofa, holding on your painful stomach, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. God, you hadn’t laughed so hard in… you were about to think ‘since Frank’ but you couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard with him.

“There was this one time,” Andrew went on. “I was playing with a band… Alex thought it would be hilarious to hide my guitar… I was so fucking panicked, I fell down the stairs leading to the stage and almost broke my neck…”

You doubled over with laughter, and he followed you close.

“How did you pay him back?”

“I told the girl he fancied he couldn’t read music, and she went on to teach him…”

You were hysterical at that point.

“And then…” Andrew choked on his own breath, and it took him a moment to recover and speak again. “Then, he was too afraid that she would push him away if he said anything, so he pretended he didn’t know and let her teach him all over again…”

You were both laughing too hard, the alcohol blurring your senses and making the stupid jokes and silly stories funnier than they ought to be. You looked at the bottle of whisky, admired the empty part of it, felt the burn of its effects on your cheeks.

And you looked at Andrew who was drying his cheeks, his long fingers spread across his stomach. He took off his glasses, they were wet with happy tears. He put them down on your coffee table and leaned into the couch again, slouched and comfortable, with his cheeks flushed with the liquor you had been drinking through the evening. His hair was held back in a messy bun, that had only become messier along the evening.

Damn, you couldn’t help the thought when it crossed your mind, because he was so bloody handsome…

He felt your stare on him, turned his attention fully to you. Focused and expectant, as if he knew you were about to say something incredibly interesting. And this black shirt he had on…

There were butterflies in your stomach and stutters on your tongue while your heart was pounding. You didn’t think. You didn’t think at all, you only felt, and wanted and easily yielded… and perhaps it was just the liquor, you would blame it on the whiskey in a few hours, but for now, you weren’t thinking about tomorrow morning. And for the first time in three months, you weren’t thinking about Frank at all either. Instead, you were thinking of Andrew, of how gentle and warm he looked sitting with you on your couch, how inviting his lips were, how you longed to touch his hair and his beard and him and…

… and then your lips were on his.

You felt him raising his eyebrows, but when you leaned closer and let your fingers find their way to his cheeks, the brush on your cheekbones told you he had closed his eyes too. And there you were, kissing him, and he was kissing you back, your mouths moving in perfect unison somehow, despite a first kiss and too much alcohol. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, while his other hand came up to cradle your face. The long fingers soon moved to your hair though, pulling you closer while he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a slow, lazy movement while you kissed, gasping for air every now and then, but your lips always connected again after a mere instant. You weren’t sure for how long you kept on kissing, too long for it to be meaningless, and yet you refused to think for now.

When you at last opened your eyes again, Andrew blinked at you, seeming a little shocked, and you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or not. You felt dizzy… dizzy with his scent, something of wood and a tinge of spices. Dizzy with his taste still on your tongue, a mixture of whiskey and something that was just him. Dizzy with the burn of his beard against your skin, with the heat of his body against yours.

Dizzy with him…

“Y/N?”

The way he whispered your name, his words a little slurred because of alcohol, and yet it sounded so good, tender, like he cradled the vowels and the consonants in his mouth, with tenderness in the way he spoke it out loud…

He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go, his hands on your waist and in your hair still, and you held onto him for a moment longer, admired how your kisses had reddened his lips.

Why did it feel so good to hold him? Why did it feel so good to kiss him…

“Erm… You… you kissed me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I did,” you whispered, refusing to pull away, remaining in his arms and your lips only centimetres away from his.

“You… I mean… We…”

You felt him leaning closer again as he took a deep breath, felt the brush of his lips on yours… but just when you were about to lean in, he pulled fully away, moving further away on the couch.

“Wait… what’s going on?”

You blinked up at him, regretting his brown curls between your fingers and the warmth of his breath against your mouth. But then your brain kicked in again, and your eyes grew round as the realization of your own movements sank in.

You had kissed him. You had kissed Andrew…

Holy…

“God, I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. God…”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, but it was obvious that he was shaken.

“That was so out of line, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay… I… I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think it went to my head.”

Why was your heart aching when you thought he regretted it. He should have regretted it. And you ought to regret it too…

“Frank and Samantha…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud, but Andrew caught your words and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, we… they are the ones we want.”

He slowly nodded, ran his hand across his face, as if to clear his head.

“You… you were just drunk. Just drunk…”

He looked at his watch.

“God…it’s almost 2 a.m. We should go to bed…”

You nodded again, but stopped him when he pulled out his phone.

“I have an extra bedroom, you can stay if you want.”

“I can take a uber.”

“It’s late. You can stay, if you want to.”

Slowly, he nodded.

You let him head to the bathroom, and hid inside your bedroom, resting your back against its wooden surface as you closed it.

What the fuck was that?

[darrysfav]

50s-60s songs that remind me of the outsiders characters

Ponyboy Curtis

House Of The Rising Sun - The Animals

For What It’s Worth - Buffalo Springfield

Sherry - Frank Valli & The Four Seasons

The End of the World - Skeeter Davis

Sodapop Curtis

If I Can Dream - Elvis Presley

I Only Have Eyes for You - The Flamingos

Somethin’ Stupid - Frank Sinatra , Nancy Sinatra

Ain’t That A Shame - Fats Domino

Darry Curtis

Proud Mary - Creedence Clearwater Revival

A Change Is Gonna Come - Sam Cooke

A Well Respected Man - The Kinks

Sixteen Tons - Tennessee Ernie Ford

Two - Bit Matthew’s

A Boy Named Sue - Johnny Cash

Born To Be Wild - Steppenwolf

I Get Around - The Beach Boys

Wild One - Jerry Lee Lewis

Steve Randle

Ramble On - Led Zeppelin

Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash

I’m A Man - Bo Diddley

Reet Petite - Jackie Wilson

Johnny Cade

For What’s Worth - Buffalo Springfield

House Of The Rising Sun - The Animals

The Weight - The Band

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood - The Animals

Dallas Winston

Sympathy For The Devil - The Rolling Stones

Voodoo Child - Jimi Hendrix

In the Ghetto - Elvis Presley

Hey Joe - Jimi Hendrix

Cherry Valance

Everybody Loves Somebody - Dean Martin

Sherry - Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

Strangers In The Night - Frank Sinatra

You Don’t Own Me - Lesley Gore

A/N - This shit was so stressful 😭😭 but I think this pretty good 👍🏼

[90s-music-tourney]

Here are all 72 songs we are entering in the tournament

Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles

Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane

Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues

Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond

All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix

Pinball Wizard by The Who

House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's

People are strange by the Doors

Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones

Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel

Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys

What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong

21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson

Space Oddity by David Bowie

You really got me by the Kinks

Spirit in the Sky By Norman Greenbaum

Respect by Aretha Franklin

Feeling Good by Nina Simone

I'm a Believer by The Monkees

White Room by Cream

Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company

Season of the Witch by Donovan

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan

Be my Baby by the Ronettes

Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

She's not there by the Zombies

Complication by the Monks

Heroin by the Velvet Underground

Ain't Too Proud for Beggin by the Temptations

I want you back by The Jackson 5

Alice's Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie

Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison

Eight Miles High by the Byrds

Come A little bit Closer by Jay and the Americans

So Long Mom (A song for World War III) by Tom Lehrer

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes by Cosby, Stills and Nash

Change is gonna come by Sam Cooke

You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes

Happy Together by the Turtles

Tainted Love by Gloria Jones

Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass

Maybe This Time by Liza Minnelli

Don't Rain on My Parade by Barbra Streisand

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul and Mary

Good Times, Bad Times by Led Zeppelin

Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redmond

Cactus tree by Joni Mitchell

Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells

I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown

Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner

My Way by Frank Sinatra

For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield

Fire by Arthur Brown

Blackberry Way by the move

The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto

Can't take my eyes off you - Frankie valli

Green onions by Booker T. & The M.G.’s

Stand by Me by Ben E. King

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows By Lesley Gore

Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick

Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension

The Impossible Dream by Jim Nabors

Return to sender by Elvis Presley

It's not Unusual by Tom Jones

[zmediaoutlet]

spn20rewatch, 1.05: "You know as well as I do spirits don't exactly see shades of gray, Dean."

