#until he reads that letter he believes he's just watched Doc die again

[knickynoo]

Back to the Future Part II (1989)

[spencers-dria]

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

[kining-the-evil]

Best girl

1940!bucky x reader

Summary: Y/n Stark has known Bucky and Steve for a long time, but pushed aside her feelings for Bucky. But she losses her two best friends in only a few days

Readers POV.

"Are we almost done here?" Steve asks as I wrote something down on his sheet. As one of the few people that worked on the super soldier serum, and the only living one around, I had been put in charge of making sure Steve was always healthy.

"You know, some patients would do you good." I mumbled as I took everything off of him. "Ever since you went into the field I have to work over time to make sure you aren't dead."

"Please we've been doing that for years!" I heard a voice say. I turned to see Bucky stroll into the lab, a huge smile on his face. "I can hardly believe this is the same kid we had to save every other day"

"I can, he's still a stubborn headed asshole."

"Watch your language y/n!" My brother called from the other side of the lab. I glared at Howard rolling my eyes.

"I'll watch my language when you watch your drinking."

"I do watch it, I watch it go right into my mouth." He joked walking up to us, Steve's shield in hand. "Got it fixed up for you, but do me a favor, stop damaging it."

"Sorry." Steve mumbled scratching his neck clearly embarrassed.

"Howard can give you directions when he almost single handily takes down all of hydra." I huffed.

"Excuse me?" Bucky said drawing our attention.

"I said almost!" I defended putting my hands up. Bucky's own hands were quickly at my sides, tickling up and down. "No! Wait fuck!" I screamed trying to twist out of his grip, both of us oblivious to the knowing looks between Steve and Howard.

"Excuse me, the group is ready to leave. We need the captain and Sargent." Peggy called sticking her head in the room making Bucky finally stop.

"Asshole." I mumbled making him smile.

"You know you love me." He winked as he walked towards the door.

"Don't die Sargent." I called out to him as he turned to walk backwards.

"Don't worry doc, if I did I would send you a letter first."

"I'm holding you to that." I said as he and Steve disappeared down the hall. I turned back to my work to start putting it away, but I caught Howard staring at me. "What?"

"So when are you two gonna stop dancing around those feelings?"

"What? Are you talking about me and Buck?" I asked surprised making him roll his eyes.

"Obviously y/n. You give each other the puppy dog eyes more then Carter and Rogers. You really should say something, you never know when you'll see him again."

"Please, Bucky is one of my oldest friends. Me, him, and Steve, the dream team at school. Plus, I know I'll see him again, he didn't write a note.

——————————

“Y/n?” I heard a voice call out. I looked up to see Steve wall towards me. I could tell I looked a mess, my eyes had to be blood shot from crying, and I had a half empty bottle of whiskey next to me that I had been nursing for a couple hours. I felt Steve slid down the wall next to me, and I offered him the bottle.

“Already tried that.” He mumbled, but took it anyway and set it to the side. We just sat in the dark room not saying anything.

“I should have said something sooner.” I whispered. “Should have told him, now I’ll never have the chance.” I felt a fresh set of tears in my eyes, and I pulled my legs up to my chest resting my head on them. “I loved him...” that was the first time I’d admit it out loud.

“I know.” Steve said his arm wrapping around me. It had been nearly 2 years since Steve got the serum, but I would never be used to his large form. “I don’t know if it’s a good time, but I was looking through Bucks things and found this.” He said pushing something on my lap. It was an envelop with my name written on it.

“I’ll give you some space.” He said squeezing my shoulder lightly before standing up. I waited until he was gone until I opened the letter. I pulled it out and when I unfolded it a picture fell out onto my lap. It was one of me, him and Steve years ago when we were in high school, one of the few we had taken. The date was written on the back and I believe Steve’s mom had taken it.

I turned my attention to the letter and it said:

Y/n,

If you get this it ether means something happened to me. I’m not dumb,

I know what happens in war, and know something may happen. I promised

That I would send you a letter if something happened, and I don’t break

Promises. I want to ya you that I’ve loved you a long time. The moment I

Saw you at school I knew you were the most beautiful girl I would ever

See. Getting to know how smart, brave, kind, and funny you are only

Made me fall harder. I hope when you read this I will have already told

You in person how I feel, but you never know. I will always have wished

I could have taken you dancing, but I hope you find another man who

Won’t make you wait. You’ve always been, and always will be my Best girl.

James Barnes.

I felt more tears fall as I read the letter. He felt the same, and I had lost my chance.

————————————

“Steve, give us a moment. Howard is on his way and we will find somewhere for you to land.” I said over the com.

“Y/n, there’s no time, I’m gonna smash into New York if I don’t take it down right now.”

“Steve you’ll die.” Peggy said from besides me.

“I know, y/n, can I have a moment with Peggy?” He asked. Peggy looked over at me, clearly unsure of how I would react.

“Ya. But listen punk, if you die I’m gonna beat your ass.” I whispered, a tear running down my face. I could here him chuckle from the other side.

“Yes ma’am”

I pulled the com off and turned to walk away, not wanting to hear when it happened. I walked away, not even wanting to be in the room, and Howard practically ran into me.

“Y/n, what do I-“ but I just shook my head. He looked over to see Peggy clearly crying, and looked back at me who was trying my headrest not to breach down. “Oh.” He whispered reaching out and pulling me into his arms. Being held by my older brother was the tip I needed that caused me to break down. Howard just badly held me up as I cried. In the corse of a few days, I lost my closed friends.

[yourfinalbow]

Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts  focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)

[lovelyfinch]

my summary of ranboo’s story of his character from his stream

copied from my 5 page google doc i wrote instead of doing homework

this starts at the beginning and goes until 1hr 28 minutes into the stream

(i think i got basically everything he said)

joined the server, killed by dream, received a small tour from niki

the next day, he got a tour from tubbo, president of lmanburg. they talked about how ranboo was also running for president

shaped his first thoughts on lmanburg. that it was a good place.

finding michael with tubbo!

meets tommy! tommy tells him about george and ranboo agrees to burn down georges house (in order to not make enemies since he thought they had more than him)

niki and puffy were on a date and they tried to sneakily get past (asking niki for her armor, not suspicious at all)

tommy and ranboo grief georges house, accidentally burning it down. they ran from it, thinking they got away.

puffy asks if ranboo did it. ranboo couldn’t remember and doesn’t know why.

dream started building the walls on lmanburg

dream shows them georges house, destroyed. tommy gets blamed, ranboo is questioned bc puffy says she saw him. tubbo kills ranboo with the spoon (not canon)

the meeting hall to meet with dream. 

THE MINUTES MAN OF LMANBURG - tasked with taking the notes for the meeting

there was a pig man watching the meeting

the meeting did not go well. tommy brings out spirit against dream. dream played along but didn’t truly care, only caring for the disks.

tommy stood up for ranboo at the trial. they asked ranboo about it and he said his memory was bad but they cut him off. he never said he didnt remember the burning, only that his memory was bad.

being the minutes man gave him the idea to make the first Do Not Read book, writing who to trust and not trust

dream tubbo tommy quackity and fundy on the wall. tommy being taken away for some reason. the exile.

ranboo felt guilty because tommy wasn’t the only one who destroyed george’s house.

things in lmanburg were going great, he had a house and pets and was the minutes man and technically part of the cabinet

feeling guilty, he visits tommy in exile a few times. ranboo could tell something was off with him, with dream. so he wrote letters to tommy, trying to understand what he was going through in exile.

things were good, he built the ice cream shop with fundy

one day ranboo was approached whilst writing in his memory book. quackity tells him that techno is a traitor, the reason things are bad. and that they were gonna go get him and bring him to justice. which ranboo thought meant a trial and such.

the first butcher army meeting. ranboo is confused by it, the bloody butcher outfits. 

traitors are bad right? can’t have traitors

the butcher army went to technos place. ranboo shot a few arrows, maybe intentionally missing “he is a person still”

q gets carl and so techno agrees to go with the army

the execution. no trial. techno gets executed but survived.

phil, who saved ranboo from lava, who ranboo liked, gets put on house arrest. phil is mad at the army but ranboo was saying how he didnt think itd just be an execution. so the two are on even/neutral grounds.

ranboo talks to ghostbur, who calls him an aaron burr. they go to the snow, to technos. techno immediately tries to kill ranboo, who was just part of the butcher army. threatens him until he gives back all his armor.

tommy was at technos too. with techno. ranboo is surprised and writes it in his memory book.

ranboo goes back to lmanburg. realizes he just betrayed the entire butcher army by giving the armor back and saying he doesnt know where tommy is.

he kept seeing techno and tommy around lmanburg with dogs for some reason

he was kind of on both sides, techno/tommys and lmanburgs. he doesnt want to choose so he decides to help everyone

the festival plan to try to kill dream. ranboo spent time making festival games (the trident game!)

dream arrives and starts building the wall again

before the festival ranboo met with techno and tommy.

the community house was blown up. gone. 

according to dream it was techno and tommy.

dream says hes gonna blow up lmanburg again. techno joins him. blow it all the way to bedrock.

dream calls ranboo out as a traitor in front of everyone. dream has ranboos book. the first memory book. which ranboo had lost a few days prior, and found somewhere he didn’t put it. it had been moved. dream gives it to tubbo

THE PANIC ROOM. a place for him to think. the water outside providing a white noise. 

ranboo realizes that he kept choosing sides. he decides to choose people.

ranboo wonders how dream had his memory book

he checks the memory book and just finds the smile. the first smile. “all that was left is a smile”

that book becomes the second memory book.

the destruction of lmanburg on the horizon, they band together to attempt to stop it.

he speaks out. there are lots of people watching him

eye contact. he lashes out at people, as his judgement is impaired

he goes back to the panic room

the dream voice. a voice that is him but sounds like dream. it tells him that by trying to help everyone he has just betrayed everyone. ranboo doesn’t believe the voice because all he did was give techno his armor under pressure, right?

he decides the best thing to do is help the people who have helped him. lmanburg. 

but the first memory book is still missing

“it was time for doomsday”

they thought they still had time to save lmanburg. but then they heard explosions and withers.

lmanburg. “it was falling. it was gone”

people were suddenly switching sides and in the chaos of the destruction ranboo hears techno ask “what’s this do not read book”

ranboo runs to techno to get the book, techno has it. techno gave him the book and told him to get out of there, that he has no issue with him. techno showed ranboo mercy when he could have killed him

ranboo doesnt know where he stands with the destruction of lmanburg. so he watched. “watched as lmanburg fell”

he talks with fundy, with quackity, after the fall. fundy seemed off. quackity seemed to forgive ranboo, having read the book and changed his mind.

ranboo didn’t know what to do

“someone came in and asked me if i was okay. phil. phil realized that when he blew up everything” that ranboo was one of the few who lived in lmanburg and had no more home. phil offers him a place to stay, with him and techno

the situation is awkward at first but they get through it

MELLOHI

ranboo hears mellohi. “a disk from somewhere far away” “it was from the panic room”

he goes back to the panic room. “why was i hearing this from all the way over there” and takes out the disk. but then “an old friend came back. the voice.” 

but this time with more to say. that he was more of a traitor than he thought. the voice tells him that he has been helping dream the entire time. but that he just didn’t remember that. that he had something to do with the community house and other things on the server.

the voice wasnt dream. it was what he thought was himself trying to fill the gaps with memories.

he denies the voices claims. “you have no proof”

the voice says to mine an obsidian block. behind it are two pieces of tnt. 

he still doesnt believe the voice

ranboo is very confused. did he do it? did he not?

the disk war. tommy and tubbo had begun to prepare.

“the disks were very important right?”

“and then i just… lived. for a while.”

“for the first time in a while, happy. and that was good”

and so he decides that he is done. “done with living in fear of the dream voice”

and so he goes to the dream voice

“the dream voice said, hey? you literally have a disk”

“there’s no way i could have a disk right?”

but the voice says that he hid it. he met with dream. so he searched. and he found a disk. the disk. in a chest under his house. 

“so then i realized. something’s going on. there must be a reason why i cant remember these visits with dream, right?”

he “had been sleepwalking of sorts but that was a problem for another day”

time for the disk war. everyone thought that both tommy and tubbo would die

(he forgets what happens next? canon? idk)

dream was now in prison.

he decides to call the sleepwalking state enderwalking

everything was good. except the egg, but “we don’t gotta care about that”

ranboo has the “good idea” to visit dream

so he visits the prison. everything went normally. except “dream told me exactly what i didnt want to hear. apparently i had been visiting dream. i had been talking to dream.”

“and apparently i was one of his best friends”

and dream hands him his own memory book. the entire chest was filled with memory books.

“dream disappeared. and the prison started to crumble. and i guess the entire prison visit was just the dream voice but even worse”

so he didnt know what to do “i guess i’ll keep my head down. i didn’t really do much during that time”

but he needed to visit the prison again. “for real. to actually get closure”

he gets in to the lobby. sam asks his questions. and asks when the last time he visited. “and of course i havent visited before. so i said this is my first time.” and sam said “very funny” and tells him he has visited before. 

“i had technically visited the prison in the enderwalk. i asked sam to show me the books and they were written in ender”

he looked through the memory books, the three he had now. nothing showed that he had visited before. “there must have been a fourth book”

“i dont know what the fourth book is. and i still dont know where it is to this day”

“the fourth book wasnt a memory book. it was a book of the enderwalk” so he’s searching for it

he tried but nothing worked.

