#this could become my comfort episode fr it's got everything

[ohtendril]

Rules are rules. I shall have to make a note.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Am I Making You Feel Sick? | Supernatural Series Rewrite | A doctorbitchcrxft original | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: literally every warning ever, y/n's in a rough ass spot dude, hallucinations, recovering from a sexual assault (PLS HEED THIS WARNING THIS CHAPTER REFERS TO THIS HEAVILY), slightly toxic relationship dynamic, mentions of torture, discussions of religious trauma, discussing parental death, discussing major character death, isolation, depression, discussions of anxiety/not eating bc of it, y/n's personality is changin', man. off the rails fr, canon violence, canon gore, nightmares

Word Count: 6509

A/N: TEEHEE my first original episode!!! this episode is very heavy (obvi bc dean just died) but i still hope you guys enjoy it!!!!

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

the first episode of season 4 will be published on January 18, 2025 (how is it 2025 already). I do apologize for the delay, but I want to make sure that my writing is absolutely perfect for you guys because I love you very dearly.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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What a curious animal you'd become.

Killing was a part of your job. You danced with death on a daily basis; nothing about the concept was unfamiliar to you. And yet, everything you felt was completely foreign.

Grief: a simple word to encapsulate such a complex feeling. You thought you'd grieved before, and of course, you had. But losing Stephen, your mother, and your father couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of what losing him felt like.

Dean was gone. He was gone, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

The first day was his funeral. You and Sam refused to let Bobby burn his body; each of you knowing your insistence was due to a desire to go make demon deals yourselves. You were sure Bobby knew, too, but he said nothing. He simply helped Sam fashion a coffin out of a tree they cut down while you tried to piece Dean back together.

Tears fell on the stitches as you worked, water dampening the blood that had dried around the edges of the wounds. You did your best to clean the wounds gingerly, and you briefly laughed at yourself for being so careful when he wasn't even alive anymore. You quickly collapsed in a heap of sobs, biting the side of your hand nearest your pinky to keep yourself quiet.

Brushing his hair back, you would bend down occasionally to press kisses to his forehead. You cradled his head in your lap until the position you were in got uncomfortable. Feeling a lump in the back pocket of your jeans, you took out the wallet that was stowed there and tossed it aside. In the process, the little slip of paper Dean had given you at Christmas fell out.

Remembering what it was, you smiled fondly. It was his "coupon" he'd given you to redeem when he passed. It was a sweet gesture in an incredibly fucked up way, but your heart just hurt as you ran your hand over the pendant still around his neck.

You stared at his handwriting for a while, remembering when he'd jokingly asked you for cursive lessons after watching you write in your journal. His handwriting was admittedly horrendous, but you found it adorable. There was nothing you wouldn't do to see his hands move again.

You kissed the paper, folded it up, and stowed it in the only pocket of his jeans that wasn't ripped. The amulet felt foreign around your neck, but its weight brought you a slight bit of comfort.

Come to think of it, you'd never watched a loved one die. You'd had to kill your parents after they were turned, but that was completely different from watching the life drain from someone you loved with every bit of your soul.

You felt like you'd never leave that day. You'd never stop reliving those last few moments or his last words to you. Dean was never good with words; he showed his love in other ways. But his final profession of love to you was absolutely what you needed to hear, and yet, you felt no sense of closure.

Sam helped Bobby lower the casket into the ground, and you marked it with a cross they'd made from two extra pieces of wood.

As soon as you'd shoveled the last bit of dirt over the casket, you kissed Sam's cheek, then Bobby's, then sped off in one of Bobby's cars aimlessly.

****

You hadn't answered calls from Sam or Bobby since Dean's funeral.

You had forgotten how hard this was; being alone.

From the time your parents died when you were eighteen to the time you met the Winchesters at twenty-six, you'd been almost completely alone. Every day was spent in complete silence. You wouldn't speak unless spoken to, or unless it was necessary to move a case forward. Sure, you enjoyed music on road trips, but the car wasn't filled with laughter or witty chatter.

Hunting wasn't exactly a lively or rewarding profession. It never felt like your life was your own; it was always spent in the service of keeping everyone else safe. As a child, you frequently questioned why that was your responsibility. Your father would always tell you, "Because that's how we've always done it."

As far as you knew, everyone before you in your family had been hunters. You were the last surviving of a long line of hunters that your father always told you dated back to the birth of the first vampire. You weren't quite sure if that was your father over exaggerating, but you grew up believing this was what you were destined for.

As a young woman, you didn't even entertain the idea of doing anything else with your life. You had no skills, no documentation, no money, and no family. Where else could you go aside from diners to search the morning paper for an interesting obituary?

When you met Bobby, you thought that maybe things could be different. He'd found you after a hunt gone wrong against a werewolf, holding your insides together with your hoodie wrapped around your waist. The scariest part of your scrape with death was that you weren't even afraid of dying in that moment.

Steven had been the light of your world. You felt such a maternal relationship with him given the unbelievable amount of time you spent taking care of him while your parents were away, and his death truly hit you the hardest.

Your grief lessened with the passage of time, but you'd learned recently that all you'd done was numb it. You never truly healed from the loss of your parents and brother.

However, despite the tedious and often strife-filled existence you led, you were happy. At least, you believed you were happy, because you hadn't ever known what that felt like; that was, until you met the Winchesters. The little friend group you formed with them was your light in the darkness.

You felt cheated. If there was a god, he was a merciless bastard for giving you the best thing you could've asked for and ripping him away from you so soon. 

Over and over, Dean's screams from that horrific night echoed in your mind. No amount of music could drown out the sounds rattling around your head.

That was when you were awake. When you would sleep, though, you’d dream of his experience in Hell. 

The first time it’d happened the night after his funeral, you heard Dean screaming yours and Sam’s names over and over again, begging for help. And the next night, it happened again. The dreams of his experience in Hell were only becoming more vivid. Hooks tore through his flesh and kept the skin taut as he dangled over the demons who'd come to torture him. The nightmares were becoming so bad that you were afraid to sleep. 

You'd wake with a start to the sound of Dean screaming your name, voice raw and pleading. You couldn't take it anymore. 

It was as if he was just out of your reach. You were frozen in space just too far from Dean. Seeing him should have comforted you, but this was only hurting you further. You would have rathered never see him again than continuously watch him go through something so horrific.

The thing that finally broke you completely was a dream you had about Dean talking to you while he was tortured. 

"Oh, god, (Y/N)," Dean cried as a demon called Alistair ripped into his flesh, "(Y/N), it hurts, help me, please! God, I can’t fucking take this anymore!" 

When you awoke from that dream, you knew what you had to do. Somehow, someway, you were going to get a ticket to the pit, and you'd drag him out yourself. Even if you couldn't, at least you'd get to see him again. You'd tried to make deals, but no one would budge. Thus, you became desperate.

****

You abandoned your phone and laptop and continuously swapped out the cars you stole; only black cars, though, to help conceal you in the night. Every few weeks, you decided you'd switch out the wig you wore. Sometimes, you'd stuff your clothes to make your body shape change or steal a pair of reading glasses from a drug store to skew your appearance further.

After the Mystery Spot in Florida when the trickster made you believe Dean was dead for six months, you weren’t quite ready to go as far as you were willing now. Now, with the assurance that Dean was truly suffering given your recurring, horrible dreams, you were done.

The first stop on your mission was the prison where your life was changed forever. You'd been stalking the man responsible for a little over a week now. Avoiding the watchful eye of the Winchesters' old friend Deacon was difficult, but you managed. At last, the day came where you'd confront him. 

In the dark of the guard's home, whose name you'd learned was Evan Kirkpatrick, you waited with a chloroform rag in your hand.

You didn't even allow him to turn the lights on before you were dragging his unconscious body out to the van you'd stolen.

****

In the middle of nowhere in Montana, you'd found a cabin when you were around twenty-two years old. It became your safe house when you needed it. Not even the Winchester brothers knew about it, and you preferred it that way. You knew if you'd told Sam about it, this would’ve been the first place he'd look for you when you first disappeared.

You had the guard securely tied to a chair in the center of the room. You played one of the records that had been left in the cabin and whistled along to it.

Sheets of plastic covered the floor beneath Evan's and your shoes to make for an easy cleanup when you were done with him.

The man before you slowly started to awaken. You remained seated comfortably next to the record player, face unchanged from its numb expression you seemed to permanently wear these days.

The guard groaned, head rolling side to side to try and get his bearings. When his eyes settled on you, he seemed to sober up immediately.

"Oh, fuck," he panicked, immediately trying to yank his way out of his binds. 

"Hi," you said nonchalantly. "Remember me?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, okay?" he whined. "But this is fucking crazy!"

"Oh, you're sorry," you laughed coldly. You stood and approached the table you set up with all sorts of weapons next to him just out of his reach. 

"Lady, look—"

"No, you listen to me," you spat, getting in his face. "We're gonna play a game. Every time you say 'no' or 'stop,' I'll drag it out even longer. Then, maybe, you'll really be sorry." 

"I am! I am!" he cried.

"Y'know, for some reason, I don't believe you." You picked up a pair of pliers from the table beside you. 

"No, no, please!" the guard wailed.

"What did I say about that word?" you taunted. 

****

Hours later, the man in front of you was on the brink of death. His entire body was littered with remnants of your work, and you were ready to deliver the final blow. Seeing this man made you physically ill, and you were just ready for it to be over.

And so, you ended it at point-blank range. You picked up the chair, the plastic mat, his body, and you dragged them outside to be burnt in a clearing outside of the cabin.

You watched it all burn emotionlessly, the numbing having returned to every one of your limbs. 

'I'm coming, Dean. I promise.'

****

As you’d mentioned to Dean, your father insisted upon you and Steven learning different methods of torture when you were younger. He thought it would enable you to survive them easier as well as be able to get the information you needed from the various creatures you hunted. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you were good at it. As fucked up as it was, your father had taught you how to detach from the reality of what you were putting another human through and focus on getting what you needed. 

What you told yourself you needed from the guard was a way to ensure you would make it down to Hell. However, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d done it because you wanted him to suffer just as you were suffering.

You knew you’d need to continuously do horrible things for your plan to work. You hoped that you would attract the attention of a demon you’d allow to use you for a ride downstairs, or a crossroads demon would find you so enticing because of your deeds that they’d make a deal with you. 

In truth, you knew that logic wasn’t sound. However, you were so desperate, you needed something, anything, to occupy your time and make you feel you were getting closer to seeing Dean again. 

You never considered yourself the emotional type before losing him. The trickster's comparison of you to Full Metal Jacket would sometimes provide you a lifeless laugh given how well he'd predicted all you'd become.

The nightmares were relentless. You tried every form of soothing yourself to sleep— meditation, a sound machine, smoking before bed— anything to possibly change your night terrors, but nothing worked. Every night, Dean was torn apart in front of you brokenly crying yours or Sam’s name.  

While you were awake, you would find your reflection staring back at you as you were on the day of your assault. The guard uniform, mussed up ponytail, and scratches on the side of your face had returned; undoubtedly due to your sleep deprivation and rapidly decaying mental state. 

You’d see flashes of Dean’s body laying on the ground in the shadows of the cabin with the gashes the Hellhound had given him or the heads of your parents’ monstrous forms. Steven appeared several times with half of his face torn to shreds, just as you’d found him in his car so long ago. 

Smoking weed didn’t help; neither did Xanax. Nothing could supply you reprieve from your anxiety-ridden days. Your anxiety was driving you to the point of being unable to eat. Exhausted, high, anxious, and malnourished, you passed out curled up in a ball on the couch. That time, a different dream disrupted your sleep.

You awoke in the middle of a clearing in the woods. The sun streamed through trees of an almost unnatural green, and the grass felt too pillowy soft beneath you.

You sat up to find a bush burning beside you.

"Seriously?" you cursed at the sky. "A burning bush? I'm not fucking Moses."

"You'd do well to mind your tongue in my presence," the bush replied.

"Well, excuse me, but you're a bush. In my dream. I don't have to do what you say," you answered.

"I'm not a bush, (Y/N). And I'm not god, either. My name is Uriel," the voice said.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" you snarked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It will. I am an angel. I have been sent by god to recruit you for a mission of the utmost importance," Uriel answered.

"Yeah, right. You're an angel," you scoffed. "How come you don't have a harp and fluffy wings?"

"Frankly, your human depictions of us are insulting," replied Uriel. "I cannot show you my true face or true voice; it would blind and deafen you."

"So.. bush..." you trailed off. "Wait, why am I even entertaining this? You're not real; this is just a dream." 

"I was told you were stubborn," Uriel said more to himself than you. "How have you been sleeping?"

You scoffed. "If you're a divine being, or whatever, you should already know the answer." 

"I do. I am the one who bestowed those visions upon you," Uriel replied.

"Oh! Wonderful." You suddenly had a realization. "Wait, visions? They're not dreams?"