So many ghosts in Supernatural that operate on guilt: punishing the guilty, punishing themselves for their own guilt. Scraping up long dusty years of history and wrenching it back into the present to grind into the faces of the living -- sometimes for 'justice', but often in this way that seems to say shouldn't you feel awful? shouldn't you know that you're wrong? why are you still walking around in the fresh sunlight? why do you get to live, while I am dead? how is that fair?

Any decent case of the week reflects the main characters who have to interact with it, and the Winchesters are reflected very thoroughly here. Their job is to create some kind of justice via saving the people and hunting the things, but it's often a weak and very after-the-fact kind of justice. The initial crime that created the ghost still happened. Someone's still dead. There's still that baseline unfairness, inherent in anything involving the living: someone still gets to walk around and someone else does not, and that's untenable.

It's also the only option on the board, always, on a long enough timescale. Nothing gets to live forever. How you deal with that is the only question that ends up mattering. For most people they're sad, and they move on. For the Winchesters, there are other avenues -- and the fact that they know that means that ghosts are ever-rising.

DEAN: This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place. SAM: I don't blame you. DEAN: Well you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done. SAM: I could've warned her.

We know from later details that Sam had dreams presaging Jessica's death. For literally anyone else in the world, they'd be allowed to dismiss those dreams as terrible nightmares, and we know it's what Sam did, initially. But because he's a Winchester -- the curse of the protagonist, always -- he isn't allowing himself to get away with that. Dean's right, here. Sam is not responsible for her death, in any way. Destiny came down the pipeline and it is not Sam's fault. But that's not enough for ghosts. Somehow he should've known better. Mary will come out of the mirror for him. (Perhaps the only reason Mary will come out of the mirror is that he feels guilty, and not because there's some ur-justice in the world that will weigh his soul and determine who's responsible -- but either way, his eyes are still bleeding.)

Dean's quick in Sam's defense here but it'll just be a few episodes until he takes on all the blame in the world, and would feel like his own eyes should be bleeding. Unearned guilt suffuses the world of Supernatural, the dead-who-should-not-be-dead haunting the narrative (to the point that every 'previously on' for weeks featured their burning mother). The Winchesters constantly look themselves in the eye and see someone who should've done more, who should've been faster or smarter or better and then, maybe, someone would still be alive -- but they're only putting off the inevitable. That grave dirt's gonna come, no matter what. It's not a secret, and you can't hide from it by covering up every reflection. But they wouldn't be the Winchesters if they didn't try, for a while.

[uh-ohspaghettio]

in honor of graduating here's an actual essay I wrote for class

An Identity Shaped Around Grief: An Exploration of the Character Dynamics in Supernatural and Frankenstein

The scene pans to a man as he stares in horror as someone he loves burns in the flames before him. He cannot save them, nor would that person let them as they sacrificed themselves to protect their child. In grief, the man chooses to shut out those around him in anger in response to the haunting trauma. This is played out in the first episode of Supernatural and with a haunting twist of irony this fate is doomed to repeat itself.

Supernatural (2005-2020) is a longstanding show centered around two brothers named Sam and Dean Winchester as they travel across the United States fighting monsters. They are forced into a life of hunting when at a young their mother is killed by a creature and their father, unable to cope with the loss of his wife, spirals into a man obsessed and hellbent on revenge despite the clear detriment and neglect of his two sons. Along the way, angels and demons are introduced— including the biblical apocalypse, and Sam and Dean can convince an angel, Castiel, to fall from grace and go against their family’s intent on an armageddon.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley follows the story of a man Victor Frankenstein, who after the loss of his mother throws himself into his scientific studies, ignoring his grief, and creates another human from the body parts of multiple dead people.

At the forefront of the plot of Frankenstein and Supernatural is grief. In Supernatural the main character’s father John Winchester is unable to cope with the grief of losing his wife in such a traumatic way, John’s life becomes physically surrounded by monsters as he seeks to find the creature that took away his wife that is not only puts himself in harm's way but his sons, too, who are left unable to properly cope the loss of their mother. John chases after the monsters in hopes of finding closure for his lost love but all he does is isolate himself and his family from their emotions and set them on a path of physical and mental destruction.

The show is steeped with death and tragedy, which is not unlike the real world, however, with the show’s inclusion of monsters, the creators give us physical manifestations of the damage of grief not properly dealt with and how in shapes those close to us not unlike how the dynamic between Victor and his creature evolves in Frankenstein and expands upon it generationally.

In the “Strangers, Gods and Monsters” class lecture on the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, the creature created by Victor Frankenstein is described as a ‘grief monster.’ Victor loses his mother, someone very dear to him, and instead of giving himself the time and space to grieve properly with his family, he flings himself into school. From this, he creates his famed creature. Victor cannot cope with death so he creates a creature that can only be born in the death of many. This creature causes havoc in Victor’s world and harms those around him.

Just as the creature is born out of the result of crazed grief, the never-ending grief of his father fundamentally shapes Dean Winchester and his own identity. All he knows of his father is a man who cannot move on from his wife’s passing and because of that Dean is not allowed to move on either and his identity is shaped around being a tool for his father’s revenge. In Season 3 Episode 10, titled “Dream a Little Dream of Me,”  Dean is forced to confront his worst nightmare—which is ultimately revealed to be himself. He is forced to confront the side of himself that acknowledges the abuse from his father and how that manifests in the way he views himself as “daddy’s blunt instrument,” and sees himself become a demon because all he is, is the path his father set out for him.  Dean sees himself as a monster because all he was made to be by his father was an instrument of revenge. Dean is conscious that his father is an “obsessed bastard,”  however, the way his grief manifests despite their mother being gone for nearly thirty years still clings. The creature in Frankenstein is fundamentally shaped by how Victor sees him. "Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?" (170 Shelley). The creature sees himself as hideous and disgusting because that’s how Victor sees him and although he resents Victor for creating him to be the way he is he cannot escape it.  Dean’s admission to his father being cruel and his ‘other self’ showing him to be a monster is reflective of how much John’s upbringing of Dean focused on revenge shaped his identity.

Dean learns through the seasons of the show to be someone separate from his father, as someone separate from a soldier, however, his father’s method of coping with great loss lingers. It is most apparent when in a later season the angel Castiel promises to protect a nephil, the half-human and half-angel offspring of Lucifer, Castiel believes that if raised under the right conditions the child could bring peace to the world and not death and destruction like everyone assumes. Castiel is killed in his mission to protect but the child is born, Jack, and as the mother dies in childbirth Sam and Dean are left to take care of him. Dean is unable to cope with the grief and takes it out on Jack.

 Dean is going through immense grief and is unable to cope with it, which leads him to engage in destructive behaviors. However, his grief is most prominently reflected in the way he treats Jack; blaming Jack for Castiel’s death and making it very clear to Jack in Season 13 Episode 2 “The Rising Son” that he believes Jack is a monster and inherently evil, ergo if Jack should ever ‘turn’ to that side, Dean will be the one to kill him. This exchange leaves a deep impact on Jack, making him unsure if he is truly good or evil and doubtful that he can even be good.

Dean deals with his grief just like John, only dealing with his emotions of losing someone he loves as directing it towards blame and revenge. The blame is on Jack, despite the irrationality of it. John’s anger shaped how Dean viewed his place in the world. The father-son dynamics of John and Dean, Dean and Jack, and Victor and the Creature, all reflect the pattern of the fathers’ undealt with trauma and emotions surrounding loss bleeding in the identity of the son.

The creature Victor Frankenstein makes is one of the direct products of his grief as he throws himself into his work instead of surrounding himself with healthy ways of coping. The grief is manifested in the creature he creates, it's his child born of death and he only nurtures the child in rage which reflects in how the creature understands its place in the world.

In both Frankenstein and Supernatural the immense grief of their ‘fathers’ serves to be detrimental to their sense of self. Dean’s sense of identity is fundamentally changed because of his father’s inability to grieve properly over his wife and he is made to believe he can only be an instrument of revenge. Jack’s sense of identity is fundamentally changed because of Dean’s inability to grieve properly over Castiel, and he is made to believe he can only be an instrument of evil and destruction.