“i guess i was just kind of living. i noticed my tools on lower durability and my beacon had gone missing”

“the best thing to do is just live”

visiting snowchester a lot

done cool things with techno. techno was his friend now

“i was happy”

building the bee n boo, got married for tax reasons. 

the news. “after saving michael we got news. tommy had died. tommy was dead.”

the grieving stage.

one day ranboo decided to just relax. and then he sees niki. “what was niki doing at me techno and phils house?”

decided to be “extra stealthy” and watch out the window

techno asks him about anarchy, and ranboo says “that sounds good”

ranboo “had become part of something called the syndicate” which seemed to be for conflict resolution

tells the syndicate tommy died

tommy was alive? “somehow tommy was still alive. how? how is that possible?” 

and then something happened. ranboo gets brought to a room. with two shrines and a hallway. with everything people value.

he started to remember. to hear things. 

“so dream had a revive book. he was trying to control the server by using everyones loved things against them”

he doesnt remember when punz and everyone came and saved tommy and tubbo from being killed by dream

dream had to be stopped “before he could bring back the villains”

he has michael to protect now

tommy approaches while he is with tubbo. and ranboo agrees with tommy. they build that tower

talks with ghostbur “and he seemed like he didnt want to go, which was interesting”

“so right now im trying to kill dream”

but the enderwalk is still an issue. he needs to figure out how to stop the enderwalk. “it hasnt happened in a while, right?”

the reason he is doing everything is to make sure his adopted son, michael, is safe.

and that is the story so far.

[lennox-levin-little-lilith-did]

Hello people who follow me

For people who haven’t been following my blog all that much, I have Dissociative Identity Disoder, more commonly known as Spilt Personality, or Multiple Personality Disoder (which it’s no longer called this, the shortened version is DID)

DID is a disordercharacterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality states. A reaction to trauma as a way to help a person avoid bad memories.

Symptoms are;

Behavioral: impulsivity, self-destructive behavior, or self-harm (check, check, and check)

Mood: anxiety, feeling detached from self, or mood swings (check, check, and check)

Psychological: altered consciousness, depression, or flashback (check, check, and check)

Also common: amnesia or blackout (huge check)

Let’s start this my early childhood-

I never had a dad, he was in and out of my life constantly. So I was always looking for a father figure.

It didn’t help my mom was hopping from man to man at the time.

However I had one man in my life that never left and loved me like his own. That man was my uncle. I loved him so much, I still do, but by no means was he a good role model. He was in to drugs, never took his medication, and I think was in a gang (that if he hung out with some really bad people). One memory I have of him is him letting me help him make a roll (weed roll) when I was three or four.

I had a been diagnosed with ADHD by the time I was five. It was severe when I was younger, I couldn’t sit still or focus on anything, including school.

Anyways, one day, I come home from school, like any other day. I was happy because my grandmother had picked me up and said she would be staying with me for a while. (Mind you, this is what I’ve been told, I have zero recollection of this month). I come home to strange people and cars around my home, but I go about my greetings as usual. My mom had a boyfriend at this point, his name was Angel, he was nice (we’ll get back to him later). I was told to stay in my room with my kitten, Ella (yes the same cat I talk about to this day) and my dog, Sassy. My grandmother would come in to make I was okay, which I was. The next day was even weirder, a lady in a police uniform watched me get dressed for the day. My teachers treated me differently and I had to leave school early. I was confused, I also hadn’t seen my uncle in two days without communication. I was asked multiple questions about my uncle and I answered them honestly. I later learned that he had buried a woman’s body, had he killed her or not is a mystery as there was someone else with him that day he buried her.

My uncle had schizophrenia, and he had just revealed to me that he had an episode when everything was happening and he was off his meds.

We had moved in December of that year due to people screaming slurs at me whenever I went outside. I don’t remember this, again I have no recollection of that month.

I developed severe emotional issues, including bottling things up and exploding in violent outburst. My ADHD made it hard to focus on schoolwork, specifically reading. I alway spaced out while reading, and heard a small distracting voice, telling me to play with my stuffed animals or watch TV (I didn’t tell my mom this and I still haven’t). My mom didn’t understand why I was like this. She thought I was acting out for attention. So first through third grade I suffered and started to hate school. I started to hate my classmates. So I started to let that little voice speak for me. Eventually I started blacking out during school.

I didn’t know this wasn’t normal.

I didn’t know that when my mom asked what did I do at school, she thought I just didn’t want to talk about school.

Time skip to sixth grade (the worst year of my entire life)-

I was eleven at the time. I had friends, I was a social butterfly. Yeah, sure I had people I didn’t like, but I didn’t let them effect me.

Until November 29, 2016 (yes I remember the exact date)

The weekend before I had slept over at my bestie’s house, then I went home because I had 4-H on Sunday. I got my phone taken away Sunday night because my ‘friend’ wouldn’t stop texting me. I saw on my google docs I had a new document, shared with my teachers. It was nice, complimenting them on their teaching skills. But I didn’t write it. It wasn’t my typing style.

I went to school on Monday like any other day, happy and cheerful. Around second period, I got called to the office. I was asked if I wrote the doc that was under my email. I said yes because it was nice, I didn’t think anything was wrong with it.

Boy, was I wrong... (holy shit I’m about to cry writing this)

I got called down a second time, this time my principal was saying I hacked into others school accounts and wrote a threatening letter on google docs under another student’s account. I started to deny that I wrote anything, that I thought the doc was written on a spur of the moment.

The third time I was called down, it was with my best friend, Angie. We both didn’t know what was going on and denied any and all accusations.

The fourth and final time I was called down was at the end of the day... my teachers were there. They wouldn’t listen... they didn’t care what I said... I was a sweet girl with dreams and passions. I loved my teachers with all my heart... it didn’t matter to them. Nothing mattered to them (here come the waterworks).

I said I did it to protect my friends from getting in trouble...

In the end, I got three days of in school suspension and a beating from my mom that I don’t remember.

The first day, they forgot I was there. I was in a little white room, with a chair and a desk. The social worker came in and asked me if I had really done it. I had a good relationship with her, I really liked her... I shouldn’t have trusted her.

The second day... the second day, the principal, vice principal, and social worker of the school came into the room and I was confused. Then the screaming started... the banging on the desk. They thought on Monday I had written another doc to my teachers, saying they didn’t scare me and they could go fuck themselves and I changed a student’s pfp to a bloody knife.

Then the principal came around behind me, still screaming her head off, and slammed her hands down on my shoulders and squeezed, hard, resulting in bruises later that day. After that, the little voice took over and started crying. Sobbing for them to leave us alone. They walked out leaving a broken child in their wake.

I had curled up under the desk and continued to cried, repeatedly saying, “I want to die, I don’t deserve to live...” the social worker came back in and tried to calm me down, but I looked at her and said I wanted to die. This was the first time of so many, that I had a suicidal thought.

211 services were called and I told them I felt bad about everything I’ve ever done, continuing the lie I’ve been dragged into. I can’t tell the truth... They wouldn’t believe me anyways... I had thought. I went home and stayed home for the rest of the week. That night I walked into my kitchen and opened my knife drawer and pulled out the biggest knife, mind completely blank. I gently slid it against my wrist, thinking about cutting. I didn’t. I put the knife away and went back to my room, empty. I felt lost, and like I was drowning.

A third voice slowly developed. It was a boy this time, he was sad and hated talking to others (I’ll get to my second voice development in a bit). He took over during school, all though I could think on my own and speak, he had main control. I had a mental breakdown later that week after my class had been too loud, I told my music teacher it was because I had sensitive hearing (which was part of the reason). I stayed hidden during recess, and I sat in the back of the lunchroom with people I didn’t like or know. My outbursts only got more violent and more frequent, to the point where I would push my mom and stepdad (remember Angel, yeah him), resulting in more beatings from my mom.

My aunt got a lawyer to extinguish the suspension from my permanent record. The lawyer didn’t want to help all that much because he thought I was hiding something, which I was, but I refused to tell. The suspension was extinguished and I was allowed to use the school computers again.

I went to a new school the next year and transferred to where I’m located now...

First-seventh grade (the second voice’s development)-

My stepdad (Angel) was nice the first year my mom dated him. Then everything started to change. He started coming home drunk. After my little brother was born, things only got worse (and no, I don’t blame my brother for the change, it was envitable). He started getting angry at my mom, and at me. He started calling me a bitch, a little shit, a mistake.

I started to have out of body experiences, whenever I violent towards him. Pushing him, slapping him, punching him, scratching him. One time he slapped my mom and my mom’s therapist called DCF on her. I’ve been told I had walked into the kitchen right when he slapped her. However I don’t remember, I just remember the feeling of uncontrollable rage spreading through my body.

I don’t remember there being a voice in the beginning, I remember being one place or doing one thing, get angry, and suddenly being somewhere else. Especially when Angel started calling me names.

Another time, right after my mom had carpal tunnel surgery, he left suddenly. I was in the basement reading and playing with my bunny at the time. I came back up when my mom started screaming for me. The front door was left wide open and my brother left in the living room. We had Max and Ella, it was the summer of 2016. My mom was hysterical, screaming at me, saying it was my fault he left, that everything was my fault. I left the house and stayed with my neighbors for an hour, waiting for my mom to calm down. I went back and was sent straight to my room. I remember being angry, so mad at myself for no reason. I hated myself. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression the next year.

There’s a shit ton of stories I could tell about Angel getting drunk or leaving the house and coming back drunk. I won’t. I’m not here to tell a sob story, I never will ask for pity. I’m telling you how small things to certain people can be huge to another. My mom didn’t think it affected my all that much, my therapists thought I didn’t need intense therapy despite everything. All because I didn’t know that hearing voices other than your own wasn’t normal.

I started looking up depression and anxiety to help manage it better, and stumbled upon an article about schizophrenia. I looked more into it and found out about DID when I was thirteen, two years ago. However I still didn’t tell anyone... I was scared.

I was a freak

I was unnatural

I had three voices, three other people, inside of me. They wanted control, they wanted a voice too. They became unbearable, and when I started high school, I broke.

I tried to kill myself. I started starving myself the previous school year and started cutting over that summer... I finally told someone about the voices but no one believed me, and still no does. They think I’m lying...

So I’m not diagnosed, but I know I have DID.

Who’s who-

Little was voice one- she’s a little, under the age of ten. Little isn’t her real name but I don’t want her name out there on the internet where people can manipulate her. She has ADHD and is incredibly hyper. This body doesn’t get much rest, so after someone else fronts, we usually have to sleep. She’s also a trauma holder, knowing what happened that month blackout. She has no interest in people romantically (obviously, she’s a child)

Lilith is angry blackout/voice two- she’s ageless, a prosecutor, and a secret keeper. She’s a trauma holder to the verbal and physical abuse I suffered when I was younger, really up until last year I was verbally abused by my mom. She has anger issues and severe mood swings. She rarely fronts, but when she does, Levi or I have to co-con with her so she doesn’t murder someone. She’s angry and is always aggressive towards me and Little. She leaves Levs out of her aggression though. Lilith is bisexual (no, not pan like I identify).

Levin/Levi/Lev(he goes by all of them however I prefer calling him Levi)- he has insomnia and major social anxiety. (Also is co-conscious with me rn) He’s apathetic and very neutral when it comes to opinions, but he’s humorous and super sarcastic when he’s comfortable. He’s a gatekeeper and he’s 18. He as food related anxiety, but no major eating disorders. He’s has no sexual desires, but is romantically attracted to girls.

Lennox(the writer of this)- they age with the body, so 15, and host/often front. They have social anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, and is the first alter, or first recognized alter. They are nonbinary and pansexual.

I’m going to start labeling who your talking to, or who’s out at the time, like this

-Lennox (Kay?)

Thank you for reading!

I’mma tag some people I think should see this-

@one-pissed-off-child @madame-ree @queenzie-xo @anon-nom-nom95 @liveto-100 @aleiakit @gogetyoselfsomesoup @nadia-saaaaan @mai-ki-000 @martinidrinkingmartin @scalybunnypapi69 @pumpkineiji @cristinaweeb @pikaweebo @siyarduous-lazyaf @reijishiki

And to lighten my mood and for giggles-

POWER WALK BEFORE YOUR LATE ZUZU!!!

🤣🤣🤣🤣

[jtsodergren]

The Best of 2019

2019, what an exceptional year for movies! A great way to close out the shittiest decade! Here are the 50 best films I saw this year... click on the title to go to the IMDB page, and I’ll try to post a link to where you can see many of them. Also for the first time this year, I’m including MOM WARNINGS! My mom reads this list and sometimes actually watches these movies... so to save her some grief, sadness, or general concern for my psyche, there will be a NOT FOR MOMS!! warning where applicable... here we go!

50. STAR WARS - EPISODE IX: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER (Amazon)

People really hated this movie... I actually really liked it! Aside from the horses running around on the outside of spaceships (which makes no fucking sense... didn’t Leia get all space frozen exactly one movie ago??), it was a satisfying conclusion to a franchise I guess I don’t really care about as much as other people, so I was into it!

49. JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 3 - PARABELLUM (Amazon)

Quickly becoming one of the more well produced action franchises of all time. Probably two too many machine gun shootouts in this one for me (I get a little exhausted with gun violence), but the hand-to-hand stuff is brilliant and bloody and badass! Not to mention the deepening of the mythology and Halle Berry and her dogs. It’s a fun time, a welcome addition to the series, and I can’t wait for number 4.

48. QUEEN & SLIM (Amazon)

Billed as the black BONNIE AND CLYDE and from first time feature director Melina Matsoukas, this atmospheric tragedy is gorgeous to look at, delivers a pair of standout lead performances, and proves to have one of the more stressful final 30min of any of the films I saw this year, even if you know the inevitable conclusion is just around the corner.