"No, (Y/N). Those were all very real," Uriel explained. "Michael greatly admired your craftsmanship." The angel was undoubtedly referring to your torture of the guard; you hadn’t done anything else in the last month.

"The archangel?" you questioned. "Why would he—?"

"Because that skillset is why you have been chosen for this mission," Uriel replied. "Angels, like demons, need vessels. But we need willing participants. In order for us to carry out our work, we need you to find them. Michael believes your handiwork will help us find these vessels."

You considered. "And what do I get in return?"

"You humans and... reciprocity," the angel remarked disdainfully. "All you need to know is this will help get Dean out of Hell. You know what he's experiencing presently, and I will continue to show it to you until the work is done. Do we understand each other?"

You nodded, stomach turning. "I gotta be honest, though, man, I don't know how much more of seeing Dean like that I can take."

"You will take it for as long as I say you must," he responded forcefully, the bush erupting further into flame with his anger. "Michael believes it will give you incentive to get the job done quicker. This is not up for negotiation."

Your jaw clenched in anger, but you knew better than to argue. "What do you want me to do?"

"Hunt," Uriel responded. "Find suitable vessels. And, if they do not agree to having an angel possess them, use force."

"You've gotta know no one's just gonna agree to that."

"Precisely why we've enlisted your help, (Y/N)," the angel replied monotonously. 

"What, do I just pick randoms off the street?" you scoffed.

"You'll know them when you see them," Uriel answered. 

"How do I even know this is real anyway?"

Before you could get an answer to your question, you woke up.

You sat up with a start and turned to look out the open window you had certainly closed before you went to sleep. And just outside, a bush you'd never noticed before was burning.

"Great."

****

It was nearly humorous; the times when you'd switch out your car and hear a growling dog, nearly resulting in an innocent animal being shot in the head. You'd then realize you weren't shooting at a Hellhound, and it would all come rushing back to you. Sometimes, you'd flip through the channels of the radio and find the classic rock station and immediately start sobbing. Even saying his name out loud hurt.

No respite from the nightmares was ever granted to you. There was no opportunity for you to dream of those quiet moments with Dean; no escape from the horrible reality of Dean in Hell and you becoming some angel's weapon. 

You felt like you were going crazy. You didn't feel entirely convinced to join in Uriel's game— if that had even been real— but you would do anything to help Dean. Night by night, you saw him worn down even further. His resolve was breaking, and his voice was raw from screaming your name. It broke your heart to pieces.

A few days after Uriel's visit, you went out to a town a state over to get groceries. Suddenly, you made brief eye contact with a tall black man. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him, but your ears began ringing as soon as you laid eyes on him. 

Out of nowhere, you thought, 'Uriel.'

Discreetly, you turned out of the grocery store and began to follow him. Your hands were buried in your hoodie pockets, and you kept your head down low to avoid suspicion.

However, despite the gun you were gripping in your jacket pocket, you knew you couldn't kidnap him now; it was the middle of the day, and people surrounded you.

So you followed him. For a few days, actually. You got to know his and his family's routine and when he was most likely to be alone. Finally, your opportunity arose. His daughter and wife had gone out for the little one's dance class, and night had fallen. 

You frantically pounded on his door. You pretended you were having car troubles and were new to town, so you had no friends to call.

You felt horrible because this man was so nice to you, but you would do anything for Dean. Under these circumstances, that definitely scared you. 

You took your crowbar and knocked him over the head hard, then shoved him in the backseat of the stolen sedan you drove. Needless to say, you'd have to switch it out urgently. 

****

Finally, you got back to your cabin. You dragged the man into it where new sheets of plastic had been laid over the floor and walls. 

You securely tired the man to the chair placed in the exact center of the room and waited patiently for him to wake up. 

You turned on your favorite of the cabin's records— "Laughing on the Outside" by Bernadette Carroll— and whistled along. 

Slowly, the man came to.

"Sorry about all this," you said earnestly when he became completely alert. "It's my job. It's complicated, y'know?"

"Who are you? What do you want?!" he asked frantically. "Whatever it is, I’ll— I’ll give it to you!"

"Perfect," you replied. "Then this shouldn't be difficult at all."

"What is it? Money?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing like that," you said. "Now, listen, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but—"

"I do already, don't worry," the man snarked, pulling at his restraints.

"I like you. Honestly," you commented, offering a small smile. "You believe in god?"

"What does that—"

"Just answer the question, please," you said evenly.

He nodded timidly.

"Well, one of his angels needs your help. Uriel's his name. And all you gotta do is say yes," you explained. "He just needs to borrow your body for a bit."

"What?! What the hell does that mean?" he panicked. 

"Just say yes." Your voice remained monotonous, but there was a slight pleading to it. 

"No! No way!" he said.

You sighed and got up to approach your tools. "I really didn't wanna have to do this."

****

Finally, you wore the man down. It didn't take him very long, to be fair, but it was much more difficult for you to torture an innocent person for an angel than it was to torture your rapist. 

Uriel seemed to notice your confliction. He stood from the chair having healed the man's wounds from inside his body and crossed the room to you. "Be not afraid, (Y/N)."

"I'm not... but thanks, I guess," you replied. 

"I can tell you're troubled. Keep in mind, if you choose to stop now, you will never stop dreaming of Dean in Hell," he asserted while he turned away from you.

"Hey, wait a second, that wasn't part of our deal," you said, following him. 

"We don't have a deal, (Y/N). I gave you an order," he replied calmly. His even and monotonous voice was both comforting and unsettling.

"But... what about Dean?" you protested. 

"We're not saving him for you, child. No one's that special. God has his own plan for Dean."

You rolled you eyes and turned away.

"What is it?" Uriel questioned.

"I'm just not buying this whole 'god has a plan' thing," you said, an edge of anger in your voice. "If he did, that would mean he planned for me to kill my parents. He planned for me to get raped. He planned for Dean to go to Hell—"

"He did," was all Uriel simply replied with.

Your face went slack in shock. If you didn't hate "god" before, you certainly did now.

"I'll be seeing you, (Y/N)."

When you turned around, Uriel was gone. 

****

You spent the next few days angry. Sure, the good things in the world were part of "god's plan," but so was genocide and the Holocaust. You could not wrap your head around how a loving and just god would include such terrible things in his "masterful plan." 

Then, you went numb again. You always thought that proof of the existence of a higher power would make you feel better, but it had done the exact opposite. Nothing you did seemed to matter anymore; everything you did felt like being a pawn in a game you didn't know you were playing. Dean's suffering was god's plan, and you hated god for it.

But you did as told. Nothing would stand between you and seeing Dean again, and you would do everything in your power to keep him from suffering any longer. So you continued your task. As upset as you were at the idea of torturing innocent people for a god you'd lost all faith in, you would do it a million times over for your love.

The second of the vessels came under circumstances similar to the ones you'd found Uriel's: a trip to the gas station where an overwhelming, ear-piercing sound rang through your head. 

'Zachariah,' you suddenly thought. Your heart broke at the sight of the elderly man at the pump across from you as he was to be your next victim. However, you steeled your nerves and carried on. 

****

Why did people pray? If they knew their god was creating horrible situations in their lives as part of his master plan, would they continue to? Or did they just have that much faith in his “benevolence” that they’d pray anyway? 

With the information you had now, it all seemed pointless. You felt the way Dean did: a husk of a human to be used as a weapon. With a cosmic being pulling the strings, you didn’t feel in control at all. You had never been in control. God had planned for you to suffer the way you were now. 

At fifteen pounds lighter than you’d been when Dean first died, you looked sickly. Your skin had no color, your eyes were sunken and lifeless, your hair had lost its shine, and looking at yourself in the mirror disgusted you. As time kept creeping forward, you began to see yourself not only in your guard outfit, but holding the tools that were torturing Dean from your dreams as he hung on the rack behind you. 

The first time you saw that, you screamed. You jumped back from the mirror in the living room and fell to the floor, bringing the lamp and an end table with you. Shards of glass from the lamp’s lightbulb pierced your skin, but your rapidly thumping heart drowned out the pangs and pricks coming from your right palm. 

It had been two months and seventeen days since Dean went to Hell. You weren’t consciously keeping track, but something in you always knew how long it’d been. 

You began to adjust to only sleeping for two hours a night. Sure, the bags under your eyes and paling face protested, but forcing yourself awake was better than seeing Dean like that. The demon responsible for ripping Dean apart just to put him back together and start again, Alistair, had a face that was burned into your mind. When you were done with all the angel business, you'd be killing him yourself. 

Every night, you saw Alistair approaching Dean and providing him with an offer: if Dean wanted to get off the rack, he'd have to put other souls on and torture them himself. If you were honest with yourself, you were slowly becoming more and more desperate for Dean to take Alistair up on his deal. 

Uriel had explained to you that time moved differently in Hell. What was two and a half months on Earth was more like twenty-five years in Hell. 

The nightmares didn't stop. If anything, they became worse. It was as if Uriel could sense your hesitance and was making your task that much harder to leave incomplete. 

Your hesitance was in torturing the old man that was to be Zachariah’s vessel. He and his wife had just adopted a cat, and the three lived an apple-pie life. The idea of stealing this elderly woman’s husband and putting her in the same situation you were in now was weighing heavy on your heart. 

You learned the couple had a daughter who’d passed away a few years ago. It brought the two closer to each other, their grandchildren, and their son-in-law, as she’d been their only child. Despite their close relationship, though, you knew they needed a miracle. 

You learned that the angels seemed to pick vessels who were down on their luck. Uriel’s vessel’s sister was in the hospital dying of breast cancer. 

“Uriel, they needed healing. This guy didn’t want his miracle to be a fucking angel possessing him,” you argued. Fighting with the being was futile, but you couldn’t stand by idly without giving any push back. 

“(Y/N), what more of a miracle could he ask for? He has been a devout servant of the Lord since he was a child, and god decided to answer all his prayers.” His voice was strained with barely contained anger, and his patience was draining rapidly. Still, you pushed on. 

“You said he could kick you out at any second, right? I’m surprised he hasn’t fucking done that yet. ‘Angel of the lord’ my ass. You used me, a pothead dropout to do your dirty work instead of doing it yourself. I would’ve kicked your manipulative ass out the second you—” You were cut off when the angel backhanded you powerfully. His voice was dangerously even when he spoke again. “Another word, and I will make sure you never see Dean again.”

Still in shock and hurting from the blow, you nodded weakly. When you turned your head back to where he was standing, the angel had disappeared. 

With a moment to allow what had just happened to settle in, your breathing became rapid and labored. Tears swam in your eyes, and your knees buckled. 

You were barely clinging to your sanity. Uriel was growing impatient with you and informed you Zachariah was, too. When you reminded yourself that you were simply a pawn in a cosmic chess game, you returned to your task.

The elderly man’s screams broke your heart.

“Please, please, just say, ‘yes’,” you begged him. “I don’t wanna do this to you.”

“Then, don’t,” the man sobbed. “Just let me go home to my wife.”

“No, I can’t, sir, I’m sorry.” You were barely holding back tears of your own. “Didn’t you pray for a miracle? This is it.”

“I wanted my daughter back, not some psycho with a knife to get me to agree to… ‘angelic possession’,” he replied. 

“The pain will all go away if you say, ‘yes’,” you told him. “About your daughter, from this—” you gestured to your knife and the cuts on his body, “all of it. Just say, ‘yes’.”

Finally, finally, he nodded. 

You sighed in relief. “Thank you,” you told him. 

But when you looked back up at him, the man had already been possessed by Zachariah. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, wiping his hands off on the man’s sweater. 

Uriel was a complete dick, but he looked like a sweetheart in comparison to Zachariah. Luckily, you didn't see Zachariah so much. Three months had gone by since Dean's death, and you still saw Alistair providing Dean with his twisted offer. You knew Dean couldn't hear you, but you screamed for him to take it. You knew he'd never forgive himself, but you couldn't watch the man you loved in so much pain anymore. He had become your whole world, and your world was crumbling with each passing day. 

Then, finally, Dean accepted. 

Alistair hummed as he approached Dean, and you could do nothing but watch from the sidelines. 

A demon was individually removing the muscles from Dean’s arm, unfazed by his horrible cries. The skin had clearly been brutally ripped from it as his shoulder looked like it had been mauled by a wild animal. 

“God, fuck you,” Dean panted. 

Alistair tsked. “There’s that attitude I love so much. You know the drill, sweet cheeks, what'll it be?”

For the first time since you’d dreamt of Dean’s experience in Hell, he hesitated. 

“What’s this?” Alistair gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft, Deano.”

Dean hung his head low, unmoving and not answering. 

“I need an answer, De-an,” the demon sang. 

Without picking his head up, Dean mumbled, “I'll do it.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Sorry,” the demon hummed, “didn’t hear you. What was that?”