The show begins with the destructive flames, symbolic in how its consequential grief leads down a destructive path of anger, that not only eats away at your sanity but is only fated to pass through the bloodline as it grows to burn those around you. however metaphorical that bloodline is. Dean, Jack, and the creature are raised in grief and the writers paint how detrimental that is to their development as individuals and see themselves as monsters. All of their fathers created monsters whether literal or not and it's not something that just disappears until the damage is already done.

[starlitangels]

Redacted Boi Social Media Headcanons

Vincent only really uses Instagram, but is required by the Department to have it private because his human name is legally missing-presumed-dead and his face has a risk of being recognized if someone from his human life stumbled upon his Instagram. That said, he doesn't really screen people who request to follow him

Darlin' and Sam don't use any social medias. Darlin' has a Facebook from teenage years, but they deactivated it. But not fully deleted, so they can still be tagged in all the group photos posted to the pack page. In high school, Darlin' was the person who got a lot of unsolicited DMs because they were hot but they hate attention so they blocked everyone but their pack and deactivated. Darlin' reluctantly keeps their Discord for the pack server

David hates social media. He maintains the pack's private Facebook group and Discord server (though the latter is really more Asher's job, David's just in charge) but will not touch anything else. David's favorite social media is YouTube because he can lookup tutorials for anything and not have to ask anyone for help

Milo's a borderline Instagram influencer. He's got a gazillion followers (who all think he's hot, and he is). His Instagram is directly linked to his Facebook, so every picture and caption he puts on IG gets automatically posted to FB too

Marie comments only on Milo's Facebook (she has and kinda uses IG, but doesn't comment). She's the one that will leave the heartfelt comments with "Call me" at the end. She knows that's a meme among younger people that their older relatives leave "what a beautiful couple. Call me" comments, but she does it anyway. And guess what? She does it because it works. Milo👏 is👏a👏Mama's👏Boy👏 and he will call her when she leaves those comments

Asher doesn't use social media much, but is perpetually on Discord. He mods the pack's server, and like 6 others just for fun. He does post lots of pictures of Babe and selfies of the two of them together on the pack's Facebook though

Damien used to get into arguments on Twitter with randos. Huxley thinks it's funny to pull them up from when Damien was a teenager

Huxley was never much into most social medias but I like to think he'd be like that one TikTok dude who pops up on my Tumblr dash occasionally who explains how to do calisthenics and other workout stuff in a really simple, easy, modified way for people who are just getting started. People started following him because he's hot, and then realized he's actually like the nicest dude and doesn't know he's popular

Lasko's a Tumblr boy. I'm not taking constructive criticism on this

Gavin refuses to get an Instagram because he knows he'd get too addicted to it. He knows he's ridiculously good-looking and would amass a following supernaturally fast, and that's why he won't. But he has his old Facebook from when it first started to be popular. He got rid of all his old friends list and now just has Freelancer, Huxley, Lasko, Damien, and a handful of d(a)emon friends who also have Facebooks like Crux

Avior doesn't have any social media at all

Neither does Caelum and Gavin and Freelancer have decided not to expose him to the negativity of the internet

Vega refuses

Cam keeps a few things for professional purposes, but doesn't use them much

Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is a Tumblrina. Guy is

Aaron's favorite is LinkedIn. This is a joke.

Elliott uses Pinterest a lot for aesthetic inspiration for dreams. He doesn't use much else

Blake is on like every social media all the time. Mostly for CloseKnit. But he also stalked Bestie from afar for a long time

James had to get rid of all of his when his job started getting more secretive and he had to have limited contact with the rest of the world

Morgan doesn't have any social media just as a way to keep himself and his magic safe. The Department protections didn't require it, but he thought it was for the best

Porter totally isn't jealous that Vincent has a higher IG follower count than him and his account isn't even private. He's always trailing like 20 behind

[futbol16]

 Never Say Die¹ • Steph Catley

Resquests: part 2 to the steph fic? Please a part 2?

Part 1/2 of part 2 for I Miss You

Part 2/2

Word count: 4,6k ( i had to cut it into two parts because tumblr wouldn't let me post it but im posting both rn)

The match of the knockout stage was an important one, just like the ones before and the ones to come. It was a do or die, you either win or you can wave goodbye to your world cup dreams. 

However, you were confident in the team and with Australia backing up the Matilda’s you gave the fans a performance to celebrate. 

The crowd was loud as Caitlin scored the first goal of the match in her home city, the amazing through ball from Mary that cut through six Danish defenders being endlessly praised. To all of your pleasures Sam had finally made her come back and joined in the 80th minute. And to top it all off the team ended the game with another goal this time coming from Hayley and an assist from you. 

You gripped Steph’s hand tightly as the team celebrated in the locker room after the game but you still made sure to be subtle about it, aware of the cameras and phones recording. It was one thing that your sister and friends knew about the two of you, but you didn’t want the world to know just yet.

Steph hid the beaming smile on her face in her shoulder as she glanced at you and you pretended not to notice as you made brief eye contact with the camera lens of Charli’s phone. 

The joyous screams and shouts of the team told you one thing, this world cup was going to be Australia’s. 

Screams filled your ears as you lined up in the tunnel behind your girlfriend and in front of Caitlin. The small hand in yours is enough to ground you and you made sure to keep your focus ahead and not let yourself look over to the French. You knew if you did the calm in your head would turn into chaos seeing your former Lyon teammates again. Even Wendie’s big head of hair at the front of France’s line up was just a blur to you and to keep yourself busy while you waited for the referee's sign, you turned to the small girl next to you. 

Upon doing so you notice her shivering a little, her other hand pulled tightly to her chest in an unsuccessful attempt to keep herself warm. Your mascot barely looked the age of 7 and in spite of her lips slowly turning purple, she was visibly buzzing with excitement.

Taking one last glance towards the referee you kneel in front of the small girl who turns to you in surprise but you give her a big smile and she reciprocates it with a toothy grin.

“Are you cold, love?” your voice is warm, and as it reaches Steph’s ears in front of you she thinks that alone would be enough to warm up the little girl. 

“Mhmm a little” she mumbles, suddenly becoming shy but you continue smiling at her comfortingly. She clasps her hands together behind her back as you let go of them for a moment and she stares at you with big eyes as you pull off your gloves.

Caitlin grins down at the two of you, her own hand swinging her mascot's hand back and forth lightly. The forward’s eyes lift as her friend turns slightly and Caitlin doesn’t miss the way Steph’s eyes soften at the sight of you conversing with the little girl.

“My name is Grace” she tells you, this time a bit more confident. 

“You have a beautiful name Grace” her smile only seems to widen and she fiddles with her fingers behind her back as she stares at you with big eyes.

“Could you give me your hand pumpkin’?” Grace untangles her hands from behind her back and you put your gloves on each hand. Just as you finish, the referee signals that it’s time to walk out and you stand back up to grab Grace’s hand again, exchanging another grin with her.

When the national anthems come to an end and the mascots make their ways off the field, the girls beside you aren’t surprised to see your team coat hanging off the little girl’s shoulders instead of yours. Your focus is elsewhere as you clap hands with the French team, greeting past teammates with a smile as they move on and you hug Wendie and Selma before you take your place up front with Emily and Mary. 

The crowd is loud, the sold out stadium is standing tall for the Matildas and you take a moment to look around and breathe in deeply before you zero out the noise of the audience and compose yourself as the whistle is blown. 

The game is immediately off to an intense start and Tony can tell within the first 20 minutes that this would be a long game. You only hope you would be able to progress farther than you have the last two times you played in a world cup quarter final with the Matildas. 

Alanna and Katrina are playing their hearts out in the back, clearing balls after balls and you wonder just how surprised the French must feel. 

Going into the game you were well aware of the fact that France are ranked the better team, you knew it, the girls knew it, Tony and the fans knew it and the French were more than proud of their title. However, the Matildas show just how much numbers and lists are worth by keeping almost equal possession of the ball. Surely, judging by Hervé Renard’s reaction he expected his team to score early on. 

That wasn’t going to happen any time soon though.