47. UNDER THE SILVER LAKE (Amazon PRIME)

A wild Los Angeles noir story from the director of IT FOLLOWS. Plays like if David Lynch directed THE BIG LEBOWSKI, a weird, screwball whodunit. It’s a little long, and there are so many loose ends that seem to be thrown in just to fuck with the protagonist (and the audience), but it’s a really fun time and you’ll want to stay to the end to see it all play out. LA looks gorgeous too.

46. KNOCK DOWN THE HOUSE (Netflix)

Truly inspiring. Really shows how if you put your mind to something, believe in yourself and that you can make a difference, you can accomplish anything. Regardless of your political leanings, or how you feel about AOC personally, this is well worth your time and it has a great message for young people, especially those young women of color who might not think they can achieve great levels of success. It made me cry the happy tears.

45. LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT (Amazon)

Best known for it’s remarkable 59min-3D final take, this hallucinatory journey through memory and dreams is mind-blowing and breathtaking. Hard not to leave this one feeling like you’ve been put though some kind of experiment that you don’t fully understand, but you’ll want to experience again. Highly recommended if you have access to 3D, or simply have some killer edibles and want to be thrown for a loop.

44. CLIMAX (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of being under the influence, holy shit is this film nuts! From Gaspar Noe, who if you’re aware of his work, you kind of already know what you’re in store for here. It’s been described as “FAME directed by the Marquis de Sade”... incredible dance sequences and audacious camerawork that slowly but surely devolves into hell. It’s a blast!

43. HAIL SATAN? (Hulu)

A fresh and funny documentary about a group of smartass Satanists exposing the hypocrisy amongst bible-thumping Christians who’d rather stomp their feet and be the loudest in the room than listen to anyone else’s perspective. Frustrating and entertaining in equal parts, this compulsively watchable film makes you want to scream at these Jesus freaks as much as you want to laugh along with the antics of these harmless, intelligent and organized troublemakers. An excellent time well spent.

42. FIRST LOVE (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

Director Takashi Miike’s yakuza action-comedy is the most accessible of his films I’ve seen (he’s now made more than 100 movies, which is insane), but that doesn’t mean it’s not a gonzo wild time at the movies. The violence is here in full force, but unlike AUDITION or ICHI THE KILLER, you don’t need a barf bag close by to enjoy it. It’s often hilarious and moves at a breakneck speed. Super fun!

41. THE DEAD DON’T DIE (Amazon PRIME)

Jim Jarmusch’s star-studded, droll zombie-comedy came and went from theaters without much fanfare, but provided me with plenty of laughs. It’s also the second of 3 Adam Driver vehicles to be on this year’s list. Bill Murray and Driver lead the way along with plenty familiar faces in cameos throughout (including the RZA in one of my favorite scene’s of the year). Classic Jarmusch... a meditation on death and mortality in his vintage style.

40. EL CAMINO: A BREAKING BAD MOVIE (Netflix)

Dude, Aaron Paul is a legit GREAT actor. Picks up right where the show left off, and I was on the edge of my seat and filled with anxiety just like I was during the best moments of the now classic series. It was good to hang out with my old friends again.

39. DOCTOR SLEEP (Amazon)

A box office flop due to poor promotion and a title people weren’t familiar with, this sequel to THE SHINING is based on the Stephen King book of the same name, which I read, and I can’t recommend it more. Great suspense, and fantastic performances from both Ewan McGregor and (especially) Rebecca Ferguson. It’s a dark and scary film that is a fun trip back to the Overlook Hotel... provided you wish to return there...

38. THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO (Amazon PRIME)

About 90min into this beautifully shot film I was ready to lock it in as a possible Top 5 contender. Then the bottom fell out for me the last quarter of the movie and lost my confidence. No bother, it’s still wonderful enough to find a spot on the list and carry my recommendation. Young men and women watching their city change before their eyes, and wondering what the concept of “home” really means is a real challenge facing many people here in the Bay Area. This film does a fantastic job conveying that, for most of the film anyway. 

37. THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON (Amazon)

A bonafide crown-pleaser of a movie, and another example of the true talent Shia LeBeouf has and is capable of (more on him later). A young man with Down Syndrome escapes his assisted-living facility to track down his wrestling idol the Saltwater Redneck with the help of an outlaw and a social worker. Sweet, funny, and heartfelt... a feel good surprise.

36. A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD (Amazon)

I didn’t cry nearly as much as I did during the excellent documentary WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR from last year, but if you’re a Mr. Rogers fan, you’ll still shed a few during this heartwarming film. Tom Hanks does his thing, and even though this movie is guilty of borrowing a little too much from the previous doc, it’s still a great showcase for the truly selfless and beautiful force of nature that Fred Rogers was. Bring tissues anyway.

35. CARMINE STREET GUITARS (In Theaters Now)

A love letter to both New York City and the art, joy, and love that goes into honing and maintaining one’s craft. Meanwhile the looming doom of gentrification hovers over the proceedings, never letting you get fully enrapt in the sweetness that these artists (and their many famous customers) exude when talking about and playing their one-of-a-kind works of art. A stunning and lovely piece for musicians and talentless fans of music alike.

34. HOLIDAY (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A tough, cold film with nary a character to actively root for... until after about an hour of icy behavior comes (no pun intended) a scene so shocking in its graphic and disturbing nature, people left the theater without staying for the final resolution. First time director Isabella Eklof pulls off the bold and audacious maneuver, all while making it seem like she doesn’t care whether you like her characters (or her film) at all. It’s a very fine balancing act, executed to perfection. But be warned... it’s rough.

33. AVENGERS: ENDGAME (Disney+)

What can I say? You saw it. It’s good. A bunch of Supermans fly around and blow shit up. A satisfying end (until the next 20 films).

32. MIDSOMMAR (Amazon Prime)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A disturbing slow burn of a gothic horror film. Characters do hallucinogens while ritualistic religious murders and tribal mating practices threaten to ruin everyones existence. Florence Pugh is phenomenal (more from her in a minute) in a very trying roll. Doesn’t pack quite the punch of the director’s last film, HEREDITARY, but it’s still well worth the watch. But yeah, it’s disturbing.

31. APOLLO 11 (Hulu)

A fascinating look at the first moon landing from rarely seen archival footage and audio. Seeing it on the IMAX screen was intense and exhilarating, unlike narrative pictures like the severely overrated FIRST MAN. This isn’t my favorite documentary of the year, but it is an absolute lock to win the Academy Award for Best Doc of 2019. It’s a must see, a must experience.

30. HIGH LIFE (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

French auteur Claire Denis’ bizarre, erotic sci-fi mindfuck about isolation and humanity is not for everyone, but is a brilliant take on the genre, and is yet another showcase for Robert Pattinson, who is quietly becoming one of my favorite working actors. Juliette Binoche also is on fire here and has what one critic calls “the single greatest one-person sex scene in the history of cinema.” So it has that going for it.

29. TRIPLE FRONTIER (Netflix)

A fully loaded heist film with no real bad guy, but instead a group of recognizable badasses in a Netflix-released action thrill ride. There’s absolutely no reason this should’ve worked, or even been half as good as it is, but boy is it good! Compulsively watchable, and rewatchable. If this were on Showtime as much as DEN OF THIEVES is I’d have seen it 30 times by now. It’s one of the most pleasant surprises of the year.

28. 1917 (Amazon)

An unbelievable visual achievement from cinematographer Roger Deakins and director Sam Mendes. The story isn’t the greatest war story ever told (are there great war stories?), but it’s shot to look like one continuous long take, sustained for 2hrs. It’s really an unbelievable feat, but doesn’t come off as gimmicky or distracting. It’s intense, beautifully staged, and sad. A big screen spectacle. 

27. TOY STORY 4 (Amazon)

Woody and the gang are back, and the films continue to keep the dust from collecting. It’s still so much fun to hang out with this group of misfit toys. There was talk that after the incredible TOY STORY 3 this was just a money grab and was labeled unnecessary, but I found it to be a sweet, charming, and nostalgic trip I was glad I took.

26. HONEYLAND (Hulu)

My pick for documentary of the year comes from the mountains of Macedonia, where a woman named Hatidze lives with her dying mother making a living cultivating honey. When a family of shitheads moves into a shanty next door, what seems like a fix for her lonely existence becomes catastrophic as they disregard her teachings and threaten her livelihood. I was an emotional wreck throughout the experience and it goes without saying it’s a must-see. Gorgeous and heartbreaking.

25. LITTLE WOMEN (Amazon)

I have never read the book, nor seen any of the film adaptations, so I went in blind to this lovely film. Director Greta Gerwig follows up the phenomenal LADYBIRD with this Altman-esque rendition of the widely beloved literary classic. I found it exceptional in its execution and performances, including the previously mentioned Florence Pugh, who is a knockout. A wonderful addition to the ever-growing stable of Christmas films I look to enjoy during future Decembers.

24. GREENER GRASS (Hulu)

It’s as if Tim & Eric made BLUE VELVET. Bizarre, outrageous, gross, and a guaranteed future midnight movie favorite. My sides hurt. A satire skewering upper-middle class suburban soccer moms and dads alike. Babies are given away. A boy turns into a dog. Everyone has braces. There’s a creep on the loose. It’s wild and flat-out hilarious literally from start to finish. Almost too many jokes to keep up with. Watch it! Bring weed. 

23. RELAXER (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of gross, this film is disgusting, but in a good way. A satire about lazy consumerism and self-destruction. It’s a short hang, thankfully, but if you can stomach it to the end (remember, it’s nasty) you’ll be rewarded with not only a hilarious dark comedy, but also an unexpected haymaker of sadness you didn’t see coming. It’s a pretty impressive feat, and an overall success. But, yeah, it’s fucking gross. 

22. AD ASTRA (Amazon)

APOCALYPSE NOW in space starring Brad Pitt. If you need more information than that, I don’t really know what else to do for you. 

21. SLUT IN A GOOD WAY (Amazon PRIME)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A black-and-white raunchy French arthouse teen comedy that gives a middle finger to the double standard set by the equally raunchy teen-boys-will-be-boys genre. It’s so much fun, and honest, and the actors are such natural talents you forget the subject matter is at times shocking (only because of said double standard) and just go with it. I think it’s just wonderful. Seek it out!

20. US (HBO)

Jordan Peele’s excellent follow-up to GET OUT. Doppelganger home invasion terror with a killer twist. To describe more would be to risk giving something away. I’ll just say that Lupita Nyong’o is my pick to win her second Oscar, this time as Best Actress, here in a dual role. She’s incredible. If you haven’t seen it, try to go in blind, you’ll be rewarded.

19. THE FAREWELL (Amazon PRIME)

A heartfelt homecoming film about family, culture, and how the things we don’t say can be just as strong of a show of love as the things we do say. It’s sweet, tender, and bursting with personal flare and emotions from director Lulu Wang. Awkwafina also curbs her more manic and loud tendencies as a performer for more quiet, thoughtful, and somber choices. She’s phenomenal. 

18. KNIVES OUT (Amazon)

A clever ensemble whodunit that’s just as funny and smart as it is mysterious. Everyone across the board delivers as the assorted motley crew. The film rewards repeat viewings and Daniel Craig knocks it out of the park, stealing every scene he’s in, reminding us all what a fantastic actor he can be when he’s not sipping the Vespers. 

17. BOOKSMART (Hulu)

The female SUPERBAD is the elevator pitch, but this coming-of-age gem is really unlike any other example in the genre. They’re privileged, uber-smart, and have never partied. Yet they have the same neuroses as any other teen scared to death of what to do next or how to be normal. It’s also fucking hilarious. You wanna hang out with these girls and at the same time bury your head under the covers because you feel their pure terror/embarrassment. It’s a blast.

16. THE MUSTANG (Amazon)

Starring Matthias Schoenaerts, one of the finest actor’s working today, this understated and emotional drama about rehabilitation and redemption floored me upon first viewing. It is a gorgeous film. You’ve probably seen stories similar to this before, but rarely is one told with such compelling conviction. A borderline masterpiece. 

15. HONEY BOY (Amazon PRIME)

Remember a few years back we had the McConaissance, where everything Matthew McConaughey did was solid gold after years of middling bullshit? I’m calling it right now: Shia LaBeouf is about to have the same thing. He wrote the script and plays a version of his own father in a brutal version of his own fucked up childhood as an up-and-coming child actor. It’s heartbreaking and absolutely riveting. I’m hoping he gets an Oscar nod, but regardless I implore you to seek this film out, he’s incredible. 

14. MONOS (Hulu)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A bizarre, bewildering, chaotic, and unsettling film. Some of the most beautiful photography I saw on the big screen this year, yet some of the most surreal and disturbing imagery as well. It’s a militarized, Latin American LORD OF THE FLIES with commentary on tribal behavior and violence. It can be a tough sit, but boy is it beautiful. 

13. DOLEMITE IS MY NAME (Netflix)

What a wonderful, welcome surprise! Eddie Murphy in an awards caliber performance as Rudy Ray Moore, the multi-hyphenate performer who created the alter ego Dolemite, spawning a film franchise and many legendary comedy albums. It’s obviously hilarious, and a great behind-the-scenes biopic, but also shockingly sweet and heartfelt, even between all the cuss words. I even teared up a couple times. The 3rd best thing Netflix released this year (more on that in a minute).

12. JOKER (Amazon)

You already saw this.