Dean grunted, “I said, I’ll do it!” with his voice cracking. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Alistair chuckled, a sickening smile spreading across his face.

As much as your heart broke for him, you were slightly relieved that his physical pain was over. However, you knew you had to get him out of there. The psychological torture of hurting others who didn't deserve it would break him completely, and you had to keep him from that somehow. 

Something was unsettling you about all this, though. Despite how unsettling your situation was to begin with, you knew there was something the angels you'd been working with weren't telling you. 

Uriel especially would act as though he wanted your job done as quickly as possible. However, when you explained it was only through "divine intervention, or whatever" that you were finding these vessels, and you had no control over the speed at which you found them, he'd get angry and cold. But he wouldn't press the issue with you. 

The number of vessels he'd assigned you to find was weirding you out, too: seven. You knew seven was a heavily spiritual number through your upbringing in the Catholic Church. However, you couldn't quite put your finger on what was happening. 

Half of you wanted to reach out to Sam and ask him his opinions. Your rational mind knew, though, that he'd never believe what you were saying and would quite possibly never look at you the same again.

That brought on a more troubling thought; when Dean saw what you'd become— a cold, lifeless shell of the girl you once were— what would he say? Would he even want to see you anymore? Would he still be able to love you?

You had to cover the mirrors in your cabin because the sight of yourself was making you sick. If Dean looked at you the way you looked at you, you didn’t think you’d be able to live with yourself.

Aside from disgust, immense anger was the next thing to come to your mind. You were angry at yourself for allowing yourself to become so consumed with Dean’s death. Rationally, you knew you shouldn’t have allowed yourself to fall so hard; to rot from your ever-present anxiety. You knew you should have gone to get help. And you supposed if you were a normal person, you would have. If you’d had a partner who died at a young age, you likely would have cut your losses, gone to therapy, and moved on. However, given the information you knew now— that you could save Dean— you weren’t going to give up on him.

You buried yourself in your work to keep yourself from going insane. As twisted as it was, the repetitive nature of your assignment was almost... peaceful? You were sure that couldn't be the proper way to describe your feelings, but it was the only word you could come up with. 

Perhaps it was that the gruesome work had become mundane. It gave you yet another chance to completely dull the world out until you heard that wonderful "Yes! I'll do it!" from your victim. 

Those words brought you the briefest moment of joy because it meant the horrible deed was over, and you were one step closer to seeing Dean again.

WatchingDean try to swallow his tears and maintain a steely expression while he tortured some poor soul under Alistair's direction became harder and harder every night. If you weren't set on killing Alistair before, you certainly were now. You wished so badly you could reach out to him and hold him. 

Finally, after four long and torturous months, your task was complete. You'd found the last vessel for an angel you hadn't quite committed the name of to memory and prayed to Uriel to come to you.

"There. I did what you asked," you said. "Now, go get Dean." 

****

That night, you sat on the couch in front of the television inhaling a bowl of cereal. You'd frequently turn the news on to see if there was any new information on demonic omens, any trouble Sam had gotten himself into, or sometimes, just the weather.

“Authorities are searching for this woman—” a grainy image of you wearing a wig, a hood, and jeans appeared on screen, and he supposed it’d been caught on CCTV, “—whose identity is unknown, but she has been potentially connected to at least seven murders over the past four months; all of well-respected, family-oriented men across multiple state lines. She is considered to be armed and dangerous, and if you have any information, please call—”

Your bowl and spoon clattered to the floor. "Oh, fuck."

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[tgr-2x5-roleswap-au]

You've Got Mail - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - The Other Victorian

Paint Pots and Queens - Season 4 Episode 23

Word Count: 1,191

Fought with my sanity with this chapter smh. i blame the original idea i had. it just wasn't working or reasonable to have

~

“There you go, dear! A perfect spot for a Victorian like you.”

Edward agreed as he mused over his temporary environment and the volunteers left, whispering about.

For one, it was far away from Old Coppernob. The copper firebox was smack dab in the center of the facility. The Larger Seagull could still see him but, thankfully, Coppernob couldn't, facing the opposite direction.

But what he was more pleased about was that he was surrounded by other engines from his era, from his time. From the older Victorians to the ones built around the turn of the century, he figured he could socialize with them. Maybe it'll be easier mingling with those from his time.

Maybe.

…

It was not.

Once the volunteers left, the four surrounding engines greeted him. Voices ranged from high-pitched but slow to soft yet bubbly. Despite their politeness, FR 21 was overwhelmed. It didn't help that he was placed between two of them, one in the front and another in the back, right next to a wall.

“Who are you?” One of them asked once the quick greetings stopped. They were green, a similar shade to the other three, but their shape was drastically different. Their cylinders were outside and connected to their smokebox, powering a massive single pair of drivers.

This must be the Stirling Single! She looked similar to the one from the North Western Railway. “Furness Railway Twenty-Ane,” the Larger Seagull quickly stammered, just so he wouldn't overthink such a simple question. “Edward, as well.”

“Ah, you have a name! Well, then, I'm the old Great Northern Railway Number One,” she beamed, her wrinkles and dimples becoming prominent. “But you may call me, Esmeralda. It's lovely to see another pre-grouping engine survive. Not many are around, you know?”

The Furness red engine hummed, agreeing.

“Oh, don’t be shy!” exclaimed the single non-green engine of the group, unaware of startling Edward. He was ochre yellow with white and bronze accents. “Gladstone! A pleasure to meet you, lad!”

“N-Nice tae meet ye, too!”

“I'm the North Eastern's number fourteen-sixty-three!” piped up the NER E5 class.

“And I'm their number sixteen-twenty-one. Oh! Same numbers!” The NER M class giggled. “What a coincidence.”

“B-But-” Oh wait- “Nevermind,” mumbled the FR 21 class. They meant the last two. They're being literal. 

“Now, don't overwhelm the poor thing!” Edward almost scoffed. ‘Poor thing?’ He wasn't a newly built engine. He's over half a century old! But a quick look over at the ones in his range of vision changed his mind as they seemed older. “How about you tell us a little about yourself, hm?” suggested Gladstone.

“Och- well- I'm frae the Furness Railway…” His train of thought froze. What else was he supposed to say? He wasn't sure he wanted to tell them about his time in the forest. Being a part of the Scottish greenery in a territory far away from home… The critters, the twigs…

The rust…

He was glad no one mentioned it. It must not be as noticeable as he thought.

The thought soothed him. Yet he realized how hypocritical he was being. Just days ago, he told another engine he'd just met. It was someone who initially didn't take a liking to him. Edward was engrossed in the conversation that day. He felt comfortable sharing with someone who understood—to some degree—how he felt. 

“Edward?” FR 21 perked up. “Is everything alright?”

Edward hummed. “Aye. It’s awrite.”

“Mmm, if you say so.”

Silence followed for a bit. The occasional clank of metal was heard as volunteers wandered around, checking up on the engines. There seemed to be another conversation happening elsewhere but it could barely be heard. They were either whispering or just far away. No one from the group could tell.

“So,” squeaked the M class, “how was the Railway Show? We heard you won!”

“Oh, yes, please tell!” Excitement creaked from Esmeralda.

“Och, well-” Easy enough! “Twis’ nice.”

“Nice? It was a close finish! That must've been exciting!”

“It- uh-” The clear memory of the Canadian Pacific running across the track, nearly knocking off the poor, little diesel into the pit of a turntable, came back. “It wis.”

“Weren't there preserved engines?” asked the E5. “Estelle said they'd go there.”

Edward frowned, confused. “...Who?” I don’t remember hearing an “Estelle.”

NER 1463 gasped. “Goodness, my apologies! The Caledonian Single! A blue single with white lining.”

Lips pursed, and then a bell rang. “Och, them!” Ah, the other single he spoke to. They were sweet, but they didn't speak much. It was comforting yet odd.

“Is something the matter? Did Estelle say something?” NER 1463 glanced at Esmeralda.

And before they could continue, the green single fumed, “Don't you start!”

“Esmeralda!” scolded Gladstone.

“You know it’s her fault!” Her face wrinkled as fury covered it.

“And you play right along…”

“Just who does-”

“This normal?” Edward whispered.

“‘Fraid so,” replied NER 1621.

“-she think she is? I was elated to know, to see that singles would come back, and she had the nerve to disrespect a pioneer-!”

.

.

.

“-As such, I’m here to straighten your behavior.” The eldest of the Seagulls strolled closer to the side of the oldest Larger Seagull. The Seagull was smaller, but 21 felt like a cornered mouse. “If you don’t listen, then say goodbye to your sisters. Leaving them behind because of your selfish behavior! So unlike an eldest.”

.

.

.

“You'll burst your valve-” continued Gladstone. The engines remained unaware of Edward's jolt.

“I'm not even in steam!” Esmeralda protested.

“Mmm, you'd be surprised…” Gladstone sighed as Esmeralda continued, bringing the attention back to the newcomer. “What were we on about?”

“...The railway show?”

“Ah, yes. Estelle, we speak of.” He cleared his pipes. “Did something happen?”

“Nothin’… They were quiet.”

Amused, Gladstone pressed on. “Have you met them before?”

“Noo…” Edward squinted. “Just seemit…” He stopped. He was one to speak. He himself was quiet these days since… that, so he shouldn't be judging. “Never mind.”

“Odd?” Gladstone hummed. “Estelle has changed since they were preserved. It's nothing out of the ordinary… It happens to everyone.”

As soon as those words came out, the atmosphere changed. The group made no noise, so quiet that a pen dropping from the opposite side of the building could be heard. Even the voices from the other group went quiet.

I've hit a sore spot. “S-Sorry… I-”

“Haven't you been to the show before?” piped Gladstone. “I do remember hearing the volunteers make a mention of such.”

“Och, yes.” The guilt of ruining the atmosphere bubbled within. “I huv.”

“Do tell. You've yet to fully introduce yourself, mate.”

“Well…” He might as well. It seemed that they wanted to move on from it as if it never happened. Edward could do that, so from there, Edward told Gladstone about the time he went to the Great Railway at the turn of the 20th century. His sentences weren't complete, his words were jumbled about, and he refused to make eye contact, but that didn't push away the other engines from tuning in. The little tale was a welcome starter to a new and comforting conversation.

~

important!!!

if you're looking to find the table of contents of all the chapters, i made a page on the desktop version with all of the chapters, including the ones for this story!

Otherwise, here's the link! (TGR 2x5 Roleswap AU - Table of Contents)

And here's the first batch of new characters!

GNR 1 "Esmeralda" - GNR No 1 (GNR A1 class"Stirling Single")

NER 1463 - NER E5 class

NER 1621 - NER D17 class

LBSCR 214 Gladstone - LBSCR B1 class

Notes:

Edward going to the Great Railway Show before this one was part of the original plot of "TGR but There's a Roleswap - Chapter 7: The Furness Railway 21" but I scrapped it, along with other revelations that just didn't make sense.

EDIT 09/01/2024: Fixed the links!

[socialcarcrash]

Why do you like Hodgins so much? (I like him as well) Also, do you have any Hodgins headcanons?

Right this is gonna be so long so hang on tight:

First to preface, I strongly headcanon hodgins as trans ftm and audhd which definately influences my love for him.

To begin, when I was younger (6+) i began to watch bones and I saw myself, an undiagnosed audhd person, in hodgins so much- and not only was i full ass in love with him. I also felt understood and seen, for the first time i saw a realistic character that I could relate to in so many ways. Also he was one of my first gender envies for real!!!

Hodgins fully encompasses the autistic rage that I for sure experience and I think thats so real of him. The therapy scene between him and sweets changed everything for me, and i stopped feeling guilty for feeling so sad and angry all the time and I started to view my anger differently and instead of surpressing it i found healthier coping mechanisms.

On the subject of Hodgins so totally being autistic, I just fully think that he expresses so many of the traits I do. Most of these traits are from headcanons ive seen but then i see them again expressed in the show and it makes me happier than anyone could ever imagine. He so clearly has special interests of conspiracies and of course his entomology/botany and I also have super strong special interests that I am known for a lot! I think when you see a character on screen for the first time that you dont feel like you change anything about yourself to be more like them, and you are just them it is special! So many times have I hyperfixated on a character and changed my whole personality to be like them, but he is actually just like me!

He encourages me to try and be comfortable in myself and to openly talk about my special interests because they are part of me so I should be able to express myself! This lesson is helping me heal and become so much happier, but also helps me feel comfortable with not being okay sometimes- which is even more important.

-i think hes pretty.

STUPID HEADCANONS!!!

- his first hyperfixation was dinosaurs (me fr) and he collected the mini plastic figurines.

-huge fidgeter and never stops stimming, he legit is never is still: its seen in canon lots! (that one episode where he does push ups when he is stressed for example). He gets that whole body thing where hes gotta move!!!

-hates oliver and pickles (angela loves them both and eats his from his burgers)

-folkpunk enjoyer as a teenager, his style would have been the coolest as a way of rebelling against his parents.