Australia is playing the game of their lives with Caitlin making run after run and Kyra’s master dribbling, not to mention Mackenzie’s saves. 

The team head off the field with their heads held high and the score stuck at a 0-0. The cheering and shouts in the stadium are loud as ever and it only boosts the team’s confidence. You wondered if the atmosphere was similar in the other stadiums they were broadcasting the match in. 

“Come on girls! We’re doing great and I’m proud of all of you” Tony doesn’t waste time as he starts his half time speech and you eagerly listen to what he’s saying, twisting your bottle’s cap in thought.

“But we need to be quicker. Our defense is good but so is theirs and we saw how quick they were with their counter attacks.” the coach turns to the board in front of him as he points out different plays he thinks Caitlin and yourself could make, also handing out instructions to the midfielders and clapping the rest on the back. Tony ends his speech and your focus is shifted to your favorite defender as she stands. 

“When we go out there again, I want you to believe you’re winners. I want you to hear the crowd, to see the massive amount of fans out here. I want you to connect with each other and I want you to play like this is the last game you would ever play. And I want you to enjoy it, enjoy it and show them why we’re here!” Steph’s captain's speech makes goosebumps rise over everyones skin and a bigger fire is ignited in the girls’ eyes, a deeper desire to win. 

You nod to your girlfriend as your eyes connect in the team huddle and Steph nods back at you as her lips curl a little.

With a final ‘Up the Tillies!’ and claps to the back, Australia steps foot on the pitch for the second half.

As much as you try to bring Tony’s speech to life,you fall short to Caitlin. Half of the opposing team knows you from your four years spent in Lyon, they know you and they know the way you play. If that wasn’t enough, the other half of them were your rivals while playing in the French division and so the PSG players are aware of your skills and tricks too. It makes it practically impossible for you to even get close to the goal because you’ve got at least three defenders on your back at all times. Which in return makes it difficult for Mary and Emily beside you, and Caitlin who’s probably ran half a marathon by now. 

“Fuck off Élisa!” tension is rising between you and the defender who only smirks at you in return. De Almeida had just made a goal line clearance from Mary’s shot and less than a minute after play resumed, she was tackling you to the ground.

It angered you so much. You wanted to play well and to help your teammates but you simply couldn’t. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you huff out another frustrated breath.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself” Caitlin’s arm finds its way around your shoulders as Karchaoui is treated by the medics and you throw your head back at her words.

“Cait, I want to play and I can’t do anything with them on my ass! Élisa has a boot shoved up there at all times and I basically have no influence on the game.” you explain to her in a rush. It was currently nearing the end of added injury time and the score was still an underwhelming nothing.

You couldn’t keep track of the amount of saves your sister has made and the number of shots Hayley and Sam had on goal, you didn’t need to though because the French keeper was there to save them every time and so it didn’t matter much.

“We’re playing as a team, bug. Your struggle is my struggle, my struggle is your struggle. You just wait Y/N/N, we’ll show them what ‘Never say die’ means.” Caitlin with her wise words again. The older girl rubs your arm and shoots you an encouraging smile as you join your teammates in a drink break before extra time would start. She was right though, there was no blaming one person for the scoreless game. 

A hand settles on your lower back as you listen to Tony and the assistant coach, slowly sipping on your drink. You turn your head just a little to see and big brown eyes shine in the lights of the stadium, a look in them reserved just for you. 

“Look at them…” Steph trails off as she nods towards the stands and you follow her instructions, lifting your head.

A sea of gold and green flooded the stands, excited yells echoing in the sold out stadium, smiles on faces and a glint in the young girls’ and boys’ eyes. Signs are held high and you notice just how many of them have your name on them, Y/n Arnold. The Matildas fans are decked out in yours and your teammates jersey and you swear your heart calms its rapid beating. They believed in you, they were here for you and they have your backs and they had faith in you, in every single one of you. 

“It’s so beautiful” you whisper to the brunette, somehow still being heard over the noise of the fans. Steph’s eyes remain on you however, a small smile playing on her lips as she squeezes your waist. 

“So beautiful” she concludes as well and you turn to face her, nodding to yourself.

“We are winning it for them, yeah” you’re rewarded with a proud smile and a determined nod from your captain. Eventually you retake your position on the field but you exchange a few words of encouragement with Mackenzie before you do so. And then you’re back in the game.

Fouls and corners are handed out one by one but none result in goals for either team, even Alanna’s own goal had thankfully been disallowed because of Renard’s foul on Caitlin inside the box. The look on the blonde’s face was priceless and if you weren’t fighting for your life in this match you would’ve laughed at her. 

Courtnee’s fresh legs instantly make an impact as she is subbed in for Hayley but it goes just wide and before you know it the second half of extra time has started. 

“Nugget, come on” Mackenzie has an arm reaching for you as you slowly walk towards the side lines, absolutely exhausted but you wouldn’t back down until your team would win.

You lean into her side as she wraps and arm around you and your sister momentarily rests her head on yours. The goalkeeper's presence brings you a sense of homely comfort and she smiles down at you while leading you towards one of the physios. You join Caitlin on the grass and the two of you get a quick massage to your hamstrings just to relieve some tension and for the pair of you to be able to continue on for the possibility of a penalty shootout. 

The French are attacking again but Mackenzie manages to tip the ball over the crossbar with a magnificent save and the crowd roars. Then not long after Steph takes a corner that Caitlin connects with but it’s deflected by the other team’s defense. 

This looks and feels like a game that is destined for penalties. 

Your eyebrows almost raise to your hairline as you see the French goalkeeper be subbed off and Durand replacing her. You look towards the rest in surprise and your eyes connect with Mary’s who’s sporting a similar expression to yours.

When a second later another substitution is announced you whip your head around to see the number 5 glowing in red. A near victorious smirk graces your lips as you watch De Almeida walk off angrily and Caitlin cannot help but laugh at your antics. Élisa being taken off makes your job a lot easier, if not for anything else at least she wouldn’t be there to annoy you and try to rile you up for the last few minutes of the match.

Your smirk is washed off your face when the whistle is blown and the referee instructs the two teams to line up for the penalty shootout.

A shallow breath leaves your mouth knowing just how much pressure would be on each of your teammates who would have to step up and take the penalty. You trusted Mackenzie enough to know she’d do her best but you were still nervous for the next shot. 

You stand between Alanna and Mini, anxiously shifting from foot to foot as Selma Bacha stands behind the ball. She pulls her leg back, fires and- a shout leaves you as you clap for your sister, Mackenzie has dived after the ball and made an immaculate save. Caitlin next and you squeeze Alanna’s waist.

“She’s got it” you breathe out watching as the forward doesn’t even look in the keeper’s eye.

“OF COURSE SHE DOES!” the blonde screams next to you when Caitlin celebrates and you feel yourself gain even more confidence in the team as the crowd erupts in cheers. 1-0.

Diani steps up, she takes it and Mackenzie barely has time to react. Your heart breaks a little for your sister who gets up from her knees with a deep breath. 1-1.

Steph, she’s been absolute class with penalties this whole world cup and all of you are certain she will fool Durand, easy peasy. She takes it, it goes to the right, almost an exact copy of Selma’s shot and the French saves it. Steph steps back with slight disappointment and your heart squeezes painfully at her misfortune. 1-1. 

Wendie Renard slots it past Mackenzie easily and you clench your jaw in frustration but manage to give your sister an encouraging nod. She’s got this. You’ve all got this. 1-2.

Your heart speeds up as your captain places the ball down, but just like with any other teammate, you all believe in her endlessly. And she doesn’t disappoint, how could the Sam Kerr ever disappoint? It goes past Durand’s outstretched hands and the net ripples. Sam celebrates, finally having a good touch on the ball after the past 126 minutes. 2-2.

Le Sommer, your former teammate reenacts Wendie’s goal but inverted it and the brunette in goal stays on her knees for a second to collect herself. The girls next to you are just as anxious, the whole line of Matildas is practically swaying left and right. 2-3.

“Come on Mare!” you shout after the girl as she walks by and you watch proudly as she gets her payback on Durand, shooting left as the French dives right. The fans are loud and you don’t blame them, knowing at this rate you’ll lose your voice before you get to finish the penalties. 3-3.