11. THE IRISHMAN (Netflix)

It’s far too long. It could’ve done with being cut as a three part miniseries or special. There’s about 45min worth of scenes that are quintessential DVD bonus features (I’m looking at you Action Bronson), but goddamn if it’s not Scorsese doing his Scorsese thing. It’s a gangster film, but it’s also a meditation on aging and death. Pesci is incredible and Pacino steals the show. Sure, the de-aging thing is distracting, the curb stomping scene is embarrassing. But still, I mean... IT’S MARTIN SCORSESE!

10. PAIN AND GLORY (Amazon)

Pedro Almodovar’s most personal work to date, a tale about making art and the loneliness of love. If you are unfamiliar with his work, this is a great jumping off point. His movies can be challenging and dark, but this film has such joy and hope amongst the heartache. The final reveal, while not earth shattering on paper, is nonetheless so moving it left the screening I attended without a dry eye in the place. It is his best film yet. 

9. THE LIGHTHOUSE (Amazon)

From the director of THE WITCH comes another type of gothic horror, this time with the legendary Willem Dafoe and the (already mentioned) brilliant Robert Pattinson marooned on a lighthouse rock alone to drive each other completely insane. It’s hallucinatory, violent, disorienting, and flat-out brilliant. If it weren’t for another guy we’ll get to in a minute, Dafoe would be a lock for Best Supporting Actor here. It’s a slightly challenging film, with the period style mariner dialogue, but it’s just as funny as it is terrifying.

8. JOJO RABBIT (Amazon)

A beautiful, touching, funny, crowd-pleasing comedy about a little Nazi whose imaginary friend is Hitler. Yep, your read that correctly. There are about a million reasons this should absolutely not work. Yet, it’s one of the best theater going experiences I had this year. A must see... ESPECIALLY with Mom!

7. MARRIAGE STORY (Netflix)

The best written and acted film of the year, and the third Adam Driver vehicle to appear here. Sad but honest. Touching but brutal. It’s awkward and a bit of a bummer, but there’s such great work being done here, in front of and behind the camera. Noah Baumbach is a force of nature, and has yet to make a film I was even iffy about. He’s the real deal and this might be his masterpiece. 

6. WAVES (Amazon)

Speaking of auteurs, Trey Edward Shults is now 3/3 on features after the brilliant KRISHA and IT COMES AT NIGHT. Here he follows a middle-class black family, led by a domineering father, through a tragic moment in all of their lives. The first half deals with the son’s story, then abruptly switches to the daughter’s life post said event. It shouldn’t work, yet somehow manages to be one of the most emotionally affecting pieces of art I saw this year. The camera never stops moving, constantly swirling and whirling and you can’t help to be sucked up into it. It’s a beautiful tragedy.

5. LONG SHOT (HBO)

The biggest and most pleasant surprise of the year. An opposites-attract rom-com with more brains, bite, social commentary, and laughs than it has any right to have. Easily the most fun you’ll have with (almost) the whole family... there’s a lot of cum jokes. But don’t let the vulgarity dissuade you! It’s a total riot with just the right amount of sweetness to balance out the saltiness. I love love love this movie.

4. THE ART OF SELF-DEFENSE (Hulu)

What starts as a strange, dark comedy morphs into a FIGHT CLUB-esque thriller with allusions to disturbingly toxic masculinity and an offbeat take on what it takes to “be a man.” It is laugh-out-loud hilarious, and expertly made, while really having something to say, and it says it in a way I’ve never really seen before. It’s not surprising this didn’t get more attention, the characters are truly difficult to relate to, let alone root for, but as far as originality goes, you’d be hard pressed to find anything this year much better than this. 

3. UNCUT GEMS (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

The cinematic equivalent of being locked in the brain of a lunatic having a cocaine-fueled anxiety attack. If that sounds like fun (AND IT IS!!!) then this is the film for you! Oh, and Adam Sandler is going to be nominated for an Oscar for Best Actor. For real. It’s a chaotic, stress-filled masterpiece.

2. ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (Amazon)

My favorite filmmaker’s 2nd best film. A personal story about the love of film during the late 60s, a time of dirty hippies and Charles Manson, as well as the passing of the torch from old Hollywood to the “golden age” of cinema. It’s a fairytale of sorts, with Tarantino’s trademark flare for spontaneous violence and mining multiple genres to make his most mature work since PULP FICTION. I’ve been rewarded with new takeaways upon each subsequent viewing, and my love and appreciation for it only grows and grows. Brad Pitt is a lock for Best Supporting Actor, he’s magnificent. It was always going to be my #1 with a bullet no matter what, because it’s just that great...

1. PARASITE (Amazon)

...but then Bong Joon-ho, the master of new Korean cinema unleashed PARASITE. Not only is it the best film of 2019, it’s one of the best films I have ever seen. Like EVER ever. He is in such astonishing control of his craft it’s hard not to sit back and marvel and the sheer skill on display. You can be laughing one moment and then recoiling in horror during the same breath. He’s using multiple genre tropes, incredible set design, pitch perfect acting/writing, and such exquisite planning you can’t possibly know what’s in store for you from one scene to the next. It is an absolute masterpiece and if it doesn’t sweep every category it’s nominated for at this year’s Oscars, it’ll be a travesty. If you have even a passing interest in film as an art form, the power it can wield, and the messages it can convey, you owe it to yourself to see this film. It’s perfect.

Well, there it is. Thanks for reading any part of this. Now go see PARASITE. I love you.

[forkanna]

Back To The Future and related concepts © Robert Zemeckis/Bob Gale/Universal. Frozen and related concepts © Diznee. This story, plot, and prose © Jessica X and Fruipit. Artwork ©Captnducky. All rights reserved.

WARNING: This story will contain coarse language, incestuous romance between a mother and daughter, and some smut. Also contains Punzanna (Rapunzel/Anna) content. If you have a problem with any of those things, DO NOT READ.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is where the plot begins to diverge a lot more from that of the films. Part I followed the movie very closely, but the many little differences made it impossible to stick that close to the Part II script – or close to it at all. So we went where the writing took us. Sorry for it taking so long for us to get it out there to you, but we hope you are still along for the ride!

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

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The sky flashed. The lightning struck.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment. All ten fingers clamped down around the steering wheel as Anna accelerated toward the thick cable strung between the lampposts, sparks erupting all around the DeLorean. The flux capacitor was ready and only needed the nuclear reaction to power the time-jump. And it was getting it; no sooner had Doc connected two wires at the last possible moment was he blown back from the force of the electricity racing through the connection into a shrub.

Anna McFly squeezed her eyes shut, praying she made it home.

…And then suddenly she was coming to a stop, skidding sideways into a bus stop bench. It made an awful screeching din as it was uprooted from the ground and sent flying back into the nearest building, cracking a single brick with its corner before clattering to the ground.

That could be worried about later. For now… she had to look around and hold her breath.

Cafe 80s. GameStop. Verizon.

She was in 2015. It worked. Despite all the odds, she and Doc had got the stupid time machine working and sent her back to the future.

"FUCK YEAH!" she screamed, slamming the heel of her hand into the steering wheel. "I didn't die!"

Opening the door to the car, she was seconds from jumping out and doing a happy little dance when a familiar van came tearing down the street. Oh no. She didn't die, but someone else would, and soon, if she didn't get a wriggle on.

But it was okay. She could do this. They were from out of town. There were multiple shortcuts she could use to get there before they did. She could do this. Twisting the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. Briefly.

"No, no, no!" Anna screamed, whacking the steering wheel with her hand. She tried again; once more, the engine sputtered, and died. Why? Of all the times for an engine failure…

She didn't have a car. She didn't even have a skateboard. As she took off running down the street, she had only one thing: desperation.

Never before in her life had Anna run that fast. She lost sight of the van, of course, but she knew Dell Valley like the back of her hand. She was heading straight for Twin Pines Mall.

But one lone teenage girl couldn't outmatch angry armed nationalists in a van, and as she rounded the hill that led to the mall, she knew she was too late. No time to call out, no time to warn Doc the way she had hoped. Only enough time to see bullets raining down onto his chest, blowing him backwards and onto the pavement from the far side of the parking lot.

Before she could even cry out, she heard her other self scream. That was eerie; even worse was watching a radiation suit-clad Anna come around the corner of the truck, shaking with anger and grief. The newly-arrived Anna shared the rage, and could only look on helplessly as she peeled out in the DeLorean. She wanted to do something else, but what could she do? If she interrupted, it would be one of those paradox things. No… all she could do was wait until the flashes of light and fire-trails gave proof of her disappearance.

Then she saw the nationalists firing off the rocket from their launcher, which streaked for the car… and instead blew a huge crater in the ground in front of them. Unable to swerve in time, they drove straight into the crater, totalling the van and probably knocking everyone inside unconscious.

"Good," she managed to mumble through her veil of tears. Hastily, she started running down the grassy hill, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way down. Then she hopped up to sprint for Doc's side.

It only took a few seconds for her to reach him. Collapsing on the pavement next to him, she brought a hand up to press at his face. "Doc…" she whispered. But no answer came.

Goddammit. Barking out a rough sob, she removed her hand. It had other things to do, like wipe at her tear-streaked face. God life wasn't fair. There was a cough – and it must have been her. After all, she was completely alone now…

"Anna…?"

Fuck, she could even hear his voice…

"Anna!"

Her hands were pulled roughly away, and Anna found herself staring at a very surprised, very not-dead Doc Pabbie. His eyes were wide and concerned, and he looked as though he were expecting Anna to say something. But she was entirely mute. Finally letting go of her hands, he brought his own up to his chest, slowly peeling away the lapels of the hazard suit. There was something underneath, and when Anna realised what it was, she felt she could have sobbed again.

"A bullet-proof vest," she croaked. "How… how did you know?"

He looked away at that question, lined features a little ashamed. "Back in '85, your video. And then your insistence to tell me something. Even if you didn't specify… it really doesn't take a genius to figure out something truly heinous would befall me." She looked at him, and he smiled. "Also… an elf left me this."

And from his pocket he pulled out a letter, weathered and yellow. Anna recognised it immediately. She had left her plan B, which had felt as pathetic a backup as a Plan Z when she left it; had he truly found it? She was a little surprised he hadn't just thrown it out.

"The letter," she breathed, eyes streaming so much that she could barely see it. "Oh… it's ripped down the middle…"

"I did start to tear it up when I first found it," he sighed. "No man should know too much about his own destiny. But then I figured…" A little shrug. "What the hell?"

Laughing, she threw herself into a hug, gripping him tightly – full of so much more happiness than the last time she had. The man hugged her back, even though his laughter was punctuated by a groan of pain. After a minute, she pulled back to ask if he was alright.

"Just fine," he grunted, pushing upward and onto his feet as they gathered up their things and prepped the truck to drive away. Olaf had to be coaxed out from underneath, but eventually he responded to his master. "Though I'm sure I'll have some beautiful bruises from the impact of the bullets, at least they didn't puncture."

"Right; guess that would still hurt, even with the vest. But… I'm so gla-"

"Please, Anna," he chuckled softly, though his eyes were full of an almost grandfatherly affection as he opened the door for her to hop into the passenger's seat. "I'm fine. But I do believe we have some debriefing to do."

"Right… guess that's true." Taking out her phone to call the police about the terrorists, she hesitantly muttered, "But I'm just so damn glad to be home."

CHAPTER 1

By the time they got back to Lyon Estates, the non-functional DeLorean stowed safely back in the confines of the truck, Doc looked quite a bit more sober than he had after cheating death. She had debriefed him about her adventure into the past, understanding that the details were much fresher to her than to him, leaving out some of the more risqué parts that he certainly wouldn't have approved of – but still filling in more details now that they could freely discuss them instead of worrying about past-Doc knowing too much. She felt a blush rising to her face as she recounted what had happened at the dance, leaving out the grisly details from their romp in Elsa's car. Of course, he was there, and knew about the attraction from Elsa's perspective. He did a very good job of not blaming Anna for everything that had happened in 1985, but he certainly didn't look pleased about the turn of events.

"I suppose I should have warned you about the Butterfly Effect when I was doing my demonstration in present day," he sighed. "Well, you're here now, so at least our attempts to correct the issue went off without a hitch…"

"Yeah… at least there's that."

Silence fell thick, and quite uncomfortable. She was sure he could – and probably already had – filled in the gaps that she'd left out. Bone-weary exhaustion was setting in, along with some sadness. The near-miss of the universe ending was now minuscule when compared with the reality of losing her Elsa. The one she'd actually come to know. It would be hard, she thought, adjusting to her new-old life here… but she didn't have any choice. Might as well start getting used to it.

With nothing else worth sharing – at least, not that night – Anna bid Doc farewell as he pulled alongside the kerb in front of her house. Creeping inside, she half-expected to see her mother still waiting up for her, but there was no one. When Anna finally got to her bedroom, she collapsed on the covers, still fully dressed. It only felt like it was about 10:30 – which it was, according to her body.

It still didn't take very long to drift off, despite apprehension for the coming day filling her dreams. But she needed sleep or dealing with reality would be impossible.

                                                       ~ o ~

When she awoke the next morning, Anna's bones ached from the awkward position in which she slept. At some point, her shoes had fallen off so at least she didn't dirty up her sheets, and she had thrown off her vest before crashing. Could have been worse. Her clock radio had probably been blaring out an old Huey Lewis song for almost a full two minutes before she sat up.

Was it a nightmare? She had to at least address that possibility as she rubbed at her face, stood up shakily. She was definitely starving; she hadn't eaten much last night… whether or not last night was the same night Adult Hans wrecked her dad's car, or the Enchantment Under The Sea dance. So she decided to turn off her brain and go get something to eat.

She only got as far as the living room.