- the big light is the devil. his house has lots of lamps and small lights to avoid using the big light.

-during school/uni he carried around a sketchbook that he sketched bugs in during class when he got bored, he never skipped any years or anything as he performed only just above averagely. This was because he never got the support he needed during school so he wasnt able to meet his full potential until he found his passion for entomology. This frustrated teachers so he didnt always have the best relationship with them, but he had a few that he wasnt close with, but he found comfort and support in them as he struggled through his teenage years.

INFODUMPING WOOOOOO

this is basically entirely projection but i love him.

[shimmershae]

So.  I have some more thoughts.  Shocking?  Yeah, I know, lol.

Let’s see if I can figure out how to purge what’s inside of my overactive brain and have it make some semblance of sense, shall we?  

Hmm.  

Where to start, where to start?  

Okay.  So I think it’s safe to say that the flashbacks pretty quickly establish that Daryl has essentially been set adrift.  He’s been cast back, in some ways by his own choosing, into a solitary searching life that speaks to his past.  He has no anchor anymore, no touching stone--whether that be Rick, who’s presumed dead, or Carol, who’s chosen by default to leave him behind and try to make a new family in Ezekiel and Henry.  

That’s important.  Because until this season?  Until he really matured and assumed, grudgingly or otherwise, the mantle of leadership of the communities?  

Daryl was a follower.  He took his cues from other stronger personalities.  Other people more quick to voice and own their opinions, right or wrong.  Like Rick.  And Merle before him.  

That’s not to say Daryl hasn’t had anything of value to say or add to the communities or to his relationships.  He has and he did.  Remember back at the Prison how Carol told him he was going to have to live with the love?  Daryl was just beginning to find his voice, so to speak.  He was emerging, even if they were only baby steps at first, from other seemingly more formidable shadows, and learning even then how to be more of a leader that people looked up to even if he was still content to be a follower.  

Being a follower was what he was comfortable with and I’m making some assumptions here, but I’d wager that in his abusive past with his old man, in that household first with Merle then on his own, being a follower and sticking to the safety of the periphery is probably what kept him alive.  Being a follower minimized conflict then, I’m sure.  Being a follower when he met up with and eventually connected with Rick and the rest of Team Family was probably the safest way for him to make emotional connections.  

I’m rambling.  I know it and I’m sorry.  It’s what I do.  Ramble, lol.  

Here.  I’m going to place the rest of this underneath a cut because I got more winding words than I have wind and most of ya’ll have patience.  

With Rick gone, with Carol off trying her damndest to live a fairy tale, Daryl floundered.  For all intents and purposes, he was left without any direction, nobody to take his cues from emotionally or otherwise.  

I mean, he literally made ever-widening circles searching for Rick, didn’t he?  Circles have no end point.  They have no real destination.  Not really.  Daryl essentially lived in a spin cycle of pain and regret and inability to really and truly connect with anybody during those years spent searching for Rick--especially since the person he arguably felt closest to and most comfortable with, Carol, basically decided those past connections Daryl was so desperate to find again were too painful for her and attempted to move on.  

He wasn’t emotionally equipped to or stable enough (perhaps still internally dealing with his anger and angst over his torture and imprisonment by Negan at that point in time) to put in the hard work to reestablish those fraying bonds on his own and the man basically lost the plot.  His world narrowed down to this latest search.  This search for a body.  For closure.  For a new purpose perhaps?  

And you know, the man had to be tired.  In some way or another?  He’s probably been searching his entire life.  It’s kind of what followers do.  They look for meaning outside themselves because they don’t feel like they’re enough.  

So then Dog, in the form of this happy, accepting, affectionate puppy appears out of nowhere.  He’s a welcome distraction and knowing Daryl’s propensity to try to reunite the lost with those they love, he started a new little search.  

That led him to Leah. 

Leah, who was alone.  Like him.  Leah, who knew how to survive.  Like him.  Leah, who was stuck in a place of grief.  Like him.  

Leah, who--and I don’t really feel like I’m going out on too far or precarious limb here considering how many parallels they literally slapped us in the face with during this episode--reminded him of someone he felt he couldn’t have, not even her friendship anymore because by her choosing to ‘be there’ for Ezekiel and Henry and the Kingdom she was always leaving Daryl behind and that’s a pattern we’ve all long suspected has really caused hurt for Daryl even if he’s long ‘accepted’ and dealt with it with stoicism.  

Boy, they really blew the lid off that issue didn’t they?  Oh, it was done rather quietly and in a surprisingly controlled manner, but the hurt it caused?  The tears and emotion it elicited was brought about with an almost surgical precision that stunned Carol, but I digress.  

My point is?  Daryl?  Innate follower that he is?  Daryl had grown accustomed to the human connection he found with Team Family.  He was never 100% comfortable with it but he missed it.  He craved it.  And Rick?  Well, deep down Daryl knew the likelihood of finding his ‘brother’ was minimal.  And with Carol pulling away and putting more and more distance between them--how deep and wide was that river, ya’ll, before the episode was done? when it started off looking like a small trickle of a stream?  how wide was that chasm these two idiots in painfully unspoken love allowed to be formed between them?--essentially the two closest people to him were lost to him, leaving him lost.  

So he stumbles upon this woman who is very reminiscent of people that he’s known.  He’s figured out, even though he keeps trying to buck the trend, that you really can’t make it alone in the world anymore.  And when she shows him some small measure of trust by letting him go?  That part of him that didn’t want to be alone kept drifting back into her sphere.  

Now I’m not going to go so far as saying Daryl fell in love with this Leah.  Because, shipping biases aside?  I really don’t feel like he did.  

Daryl found solace with Leah.  

Companionship.  

Remember another time when Daryl was lost?  When he felt he had failed another member of his family? Lost what he thought was the last of his family?  How alone he was at a crossroads when Joe’s group of Claimers came along?  

I’m not equating Leah with the Claimers in any other way except saying Daryl was in a similar headspace when he met her, okay?  Before anybody goes off on me.  I’m just saying that Leah?  She represented what Daryl felt was his one chance NOT TO BE ALONE.  

Daryl’s emotionally stunted, ya’ll. He’s made great strides, but trauma always seems to regress him.  Thankfully, it seems to regress him less and less as he really and truly matures, but it still has a habit of reverting him back to the Daryl we first met.  The Daryl we can easily see growing up in Merle’s shadow. 

When he threw that damn fish at her door, I literally laughed for ten straight minutes because that was funny as hell.  But honestly?  The more I thought about it, the more it dwelled in my mind?  The sadder it actually made me because here’s a grown man essentially trying to connect with another human being on an adolescent level.  

So much of what we were shown in this episode really just reinforced what I’d already suspected to be true--Daryl Dixon just doesn’t ‘get’ the basics of interpersonal relationships.  At least those that could be perceived as romantic.  For all that Carol mused it was like he had become a man back in Atlanta, during Consumed and their search for Beth?  That man is still very much trying to fumble his way out of the starting gate so far as pursuing a woman in any form or fashion.

This is just my opinion and we all know what they say about those, lol, but Daryl has longed for an even deeper connection with Carol since the Prison.  Maybe even before that. I think at the Farm his eyes were opened to her and he started trying to be a better person to match what he perceived as her goodness.  Before he even knew she wanted one, he was trying to be a man of honor.  Then stuff and thangs happened and shit, like Daryl once told Abe, just never settled.  Carol drifted out of Daryl’s reach because he wasn’t equipped with the emotional tools to really go after what he wanted--her in a deeper, different capacity than he’d ever wanted or asked for before--and shit, ya’ll.  If loneliness is a choice then Daryl Dixon was sick and damn tired of it.  

Do I think there’s even really a choice between Leah and Carol in Daryl’s mind though?  A true choice were he to absolutely, 100% realize and know that Carol’s heart was earmarked for him from the very beginning and that she’s suffering from the same delusions that she’s not good enough or deserving of him?  

Absolutely not.  

Leah knew that even if Daryl never divulged any specifics about Carol.  She knew the answer to her ultimatum before she even made it.  

And that ultimatum, ya’ll. 

Maybe it’s weird, but it put me in mind of when Merle pressed Daryl to make a choice between him and Team Family.  

Merle was blood family but like Carol and others said, he wasn’t good for Daryl.  

Leah might have offered Daryl some solace from his loneliness but ultimately staying isolated with her and not reconnecting with those he identifies as family is just as damaging as Daryl choosing to follow in Merle’s wake again.  Similarly to that situation, Daryl was clearly torn as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  

Between loyalty to family and unspoken love.  

In case there’s any confusion here, the unspoken love I’m talking about is his love for Carol.  He felt something for her back at that Prison.  Fight me.  He knew she’d be hurt by him going back with Merle, but obligation and family loyalty led him to make the decision all the same.  

Still. He knew she’d understand.  And she did, even if his choice hurt her.  

My thought is that this time?  At least initially?  Daryl didn’t completely separate his loyalty to family (searching for Rick) and his unspoken love (for Carol) when he made his decision.  They’re hopelessly entwined because Carol is a little bit of everything to Daryl--friend, family, the woman he loves and has been halfway in love with for so many years.  Initially, he chose the hope that both would come back to him if he just kept searching.  Because searching’s what he does.  From Sophia to Connie, he’s always searched in the hope of bringing the lost back to those that love them.  He’s always searched because nobody searched for him.  

Daryl is the ultimate lost boy who grew to be a man and still feels like he hasn’t been found.  

But how can he be found if the one person he wants to find him keeps running away?  

Daryl didn’t choose Leah.  

Not from his heart.  

Daryl turned back to Leah because he felt Carol slipping away to where he couldn’t follow her.  

If it can even be argued that Daryl chose Leah, it was by default.  Of course, he feels guilty.  Daryl wouldn’t be Daryl without guilt.  He wouldn’t be Carol’s man of honor.  

And he is Carol’s man.  

She may not be in the place to see it--YET--but she’s getting there.  She’s fighting hard against her natural inclination to run.  She’s trying.  She knows what she wants, even if she doesn’t believe she has the hope of getting it.  

Daryl knows what he wants, too.  He knows, once and for all, where he belongs.  He’s stopped searching.  He knows she’s right there.  There’s no more circles.  There’s just a final destination if he can convince the love of his fucking life to stop running from what they both want.  

He may have left that note for Leah, but you can’t convince this viewer that he didn’t write those words for Carol.  

And that’s all I got to say about that.  

For now anyway.  

Omigosh, lovelies.  

So sorry for the emotional word vomit but thank you so much for indulging me even if I did lose my original point somewhere up there, lol.    

[prince-of-elsinore]

On Gunslingers, the "March of Progress," and Leaving a Legacy

An analysis of themes in Supernatural Season 12

In a previous post rambling about season 12, I stumbled onto the idea of American Hunters vs. the British Men of Letters as a classic Western set-up: the lone gunslinger who lives by his wits, skill, grit, and personal moral code, vs. the advance of "civilization" colonizing and "taming" the West, effectively pushing out the gunslinger and making him obsolete. The land becomes a more inhabitable place (for white settlers), but with the comforts and safety of civil society come society's norms and mores, which leave no space for the shades of gray in which the vigilante gunslinger operates. If we take the BMOL mission at face value, they are attempting the same sort of colonization of "wild" (monster-infested) America. Britain is "civilized" (monster-free) thanks to the BMOL, whereas in the US, lone operator hunters (gunslingers) rove the country, sometimes saving people, but not all the people, and always operating according to their personal judgment, faulty as it may be (see Gordon, Roy and Walt, Martin, to name a few). Leaving aside the question of whether the BMOL's goal of ridding the country of monsters is realistic (the US in not an island like Britain), their aim, if achieved, would undoubtedly make the US a safer country for its human residents.

(I'm aware that this analogy is problematic for equating monsters with native inhabitants who must be wiped out or assimilated, and humans with white colonizers. This is an implication that the show itself makes. This post isn't about the problematic and ethically inconsistent portrayal of monsters in Supernatural, though, which is a huge topic in and of itself, so I acknowledge that it is an issue, but one I don't aim to address here.)

What the US would lose if the BMOL succeeded is the "rugged individualism" of the hunter ethos, and the nuances that their personal codes allow--a second chance for the psychic Magdas and werewolf Claire Novaks of the world. The show, of course, wants us to side with the hunters, the good ol' fashioned gunslingers. It makes it easy (too easy) for us to do by presenting the BMOL as caricaturish villains with a cruelly rigid code. This has the effect of aligning the audience against the "march of progress" (just as many Westerns implicitly do--therein lies the genre's subversive potential).

Let's take a closer look at 12x14 "The Raid" in this light. The Alpha vampire has been drawn out of retirement by the BMOL's meddling:

Alpha: I'm old. I like living quietly. You've been making my life awfully noisy lately. You've killed so many of my children. I've seen your work. In England, I didn't get involved because, well, it's England. But America, yes. America is my home. And it's time that you get off my lawn.