Perisset steps up, shoots- oh it hits the goalpost! You can’t contain the squeak that comes out of your mouth but you try to downplay your celebrations. It seemed like the goalpost was on Australia’s side tonight. 3-3.

And you take back that last statement immediately as Mackenzie’s shot hits the other goalpost. 

“Fucking hell” Alanna curses next to you and you can only agree with her when you see your sister deflate like an overused ball. 3-3.

Geyoro’s ball is almost saved and your mouth is hung open ready to cheer for Mackenzie but it goes just past her fingertips. The crowd boos as the French celebrate. 3-4. 

Katrina detaches herself from you and she takes her place behind the ball. It’s a rocket of a shot and the french keeper can’t stop it from going in. Australia screams along to your team’s celebrations and you grin as Mini mimics a rocking motion as she celebrates. That goal was dedicated to Harper. 4-4.

Just one more to go.

Karchaoui and it bounces off the crossbar and into the goal, Mackenzie’s fingertips just grazing the ball. The French team is going crazy next to you and you have to take a second to compose yourself and cling onto that strand of hope. 4-5.

 If Tameka misses the next one, Australia’s world cup dreams are over. They would be over and you wouldn’t even have silverware to give to the country. You shake your head to get rid of those thoughts, reminding yourself that you were professional athletes and were meant to be able to deal with these situations.

And deal with it is what Tameka does, sliding in that ball in the bottom left corner. The stadium goes wild and so does your team, all clapping her on the back and shouting praises at her.

She had just saved your asses and with what an amazing goal she saved it with. 5-5.

This had been the seventh penalty. At this point there’s no ‘just one more to go’ in your mind, with how it has been so far these penalties were going to be never-ending. 

Lakrar doesn’t waste a second after the whistle is blown and Mackenzie goes the wrong way as the ball goes down the middle. The players in blue are celebrating like they know they’ve just won it all and you swear you can feel De Almeida’s devilish smirk directed towards you, even though you’re faced away. 5-6. 

 Your sister is disappointed in herself, that much is clear but she stops you just as you move away from your teammates. 

“Take a deep breath Y/n, you know you can do it, we all know you can. I believe in you sis” she tells you sincerely as you look up at her and you bite the inside of your cheek at her words. Your time to give a reaction is cut short as the referee urges you to take your place behind the ball.

The fans are up on their feet, hands gripping the cold metal railing in distress and you feel all the nerves settle in even more. If you make it, you’re still in the game. If you don’t…you don’t even want to think about it. And to be the cause of your country’s loss, you’d never forgive yourself for that.

You get a few more seconds to get your shit together as the referee assesses Durand who has stepped off her line and you take in a deep breath, just like Macca told you to.

A wave of adrenaline washes over you and as the referee blows her whistle again you pull back and strike the ball with all your power. You don’t move an inch from your position at the penalty spot and your eyes follow the movement of the ball, the fans leaning forward in their seats. It goes straight towards the keeper and you feel your knees buckle underneath you, you’re ready to give up but then it curls harshly, the ball not even spinning as it hits the top right corner. 

It’s silent for a second, at least for you as blood rushes to your ears but then you’re back and you’re screaming and you are jumping into your sister’s arms and the fans are jumping up and down with you.

6-6. 

You saved your country from a loss. And a smile resides on your face as Kenza Dali takes her own shot, if she misses- well you know you’re going through, you’re confident in the girls.

Mackenzie dives and she pushes the ball wide, screaming towards the stands as she celebrates, the rest of you copying her. But your celebrations are short lived as the referee blows her whistle, instructing Kenza to redo the penalty. 

“What the fuck for?!” you yell in fury, upset that she might’ve just ruined this moment for your sister. When she announces that Mackenzie has stepped off her line your shoulders drop. As opposed to you, your sister stays calm and collected, she’s in complete control of the situation and you straighten up at that. She believed in you and you believed in her. 

“Just wait for it” Alanna turns to you, the defender is just as confident in your sister as you are and she shoots you a smirk. If anyone could save this crucial penalty, it was Mackenzie Arnold.

Dali strikes the ball thinking she might outplay your goalkeeper as she sends it in the same path as the previous one but Mackenzie hunts it down like a prey and Kenza holds her head as your sister stares down the referee. The cheeky bugger! Once the save is awarded to her she turns to the crowd yelling before she joins the rest of you. 6-6.

Courtnee glances back at the team once before focusing her attention on the ball. You know she’s going to score, she never missed a penalty before.

The crowd in the stadium are loud, already clapping her on before she even takes the shot. She runs up, leans forward and pulls her leg back, when it comes back down it hits the ball with power and it sails through the air.

Durand dives and the ball is there, the ball is there but Durand doesn’t get a hand on it- IT GOES IN! 7-6.

The Matildas are through to the semi-finals! If Australia was loud before, well they’re deafening now as they go wild in their screams of cheering.

Courtnee takes off in a sprint and the rest of you follow her as you scream her name and dog pile each other, a massive sense of relief and joy overflowing in your systems. The subs run in too and Courtnee finds herself in the middle of the group hug, eyes welling up. 

“YES VINEY!” “FUCKING YES MATE!” 

The atmosphere, you’ve never felt this before and your team celebrates wildly, jumping up and down, screaming and happy tears running down some of your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, we’re through!” your disbelieving tone makes Hayley chuckle and she takes your face into her hands, the smile on her face larger than you have ever seen it be.

“We fucking are, we are fucking winning this shit!” she brings you into a bone crushing hug and you let out a teary laugh at her choice of words.

You back away for just a moment, eyes searching for a tall brunette and when you spot her you see her also looking for you. You’re in your sister’s arms in an instant, tightly clinging on to her as she spins the two of you around, laughs escaping both of your mouths as you hug her head close to your chest.

“Macca, you’re my fucking hero!” you pull back just enough to see her face and she breaks out in a toothy grin, her eyes shining with pride and ecstasy and just about every emotion possible as she lets you back down to your feet. 

“No, you are my hero!” she counters as she cups the back of your neck, leaning down slightly to be at your height. Her words mean the absolute most to you, and the proud look on her face means even more, just like the proud look on yours- it makes both of your hearts swell.

A confused glint flashes in Mackenzie’s eyes as you take her gloved hands into yours but you only continue grinning as you get down on one knee, bowing your head in front of her gloved hands. Those hands have been the ones to save Australia’s ass so many times and you give your sister the praises she deserves even if it’s in the form of a silly bow. Mackenzie throws her head back with a loud watery laugh but the picture taken of the two of you makes headlines the following morning, newspapers filled with Vine’s diVine  game winning goal and Mackenzie’s amazing saves.

Celebrations are taken to the changing room and then to the bus until half the team passes out in exhaustion and the last 20 minutes of the bus ride back to camp is silent, hushed whispers the only thing heard from the few that are still awake, yourself included.

You finally had the chance to talk to your one and only, and that’s exactly what you were doing. 

Your arm is lazily hanging over Steph’s right shoulder as she whispers to you, her body turned towards you. You’re playing with the ends of her hair behind her back but you give her all your attention as you listen to her, the smile on your lips never leaving your face. 

“You did so good today, pretty girl” it makes her face flush and she looks away for a second, a massive smile taking over her features and you have to stop yourself from giggling at the lovesick look in her eyes.

“But I missed that penalty-”

“It doesn’t matter, you played amazing all throughout, Stephy. And that half time speech, my god!” you cut right in and tell her just how it was. The defender drops her head to your shoulder and then tucks it into the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around her to bring her closer.

“You were amazing too” she murmurs into your skin and you bury your nose into her hair.

Mackenzie watches the interaction from just a few rows in front of you, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she turns to Caitlin next to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me they’d be so cute?” she’s met with an incredulous look and a beat of silence passes before the forward next to her deadpans. 

“Because of your initial reaction!?” 

“Oh..right. Forgot about that.” 

The following days your training sessions are focused on defensive work and quick counter attacks. You were getting ready for the semi final against England, ranked second in the world.

That meant close to nothing to your team. After all, the Matildas came into the tournament as the underdogs and now they were one of the last ones still standing. Anything was possible.