It took a few moments to figure out why she felt an impending sense of disorientation, and when she did, it hit her like a freight train. Everything was different. The bare layout of the house was the same, including the furniture placement and one or two of the art pieces, but the furniture itself was completely different; much more high-end than anything her family ever owned. Some of the uglier paintings were gone, replaced with more tasteful, simple ones, or family photos that looked much less depressing than the ones Anna remembered. The wallpaper was gone, replaced with an elegant coat of paint that couldn't be more than a few years old. And sitting at the breakfast table were John and Wendy…

Except… since when did John wear a suit this early in the morning? Or at all?! And since when did they have grapefruit and muesli on the table instead of Pop Tarts and Froot Loops? Not only that, but there was also a quiche that definitely looked freshly-made, with a few wedges already cut out.

"Uhhhh," Wendy began when she saw Anna pause, staring at her siblings. She probably looked as confused as she felt. "Are you okay, Anna?"

"What- what's all this?" she asked as she slid into a barstool, staring at them. Wendy stared back.

"Breakfast."

"In a suit?!"

At that, John gave a light chuckle. "You know I've been pulling long days at the office," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Hah. Right. The office."

Obviously this wasn't exactly the same world that she had left. Her brother was, at least mildly, successful – at any rate, he no longer seemed to work at the local Pizza Planet. When Wendy stood up from her seat, the differences with her also became obvious; Anna hadn't noticed, but her glasses actually looked… nice, expensive trendy frames. Her hair wasn't an oily, limp mess; instead, it bobbed about her chin in tight curls. Definitely with a curling iron – but they'd never been able to afford stupid luxuries like that.

Maybe she needed to call Doc and have a conversation about that Butterfly Effect thing. Because she had a feeling somewhere, something she had messed up had made a huge difference.

She was just about to ask where her parents were when she heard the front door open. Mr McFly's voice rang through the house, though it was missing some of the reediness. Elsa's voice came through with a reply, and she sounded different, too.

And then they rounded the corner and Anna fell off her seat.

Her dad was in the lead, reaching out to lay his keys on a sideboard in the hallway. He looked to be in great shape, lacking the potbelly of the father she knew, and his grey-streaked blonde hair was in a rugged "rock" style that hung just past his ears instead of slicked back with oil to get it out of the way. On top of that, the pale blue button-up was open at the collar to show off a fine gold chain over his broad, toned chest.

"I… what… you…"

"What's the matter, honey?" he chuckled at her with a slight smile, reaching down to pull her back to her feet. It was still a gentle hand, but a lot more self-assured than he had ever been with her before; the grip was firm, his biceps more than enough to haul her upward.

"What are you wearing? What is anybody wearing?!" she burst out, knowing how stupid she sounded.

"Sweetheart," her mom sighed as she rounded her husband. "Did you fall out of bed and hit your noggin' again?"

And then she saw her. Not her mother… not frumpy Mrs. McFly. This was Elsa, aged thirty more years. Blonde hair in a much more tasteful braid than the younger model, but still braided, still well-maintained and elegant. She was a little plumper, but definitely not out of shape; this Elsa had shed her pregnancy pounds in the name of keeping healthy. Once she pulled her sunglasses off, she saw that there were still slight crows feet at the corners of her eyes, but not the enormous bags that her mother had always been sporting.

This was a woman who loved life rather than suffered through it. And she was beautiful.

"Mom?" she breathed softly, completely confused.

"Ohhh, sweetie," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. When Anna froze solid to feel the lips there, Elsa did draw back to look at her for a moment, curious. "Sweetie?"

"Wh-what?"

Then Elsa's expression changed completely – as if she were seeing her for the first time. "Oh."

However, they didn't have much time to exchange that look, or for Anna to respond. Not with the family hovering – and Anna had caught the attention of everyone in the house with her glaringly unusual behaviour.

"By the way, Anna," Wendy was saying behind her, prompting her to whirl around in a circle and look at her sister. "We're not your answering service; that Jennifer Punzel dropped by while you were still asleep and asked what happened to you last night."

"Oh, that's right," Kristoff was saying as he sat down and drew half a grapefruit toward himself. "Wasn't last night supposed to be the big trip up to the lake?"

Anna frowned at him. It was, but… "Yeah, but the car was totalled, Dad."

Immediately, everyone sprung into action. There were cries of, "what?!" and "the car!" as everyone bundled out the door. Anna was swept up with the movement, pushed along until soft hands came from behind, securing her.

"Careful," her mother murmured. Anna swallowed and nodded, trying not to pay any mind to the butterflies. This wasn't fair! She was supposed to have left this Elsa behind, back in 1985. She was supposed to get her alcoholic, depressed mother. She was supposed to help her.

Anna wasn't given time to think on that, though, because soon she was peering out the fly-screen. "Anna Victoria McFly. Don't scare us like that," Kristoff chastised – which was strange enough on its own! If she'd still been sitting, she probably would have fallen from her chair again when Kristoff leaned forward, and called out to the man kneeling in front of the bumper of a distinctly not-totalled car, one that was much nicer than she was used to seeing out front of her house. "Now, Hans, I want to see two coats of wax on that car."

What? Hans? What was that lowlife doing to their car- and Victoria? That wasn't her middle name! Everything was too weird!

Even as Anna looked out, she felt Elsa step closer behind her. "He's lucky he could even get a job after that night," she said, voice low. "A little ironic that it's with cars… since he seems to have so much trouble with them."

Kristoff gave a light chuckle, then moved away, saying something about saving the grapefruit. Elsa didn't move, which meant that Anna couldn't move. Coughing, she cleared her voice. "What night?" she asked softly. Elsa's hands tightened briefly on her arms.

"Oh, you know. You were there, right?"

A spasm of electricity shot through her stomach when she heard those words. What could her mother mean? It didn't make any sense… unless…

"I don't have time to finish it," her father's voice cut through her thoughts. "I'm going to be late for my flight. Just wrap it up."

"Okay, okay, Dad," Wendy sighed. "But I hope you're all packed and ready to go, because I'm meeting Craig for lunch and I don't want to stand him up again."

"Okay, okay, slavedriver." As he passed Anna, he did a brief double-take – seemingly when he saw her hair in its semi-ornate bun. Then he glanced over at his wife, who nodded the barest amount. "Hmm… maybe I should cancel this stop on the tour."

"Tour?" Anna rasped, clutching at the sideboard for stability. Just then, as if he had been waiting for the cue, Hans burst into the house carrying a large cardboard box.

"Guys! Mr. McFly, I think this is it! The proofs for your new one!"

"Proofs? New one?" Anna felt dizzy. Her head was spinning, hands shaking. She was powerless to stop when Elsa pushed her forward again, back towards the kitchen.

"Don't you dare cancel," Elsa said, smiling fondly at him. "You've worked too hard. Leave the… domestics… to me."

Anna had a very strong feeling that Elsa was talking about her, and the panic from mere seconds ago rose up again. There was no room – or time – to make any sort of escape. Kristoff ripped open the box, eyes lighting up as he lifted something from inside of it. And it was…

A book?

"Wow…" he said, giving a low whistle. "Damn, that illustrator is good." Passing it over, Anna's mouth went dry. Her father's name was on the cover. This was his book! So he had continued his passion, after all! This Kristoff certainly did seem happier.

That wasn't what caused the lump rising in her throat, though. Splashed across the cover was the title, jagged future-font displaying the words Blast to the Past. Below that was a girl, clambering from a very stereotypical alien aircraft.

Oh shit.

A loud beep broke the silence, and Kristoff hissed. "Sh…oot," he said, glancing at Anna. "I better get going if I don't wanna miss my flight. Hon, are you sure…?"

It was Elsa's turn to smile. She finally let go of Anna, moving over to her husband to place a peck at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure. Go enlighten the world, or whatever."

He gave a nod and a smile, eyes flicking between Anna and her mother before he turned away. "Wendy? Are you ready to get going?"

"Psh, yeah, Dad. Just waiting on you. If you moved any slower you'd be a glacier."

So out they finally went. John went along with them, kissing the top of his mother's head in a way that made her sigh and roll her eyes; he wasn't that much taller than her. There were a few scattered goodbyes, but Anna didn't participate; she was too shell-shocked.

Then she and Elsa were alone in the house. For a few seconds, her mother remained at the open front door, watching Hans' auto detailing truck trail away and John and Wendy's cars pulling off toward bigger and better things. Then she gently pushed the door closed.

"Mom? I… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, turning back to smile at her. Her eyes held an odd mixture of excitement, dread, and curiosity. "But… I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about… Tori."

                                       TO BE CONTINUED…

[an-abundance-of-castiels]

Best Left Forgotten

Part 13: Panic

Series Summary: You wake up in the bunker with a serious head injury and no memory of the last year or the Winchesters and find that Dean is avoiding you. You are determined to find out the truth about what happened but maybe the truth is best left forgotten.

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas, Rowena

Warnings: language, Season 10 Spoilers

Word Count: 1392

General Disclaimer: I do not own the gif or any of the Supernatural properties or characters. This is a fan piece and is intended to be enjoyed only as such.

A/N: Here it is guys! The story has been almost running ahead of me these past few days. I hope you’re all prepared... Thank you all for the support this past week. It means the world to me. <3

This is my first fic so any and all feedback is appreciated! A HUGE thanks to @weirdochick56 for rough beta-ing and encouraging me to pick this up again and give it another try in the first place!

Best Left Forgotten Masterlist

Missed Part 12?

**********

You and Sam stood awkwardly aside while Dean carried Charlie, wrapped in a sheet, to the meticulously piled sticks. You think you are still half in shock. Dean had refused to look at you all night as the three of you prepared Charlie’s funeral. Terror eats away at your nerves. A terror that there will be no forgiveness this time. That he hates you. You did this after all.

You break the silence. Charlie deserves better than this. She accepted you into the family and was always there to talk when you needed her. She loved you like you were her sister. She risked everything for you and Dean. She was strong. And kind. And loving. And intelligent. And rambunctious. She had so much more life to live.  Charlie deserved everything. And now she’s gone. Because of you. You get a sick feeling as you watch the flames begin to lap her body and singe the sheets. It’s not nearly enough, but with tears running down your face and a thick throat, you manage to speak softly. “Charlie, you were like my sister. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that-”

“Stop. Just stop. You got her killed. Don’t apologize.” Dean spits. He glares at you with disgust and hatred burning in his eyes. His whole body is rigid and his fists are clenched almost like he’s trying not to lunge. He grits his teeth behind his lips.

“Dean.” Sam is floored.

“Both of you are selfish. Don’t pretend that you give a damn now that she's dead.” Dean growls.

He looks you in the eye. In his eyes, you see nothing but rage. Like a machine that only has one setting. You stare back, speechless. You take an involuntary step back and trip over a rock. As you fall, you throw your hands back to catch yourself. You feel a sharp pain in your hand and look down to see it bleeding. You make no move to clean it only stare blankly at it and think, “Dean thinks I’m a monster.” Sam helps you up, but Dean makes no move to help you. You realize suddenly that it’s too late. The mark has finally consumed him. And now he will come after you. Your own voice echoes in your head, “He will kill you. You knew it was only a matter of time.” You shake your head to clear it as you get up. Where did that thought come from? He wouldn’t… but you look at him and you aren’t so sure anymore. You look down and whisper. “Were we supposed to just watch you die?”

“The mark won’t kill me,” Dean snarls.

“You’re right. You just won’t exist anymore.” You say, speaking up this time. You suddenly feel a bravery that stems from desperation. It occurs to you that this moment is vital, defining, even. You have nothing left to lose if you lose Dean.

“Was it worth sacrificing Charlie to get what you want?” he spits at you. That stings worse than anything he’s ever said to you. You can’t believe he thinks you’re some kind of monster. He turns away to watch Charlie’s body burn, but you aren’t done with this.

“Do you really think I am ever going to forgive myself? That I could ever…” You feel a wave of nausea. You swallow your bile.

“You know what I think? I think it should be you up there, not her.” He stares you down as he says this.

Your mouth drops open. What? How could he say that? He wants you… dead? You’re frozen as he stares you down and silent tears begin to spill. You start to shake, violently. Coherent thoughts aren’t possible anymore.

Sam recovers from the shock and steps up to you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you while you shake. He is pissed and he throws knives with his voice. “Is that you talking, or the mark?”

Dean looks Sam in the eye. “Is there a difference?” Sam freezes in shock. Dean turns away and walks towards the Impala. “Don’t follow me.”

Something inside you pulls together in desperation and you pull away from Sam to follow Dean. Sam is taken by surprise when you move and he attempts to grab your arm. He misses.

You don’t know what you can do, but you know you can’t let him leave. “Dean,” You say calmly to his back.

He stops with his hand on the door handle of Baby and turns to you.

You start to plead with him. You know if he leaves now, you may never get him back. “Please, Dean. Don’t go. If… If you go, I’m… scared. I’m scared the next time I talk to you, you’ll… you’ll,” you close your eyes to say it… because you can’t say it to his face, “have black eyes and you’ll come after me.” You feel sick to your stomach when you hear the words leave your mouth.

His shoulders relax for a moment, and some human emotion flickers across his face but not long enough for you to tell if it’s confusion, pain, sadness… and then his stoic, unfeeling expression flickers back on and he unflinchingly speaks with a monotone voice, “You’re right.” He gets into Baby and drives away.

You take a step towards the car in desperation as he speeds off, hand outstretched as if you could hold on to him and stop him. You fall to your knees as he disappears from view. You feel your heart being pulled apart as the distance between you grows. Sam speaks, but you don’t hear anything. You feel like you should do something; you should feel something. Go after him. Sob. Scream. But you feel… empty. This nothing. It’s safer. Your mind protecting itself from reality. You stare at the place where the car vanishes until your vision blurs.