Clearly, America holds a privileged position in monsters' minds, or at least in this particular very, very old monster's mind. It is still the "Wild West," and it is "home" for monsters. No reason is given for this; it's safe to say it's a purely ideological impulse on the part of the show.

This exchange between Sam and the Alpha follows:

Sam: My family and I, we kill vamps when they get out of line. And you've let us. Alpha: I have many children, Sam. What's one, two, here or there? Sam: Exactly. So? Let my mom and me go. We'll walk away, go back to the way things were, to the way things are supposed to be. Hunters and vampires, cops and robbers, a fair fight.

"Cowboys and Indians" could just as easily fill in for "cops and robbers" there--in fact, the obvious absence of that analogy is a ringing silence. The show is skirting dangerously close around the edges of its uncomfortable premise.

What I want to draw attention to, though, is Sam's assertion that this is a "fair fight." What he's proposing is a return to the status quo, where some people, by default, will die. Of course, Sam is bluffing--he does plan to kill the Alpha here and now, hardly "fighting fair" (hm, just as European settlers made so many underhanded deals with Native Americans)--and at the end of the episode he does team up with the BMOL. By the end of the season, though, with the hunters uniting to drive out the British invaders, this is precisely the status quo the Americans are fighting for: one where many people who don't deserve will die at the hands of monsters, but perhaps a few others will live whom the BMOL would have killed. The protracted struggle between humans and monsters is thereby positioned as a sort of natural symbiosis, part of the circle of life. This allows for the perpetuation of the mythic "Wild West," which is necessary for the very existence of the show, and especially for the hunters to be seen as the "good guys." The show convinces us to reject "civilization" and embrace vigilantism as better than the alternative. It's impossible to pinpoint this ideology as exclusively conservative or progressive; it has implications in either direction. The world of hunters and monsters was never a perfect metaphor, after all, but one thing is clear in season 12: hunters are the heroes.

This brings me to another central theme of the season: legacy. After season 11, it seems that the show wanted to "correct course." Season 11 is entirely about Sam and Dean cleaning up a mess (the Darkness) they directly caused, after all, and after that narrowly-averted apocalypse, it's fair to ask the question, "do Sam and Dean really do more good than harm"? Season 12 gives us a resounding "yes," over and over again. The message is that hunting, for all its hardships and messiness, is worth it.

In 12x06 "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox" (which I've written about previously) we get a taste of the sort of legacy Sam and Dean are making for themselves. It might come as a surprise, after seeing hunters hunt down Sam and Dean in previous seasons (Gordon and Kubrick in season 2, Roy and Walt in season 5), that other hunters now welcome Sam and Dean in their midsts and even revere them. One might rightfully ask, what would they do if they knew Sam and Dean and their codependency nearly caused another apocalypse not too long ago? Inconsistencies aside, it's apparent that Sam and Dean are appreciated as something like heroes in their own world. In the episode, they share this exchange:

Sam: Did you know people tell stories about us? Dean: Yeah. Apparently we’re a little bit legendary. Sam: Yeah, but, I mean, so was Asa. Then a hunt went bad, and he ended up hanging from a tree, alone in the woods.

Sam still wonders, characteristically, if the heroism is worth it. But in 12x09 "First Blood," he's the one with this iconic line:

SAM: We’re the guys that save the world.

This is a statement of identity, in response to the question "who are you?" Sam might as well say, "we're the heroes."

In 12x11 "Regarding Dean," Dean has his moment to affirm that their line of work is worth its toll. Talking about the curse that made Dean lose his memory, Sam makes this comment:

Sam: Some of the things we've done, we've had this weight for... forever. And seeing it gone, uh, you looked happy. Dean: Huh. Well, look, was it nice to drop our baggage? Yeah, maybe. Hell, probably. But it wasn't just the crap that got lost. I mean, it was everything. It was us, it was what we do, you know? All of it. So... that's what being happy looks like? I think I'll pass.

Again, Dean is making a statement of identity. The Winchesters are what they do, and what they do is the right thing, and that is worth giving up happiness for.

One common complaint about season 12 is that it heroizes Sam and Dean too much. They were never meant to be the Big Damn Heroes, the "guys who save the world," as if it's a day job--they're meant to be the underdogs, the messy humans doing their best, sometimes failing, but rising to the occasion when it counts most, despite the terrible costs. Perhaps this is true, and perhaps this season does go overboard in trying to smooth over the messy cracks in the heroic facade. The show could have done better than to make the heroes and villains so black and white, certainly. Perhaps the show does lose some of its identity in erasing the moral ambiguities that always made it so intriguing.

There are moments, however, that are still thematically resonant with the show as a whole--more understated moments that remember the bigger picture. One such moment is when legacy is explicitly addressed in 12x18 "The Memory Remains":

Dean: What do you think our legacy's gonna be? When we're gone, I mean, after all the stuff we've done, you think folks will remember us? You know, like, a hundred years from now? Sam: No. Dean: Oh, that's nice. Sam: Well, I mean... Guys like us, we're not exactly the type of people they write about in history books, you know? Dean: Mm. Sam: But the people we saved, they're our legacy. And they'll remember us and then I guess... We'll eventually fade away, too. That's fine, because we left the world better than we found it, you know.

This exchange presents Sam and Dean's heroism on a human scale. They're not the guys that save the whole world--even if they did do that, a few times. They're the guys that save individual human lives, time and again. That's who they are, and it's what matters most. Sam's right: in the world of Supernatural, few people 100 years on will know the names of Sam and Dean Winchester. Perhaps a few hunter stories will still be passed around, and maybe a new resident of the bunker will piece together some old information. But everyone that the Winchesters saved will remember them for the rest of their lives, and those very lives they get to live are the Winchesters' legacy. Once those people pass away, Sam and Dean will fade from memory, but for them, it was never about being remembered; it was always about doing good--a common aim to which they are equally committed, at this point. Sam and Dean's greatest redemption has never been in saving the world (often from problems they themselves caused), but in saving people, and this holds true to the very end of the show.

[whateverisbeautiful]

Reveling in Richonne

#106: The Bond (8x09)

Michonne is pretty much the definition of “every woman” in that she is so many wonderful things in one. She has the ability to be a courageous warrior, compassionate friend, loyal wife, and wise leader. It’s all in her, y’all. 😊

And what I love is that throughout her relationship with Carl and Judith we got to see another layer to Michonne; the protective mom. 

And this episode is no exception, cuz Michonne is with Carl after the explosion goes off and then she turns around and tries to take some matters into her own hands. 

She gets up and briskly walks over to Dwight and demands for him to “Make it stop.” And then she throws him against the wall. Sis ain’t come to play with nobody. 👏🏽💯

It’s impressive to see Michonne take action despite everything, because she knows the last thing Carl needs right now is to be dealing with their community being blown up. 

It’s also sort of great to see Michonne get to have this assertive moment because, while Dwight has done his part to show he’s changed by now, he is still the one who captured her, Rosita, Daryl and Glenn in 6x15, so she deserves to throw him around a bit lol. 

She repeats for Dwight to “Make them stop” and then Dwight looks at her with what does seem like genuine remorse and says, “I can’t.” 

Michonne, with more desperation but also determination in her voice, says, “You can. You’re one of them. They’ll listen to you.” And then in more of a plea she says “Please” twice. 

And the second “please” really gets me because that’s when you really hear how vulnerable she is. 😥

We’ve seen the pain and emotional state she’s in since Carl’s bite reveal but this moment with Dwight is when it really hits home just how much she’s hurting and scared to have to lose yet another son.

So then Rosita steps in knowing that Michonne shouldn’t have to deal with this rn, which imo is the most likable thing Rosita’s done on the show.

She says they should go to Hilltop and then this becomes a whole conversation with Daryl, Tara, Rosita, and Dwight. And Michonne is still in the huddle but you can tell she’s not truly in the huddle, as it’s clear the only thing she truly can focus on right now is Carl.

They end up deciding to wait and then Michonne walks back over to Carl, where she’s meant to be.

And now we get into the heartfelt exchanges of the episode. 😭  Like from here on out this episode puts the foot on the gas in terms of emotional interactions. 

Michonne is back with Carl and lovingly tending to him as he looks up at her. Again, I’m glad Carl has Michonne as this woman who can be that maternal comfort. 

He tells her “You left. You were supposed to be resting.” and then Michonne sweetly says “I’m not tired.”

I adore this. ☺️ It’s sweet seeing Carl concerned about her and I think it’s also precious that she wants to be reassuring to Carl that she’s okay despite the fact that she probably is extremely exhausted, especially considering she just recently had to fight off that grown man Savior who grabbed her earlier.

So then Carl smiles and says, “Yeah, you look great” and it’s cute that he wants to be lighthearted with her, knowing how much she’s hurting. 

This whole situation is so heavy so I appreciate that their exchange serves as a reminder of the more playful side of their bond. Cuz we’ve seen throughout the years how Carl and Michonne were always so good at making each other smile, and I’m glad we get to see that in their final episode together.

Carl then takes this opportunity to communicate to Michonne his outlook on this whole war and their current circumstances by saying,  “It’s gotta stop, Michonne. It’s not supposed to be like this. I know it can be better.”

(Y’all I’m trying to tell TWD these exact words lol.)

It’s sweet that Carl really wants both Rick and Michonne to understand his hope for peace, cuz he wants both Rick and Michonne to be at peace once he’s gone.

And then the next part is another one of my favorite moments of the episode. Because Michonne hears Carl out and then we see Rick look over to her and then place his hand on her arm to offer comfort and y’all I am so here for this.😊

Up until this point R&M’s focus has been on Carl so I love that we get a brief moment of seeing Rick connecting with Michonne and wanting to be there for her too. She always has his attention.

And it’s just a sweet visual to see the three of them together in this moment because they are 100% family. Like it’s crystal clear that she is in their immediate family and that not only is she meant to be here with them but you can also sense how grateful Rick and Carl are to have her here with them as well. 

It takes me back to season 4 when the three of them really officially became family and now here we’re seeing how they’ve only gotten closer since.

So then Daryl and some guys head up to check out the aftermath of the Saviors attack and Daryl hands Judith to Rick while trying to offer Daryl’s form of comfort in patting Rick’s shoulder. 

It’s sweet seeing Rick take Judith, as sad as it is knowing that she’ll be his only living kid by the end of the episode. 😭

There’s then another clip of red-eyed Rick and then another dream sequence, this time including Eugene, which at the time I was like...

And then it again cuts to Rick and Michonne shoveling which hurts even more having now seen some of how Carl spent his final moments with them.

So next, Rick is sitting with Judith and Carl in the tunnel and then Michonne returns over to them after getting the update of what the group’s next move will be. 

I really appreciate that Michonne is able to be Rick’s partner in this and can be the one to get info and relay it to him so that he doesn’t have to leave Carl’s side.

Rick sees her and stands up and I just realized that Michonne is the only person that Rick was really able to talk to apart from Carl and briefly Siddiq in this episode. And it makes sense cuz for him, the only people he has on his mind right now are his kids and his wife.

So Michonne lets him know the Saviors are gone and they can get everyone to Hilltop. 

She says, “We can get Carl there.” And Rick responds saying, “Carl? No.”  Michonne suggests that Daryl can get one of the cars and then the line that punches my heart every time is Rick then saying, “Carl won’t make it.” 😥😥😥

It’s painful to see this dad have to come to terms with the fact that his son doesn’t have much time left and how it’s hard for him to even utter that sentence. 😭

Rick says, “He can’t leave here, I have to stay with him.” We hear Michonne say Rick’s name and then Rick says “He can’t. I have to stay” As tragic as it is, he’s right. 

But what I love is that as high as emotions are for the both of them, there’s still something so loving and patient in the way R&M speak to each other.

So Michonne looks at this man she loves and she understands where he’s coming from as a parent, so she reassuringly says, “We’ll both stay.” Which I love of course, because Sis is staying by his and Carl’s side no matter what.

There’s a quiet moment between them and then Rick says, “Would you take Judith? She needs to be there. If she…” and then we see Rick more fully break down. 

You can tell the idea of losing both kids is just too much for him to even think about. So he’s finally allowing himself to cry and I like that he knows he can be this vulnerable and emotional with Michonne. It’s yet another testament to the depth of their relationship.

Now y’all, at first I was like “Rick, you have to know there is no way on this earth that Michonne could just leave without you or without Car”l. But then I realized the reason he asked is because Michonne is who he trusts most, with everything in life but especially with something as important as Judith. 

So he asks because at his most vulnerable he wants Judith in the best hands, and also he wants both his girls to go and make it somewhere safe.

Daryl luckily steps in and says he’ll take her and he’s got this which is nice to see Daryl taking this initiative as a close friend of the two, and allowing Rick and Michonne to stay together. Cuz fr, if Rick and Michonne do nothing else, they need to stick together, especially at this time. 