[shallowseeker]

im just so tired of people bringing up the "jack's not family" line, like yes that was an awful thing for him to say but he literally expects jack to come back with him and sam to the bunker at the end of inherit the earth it's very clear he was just lying to himself, imo. like yes he did that but that wasn't the last thing he said to jack ever and he even tries to help jack the very next episode when jack is exploding and he comes to his senses.

Right, so this one is tricky. And heartbreaking.

Because the case for this "not being enough" is well-argued and complicated.

After TFW comes to their respective senses in Unity/Despair (Sam breaks out of analysis-paralysis, Dean throws away revenge and takes on death directly, Cas verbalizes that Jack isn't part of some grand plan), it's true that they hastily try to make amends.

BUT.

But they're out of time. They're all out of time.

We see Sam, the idea-guy, completely give up hope. And though Dean is dazed, he is trying to be "back to normal re: supporting Jack," more like what we see from him during LAST HOLIDAY.

///

Some snippets:

Dean feels responsible for what happened to Cas. He knows he's not enough:

Dean feels responsible for the disappearance of the world's future. Jack's future:

//

And Dean himself is DAZED

//

Dean is trying to pull himself together for JACK, specifically: "Dean rises...gives Jack a warm little nod."

//

Dean is dazed throughout, really. We see that he stayed up REFRESHING the newscast feed, hoping this was a nightmare he could wake up from

//

And here, Dean is commiserating with Jack and they're clinging together more than Jack is with Sam.

We can see the dynamic at play. That this time, Dean and Jack have been the ones forced to huddle together for support in the face of Sam's overwhelming despair and fatalism.

Jack enters the library. Jack: Guys, I'm... feeling something weird. Dean: Yeah, me, too, pal. We need aspirin.

&

When Dean grabs Miracle, he is likely anticipating the excitement of showing him to Jack, trying again, to let his gentleness and love fly free:

//

Further proof that the dynamic has shifted to a Dean-and-Jack having the strength dynamic. We see this after Sam verbalizes his despair again...and Dean tries to rally.

//

With Michael, we again see that the unit naturally flows into a cluster of Dean-Jack-Michael while Sam tries to muster up more lore, trying to be "the idea guy" while the others eat and converse:

&

///

So then we come to the end. The above rushes by quickly and we get:

&

Dean gets Miracle back, and he's already anticipating going home (with Jack). Dean got his faith back in s12 after Cas returned.

This time, Dean is trying to generate that faith all on his own.

In s12, when Dean got his faith back, he got up the strength to rescue Mary and tackle Jack's new powers and the continued string of wound-be kidnappers.

Perhaps here in s15, Dean is thinking about the same thing. They'll go home to recover and then get back to work. Dean is anticipating working with Jack and showing love to a new family member, a dog...

...and he's already dreaming of getting Cas back.

///

Dean has hope. And so much of it. It even comes off a little showmanship-ey.

Of Jack, he's like, "This is still Jack! We're back online! Only way onward from here is up!"

&

And Dean invokes the Dean Cave. But here's the thing.

In effect, the beats of the actions come off as, “Jack saves the world,” and “Dean offers to reward him... with a TV.”

The optics are a little bit “Quid pro quo.” And it's okay to point that out. Tragic, even.

It's because we know Dean that we know that isn't how he wants it to come off. That he's overcorrecting in the context of all the heartache they've been through.

///

And just like he's masking all this regret with over-the-top cheeriness, he starts to mask his sudden heartbreak, “masking emotion with irritation.”

Suddenly, Dean's dreams start to crumble. Jack's not coming home? He's bailing? What about them? What about (Cas)?

You've got a lot of people counting on you, he says. And by people, he means their own family.

///

When he realizes it's too late, that he's not getting what he wants, Dean is so overwhelmed that he can't even speak.

The fact is: Dean's attempts were too little, too late. (Though very complex and human and sympathetic!)

And Dean knows it. We went from zero to trying to generate his own faith and overcorrecting with Jack all episode, followed by being over the moon at getting his family back.

Then he lost it again.

Dean tries to crest on victory and be happy that the world is restored and they're free of Chuck. (They rescued Jody, Claire, Garth, and others!)

He clings to the concept of freedom, of HOPE IN THE FUTURE.

That he can make use of the gifts he's been given.

To live (maybe even get a real job, as we will see from his employment application later).

Dean's still trying to generate his own hope going forward, but as we see from the state of his room in the finale six months later... he's failing at that.

Sigh. :(

///////////////

This theme of Jack's “vanishing” and Dean's “death via prolonged heart SQUEEZE” (followed by being stabbed through the heart)

are further underlined in the SPNwin companion episode to the finale, The Winchesters episode 12: Tears of a Clown.

It's a reference to that sometimes people are TRYING to be strong and putting on a smile, when they're really not doing well at all.

CLARENCE: I didn't know what to do...how to help him through his grief, you know? So instead, a day after the funeral, I took him to the carnival to try and cheer him up. It only made things worse. ..

That's when I heard of the Legend of Limbo. If only I'd helped him through his grief instead of taking him to that damn carnival, he'd be here right now. ... MARY: Clarence used the carnival as an escape, so his brother wouldn't have to face his problems.

[musicalcastingideas]

Dropout Does The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

So my theory about overlap of Dropout and Team Starkid seems to be accurate, and people seemed to like my Dropout does Nerdy Prudes Must Die post, so I'm back for another. Same method and criteria as my previous post, you can go see that if you want to know what they are. Also, I have previously done a similar list with Internet Personalities that included a handful of Dropout people, but I'm gonna try to make this one different.

Also spoilers for potentially anything in the Hatchetfield verse

Paul: Ross Bryant

Ross is a great straight man (in the comedy sense, I don't know his sexuality) while being very funny in his own right, and I think, while Paul has a lot of his own funny moments, it's very important that his character is also the more normal guy reacting to the madness around him. Also, he would slay the Jekyll and Hyde homage that is Let it Out.

Emma : Siobhan Thompson

I think one of the essential parts of Emma's character is an underlying exhaustion with the world, and that is very Adaine Abernant and Ruby Rocks, so I think Siobhan would embody that very well.

Charlotte: Vic Michaelis

I don't think I've ever heard them do a transatlantic accent before, but I just have this gut feeling they'd be so good at it.

Ted: Ify Nwadiwe

While I do genuinely think Ify would be great in the part, if I'm being fully honest, this casting is because I (despite my better judgment) find Ted Spankoffski hot, so casting arguably the hottest man in Dropout in this part makes me seem less damaged for being attracted to the self-proclaimed sleazeball. Also him and Vic seem like they would be great playing off each other.

Bill: Brian "Murph" Murphy

He just has "refuses to drink during the apocalypse so he can be the DD" energy.

Mr Davidson: Brian David Gilbert

Since I'm splitting up all the parts, this basically turns Mr Davidson into a Princess Track where the actor just shows up, sings about desire and being choked while he jerks off, but laments how he can never achieve his dreams, and then pretty much leaves, and I don't know why, but that seems right up BDG's alley.

Melissa: Lisa Gilroy

Lisa Gilroy seems nice, but also kinda scares me, and those are the correct vibes for Melissa (#heymelissacore)

Sam: Jacob Wysoki

My only concern about this casting is that he'd go SO HARD in You Tied Up My Heart that he would keep breaking the handcuffs and/or chair, but that's fine, it would be worth it.

Nora: Katie Marovitch

The "Decaf?" parts of Cup of Roasted Coffee already sounds a bit like her TBH.

Zoey: Rehka Shankar

I feel like Zoey is such an underrated, funny side character in the show (I know she's a very small part, but like every line she has is a banger) and I feel like Rehka is a very underrated performer, so this is a good match.

Greenpeace Girl: Persephone Valentine

Making up the Save the Sea Turtles campaign is such a Sam Nightengale move, and also she would eat up Lah Dee Dah Dah Day.

Alice: Surena Marie

She's got a bit of a baby face (I thought she was like 25) and I think she would handle the change from Alice to Hivemind Alice really well.

Deb: Emily Axford

I'm definitely not just casting this because I want Emily to be my protective and caring girlfriend...