————————————

“No, Sam. I’m telling you. He will come back.” You can't tell if it's him or you you're trying to convince. But either way, you stay steady and firm, knowing you can’t afford to show any weakness. “You and Cas go. Whoever finds him first will call, right?” You ask. Your voice is softer this time and you can tell that a sliver of your concern for Dean has slipped through. You’re afraid that Dean is lost to the mark. What becomes of you if… No. Stop. You can’t do this. Can’t let the darkness creep in. You don’t let these thoughts show on your face and attempt to smile convincingly at Sam.

Sam studies you, conflict and concern in his eyes. He clearly doesn’t believe you’re as confident as you say. “Okay, y/n/n.” Sam says. He looks at Cas for help. Sam isn’t saying something; he’s holding back.  

Cas watches you closely. “Don’t do anything stupid. If he gets back here and he seems off, even a little, promise us you will hide. Promise. He’s dangerous and he will hurt you.”

This startles you. Cas doesn’t ask you for much. And his sudden honesty is ruining the lovely palace of denial you have constructed in your mind. “Okay Cas. I promise.” You decide now is not the time to let your fears get the best of you. Something about the look in Dean’s eye and the maliciousness in his works terrified you. You are scared of him. But letting that show right now won’t help your case.

The boys walk out of the war room and you grab your earbuds and turn on some Panic! At The Disco. You’re no good to Dean if you let yourself wallow in fear. You learned that a long time ago. So you push down the emotions you can’t deal with right now and lose yourself in the music while you walk down to the kitchen and make a sandwich. Something about the beat and awkward slamming of your head and arms to the drums gives you a way to let some steam off.

A little while later, you get up from the kitchen table and walk to the fridge singing and dancing,

“Say what you meeean

Tell me I'm riiiight

And let the sun rain down on me!

Give me a sign

I wanna belieeeeeeve!

Oh oh oh oh Mon-”

Something suddenly slams into your head and you black out.

Part 14

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[woozletania]

Sanctuary (RR/GOTG slice of life)

It started one day in the most innocuous way imaginable: nothing more dramatic than an E-mail. "Hey Rock," Quill said, slumped back in the pilot's chair idly scanning the screen as he helped Rocket work on a problem with the Milano. "Got a letter from your doctor friend." "Those're always good," Rocket replied, his head and body down to the armpits inside a panel working on control connections.  "Try the upper right aileron control." Star-Lord obediently pressed a control and Rocket made a happy noise from inside the console, his ringed tail twitching in not-quite-a-wag.  Peter went on. "Weird thing is the subject line is public but the body is locked, or I'd read it to you. All I can see is 'P. Foster' and 'It's happening again'." There was a dull bang from inside the console as Rocket's tail went stiff. Peter watched curiously as a hand appeared, set down a wrench.  Rocket's voice was deadly calm. "Read that again, Pete." "'It's happening again.' That's all I can read, man." "Oh.  Okay then." The hand grabbed the wrench and Rocket worked briefly, then slid back into view.  As usual he was covered with dust and smears of grease but a spot of bloody fur over one eye showed where he'd hit his head.  "That'll hold it.  I gotta hit the can." Gamora came up the stairs just as Rocket went down and the little raccoon pushed past her with even worse manners than usual. The green-skinned assassin took one look at the open panel and discarded tools the raccoon left in his wake and came to the obvious conclusion.  "In the middle of something?  Mantis has lunch ready." "I guess.". Peter fiddled with the controls, watching the indicators as he tried the various control surfaces, thrusters and engines.  "Looks like it's all working. Figure Rocket will want to work on it more though, he doesn't leave his personal tool kit just lying where everyone can get at it unless he's in the middle of something." But Rocket didn't show up at lunch and didn't answer when Mantis knocked on his door.  Weirdly enough he'd even locked Groot out and the tree, a little taller than the raccoon now and going through early teenage crankiness, spent two minutes banging on the door until Rocket finally swore and opened it. "What? I was just doin' some stuff." Groot handed him back his tools, which got a grunt of something like 'thanks' from the raccoon, who then finally emerged and locked the door behind him. Drax happened by just then and the three made their way to the common area for a belated lunch. Peter, Gamora and Mantis were all there around the table and Mantis reached out without thinking to pet Rocket, seeing from the angle of his ears that he was in a bad mood.  Rocket was a lot more likely to let someone pet him these days but this time he flinched away and sat by himself, grabbing one of the sandwiches from the platter without a word. Seeing Rocket in a bad mood was nothing new but he was usually nicer to Mantis than this and Peter spoke up.  "Was that letter bad news, Rock?" "Oh that," Rocket grunted between bites.  "Not really. He did say he met another guy who's up on my model of cybernetics and that I should have him take a quick look next time I'm in the area.  So I wanna swing by Kopleth today, since we're between money runs." "Kopleth?  Dull place, but I guess," Peter said.  There was nothing but the sound of munching and Drax loudly slurping soup after that until Rocket finished eating. The second the door to his room closed, though, the conversation started up again. "You don't believe him, do you?" Said Gamora. "Not for a second," Quill replied. "I am Groot," said the sapling. "Yes," rumbled Drax.  "He had his weapons out and a bag of bombs half packed when I saw into his room for a moment.  Whatever he's going to Kopleth for, it is not to see a doctor." Gamora's smart pad beeped, and she read the message before turning the screen so the others could see.  It was from Nebula. 'Not supposed to tell you this, but he's in your crew.  Rocket just asked me to help him kill some people.  Something going on I should know about?' Rocket should have known that on a ship this small it was impossible to keep secrets.  Perhaps he did, because when they arrived on Kopleth and he made his way down the docking ramp, bag-full-o-guns over his shoulder, it was an expression of resignation more than anything else that crossed his face when he found his friends waiting at the bottom. "Before you say anything," he said.  "This isn't anything you want to be a part of. It's personal business." Gamora held up her smart pad once more.  'If you are reading this I am dead, on the run or in jail. The bounty on me will be huge if it's the middle one, so I'll understand if you come after me. It was something I had to do. No apologies.' Rocket groaned.  "That was supposed to be time locked until tomorrow." "Not when I know to look," Gamora said.  "And I knew something was going on." "Yes," said Nebula as she stepped off her ship.  "What is going on, fox?" "It's happening again," Rocket said a little later in the Milano's common area.  "I can't let it happen again. Never again." "What's going on, buddy?" Rocket sat with his ears down and his little clawed hands between his knees. He counted the grenades on his belt, twice, before continuing.  "Doc Foster got a job offer.  They knew he worked at Halfworld and gave him a virtual tour of the new facility.  Animal Uplift.  Cybernetic implants.  Vivisection. Euthanizing the subjects when they were done.  Somehow they had data files from the Halfworld complex. There must have been a backup elsewhere and now it's all happening again." There were no tears in the raccoon's eyes. Just determination. "If I have to spend the rest of my life in a cell to stop this, I'll do it. Every one of these bastards has to die. But research like this is legal on Kopleth. I'm going, but the rest of you oughta get out of here now. 'Cept maybe the lady who already has a giant bounty on her bald head," he said, nodding to Nebula. "You're not going, buddy," Star-Lord said.  "Not without me." "There will be heavy security, yes?" Drax asked, and Rocket nodded.  "Then I will not be left out of a good fight." "And if my sister goes, I go," said Gamora.  Nebula just smiled. "You don't get it," Rocket said.  "We spent the last year building up a reputation. This could destroy it.  If it's just me you can say I was a rogue. I'm expendable." "No," Gamora said, and everyone (except maybe Nebula) said together, "You aren't." Rocket sighed.  Not surprised, just a little sad.  Peter spoke up next.  "So you got a plan, little buddy?" "'Course I got a plan," Rocket mumbled.  "Always got a plan." "One that involves all of us, not just you?" "Told you," Rocket said with the beginning of a smile.  "I always got a plan." And that's why it was that Drax, armed with a missile launcher of Rocket's own design, Gamora with her plasma rifle and Quill with his pistols stormed the front of the complex to draw attention away from the back, while Rocket, Rocket-sized Groot and Nebula, whose cybernetics made her eerily flexible, entered via the ductwork Rocket had identified from the schematics he'd studied. Some of the vents were too small for even Nebula and so they soon separated with a whispered "Kill only when necessary," for Rocket eventually allowed himself to be reminded that not everyone they encountered would be a monster. Yet the first thing he did was drop out of an air vent onto the shoulders of a Xandarian who was cutting open a black-furred creature, dig his claws into the man's throat and rip it out. "Nod if you understand," he whispered, undoing the furry thing's restraints even as the researcher toppled over. It nodded, and Rocket slapped an emergency medical patch over the hole the "doctor" had put in the long-eared creature and gestured for it to follow him. There was a thump against the wall nearby, probably Nebula shattering some fool's skull, and a black-clad security guard popped through a door only to get a chest full of Rocket's hand-made APX - Armor Piercing Explosive - rounds. The next room had nothing but a few empty cages and bloodstained operating tables, though Rocket reflexively pocketed a handful of servo components from a table. Distant shouts and gunfire meant the other Guardians were fighting their way in and this place clearly wasn't built and staffed to withstand a major assault, which was just what you got when Gamora and Drax led an attack. "I am Groot?" The black-furred test subject jumped when a three-foot-tree man man his appearance but Rocket just smiled.  "Yeah, can you get that door?". He'd been about to blast the armored portal but Groot's strength was all out of proportion to his size and his tendrils ripped the thing from its hinges. "Jackpot!" Cages, test subjects - and a couple of guards.  Rocket got one before they recovered from the sudden disappearance of the armored door and speed and small size gave him the advantage he needed to take out the other. "Get 'em out, get 'em out!" He blew away what he recognized as a cybernetics jammer mounted just outside the row of cages and Groot ripped the door off the nearest just as a white-jacketed researcher appeared.  Rocket hesitated to shoot an unarmed man and thus made a mistake that would make him wake staring at the ceiling and shaking for years afterward. The man didn't need a gun to smash his hand into a panic button and the result was clouds of green poison gas spraying from nozzles on the ceiling. "Shit!  Hurry!" The furthest cages were already out of sight in a cloud of poison, as was the researcher, and Rocket resorted to shooting the locks off the cages he could still see.  Half shaved, cybernetic implant-studded animals of several unfamiliar species  leapt out and ran for the door and Rocket cursed as he shot the lock off a cage that held a shivering yellow-furred creature curled in a ball as far away from the bars as it could get. He had already breathed more of the green gas than he liked and all he could do was grab the thing and yank it out of the cage. Mistake.  He should have known it would panic and with an animalistic shriek the long, flexible yellow creature wrapped around him like a snake and sank sharp fangs into his neck. The spray of red told him he was in real trouble but Rocket was no stranger to pain and he grabbed a gas-added creature from another cage and staggered for the door, weighed down by two of them and passing the handheld one off to Groot as he made it through the doorway and slammed it shut. Everything still alive in that room wouldn't be that way for long and he wasn't doing so good either. The whiskery muzzle was still clamped down on the side of his neck and Groot had to help him run the few dozen yards to daylight. What he saw when he burst into the light astonished him.  Not just the Guardians but hovering Nova fighters, not to mention ground troops who had rounded up a dozen white-coated researchers and were similarly trying to keep track of at least that many research animals.  His keen ears picked up the argument going on between a Nova officer - he recognized Dey - and what must be the head researcher.  "No authority here - research animals, perfectly legal," and something about "Murderous thugs." Rocket ignored the blood running down his chest, got his fingers into the scruff of the yellow thing slowly killing him with its bite and whispered, "Listen - all of you Subjects, listen, say this -" "Rocket!" Quill came running as Rocket's vision began to gray around the edges, blood loss and gas, and Gamora right behind him. No sign of Nebula of course, she'd wisely taken a powder. Just then the yellow thing's fangs came out of his neck and it said, slowly and clearly to the nearest Nova corpsman: "In accordance with the Uniform Sapience Act -" "No!" The head researcher tried to intervene, only for Drax to clothesline him to the ground. "I request sanctuary on the basis of inhumane treatment," the yellow thing said, and the other animals repeated "Sanctuary, sanctuary," and the less Uplifted  or vocal ones spitting out the syllables the way he used to, "sanct-u-ary," And then Rocket was falling over, weighed down by the yellow thing and never so happy in his life to hear one word.  It'd all been worth it.  Live or die, it was so worth it. ***** 'So, not dead,' were Rocket's first thoughts when he woke.  His neck hurt, his chest hurt, and oddly enough his leg hurt too. And the second thing that passed through his mind when he opened his eyes was how familiar the metal ceiling looked. "Why am I not in jail," he mused, and Peter jerked upright in the chair next to the bunk, dropping the Zune headphones he'd been tinkering with. A strange animal chirp came from low down, out of his range of vision, but it hurt to turn his neck so he couldn't see what made it. "Rocket!  Hey, everybody, he's awake!" In an instant the room was crowded with the crew, and even Nebula, and Rocket realized he was in Peter's quarters on board the Milano. The captain's cabin, if you could call it that, was about fifteen percent larger than the space he had before he turned it into a lifeboat and started sleeping in his round padded bed. "I have lots of questions," Rocket said, and then there was another, because a sleek yellow head sporting long, familiar whiskers popped into view as well. He'd never gotten a good look at it but this was indisputably the creature that nearly killed him.  He was too tired and sore to hold that against her.  "I guess they all fall under 'what happened'." "Peter had an idea," Gamora said, and Mantis smiled as she gently scratched Rocket's ears.  "A good one, for a change." "Thanks Gamora," Pete said sourly.  "I called Nova Corps before we went to the compound to see if I could get them to look the other way for a little while as we took off for our new outlaw lives.  When I explained what was going on to Dey he said the following," with that he pointed at Drax. "Animal research is legal in many places," the giant intoned.  "But as far as Nova is concerned, Uplift, or at least the abuse of the resulting sapients is legal nowhere." Peter grinned. "Since Kopleth has no military to speak of they couldn't do much when a Nova troop transport and escorts showed up. Even medics who patched you up, though it was a near thing. You had nerve gas in your system, a nicked artery in your neck and a splinter from a ricochet or something in your calf below the armor." "So we're not outlaws," Rocket said wonderingly.  "What about the research subjects?" "Under Nova supervision," Gamora said.  "To be granted full sapient rights and a share of the penalty fines being assessed against the company.  And we get a share of that too." "Free money!" Pete cheered.  "A reward for just doing good things!" "What about her?" Rocket looked at the whiskery creature, seeing the bolts almost concealed by her fur where the artificial collarbones lay.  He had bolts like that, too. "Her?" Pete looked puzzled.  "You mean 96L02?" "Subject Nine-Six-Lima-Zero-Two reports as ordered, sir," the creature said, and stood up as straight as its long cylindrical body allowed. Rocket winced. "Damn it Pete, you know better than that.  That's not a name and she - yeah, you bald bodies have no noses I know but she is a she - is conditioned to respond to that number.  I don't want to hear one of you say it again. Ever." He reached over to see how she would react, careful not to touch, and webbed hands/forepaws clasped his fingers.  "Rocket," she chirped.  "So so-ree I bit you." "I woulda done the same thing," Rocket said.  "Ask Pete. He got the scars to prove it.  Now we need to get you a name." She stood bolt upright. "Subject Nine-Six-Lima-" "No!" She shrank back, her little low-set ears sinking.  "That was what they called you. You don't belong to them now.  You can have any name you want." "But I don't have a name," she chirped. Do you know the names of the researchers?" "Rocket," Peter said firmly.  "You are not naming her after guys you killed to get her out." "Hey, it worked for me.  And I only killed four anyway." "I am Groot." "That guy killed himself," Rocket said, and that brought back bad memories.  "How many got out?  Test subjects that is." "Thirteen," Gamora said, "But one died from gas exposure. Before you ask, including the one in the operating room there were twenty-six in various stages of Uplift." Rocket swore, but Peter cut him off.  "Subject-" and the yellow creature stood bolt upright, "Er, Lima told us what happened.  Rocket, I was the one who told you not to shoot people who weren't a threat. It's my fault.  And if we'd all gone in the front, which was my plan, they would have gassed them all.  Your plan got some of them out and would have got them all out if you hadn't listened to me. So blame me, not yourself." "It's all right," Rocket grunted.  "I woulda hesitated anyway.  Didn't think a guy would kill himself just to get rid of some Subjects." Lima stood bolt upright at the word. "Why is she doing that, Rock?  You don't do that when people say 89P-" Rocket let out an inarticulate growl and Pete stopped. "Oh yeah, you killed all the people who called you that." "Except Doc Foster," but then Lima was gripping his clawed hand again in her webby ones. "Why are you so angry, Rocket," she chirped, and Pete smothered a laugh. "'Cause I was made to be angry. To be a weapon.  You don't have to be like me, Lima." "I'm not," she said immediately.  "I am for linguistics, and diplomacy, and companionship. I am to be cute." And with her whiskers and ink-dark eyes she certainly was. "No! You don't gotta be what they made you.  You can be whatever you want." "I don't know what I want to be," she chirped, and Rocket smiled sadly. "Welcome to the club, lady." One by one the others wished him goodnight and left for their beds, for it was very late indeed.  He'd apparently been granted Peter's cabin until he recovered, though he protested that he didn't need anywhere near that much space. "You're in no shape to curl up to sleep," Peter said.  "You need a real bed." I've got a real bed, and it's round, Rocket thought but did not say. That brought it to mind when Lima dropped down to all fours and curled up on a wadded-up blanket. "Groot," Rocket mumbled, and then spoke up despite his sore chest. "Groot!" "I am Groot?"  Naturally, the tree had been resting right outside the door.  He wasn't going anywhere until he was sure Rocket was fully recovered. "Get my bed, please." "I am Groot?" "No, it's not for me. Pete will yell at me if he has to sleep on a bunk and I don't use the bed he's lent me. And yeah, I'm too sore to curl up.  But look," Rocket said, and gestured at Lima. "I am Groot." "Thanks, pal." A moment later the tree was back with the round, padded bed, the one embroidered with "Rocket" and the Ravager symbol. Rocket knew perfectly well it was a pet bed Pete picked up on Earth but Pete never lorded that over him (which showed he had an active survival instinct) and the thing was damn comfortable. "Lima."  The yellow creature - Rocket was sure there was a species name for her, but he had no idea what it was except that she was clearly designed for an aquatic life - popped her head up out of the nest of blankets. "Use this.  It's comfy." She slithered out of the blankets on her short web-footed legs and gave it a sniff. "It smells like you, Rocket." "Yeah, I sleep in it, but you need it more than I do right now." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." Rocket smiled as she curled up in a ball in the padded bed, just as he did.  She was long and sinuous compared to his more humanoid build, but she still fit perfectly into the thing. There was a time he and Groot shared the thing every night, but Groot was too big now.  That had taken a lot of getting used to.  For years he'd slept in leafy beds Groot grew each night, then he and mini-Groot shared various beds, and then ultimately it was just Rocket, and now it was just Lima, or whatever her name would eventually be. "Good night, Lima.  Tomorrow we'll talk about your name." And that would have been the end of it, except that later, when the ship lights were turned down to a dim glow, Rocket was woken by a familiar sound.  A nervous chattering, whining, and the sound of claws on fabric. Lima was in the midst of a nightmare.  He'd heard all these sounds before from himself, and heard them described to him. She twitched in the round bed, and whined, and he had all too good an idea of what she was dreaming about. He'd always been the one to wake screaming, or shivering. Peter had the occasional nightmare, and with good reason, but he was stronger than Rocket.  Or maybe his nightmares didn't involve being strapped down and cut open.  Rocket didn't know what Pete had nightmares about.  Ego? The Ravagers?  His mother dying?  Yondu? He did know how Pete had helped him with his own night terrors, though. Rocket winced as he sat up, and using the cabin chair as a stepping stool (not something he'd normally need) finally made it to the floor.  He was tough, he healed fast, but the nerve gas had really done a number on him.  Stapled-up wounds in neck and leg didn't hurt half as much as his chest but he dropped to all fours and padded over to the round bed an its occupant. Peter, much larger than himself, had just petted him or rubbed his back to get him to relax.  Lima was as big as he was, though, and the only way he could see to make her feel safe was to crawl into the round bed and snuggle up next to her. She moved in her sleep and soon her whiskery muzzle rested on his shoulder next to his own. Bit by bit she shifted and he moved with her until they were curled up together.  If it weren't for their dramatically different fur colors and body shapes it'd be hard to tell where one ended and the other began. By the time they were snuggled up together she had relaxed, the shivering tension gone from her muscles and her breathing slow and relaxed. 'What I should do now is wriggle out of here and bed back on the bed,' Rocket thought.  But he was tired, and sore, and there was something about lying here snuggled up with another furry creature. 'Safe,' Rocket thought as he drifted off to sleep.  'I feel safe.  I hope she does too.'