I’m glad that in this moment the two people closest to Rick, apart from his kids, make it so clear to him that they are going to do everything they can to be there for him. 

Michonne and Daryl didn’t know Rick before the apocalypse, but it’s great to see how they’ve spent enough time with him and built a strong enough bond with him that they could be by his side and supporting him during the literal worse moment of his life, as he loses his only son. 

(Side note: I still think at some point in 8B Daryl needed to more fully acknowledge his contribution to the plan going wrong tho, but that’s another conversation lol)

So then realizing this is it, and Judith will be heading out soon Carl says “Let me say goodbye” and y’all when I heard that I was legit like...

Before it even happened I knew this next moment with Carl saying goodbye to Judith was going to be super emotional. And it absolutely was. 😭 So this next post might just be 50% break down and then 50% breakdown lol. But the moment is so beyond heartwarming too so we gotta go there. 

As far as the moments in this post go tho, I’m glad that these exchanges illustrated the bonds built between characters.

And I especially appreciate that the layers of playfulness and protectiveness between Carl and Michonne were on display, cuz those two have always had one of the most genuine bonds in TV.👌🏽

[circlecast]

I Have A Confession

The Question of the Week - Brought to you by The Brotherhood of Men

Read Bryan Goodwin's answer to Do you feel that you are appreciated as a father? on Quora

Question by Roderick Wrenn

The topic of the week

Hey men, This week is sort of a confessional that I want to get started and out in the open. Now I could start with an excuse and say that the problems I had this year were all because of 2020. Yet we both know that is an excuse and crap. Everything I talk about this week is my fault and I take full responsibility for the shortcoming I have had.

I have failed this year in many ways. I have failed you. I failed friends and Family, and I have failed myself. How? Well, I will be jumping into that.

For us to be relaxed men we have to have integrity, and for this year, I left integrity in the dirt. I seemed to have dropped it time and time again. Thinking that I was going to do better only to throw it harder into the dirt.

There are 4 pillars to being a relaxed male, and if I am going to have you follow this path I need to be on this path too, and I have not been on it at all. There were a few times that I danced around like I was on it but if I'm being honest I wasn't. Those pillars are the Man's Mind Man's Body, Man's Soul, and the Man's Community. Want to know which ones I failed in? All of them.

The Man's Body

How much exercise and upkeep have I done this year? None. I walked 3 miles one day while I was on vacation. That wasn't walking around a town that was an intentional walk. I had a hole where I was going to walk at least 15 minutes each day and I didn't do that. I started out well. but about 3 weeks into the year I was forced to sleep on a highway exit and I didn't feel safe walking on the side of the road. Yet because I stopped that I completely stopped. Didn't try to go walking again.

I did lose about 25 pounds but that was because I got back into another habit that I kicked about 8 years ago. that habit was smoking. I smoked from pretty much the start of the year till Dec 8 at 11:15 am. I ran out of cigarettes and decided today was as good as any to quit and so I did.

Starting back up was me thinking I was going to be able to control it. Yet also knowing that it is uncontrollable. It took no time at all for me to fall back into the habit of lighting up after meals. driving, sex, all those times that smoking is very satisfactory. The drawbacks also showed back up very fast. The sore lungs. The smoker's cough and phlegm you cough up in the morning. The shame I felt of letting myself down, and worse realizing that I was not living up to the standards I need to be.

I did learn why smoking is so nice and I have set my jaw to never have one of those items again. I see why other addicts can fall back into their own ways so easily because we lie to ourselves. We say we can handle it this time and that is not true.

So I haven't been working on my Body infact I have been abusing that body this year. That is going to stop.

How am I going to stop that?

Well, I am going to start doing exercises one I can do in the truck or on the trailer bed. I am knocking smoking out of my lungs. I am stopping the do as I say not as I do actions that have never brought anybody any integrity and start taking steps to get healthy. Eating right and tackling overeating. I have to do that or I will balloon back up to 275-280. I am going to start loving myself for who I am. I am going to start honoring my body instead of cursing it.

These are some of what I will be working on in relation to my body.

Man's Mind

Now I have probably listened to more books than I have ever listened to books in the past. The problem I have noticed is that I don't read. The addiction to electronics in my life is as much out of control as ever. I haven't addressed this till now. I have to get back into reading physical books. There are some key points that I need to understand by reading physical hard copies of books.

I have also fallen out of a couple of my mastermind groups. I was making great headway but my motivation has slipped. So I will be looking fr a couple of new Mastermind groups that are for me and some other people who are wanting to get their business off the ground. I need help and people to push me. I lack the needed accountability to fully get up to the speed I need. I realize that this also requires self-discipline and that is something I am going to be fighting through. I will become better at self-disciplined this year.

Man's Soul

When it comes to my soul it is this calling I have. I have questioned whether coaching is my calling or just a dream. Yet I find myself time again called to help people who see things in a scarcity mindset or in the pits of victimhood. Now I have yet to really get people to make changes that will help them and that is because they are people that I know and I haven't really given them any reason to believe in the power of change because again I have no integrity. SO I have to learn that I have to step back and let them suffer and decide when to come to me. How do I get them to come to me? I have to make the needed changes in myself to show them and you that change is possible. I believe it but I have yet to display or apply those changes.

Man's Community

This is the hard one. I like staying home and working on the blog and planning videos and such, but the lack of meeting people is what is truly holding me back. I have to get out of my comfort zone and start putting myself out there. How? Well, that is the rub ain't it? I believe the best place I can find people who would like to accept me and maybe be able to help them in return is for me to join a church. The church is the only gathering I can think of that goes on during the weekend.

I have many different arguments in my head about getting out and meeting people and I understand what those arguments are. It is fear and comfort. I have to fight against those thoughts that are keeping me small. Follow the fear and use it as a compass. So I believe the church is the best place to start. From there maybe I can Find out exactly what men are looking for when it comes to helping their sons.

What am I going to do?

This is where I am making some major changes. Those changes are I am stepping away from the normal goal setting that I used to use. I am seeing that I need systems in place to help me make those goals. I will use goals but I will not just make goals and trying for them. I am making goals and then set up systems so that I am getting closer each time.

Much like my 100 visitors a day goal. This year I have gotten even closer to my goals than I have ever before. I am averaging 30-40 visitors a day. My system is to put out 3 pieces of content each week. I then make sure those pieces of content are shared on as many different social media sites as possible.

As you can see my appearance in search engines is getting better.

So I will share what my systems are going to be for each goal in the next episode.

Newest podcast episode to change your Mindset

[daniedoodles]

Danie’s Dilemmas Ep. 26: Books Closed

Today of all days, I’ll Always Remember You by Hannah Montana could not be taken more seriously. It’s the last day of senior year. In spite of how much I anticipated to cry on this day, I actually didn’t, possibly because I’ve thought about it so often for the last two months (or maybe it’s because my last diploma isn’t until this Thursday so really, everyone’s last day is slightly different). I have so much to say, but none all at once. This has been said time and time again, but I feel like for most of high school, we had the tendency to take it for granted; we all wanted to drop out or give up at some point because it just felt like there was nothing about our experiences that implied that eventually, it would get better. All those times complaining about homework or cramming for exams... except now that it’s over, we can’t help but focus on the good parts about it that have also come to an end, most of which were moments spent with friends doing dumb shit lmao. 2019 so far has proven to be one of the most bizarre years thus far. I’ve spent time with people that I never thought I would get the chance to, endured the most UNserious exam season, and now, the most UNserious last day of school. Since I was not remotely prepared to face the last day in terms of taking the opportunity to formally thank all of the people that made high school as fun as it has been, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and mention them on this episode :) And yes, I will be mentioning names. We’re NOT in high school anymore so there’s no need to play guessing games. 

Vicky: I never know how to start these things without making it sound cringey or sappy, but bitch we have been THROUGH it. Regardless of how we’ve managed to not get into a single class together throughout the entire three years we’ve spent in high school, we somehow managed to stay hella close which you should know by now, I am incredibly grateful for. I haven’t exactly been as active with the group, but that’s only because I know we have all of summer ahead of us to make up for it. Just know that I’m always going to be here to be the voice of reason, but also your partner in crime. We’ve laughed too loud and cried too hard over the dumbest shit, taken bomb ass photos and eaten too much food. I’m so excited for what other dumb shit we can do together. When you’re out on your own adventures, pls text me so I know you’re not dead. I love you, my favourite rat. OwO

Alex: Whew, sis. We came together on the oddest terms, talking about failed love interests and all that bs, but aren’t you glad that it happened? Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had that deep talk at the ridge, wouldn’t have realized how similar we were in terms of how bad we are with gaining closure lmao. I’ve never felt more comfortable to cry as hard as I have about the death of a fictional character as I have been with you, and that speaks volumes because I hate crying in front of other people. Last summer was by far one of the best summers I have ever experienced and I’m grateful to have spent a majority of it with you. Thanks for saving my ass when I snuck out of the house that one time and for staying up and feeding me after I got back from being out until 3am. Now that school’s out, let’s get on that mf tanning grinddddddd. ily bitch. I swear, I feel like I have I lot more to say for you but right now I’m coming up blank. But I feel like you already know what else there is that I have to say... if not, I’m saving it for your birthday (hurry up and be 18 already goddamn). 

Laureen: Laureen you already know we’re on the same wavelength lmao. Even though I feel like I see you the least of all in the group, it’s comforting to know that it doesn’t lessen the integrity (sorry to give u ptsd from the diploma) of our friendship. Being born on days that are so close together really be hitting us different. I swear, there have been so many times where we’re just thinking about the exact same thing, which is both cool and creepy. LIKE OUR GOD TALKS OMF. Seeing that we’re both the moms of the group, we gotta stick together to take care of our crackhead children. But fr, I trust you with everything. My future children, my own life, my phone, my butler ;) How are you not my emergency contact, honestly? We need to have a car talk and see what comes out of that. There is so much more I have to fill you in on. (also don’t forget about clubbing next Thursday eeooow). 

Joscelynn: Let me tell you, Joscelynn, how big of a blessing it is to have you live so close to me. Out of everything that you’ve done for me, I think the one I’m most grateful for is for the time that you “broke” into my house to check if I unplugged my straightener LMAOO... or that time when you just hugged me while I was breaking down in the washroom at the end of the day where I had a test for all four periods. As much as I don’t know who most of your tea is about, it’s nice to know that you’re comfortable to confide in me and the whole group about all kinds of things, even when we don’t ask for the kind of detail you provide HAHAHAHA. Also, thanks for always coming in clutch with all the board games. Much love, Pennywise. <3

Diane: I know we sort of hit a wall with our friendship at one point, but I’m really happy that we were still able to recover from it and rekindle our friendship. I understand that the circumstance is all different now, and we aren’t as attached to one another as we once were back in junior high, but I think there’s some good in that because we were able to grow at our own pace. Although we have to admit that we did grow a little bit apart as well in the process, I like that we are both still able to reminisce fondly on the moments we’ve shared in the past. You’re one of the brightest minds I know :). I feel like I never told you enough but I always appreciated how easily you could bring a smile to people’s faces. Yeah, keep doing it. If you ever need to vent, I’m only a 4-minute scooter ride away. 

Anna: Holy shit sis, idek where to begin. You’re by far the biggest reason why I was able to haul my ass through to the end of high school. If you didn’t look out for my water intake, or the little errors in my calculations... I don’t even want to imagine it. You’ve done so much for me and have had to endure all of my shit that I can’t encapsulate it all into a single letter. I can’t thank you enough for all the memes that have made me piss myself on countless occasions, no matter how old they were nor how often I would look back on it, for recommending me to the program that will finally release me from the constraints of the status of being a “broke ass bitch”, for staying up with me discussing all kinds of things from the environment and ethics, to fortunes, astrology, love, and TEA. We’ve both seen each other at our most vulnerable and beaten down state (which is literally every English class), and we’ve celebrated each other’s triumphs, but most importantly, laughed at our failures (English, again omg). I can’t help but get emotional whenever I think of how you’re gonna be leaving soon for UBC, but it’s not like that’s going to affect how often we keep in touch anyways lol. We can’t just have the kettle always overflow, you know? Fr tho, I’m big fucking sad about you leaving, but I’m also so proud of how far you’ve come. I really don’t know how tf I’m supposed to be able to cope with suddenly not seeing you everyday. Ugh, ew I’m crying now but as I was saying, thank you for everything. I can’t wait to get those dream recorders out on the market after we’ve gathered all the knowledge on neuro/psych and business so we don’t have to wake up in the middle of the night and write out the dreams in our notes anymore. I’ll miss you a fuck ton ON GOD. 