Professor Hidgens: Josh Ruben

I don't have an explanation for this one, this is vibes alone.

General MacNamara: Brennan Lee Mulligan

"Wear a Watch" and a song highlighting how the hivemind is essentially fascist and using the military to destroy any resistance to their regime is so Brennan core.

Homeless Man: Ally Beardlsey

I just feel like this is the part they'd want.

Dan Reynolds: Lou Wilson

Icons play Icons.

Donna: Aabria Iyengar

Icons play Icons

Hard Cuts:

Jacob Wysoki as Ted

Mike Trapp as Paul

Emily Axford as Emma

Jess Ross as Charlotte

Lily Du as Zoey

Grant O'Brien as Professor Hidgens

Grant O'Brien as Ted

Ally Beardlsey as Ted

[saving-people-haunting-things]

Okay so the idea that Sam's middle name is William comes from a screenshot of the investigation board in Toni's house in 11x23. However, that is a really bad source for many reasons:

One, Toni's stalker board is not a reliable source of information because she's really stupid. Two, it has not only the wrong mother's name (it's listed as Mary Catherine Howard instead of Mary Sandra Campbell), it also has the wrong birthday! (It says April 13th-- or maybe 18th or 19th it's really hard to read!) It also says that the father's middle name is Howard when John's middle name started with an E (it's also an odd repetition of the name Howard in my opinion). The father's age also seems a bit off (it's 2 or 3 years too old for the father to have been born in 1954).

The fact that it's from Lawrence, Kansas is correct, along with the father being self-employed (John co-owned a garage). But so many other things are wrong that it's very difficult to claim that this is Sam's actual birth certificate. It's either a fake, maybe John made it to enroll him in school with or something, or it belongs to some really unlucky random guy.

Either way, you can't definitively say that Sam's middle name is William, although it is still possible. William was one of the top 100 boys names for 1983, and it's a pretty common middle name even today. It's just not confirmed by that one background set decoration that was never intended to be looked at too closely.

What if I fought one of the Supernatural wikis?

[venaue]

Another AU of mine that I'm very enthusiastic is an AU where the MC is Basil from OMORI.

I love this idea very much so here are a few of my headcanons about my version of this !!

[ BEWARE OF OMORI SPOILERS BELOW ]

- I imagine the timeline from which Basil would be Isekai-d would be like during his unconciousness after his fight with Sunny at the Sleepover. It'd be like in his unconsciousness where he reaches out for the hand or whatever happens in the Prologue.

- One of Basil's first priorities was making a garden for Ramshackle. He went to Sam's and ask him all about the different types of plants he could grow at Ramshackle. Even though some of them were ones that didn't exist back on Earth, or ones that needed the influence of magic to grow, he did end up finding a good assortment of plants that he could grow by himself.

- More often than not if you were to go visit Ramshackle, you'd most likely see Basil tending to the garden in one way or another. It's one thing that's familiar to him here, so he often takes sanctuary in just mindlessly tending to the plants, and watching them grow when he has nothing else to do.

- In a way, the group of Heartslabyul students he's gotten acquainted with remind him a little too much of the Faraway Gang. Ace and Deuce's squabbles remind him of Kel and Aubrey's. Trey's doting nature reminds him of Hero. Riddle's quiet and confused nature reminds him of Sunny. And Cater's lively and cheerful energy that's clearly a façade for all of the despair and sadness hidden underneath...

- There's a certain area outside of Ramshackle that looks eerily familiar to the place Mari was hung from. He doesn't go by that area. Ever. People begin to notice this after the grass around the area begins to look untamed compared to the rest of the foliage around Ramshackle, but after he completely shuts down as a result of someone questioning him about it once, no one asks about it anymore.

- He still gets hallucinations of SOMETHING. He see's it at that area. At the stairs. Sometimes he can't even meet Riddle's eyes without being painfully reminded of the person he can't ever reach anymore. Sometimes looking at Cater sends him spiraling into thoughts and regrets.

- His dreams are a little different from canon, instead of just being flashbacks from the films, they're instead similar scenarios, but instead played out by the headspace gang. Sort of like Sunny's adventures in headspace in the game, except the plot is influenced by the different member of the Great 7. (why? i dunno, i thought it was silly. and i love making him more tragic.)

- He brings the Ghost Camera around with him everywhere, and takes tons and tons of photos with it. He ends up buying a few photo albums from Sam's store, which he begins to fill up with different pictures of all of the events that happen. His favorite's are the one's Cater sometimes insists on taking of him, Ace and Deuce together. He's less fussed about the 'natural' aspect of the photos now. He just wants to capture the memories. Just in case one day he disappears from this world for good.

- He starts out being very wary and afraid of Octavinelle as a whole, more specifically the water. It reminds him of when Aubrey pushed him in, reminds him of the sensation of drowning, how terrifying it was to not know whether he'd ever take another breath again. The first time he went down there he was on the borderline of a panic attack nearly the whole time. It took him a while to warm up to the idea of it, and the idea of going into the water in book 3, even with the potion.

(p.s. if you're wondering why he still gets the hallucinations of something, i like to think its because he didn't get the final closure where in the good ending, we see SOMETHING like disappear behind him, but since he got transported before that happened, SOMETHING is still with him, and tormenting him.)

thats it for now because this has actually been in my drafts for days--

i need to feet my subs on yt too so i gyatta post this on comm LMAO

anwyay enough yapping HOPE YALL TWST N OMORI FANS LIKE ITTTT if i get um at least 1 person who likes it ill probably keep doing stuff for it occasionally :3

[90s-music-tourney]

Round 1 match ups!

People are strange by the Doors vs Alice's Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie 

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul and Mary vs House of the Rising Sun by the Animals

Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison vs Respect by Aretha Franklin

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash vs Heroin by the Velvet Underground

Somebody to Love by Jefferson Airplane vs Pinball Wizard by The Who

My Way by Frank Sinatra vs She's not there by the Zombies

Green onions by Booker T. & The M.G.’s vs Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles 

Return to sender by Elvis Presley vs The Girl From Ipanema by Stan Getz And Joāo Gilberto

Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) by the 5th Dimension vs Ain't Too Proud for Beggin by the Temptations

Change is gonna come by Sam Cooke vs What a wonderful World by Louis Armstrong 

Come A little bit Closer by Jay and the Americans vs Ain't no mountain high enough by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

Don't Rain on My Parade by Barbra Streisand vs Season of the Witch by Donovan

Good vibrations by the Beach Boys vs I'm a Believer by The Monkees

Wichita Lineman by Glen Campbell vs Stand by Me by Ben E. King

Cactus tree by Joni Mitchell vs Can't take my eyes off you by Frankie valli

Tainted Love by Gloria Jones vs Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

Mrs. Robinson By Simon and Garfunkel vs Happy Together by the Turtles

I want you back by The Jackson 5 vs Space Oddity by David Bowie

Spirit in the Sky By Norman Greenbaum vs Son of a Preacher man by Dusty Springfield

This boots are made for walking by Nancy Sinatra vs Eight Miles High by the Byrds

Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells vs Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival 

Maybe This Time by Liza Minnelli vs You really got me by the Kinks

Sitting by the dock of the bay by Otis Redding vs Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues

California Dreamin’ by The Mama's and the Papa's vs You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes

Like a rolling stone by Bob Dylan vs The Impossible Dream by Jim Nabors 

Complication by the Monks vs Sweet Caroline By Neil Diamond

Suite: Judy Blue Eyes by Cosby, Stills and Nash vs Piece of my Heart By Big Brother and the Holding Company 

White Room by Cream vs 21st Century Schizoid Man By King Crimson 

I Say a Little Prayer by Dionne Warwick vs It's not Unusual by Tom Jones

Be my Baby by the Ronettes vs For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield 

Fire by Arthur Brown vs Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones 

River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner vs Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows By Lesley Gore

Blackberry Way by The Move vs Feeling Good by Nina Simone

So Long Mom (A song for World War III) by Tom Lehrer vs All along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix 

Good Times, Bad Times by Led Zeppelin vs Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles 

Dream a Little Dream of Me by Mama Cass vs I Got You (I Feel Good) by James Brown

[artemis-73]

Suptober Day 11: Myth

Dean's always hated hospitals. The smell, the sterile walls, the somber atmosphere, the twisting, scraping dread in his gut. But more than hospitals, he hates the pediatrics wing. He hates the tableaus painted in the hallways. He hates the cartoons playing on the TV. He hates the tiny beds and the blankets with stars and moons on them.