[one-of-us-blog]

The Impossible Astronaut (Doctor Who S06E01)

Today Jon is forced to watch and recap “The Impossible Astronaut”, the first episode of Doctor Who’s sixth series, as well its prequel. The Doctor and his companions are following a trail of clues leading them to America in 1969. Will the companions be able to figure out what’s going on in time to avoid a tragedy? Who’s the little girl calling the President’s phone? And who are those guys in those snazzy suits?

Keep reading to find out…

Eli, I absolutely loved your last recap! I had a feeling Blanche’s handkerchief enthusiasm would win you over, but I didn’t expect this one to resonate with you so much! I think this is one of the better examples of the writers using the clip show format well, and I agree that each of the clips brought something to the table. My favorite is probably Sophia’s story, because I get a big kick out of Bea Arthur as her own grandmother, too. I hope you have a good time in season four, because we’re coming up on some of my favorite episodes!

For now, though, buttocks tight!

Prequel directed by Toby Haynes and written by Steven Moffat (I’m assuming, I couldn’t actually find a definitive answer on this one)

In the Oval Office, President Richard Nixon answers his phone to hear only static. He’s apparently spoken to the person on the other end before, but she sounds like a little girl. She tells him ‘they’ are everywhere, and that he must look behind him. She says the spaceman gave her this number and that she’s trying to warn the POTUS about monsters, but he resolutely states there are no monsters in the White House. Do I need to make the Trump joke here, or do you think you can carry this ball over the finish line on your own? Anyway, behind Nixon we see what appears to be a monster.

Episode directed by Toby Haynes and written by Steven Moffat

Because Steven Moffat very clearly has a fetish which he cannot let go of, we start off with yet another of the Doctor’s historical sexscapades. This time he’s banging a painter in Charles II’s court. Really, I can’t believe I’ve gotten through this individual sentence without it being revealed that the Doctor once had a three-way with Joan of Arc and Grandma Moses or that he ate out Marie Antoinette before she got executed. In 2011, Amy’s reading about the Doc’s adventures in a history book and she wonders if the Doc’s being so ridiculous because he’s trying to get their attention. She gets a letter with some coordinates on it, and elsewhere River Song gets the same coordinates. She’s got to break out of prison, yet again, but that’s apparently just not that big of an ish in the future. Amy and Rory meet up with the Doc, just in time for River to do us all a favor and shoot the dumb hat off his head. The four of them move to a diner and River and the Doc sync up their journals. The Doc says he’s been running for his whole life, and he’s ready to stop. First, though, they’re going to have a picnic and then they’re headed to space in 1969.

The picnic is underway, and we learn that the Doc’s now 1,103 years old. Amy catches sight of a tall, slender man in the distance, but immediately forgets about him after pointing him out to Rory. A truck pulls up and the Doc waves to a man, but just then River notices someone in a space suit standing in the lake nearby. The Doc approaches the astronaut while the rest of the group hangs back. The astronaut reveals their identity to only the Doc, and then shoots him. The Doc begins to regenerate, and it looks like we’re getting to the Peter Capaldi years a lot sooner than I realized! Only, we’re not, because the astronaut shoots the Doc again before he can finish regenerating. River, Amy and Rory rush over, but the Doc’s hella dead. River shoots after the astronaut, but they get away.

The man who arrived in the truck says this isn’t a clone or robot copy, this is the real Doctor and he’s really dead. He says the Doc told him to bring some gasoline so that the squad could burn his body. They send the stiff out onto the lake in a boat and it gets totally lit 😂👌💯🔥. River asks the old guy who he is, and he says he got a postcard just like the rest of them. He’s Canton Everett Delaware III, by the way, and he’s not going to see any of them again. They’ll see him, though, because time travel and all that. River realizes that the envelopes that were sent out were all numbered, with Amy and Rory getting 3, River got 2 and Delaware got 4. So who got 1? Amy’s shutting down, but Rory catches sight of envelope 1 nearby in the diner. The Doctor, of course, trusted himself the most, so he sent himself envelope #1. This Doc’s all hugs, but River gives him a well-deserved slap for making them watch him die. This Doc’s also only 909, meaning he’s about 200 years younger than he will be when he gets no-scoped by that astronaut. River gives the Doc a general idea of what they’re doing without revealing they’re working for a dead version of himself. Inside the TARDIS, Amy still isn’t coping well. She’s sure that they need to tell the Doc what they saw, but River says that’s a no-go. She isn’t scared by the Doctor’s death, or her own, because something even worse is waiting for her. *cue dramatic music*

The TARDIS wants to head to Washington, D.C., in ’69, but the Doc says that’s not where they’re going. He’s sending Amy and Rory home and River back to prison, because he won’t go where they want him to go without knowing all the facts. He assures them, in the most condescending manner possible, that they aren’t capable of playing games with him. River asks him to trust them, and he asks her to tell him who she is in his future. She won’t, so he asks her who she killed to wind up in prison. She also won’t answer that, so the Doc won’t trust her. Amy asks him to trust her instead, and she swears on fish fingers and custard that she genuinely needs him to go to D.C. in ’69. That does the trick, and they go to meet a younger Canton Everett Delaware III (Mark Sheppard). Delaware used to work for the FBI but got kicked out, only to be recruited by Nixon for a private mission. Nixon lets Delaware know that he’s been getting those calls from the prologue just about every night. The Doc lands the TARDIS and winds up right in the Oval Office while Nixon’s playing a recording of a call he got from the child, who identifies herself as Jefferson Adams Hamilton, from the prologue. Nixon says he gets the call no matter where he is, and then he notices the Doc. He tries to sneak back into the TARDIS but gets snatched by the secret service. River decloaks the TARDIS and the Doc makes enough of an impression to avoid being shot.