Cheyenne: Cheyenne!! I’m so glad I met you and Anna when I did :)) we made the best chemistry lab group, we basically made titration our mf bitch. There was always so much comfort in knowing that we were all on the same page about not getting assignments done on time for English lmao. You just hear that sigh of absolute relief. I’m happy to have become close enough with you for you to be able to trust me with all the stuff you’ve spilt, and for reading your cards when you need them read. I can’t wait for all of us to actually do shit together this summer, I don’t even understand how we let the summers prior pass us like that. In all seriousness though, Cheyenne, you’re so kind and genuine, I’m glad we’ve gotten a lot closer this year. After summer, I guess I’ll be seeing you around campus!! 

Yuan: Bitch, hay nako. Where to start? I don’t think I’ve ever been quiet OR in a bad mood after hanging out with you. I’m glad that I was able to count on you to distract me from getting any work done in class and for getting photos of mee sleeping. Grabe, nakakabwiset HAHAHAHA. Actually though, I don’t think we’ve been close-close up until recently but I’m still so happy that we are now kasi ang saya mong kasama. Not a lot of people can convince me to speak Tagalog so already that says something. Basta, I’ll keep this short cause it’s not like we’re not seeing each other over the summer. We’ve got a lot of time to make more memories. Pwede nang uminom (thank God). Thanks for all the laughs, and for keeping up with the bullshit I write on this page lol. 

Joaquin: Hey, “best friend” wassup?? We haven’t been close for long either. In fact, we’ve barely just hit the 2-week mark of our friendship. But I will say that that was the most last minute transition from acquaintance - close friend. Even though we’ve been in at least one class together during each of the three years, we weren’t necessarily on active talking terms... until now. Thus far, every moment I’ve spent with you and Yuan, or just you, have all been for the books. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I had on that one day that we went to Southcentre. Already I can say that you’re one of the greatest people I know: generous, kindhearted, hilarious, and with a great taste in music. I’m excited for whatever it is that ends up happening in the summer, spontaneous or planned, I can’t wait. :D Ps. Thanks for getting me out of the house lol.

Jay: James, bruh. We haven’t been in touch lately, but I feel like you already know what’s coming to you, considering a majority of my indirects to you are basically just going to get reiterated right at this moment. Always know that I genuinely appreciate all of the deep talks we’ve had in the past and that you’re one of the few people I trust to openly express my thoughts to. I hope everything with tennis continues to go well, and that we get to catch up soon ‘cause lowkey it has been TOO long since we’ve last talked-talked.  

Maxine: Max, by the time you’re back on social media, you’re probably never gonna see this because it’s going to be buried so deep into my feed and I know that you’re too lazy to scroll that far down, but I’m gonna write it anyway. We’ve been friends for awhile now, and only now, in our second semester of senior year, did we manage to get into the same class ever since junior high, and it’s safe to say that there has never been a dull moment with you... to the point where I’m pretty sure we made the teacher hate us. I don’t know why you were so set on saying goodbye today when we literally live in the same community and have each other’s numbers, but aight lol. Max, you really be the OG out here. Every time we talk we can’t help but reminisce on how much we sucked ass at opening our own lockers in grade 7 and to this day it still cracks me tf up. Thank you for dealing w my bs after all this time, and for letting me stay at your place before and after school in junior high. ily  

Jerry and Cam: Y’all we go WAYYY back. Even though you guys didn’t attend school at bob, I still wanted to make a point of thanking the both of you for reconnecting. Plus, this is one of the few opportunities I have to acknowledge the support of my audience (LMFAO) so I thought “why not?”. We’ve only hung out once since February (or March? idek), but that’s definitely gotta change now that we’ve got a lot more free time. Y’all know where to find me when you need advice/opinions/someone to talk to when you’re bored/a tour guide to the boring south lmao (or maybe not that.. I lack street smarts). 

That’s it. I’m also probably going to email my teachers because I did not have the time nor the energy to do anything before the last day of school so that’s how they’re going to get it. Is this what it means to be eco-friendly?? Writing emails instead of actual handwritten cards??? I mean.. okay I guess. 

In conclusion, ending the senior year is bittersweet. If there’s anything I’ve learned from going through it all, it’s that you should get all your shit over with in your grade 10 and 11 years, so you’ll be cruisin by senior year. Also, don’t deprive yourself of hanging out with friends. That shit sucks ass and you’ll regret it a lot. 

ps. just because high school is ending, does NOT mean that this is the end of Danie’s Dilemmas. You really think the tea’s gonna stop there??

For now. 

Keep up. 

x

[thefalsedeath-blog]

My MI story

I was a late bloomer so why shouldn’t my mental illness be any different?

I don’t remember exactly when I first became depressed but I believe it started late in high school and got exceedingly worse in college. I had never really been away from home but college was my only ticket out of a small hometown.

What I thought was normal college behavior may have been the beginning of my mania. I was usually a rambunctious and outspoken person but struggled to find a place to “fit in” while in college. I literally picked my major blindly and although I liked my classes just fine, I was never really comfortable with it. I was an outsider and wasn’t raised to be in the Ag industry like all my classmates. I had no idea what I wanted to do then and I’m still that way at 38 years old. The binge drinking….random hook-ups…nothing was fulfilling. I remember coming home on breaks, sneaking a cigarette from Mom and sitting on the back porch while rocking back and forth while telling myself I’m useless and life was worthless. I was 20 years old when this started.

I didn’t date much and never had a boyfriend in college until I met someone long distance at the end of my junior year. It was long distance. We spoke a lot, chatted online, and saw each other every few months. It was going ok until my last semester. I was looking for jobs in his area because there was nothing for him where I was. Nothing panned out job wise so I took the only job I was offered…at a game company. I was getting ready to graduate in December 1999 but that October before, my boyfriend disappeared from my life. One day we were chatting and the next, he was gone. No calls, emails, nothing. His parents always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to the phone and he wouldn’t respond to anything. It crushed me and ruined my graduation. I thought perhaps he would still come and surprise me…but nothing.

I started my job right after New Years and hated it. I cried every morning for 6 months because I was so unhappy going there but I had student loan responsibilities that my mother wouldn’t let me forget. They didn’t know what to do with me so I was basically a jack of all trades. It wasn’t until August of that year (2000) that I heard from the boyfriend. He couldn’t explain why he went silent but after some long phone calls, I gave him another chance. It didn’t last 4 months before I ended it. We had been friends ever since then. Kept in touch and always loved each other but realized it just wasn’t meant to be.

That should have been a sign of things to come-a pattern that would consistently repeat itself. I fall in love and give all of myself and then they disappear/give up.

After 2 years, I decided to move to Chicago for someone else I was dating long distance. I left my job and moved in with him. I started temping and that led to a permanent position. However, the better I did, the worse “we” did. He could only work retail and I became the mother in the relationship. Paying for everything while he spent his money on being the “life of the party” and on whatever he felt like. Then I became pregnant in 2003. It was an easy decision to abort and have no regrets to this day but I believe that it made my depression worsen and I began medicating at this time.

We broke up after I returned from a business trip and he made it clear that we were no longer intimate because I had gained weight. Not only was he short with terrible acne but his teeth were a mess! He was also an illegal immigrant. Months later after I moved out, I received a call from the police telling me that he has been hit by a car and was at the emergency room. I left work to go see him as I was listed as his ER contact. I was there for his surgery, I took him home and got up every 4 hours to give him meds, clean him, feed him etc until he was able to go back home. Later, I was accused of trying to interfere in his relationships and we stopped contact. Although I resent him for making me feel awful about myself, he also opened my eyes to a lot of new things-for that I am grateful.

It was throughout this time that I began to put on a mask and absorb myself into how others were. Their interests were mine…I was pliable. If I didn’t agree with them, I WAS wrong and made to feel stupid because of it. I was a naïve conservative girl living in a very open minded city. You can imagine how that feels…still being the outsider.

Between 2004 and 2006 I continued to run up credit card debt, started to sleep around, and generally begin my downward slide. I was trying different anti-depressants and even tried to see a shrink but nothing was helping me. I contracted HPV and went through several procedures to remove cancerous cells from my cervix due to my promiscuity.

I met someone online in late 2005 and he immediately pushed us into a relationship and I moved in within 5 months. After 1.5 years of always being wrong and stupid, he began sleeping with someone else but was accusing me of it. I became crazy with jealousy and snooped all over to find the proof that HE was cheating and when I found it, he denied it and made me believe I was crazy and making it all up.

I took a leave of absence from my job for 5 weeks to come home and get therapy. I wasn’t eating, sleeping, crying all the time and was like that for months. This was my first breakdown. I still hate him to this day and wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire.

Once I moved back to the Chicago area, I again began dating/sleeping around as a means to feel worthy/wanted. I was also still fighting the lingering effects of my HPV and the shame I felt.

In 2009, I met a wonderful guy that had his shit together and I moved in with him 6 months later. My family liked him and he was a balance to my high-strung, worrisome ways. However, I again became the Mom and took care of the house and all the cleaning. He would come home, pop open a beer, and drink till he passed out. He never missed a day of work though….he was a functional alcoholic. He wasn’t mean, abusive, or evil in any way. He was just there. While with him, my work life began to crumble and I was becoming more and more anxious. I would have depressive episodes more frequently where I just couldn’t get out of bed. (these episodes started in 2003). There would be days that I just laid in bed crying and he had no idea how to help. He suggested that I leave my job as the stress was getting to me and I was coming home crying and almost violent with rage. I left my job in May 2010 and took the summer off (I had saved up). I got a job in late October and was let go in Jan. 2011. It was then that I began to look out of state for a job and that’s when I landed in Ohio. He was supposed to sell the house and come with me after a 6 month trial but that never happened. It was a good thing because I had fallen out of love with him before I even left Chicago. He treated me like a queen and I have no ill words for him…we just weren’t compatible in the long run. We became good friends instead of lovers.

Shortly after my breakup, I went online again to meet new people as my new job was nothing but new college grads or established soccer Mom/Dads that had never left the Dayton area. Once again, I’m a transplant that doesn’t fit in. I also quickly discover that my job is a dead-end and a VERY poorly run department with nothing but drama. One year and 5 months into the new job, I meet Jamie*. He wasn’t tied to Dayton and neither was I. I was actually looking for a job in England by this time. He was a frequent mover and was passing through his home state. We didn’t expect to meet each other and find what we wanted. It just sort of happened.

Jamie was very open about being ex Air Force with head injuries, epilepsy, and Bipolar. I didn’t shun…I began to ask questions and do research on it. I wanted to know all I could so that I could be supportive and understanding. We had similar taste in music, politics, TV shows. He was so interesting to me with his travels and stories. He (just like my 1st ex in Chicago) was a completely different world and I was starving to hear all I could. I began watching more of his TV interests, reading more about what he would talk about etc…again; I was diving into HIS life. Things were rocky because our communication was rough to begin with. Lots of misunderstandings and I was still looking for another job. However, it only took me 3 months to fall completely in love with him. In August of 2013, I had severe withdrawal from 2 missed doses of my antidepressant. I was crying uncontrollably, shaking, hallucinating, suicidal and generally in a bad way. He took care of everything…called the Dr., my work. It was then that I was certain I had found a keeper. I also began therapy at this time because the withdrawal scared me and I had to face up to the fact that something else was wrong. It was at this time that the term bipolar was 1st brought up to me. He claimed Lithium as his savior…my family insisted I wasn’t bipolar, just depressed.

Soon after this episode, I was offered a job in Kansas City but with my recent breakdown, I didn’t feel mentally up to a move and starting a department from scratch. I didn’t have the self esteem then (and still don’t) and he wasn’t interested in moving with me. We had a terrible fight and things ended. He left the country for 6 weeks and I went back to “dating” while he was away.

When he came back, it was Thanksgiving and I had him over to meet my Mom because he had no family around here (none that he was close to). We had a great time and after that, it was like our relationship/communication just flipped. We were getting along and everything was wonderful. Around Christmas time, we began again as a couple.

Anytime he was sick, I was there to help…anytime he wanted, I gave him space. I did all I knew to be supportive of his conditions. I was tracking what meds he could/couldn’t take so that someone had a record. He was a loner and often stated how his friends never cared/took an interest in his life or his condition. It was at this time that I stopped therapy. I didn’t feel I was getting anywhere and she was beginning to push “faith” on me.

Then in July 2014, his ex step daughter was getting married and he asked me to go. She asked me to be her personal attendant. I left a business trip early to go be with him and help her. This was the first “family” member that was really close to him that I was meeting and I thought it was a good sign. He went in a few days earlier and was under a lot of stress to get her situated and caught up on housework (she’s not a home-maker, he is very orderly). His sleeping was off and I could tell that he was getting ready for a seizure any time. On our way back to the airport to leave after the wedding, he was telling a story while we were eating in Panera. I was having a hard time following him because he was confusing some names and he became very agitated and began screaming at me. This was the first time I had become the target. He threatened to leave me in Iowa and called me a fucking bitch. I was hysterical with sadness and called my Mom and she was scared and wanted me to just stay away from him. We didn’t speak until 4 days later because I didn’t know where we stood.