He's standing at the window, staring out at the parking garage when the the doctor comes in. Sam and Jess greet him quietly, but Dean can't bring himself to look. He can tell by the warble in Sam's voice that it's not going to be good news. He can imagine the doctor's face set grimly with a sympathetic twist.

There's a murmured explanation that Dean doesn't try to parse, but he gets snippets. Things like "experimental treatments" and "numbers are still low."

Dean remembers his dad, stark raving mad after their mom died, becoming obsessed with a magical way to fix it. The fix changed day-to-day, depending on how much he'd been drinking. Some days, he was looking for a way to bring her back to life. Others, he wanted revenge on any one of the laundry list of people he blamed for her death: the firefighters, the paramedics, the man who installed their smoke detectors, the electrician who wired the house years before they bought it.

When he turns around and sees little Mary curled up in a mountain of blankets, sounds asleep with dark circles like bruises under her eyes, and half a dozen machines hooked up to her, he understands his old man better than he ever did when he was alive. He'd tear the whole world apart for his niece.

Sam and Jess are looking over the information packets the doctor left, talking about their options and what they could even begin to afford, what their insurance will bother covering.

"I'm gonna go for a drive," he says to the room.

They barely look up when he leaves.

It's late enough in the day that the parking garage is only about half full. The Impala sits alone in one of the corners. In the trunk, there's a box of their dad's things. Stuff Dean can't bear to throw out but doesn't want in his own house, worthless knick knacks and sentimental shit, but most importantly: a journal.

It's the ramblings of a paranoid, possibly schizophrenic man. Dean tried reading it once, right after John died, hoping for some closure. All he found was that his father was sicker than they ever dreamed. He'd imagined a world of demons and monsters to cope with the death of his wife. He'd abandoned his kids over and over again to chase something that would make a deal with him: his life for his wife's.

Dean flips to the last entry. It's from the day John died. It's a rambling whiskey-riddled mess that amounts to blubbering apologies about how he should've been a better father. When Dean first read it, he'd barely skimmed it. Now, he trudges through the lines of slanting writing, looking for any clue.

On the third page, he finds it: a passing mention of a deal he made a two years before. Dean flips back through the pages, skipping over the years until he finds the entry:

It worked. The black eyed bastard couldn't bring her back. He said she was in heaven. I only got two years out of the deal, but he agreed to clean up whoever was responsible.

From there, he reads backwards carefully, looking for what exactly John did. Only a couple pages further, he finds honest-to-god instructions, including an ingredient list, to summon a fucking demon at a crossroads. It says he'll get ten years to live in exchange for whatever he wants. He stands in the parking garage for a long time, looking down at John's clear, blocky writing.

There's a little tin jar that used to sit in John's kitchen. Dean thinks he remembers it even further back, in the kitchen of their family home. It was one of the few things John had salvaged after the fire. When he'd cleared out John's apartment, Dean hadn't even looked in it before throwing it in the box. Now, he pops it open and stares at what's inside: a layer of dirt, a tiny bone, and a singed photo of John.

He feels insane for even considering it. John was sick. Whatever delusion he lived through can't possibly help Dean or Mary.

But if it's not real, then it can't hurt either.

It takes longer than he expected to find a dirt crossroads. He's in the middle of nowhere, and the sun has completely set. It'd be creepy on a good day. Knowing he's trying to summon a demon, though? He's downright spooked.

He replaces John's photo with his driver's license--he doesn't have the patience to go home for a different picture--and digs in the packed dirt with his bare hands. It cakes deep under his fingernails and turns his hands dark. Once he's patted it smooth again, he stands back and waits.

For thirty seconds then a minute then two minutes.

The disappointment is a sucker punch. "So stupid," he mutters to himself.

"Dean Winchester," a gravelly voice says from behind him.

He spins around, heart hammering, to find a man lounging on the hood of the Impala. He's in a suit that doesn't seem to fit quite right, and his tie's crooked and flipped the wrong way. His eyes are piercingly pale. Dean can't tell the color in the moonlight, but he'd guess they're blue, not at all what he expected from a "black-eyed bastard."

But most importantly: he's sprawled on the hood of the Impala.

"Dude, not on my car," he whines.

The man--demon?--laughs. Honest to god, throws his head back and laughs up at the sky. Obligingly, he slides off the car and onto his own two feet. "My apologies."

"Wait," Dean says, finally catching up to what the guy had actually said, "how do you know my name?"

"Your father was quite a character." There's a bite to his words that raises Dean's hackles. "Very demanding, very ungrateful."

"Yeah, well, from where I'm standing, it looks like you shorted him eight years."

"He asked for too much."

"And you were more than happy to deliver."

Any trace of amusement is gone from the demon. He cocks his head and grinds his jaw, and Dean wonders if crossroad demons can kill the people who summon them to make deals.

Finally, the demon asks, "Is this some kind of belated revenge mission? I thought you'd be thanking me, frankly."

"Thanking you for killing my dad?" Dean huffs. Something about the guy presses all his buttons.

"I didn't kill anyone-- Well, that's not true. I didn't kill him. Besides, he wasn't exactly father of the year, now was he?"

Dean doesn't have a response to that, and it's clear the demon knows he's won this round. He smiles faintly then holds out a hand. "I'm Castiel."

Dean's not sure on the protocol with crossroads deals. He doesn't want to accidentally make a deal before he gets to the main event.

Castiel rolls his eyes. "It's just a handshake. Then we can start talking about why you actually summoned me."

Against his better judgement, Dean shakes his hand. It feels like a normal, human hand, which might actually be weirder. He yanks his hand away.

"My niece is sick. Leukemia. And she's getting sicker. Last round of treatments didn't do shit, and I--" He shies away from Castiel's intense, unwavering gaze. "Fix her. That's all I want."

Castiel clicks his tongue. "Simple enough. Ten years for your niece's clean bill of health." He almost sounds disappointed. "Did John mention how we seal deals?"

Dean hesitates, racking his brain. "Uh, no?"

Castiel's eyes flash black, which should knock Dean on his ass. Instead, weirdly, he thinks the look suits him.

"A kiss."

Now that almost lays him out. "Like on the mouth?"

Castiel's eyes flash back to their pale, human version, and he laughs again, this time a low chuckle, like he's hearing an old, familiar joke. "Yes, on the mouth."

"Couldn't just be a handshake," Dean grumbles, but he steps closer anyway. He's had his fair share of awkward, passionless kisses, and none of those ended with Mary getting to have a normal childhood.

Castiel wraps a hand around the nape of Dean's neck and holds him in place. Even though the touch is light, power radiates from it. With barely a thought, Castiel could snap his neck. Hell, he could probably do it without even touching him. (Demon's have psychic powers, right?)

Oh. His eyes are blue. The thought has barely come to him before those eyes flash black again, and he's being kissed. He expected a perfunctory peck. Instead, fire licks against his lips, flares across his skin. His fingers are in Castiel's hair, and his back's pressed against the Impala, and he's not sure when either of those things happened.

Castiel is a firm, hot pressure searing against his front, and Dean wants to pull him even closer. He wants to wrap himself in his warmth and never come back out.

Castiel is the one to pull away first. His hand holds Dean's jaw in place so that he can't chase after him. Dean gets the feeling that it's not the first time Castiel has tried to pull away to speak. His eyes are still black, and Dean's close enough to see himself in the reflection.

"Interesting," Castiel practically pants. He steps back and smooths his suit like it wasn't already a rumpled mess. "I'll be seeing you, Dean."

Between one blink and the next, he's gone. Dean sags against the Impala. I'll be seeing you, Dean. It didn't sound like he meant he'd see him in a decade when he came to collect on his debt. No, Dean had a feeling he'd be visited by Castiel much, much sooner.

"I'm fucked."