He was my absolute best friend and I felt like I could actually be myself for once. I was able to let go of the guard and not feel judged all the time for saying whatever was on my mind. It could be hateful, racist, and he would just laugh…I didn’t feel threatened.

In August, as we were getting back on track, he announced that he was looking at houses in Florida (he also decided to stop his Lithium). He wanted to be near water and warm weather (his mood was affected by weather). Thing is, he never asked me to go with him, what I thought about the move…nothing. He asked me about the houses he was looking at but not in a way that was planning a future for “us”. It was all about him. At this point, I was having major ups and downs and was dealing with a decision of whether to have a procedure to help some period issues I was having. If I did the surgery, then kids were never going to be in my future. With him having had a vasectomy, I wasn’t bothered because we weren’t going to have kids anyway.

His move was coming up and after telling him I loved him and wanted to go with him, he wouldn’t definitively say Yes or No to my joining him so I was confused and living in limbo. I made him promise not to move before my surgery in October. He ended up leaving a week before and 2 days after my surgery, I was on a business trip to L.A.

I spoke with him briefly during that trip but I was all over the place in meetings and was dealing with some complications from the surgery. When I got back, I got immediately ill for 2 weeks with bronchitis. I completely lost my voice and was off of work. I was depressed beyond anything before. He accused me of giving him the silent treatment and told me goodbye via email. I literally couldn’t speak… I wouldn’t eat, shower, slept all the time (when I could stop coughing). I was missing so much work and didn’t care. Thanksgiving came and went and that’s when I called my Dad and told him I couldn’t cope anymore and needed help. At the beginning of December 2014, he drove up to help me put a plan together. He was also very sick with a head cold and although I was getting my voice back, I was still coughing a lot.

Jamie and I were emailing a bit during this time and he let it slip that he was going back to Europe once again for the holidays. His ex’s family is family to him and he was going back to see them again because they were “begging” him….whatever.

This sent me over the edge and while my Dad was sleeping in my room, I crawled into a ball on my steps, cried hard and decided I had enough. I grabbed all the pills I could find and researched what dosage I could take to make me die. I wrote my wishes on a note, took a mixture of Percocet and a muscle relaxer and went to sleep. It didn’t work and I woke up to my Dad in my kitchen. I slurred that he needed to get me to the hospital or I was going to swallow the rest of the pills.

I felt nauseous and staggered to the sink when I passed out. I awoke to a cop over me asking me if I was trying to hurt myself.  I was hospitalized, then sent to a MI ward for 3 days and immediately started seeing a Nurse Practitioner and Therapist. (I begged for a Psychiatrist).  Jamie called me while I was in the hospital ICU and I admitted to what I did. It seems like it was all about him but everything that has been going in since 1999 was leading up to this.

7 months later, my ex from D.C. has disappeared just like he did in 2000. No explanation or anything…just gone. I confided in him about Jamie and my suicide attempt in December. He promised to be my friend and help me through it. I even scheduled an all day layover to spend with him in February of 2015 but again, he is just gone.

After going to spend 10 days with James in March 2015, I was feeling good about being friends. We were intimate yes but I made it very clear why I was sleeping with him. He had begun dating someone. He doesn’t understand why I can’t bear to hear about him fucking someone new.

Therapy with a “grief counselor” got me nowhere…it wasn’t about my past and patterns, it was all about grieving a break-up to her.

I quit my job in June 2015 because I couldn’t keep it together….my meds worsened my anxiety to the point where I couldn’t sit and concentrate. I ended up in the ER earlier that June because of the reaction to my BP meds. I’d had 1 good week in 10 months and felt worthless, alone, and fake the rest of the time.

 I spent a year living with my Dad, jobless and trying to regroup. It started out with the all day sleeping, not eating, just miserable. Slowly I began to emerge after a change in my meds. Almost a year to the day, I moved back home to be closer to a larger support system.

 It’s now August 2017 and although I am functioning much better, it’s like December 2014 and everything before and everything I told my friend and family wasn’t ever said.

 If I told my family I had XYZ cancer, I’m sure they would research it. Telling them that I am BP II falls on deaf ears. It’s not a disease that is treated by your regular doctor, it’s not something like a cold. It’s EVERYDAY and it’s ALL THE TIME-Chronic! But it’s easy to forget about because if you’re smiling then everything is OK! I continue to be fake and out of place. And although it’s not cancer, it’s just as deadly.

 *Names were changed

[whateverisbeautiful]

Richonne in Retrospect

#10: The Seeing Things (3x12)

So this “see things” moment with Rick and Michonne really helped me to see things more clearly in terms of realizing Richonne was truly meant to be and also a long time coming. It was so sweet and this whole scene is my favorite moment of the episode.😊

But before that, there’s some little Richonne connections that I saw and picked up on as well when I re-watched it.

During Rick and Morgan’s confrontation, Rick tells him, “This can’t be it. You gotta be able to come back from this”. And while he’s saying that to Morgan, it also can apply to him and Michonne, cuz Michonne is a big reason why losing Lori wasn’t it for Rick and he came back from that. And Michonne will also mention how Rick and Carl brought her back at the end of season 4.

I think probably one of the hardest thing to do in a world like that is to come back to who you were before and not let the world change you so much that you’re no longer recognizable, so I just like knowing that these two were able to play such a big part in helping each other remember who they are and not just who they had to become to survive. 

Like you know that’s a powerful connection when you’re able to bring someone back to their true self. Here for it.

We get R&M’s second thank you of the day when she takes that backpack for him. Look at Rick being all appreciative lol. As they head out, Michonne sees Morgan and says, “He’s okay” and Rick’s honest that, “No he’s not.” 

It’s a quick little exchange but I like this cuz it could be easy for Rick to want to be prideful and not want to admit that she was right about Morgan being a bit dangerous or at least not as okay as he hoped but instead he just tells her the truth.

Also I really like the moment of Carl deciding to speak to Morgan to let him know he had to shoot him and sweetly apologizing. It’s very mature and also lets you know Carl has been a G for the longest, y’all. 

And Morgan calling Carl “son” always makes me sad cuz it just really hits home how he lost his own son and that loss is what made him lose his mind. 

It’s also a deep moment to me because Morgan is talking to Carl, the kid he had only heard about from Rick in the very beginning, and Rick was lucky enough to have found his son and still have him. 

And now we gotta talk about one of my favorite retrospect moments with Rick and Carl and Michonne loading up the car.

So first; When Michonne’s briefly away, Rick asks Carl if everything’s okay with her. And, y’all, you know that he is very curious about this. Like he says it causally but Homeboy really wants to know cuz he knows he wants the answer to be “yes”.

And I love that Carl gives him so much more than a “yes”. Instead he says my favorite line of this whole series, cuz I really do adore Carl’s adorable response of, “I think she might be one of us.” 😊😭😊 

First of all; you better speak that gospel truth, little Carl! 

That statement is just pure facts. And even tho he meant she’s one of us in terms of a member of the group as a whole, I really feel like deep down he knew she was a Grimes. 😊😭😊

And second of all; I love this statement because it makes it crystal clear to Rick that it’s okay to consider Michonne at least an official member of the group. Like she just got the son seal of approval.  That’s big. 

But y’all this is how I know Rick’s question about Michonne wasn’t so causal, cuz Rick then proceeds to have an adorably extra response when Carl says she’s one of us. 😂 

Homeboy’s practically lit to receive this confirmation that he was right to think there was something special about her. I’m all the way here for it.

Cuz remember in the beginning of the episode Carl wanted to find reasons to dislike Michonne and Rick kept trying to help Michonne’s case and now Carl’s telling him Michonne checks out, like Rick low key really hoped she would.

So Rick does this whole little extra taken aback thing cuz Michonne stays bringing out the extra-ness in him and then he says “What?” And then Carl smiles and says, “Everything went okay” and it’s clear my little homie Carl is a fan of Michonne now. ☺️ It’s also clear that Carl’s thinking “alright here’s my dad being extra again.” 😋

And Rick’s all smiley cuz this is great news to him. Like you can’t look at this man and say feelings haven’t been caught... 

I love that he’s so visibly happy to hear this. Like this reaction is how Rick really feels about Michonne. Not that “patch you up and you’re gone” stuff. And he probably feels a sense of relief too cuz he’s like at least I might be feeling some type of way about a woman my son really approves of lol. 

This moment is pretty important, cuz Michonne getting the son seal of approval is a big step in the making of Richonne.

Also, this is probably the first time Rick’s seen Carl look sincerely happy since Lori, so you know that means a lot to him. 

And this exchange between Rick and Carl is even better when you know how much Michonne is going to enhance their life and how she’s going to become the matriarch of their family. 

So Carl goes to the car and Rick looks out like he’s seeing something in the distance, and even tho we don’t see what he sees, I think it’s inferred that he’s seeing ghost Lori. 

There really does seem to be a pattern of Rick seeing her when something pertains to Michonne. Now if Ghost Lori keeps showing up to let Rick know Michonne is the one for him, then Ghost Lori gets major points for that lol.

And then we get this moment of Michonne catching him in this state which is significant cuz it’s the show’s way of letting us know Michonne is one of the few who gets insight into all sides of Rick, even the sides he tries to hide or downplay. She sees Rick the person not just Rick Grimes the man, myth, and legend. 😋

And I love that she brings up what she just saw, like as personal as it may be to talk to him about him seeing his dead wife they clearly feel comfortable enough or trust each other enough to at least begin to talk about this deep subject.

She says, “I know you see things. People.” She’s just so understanding and kind and gentle in this scene and the way she tries to connect with him by saying “I used to talk to my dead boyfriend. It happens.” is so precious cuz you can see her trying to show him a more human side of her. 

And like she hasn’t opened up like this before so it’s interesting that she’s willing to do this for Rick even in the beginning of their relationship.

And I love that she says “It happens” in a way that lets him know he’s not alone or crazy. Rick desperately needs someone to see him this deeply and understand him like this and of course it would be his future wife who does this so effortlessly. 🙌🏾

And then y’all, this upcoming part of the scene is what really confirmed to me after their canon episode that there is no way their romantic relationship “came out of nowhere”. 

Like when I first saw this last part of their interaction with fresh eyes I was legit like...

Cuz this was def their first little successful attempt at flirting. 😋 He asks her if she wants to drive which I’m glad he asks and doesn’t just expect her to lol. And him asking this is also his way of saying I trust you. And then I love how she says yeah. Like this friendship is definitely budding.

But then we see that it’s a whole lot more than just a friendship budding when he cutely says, “Good. Cuz I see things.” Y’all fr how cute are they? 😊

They’re definitely having a moment and I really feel like they have to be in the “aware of attraction” phase by now. I love Rick’s response cuz it’s a way to admit that she’s right about him seeing things, while also keeping things light hearted. And that lingering look he gives her, it’s like he also sees things when he sees her. He sees the sun and the moon and the stars, y’all. 😊💯

Also, it’s interesting cuz when Rick was talking to Morgan earlier he was repeatedly telling him how Morgan isn’t seeing things right. And so in that context, Rick also “sees things” because he’s able to see that there are still things to fight for in this world. And I love that Michonne will become one of those things worth fighting for to him. 

And one thing is for sure from this episode; Rick and Michonne both see each other pretty clearly.

And then when Rick walks away, Michonne stays in that moment a little longer with a smile that says “Alright I think these just might be my people.” ☺️

It’s all great and I’m glad they get this sweet moment, especially before the deal over her comes up. Cuz now with an established friendship between them, Rick will feel more inclined to keep her apart of the family.

In 3x11, Hershel told Rick that he needed to get his head clear. And I feel like by embracing Michonne in his life a little more, Rick slowly but surely starts to get his head clear. 

So of course the episode is called “Clear” because of Morgan but also because I think Rick and Michonne both get some clarity after this episode as they move one step closer to the one they’re meant to be with. 

They definitely drive away from this expedition with a new and closer dynamic between the three of them and I took notice of how when they’re driving back they seem to drive past that same spot they got stuck in at the beginning and they don’t get stuck this time. It’s almost to unintentionally symbolize how they’ve overcome a hurdle or block in their relationship which will make for much smoother sailing here on out. (or at least after he nearly gives her up to the Governor lol)

As they drive, they pass by the orange backpack guy who’s met a tragic fate and it’s an interesting statement on the brutality of this world and the dangers of not getting let in. 

And then they drive the car back for Carl to pick up the backpack cuz this is a resourceful family. 👏🏽👏🏽

Honestly this was such a good episode. It gave us the beginning of Richonne and Grimes 2.0 so how could it not be good? 😋

Also, as Rick and Michonne and Carl drive away I love the song at the end. It’s interesting that the song repeats the lyrics “lead me home” cuz soon enough the three people in that car will all become home to one another. 😊👌🏽