The Doc gets some maps and Amy catches sight of the faceless, slender man again, but as soon as her line of sight on it is broken she forgets it existed. She does feel sick, though, and an agent takes her to a restroom. In the restroom the creature is back, and Amy remembers it all over again. She realizes she’s forgetting it every time and tries to talk with it, but it doesn’t speak. A woman exits a stall and catches sight of it, but as soon as she turns around she forgets about it. This is repeated a few times until the creature reaches out one of its slender arms and eradicates the woman with a bolt of lightning. Amy takes a hot pic of the thing to help her remember. The thing says the woman’s name was Joy, and it knows Amy’s named Amelia. Amy stands her ground despite clearly being terrified of the giant creature, and That Ain’t So Bad at all. The creature says it has a message for the Doc and approaches her, but she runs outside before it can reach her. She knows she has to tell the Doctor something, but she doesn’t know why she said that.

Nixon gets another call from the wunderkind, and she tells the POTUS that the spaceman is there with her. The Doctor, River, Rory, Amy and Delaware make their way to a building near Cape Kennedy, Florida, which has a Jefferson St., an Adams St. and a Hamilton St. within eyesight. The group makes their way through a warehouse, where the astronaut is hidden. River finds what looks like an alien operating table alongside some apparently stolen human tech. She then finds a manhole leading to a series of tunnels and heads down into them. She finds a group of the be-suited, slender men and flips her lid. She runs back up but immediately forgets about the aliens and says she’s going back down to investigate. The Doc sends Rory in after her, and he finds her feeling nauseous. The slender men are still lurking around and Rory keeps thinking he’s hearing something, but River’s focused on how old the tunnels are and how weird it is that no one’s noticed them. Rory asks River about the worse day she mentioned earlier, and she tells him that when she first met the Doc he knew all about her and that threw her for a loop. River and the Doc are going in opposite directions temporally, so every time she sees him she knows more about him and he knows less about her. She knows someday she’ll see him and he won’t know who she is, and she thinks that will kill her.

With that exposition out of the way River gets the door unlocked but an alarm begins to sound. Rory checks to see if anyone’s noticed and sees a group of the slender men, but forgets about them before he can warn River. River discovers that the tunnels are all over the globe, and have been there for centuries. River calls out for Rory as a flash of light comes from his direction. Meanwhile, Delaware and Amy are bonding and Amy’s trying to remember what it is she was supposed to tell him. Suddenly Jefferson’s voice cries out for help and Amy’s stomach begins to hurt her again. Delaware runs off to find Jefferson, but when the Doc and Amy catch up to him he’s unconscious. Amy decides this is the perfect moment to let the Doctor know she’s pregnant.

The astronaut arrives and Amy, determined to save the Doctor, grabs Delaware’s gun and shoots at them. Unfortunately, the astronaut lifts their visor to reveal a young girl, who we can assume is Jefferson Adams Hamilton.

The End

~~~~~

I’m going to have a lot to say about these snazzy suit enthusiast aliens, but I’m going to save that for the conclusion in my next recap. I’ll be curious to find out what’s up with lil Jeff and how we’re going to get out of the Doc being killed by that lake. It would be nice if it were possible for the Doctor to trust his companions without Amy having to swear on fish and custard, and I don’t quite understand why we’ve moved in the direction of him being the only person he trusts in the whole universe. He’s the one who put them all through that mess with the Dream Master, remember? Also, Amy really has no sense of timing when it comes to dropping bombshells like her being pregnant. But, all that aside, I felt like we were getting a good performance from Alex Kingston and I always enjoy seeing Mark Sheppard in action. 

I give “The Impossible Astronaut” QQQ on the Five Q Scale.

We’ll see you on Tuesday when Eli will kick off the fourth season of The Golden Girls with a good ol’ fashioned love triangle with his recap of “Yes, We Have No Havanas”, and then I’ll check in on Wednesday we’ll keep on trucking through the sixth series of Doctor Who with “Day of the Moon”.

Until then, thanks for reading, thanks for shooting and thanks for being One of Us!

[dracox-serdriel]

Last Men of Letters - 10x02 Bad Rain - Part 4: Streaming Life

Title: Bad Rain (Supernatural) Subtitle: Streaming Life Episode: Episode 2 of Untitled, or Season 10 Fan Fiction [LJ] Author: Dracox Serdriel Word count: 2,384 Spoilers: Through episode 08x20 “Pac-man Fever.” Rating: PG-13/Teen Warnings: language, violence, graphic descriptions, forensics, serial killings, monster mash

Summary: Castiel and Dean run into trouble while searching for Sam and Dodge, namely her partner, FBI Special Agent Marie Acevedo. The members of the EDA use Sam and Dodge in their tug-o-war over The Purge with disastrous results.

Part of the Last Men of Letters series. Season 10 Fan Fiction is a fan-fiction version of Season 10 and the sequel to Another Chance at the Brass Ring, or Season 9 Fan Fiction [LJ], which is a fan-fiction version of Season 9 of Supernatural.

Read Bad Rain on AO3. See full series detail on Tumblr for Season 10 Fan Fiction.

Episode 10x02 Bad Rain Part 4: Streaming Life

Now. Castiel and Dean inspected the motel room. Dodge had left luggage behind, but Sam hadn't. And his truck wasn't in the lot.

"Something was in the bathroom," Castiel said. "Shifter, ghost, werewolf, vampire."

"So four monsters?" Dean asked.

"I am uncertain."

"What does that mean?"

Cas replied, "It means that I can sense all four, but only traces from one individual. Do you think this is because of The Serum?"

"I don't know, but we need to figure it out," Dean replied more loudly than he intended.

Cas raised his voice to match Dean's. "Didn't Sam tell you where he was going? How can we work a case with him and Dodge without the appropriate information?"

"He said they'd be here!"

That's when the door came crashing in. Castiel saw a woman, gun at the ready, moments before she spoke.

"FBI! Show me your hands!" she yelled.

The angel grabbed his hunter and teleported back to the Impala.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean asked from behind the wheel.

"I believe the FBI is looking for Dodge," Cas remarked.

Dean turned the key and drove off immediately. Whoever broke into the motel room didn't run back to her car to follow them, which the hunter took as a good sign.

"There was a strong smell of bleach in the bathroom," Cas added.

"Yeah, Cas, I noticed."

"I believe Sam tried to remove any evidence of the creature from the room," the angel said.

"Cleaning up?"

"Yes. Perhaps one of the monsters followed them back to the motel, and they were forced to kill it."

"We need to figure out where Sammy is," Dean said. "Gotta warn him that the FBI is busting down doors looking for his girlfriend."

Dodge waited with Sliver until he woke up.

"You got a poker face," Sliver said. "How am I doing?"

"The doctor's got something to try but no guarantees. I've got a question for you," she said. "Why did Crosby stick you with us?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wanted you to watch me die, so you could see that the EDA isn't killing people."

"We've got evidence that says otherwise," Sam said as he joined them. "Video footage of a group beating one of the victims before he was found dead."

"Not everybody keeps their word," Sliver replied sadly. "Can't blame them. It's hard to sit in the shadows, waiting to die. When one of us goes rogue, all the EDA can do is try to cover it up. Make the deaths look as human as possible."

"Crosby could've told us all this without kidnapping us or knocking us out," Dodge said.

"He doesn't trust outsiders," Sliver explained. "And he's not known for his kindness."

"We need to put the patient through an MRI," Natalie interrupted. "Sliver? Can you keep yourself still?"

"Not without a chemical restraint."

Marie received a call from one Stanley Cooper, the lab tech that handled the goopy sample from Dodge's bathroom.

"Stan?" she asked. "You found something?"

"This is some X-Files crap you sent me, Marie," Stan replied. "You got DNA that can't be categorized as human or animal. Preliminary tests, of course, but they're pretty damn confusing. Any idea what that sample is from?"

"No, it was bagged but not marked," Marie invented quickly. "Thanks for letting me know. If you find anything else, give me a call."

"Sure will, but don't hold your breath."

She hung up and stared at the composite sketches in front of her. She had asked a computer artist to put them together, and she wound up with eight facial images, all based on the two men she'd seen earlier that day.

She could run them through facial recognition, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. And this wasn't something she could keep on the down-low, either. People would ask questions, the kind she couldn't invent a good enough lie about.

Then she received a text message:

FROM: Dodge MESSAGE: Sorry for not picking up. Got a minor concussion and laid up in the hospital. Doc's insisted on bed rest. Will call as soon as possible.

A concussion that prevented her from answering the phone? Did Dodge really expect her to believe that?

Her mind made up, Marie called in a long-overdue favor with Mac Greer, one of the IT forensics guys. He could run facial recognition labeled as a random test or something, which was as good as it gets for keeping stuff like that off the books. Then she made an official request for the GPS coordinates of Dodge's phone.  

Come hell or high water, she was going to figure out what her partner was wrapped up in.

Natalie, Dodge, and Sam stood in the veterinary MRI control room, waiting for the scan to complete.

"So, you do this a lot?" Dodge asked.

"Mostly treating hunters," Natalie replied. "I studied medicine before switching to veterinary work. I was raised as a witch. Guess you can say I was groomed for this."

There was a brief pause as she flipped through the images on the screen. Then she added, "From what I gathered, the others became incredibly violent, attacking people at random for hours or days before dying. You mentioned forensics from other bodies. Do you know what they died from? Clinically, I mean."

Sam replied, "Internal decapitation."

"That might explain this," Natalie said, highlighting a portion of one of the scans. "The top three cervical vertebra have an anomaly. Supernatural entities sometimes have hidden or transformative physiologies. It could be that the Purge's transition introduces a physical change like this that puts the individual at a high risk of internal decapitation."

"You lost me," Dodge said.

"Basically, this is not normal anatomy. Sometimes abnormal anatomy can put people at risk for certain kinds of injuries. For example, someone with weak ankles might sprain a knee or hip while performing tasks that the average person performs without injury. This particular variation of the cervical vertebra raises the likelihood of a fatal injury resulting from trauma that would otherwise only result in minor neck pain."

"You're saying that this stuff makes them simultaneously violent and vulnerable," Dodge said. "More vulnerable than they've ever been in their entire lives."

"That's why they all died the same way and why they all appeared to be human," Sam said. "After death, I mean. The serum made them human... it basically cured them to death."

"We need to paralyze Sliver," Dodge said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"A temporary paralysis from the neck-down could prevent him from dying during the last part of the transition," Natalie said, agreeing with Dodge. "Doctors use this technique for people with uncontrollable movements when they need to do an MRI or medical procedure. The patient is awake, aware, but can't move, voluntarily or otherwise. That would certainly prevent cervical injuries."

"So, let's do it," Dodge said.

"It's not something we can shoot him up with indefinitely," Natalie said. "We need to wait as long as possible, at least a few hours for me to get the right drugs. We wait until he becomes violent again, then we paralyze him."

"What about in the meantime?" Sam asked.

"You and your friend here will have to keep him still by holding him down or tranquilizing him."

Dodge nodded. "I'll be right back, I've got to make sure my partner doesn't come looking while we're here."

Sam and Dodge took turns holding Sliver down whenever he began to buck the restraints. For the most part, his outbursts were from pain and fear, though a few times the movements were involuntary.

After about eight hours, vampire teeth descended and wouldn't retract. Werewolf claws appeared soon after that, but he remained docile and confused. Then his skin started to slough again, which made holding him down damn near impossible.

They were struggling to tranquilize him when someone barged into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Sam turned and saw Agent Acevedo, dressed in a suit and absolutely furious.

Dodge asked, "Marie, what are you doing here?"

"You need to leave," Natalie added. "You have no right to be here."

"What are you doing to that man?" Marie demanded.

"We're trying to save his life," Sam replied.

Sliver snarled. His eyes turned from fearful to vindictive, and he began to rip at his restraints, howling and hissing.

"We have to do it now," Natalie said. "Put that away," she ordered when Marie drew her gun.

"Help us hold him still," Dodge said to Marie.

Marie obliged, but Sam could tell she wanted answers, especially when the skin started slipping off in her hands. Natalie administered the shot, and just a few seconds later, Sliver became still, though the vengeful look in his eyes remained.

"What the hell?" Marie said as she pulled away from Sliver, hands covered in skin slough. "Dodge, what is going on?"

"I, uh, need to make a call," Sam said abruptly, sensing the two partners needed to speak. "I'll be at the truck."

With that, he left and tried to call Dean again. When that failed, he prayed to Castiel.

"Uh, Cas, it's Sam. I'm just praying because I can't call. I'm okay. So is Dodge, but we've run into her partner, and she just saw some stuff... it's not good. Anyway, I'm okay, and sorry for not thinking of this sooner. You guys should keep away as long as Acevedo is here."

Marie couldn't believe what she was hearing or seeing.

"You said you had a head injury," Marie said.

"I do," Dodge replied. "His issues were more severe."

"You mean the fact that his skin is molting and he has claws and teeth like a carnival freak?" Marie asked.

"That's part of it. He's like the five victims in New Jersey."

"I've seen their bodies. They're nothing like this," Marie replied.

"Stay and watch. See for yourself. We think that paralyzing him will protect him from the injuries that killed the others."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to tell me what's going on," she said. "I mean it, Dodge, no double speak or half truths."

"Fine. But you won't believe me."

"Try me."

"This guy's called Sliver. He was born a shapeshifter. That means he can transform into other people. That stuff on your hands? It's his skin. He sloughs it off when he shifts into someone else."

"Right, and the teeth and claws are him pretending to be a jackal?" Marie said sarcastically.

"No, he's been trying to become human. The treatment he took is doing this to him. The muscle spasms, the rage, the teeth, the claws."

"That's the opposite of becoming human."

"No kidding."

Marie bit her lip, but she couldn't hold back. "Dodge, if this guy had the ability to become anyone he wanted, why would he give it up?"

"Once he gets through this, he can explain that to you," she replied.

"What's 'this'? What is happening to him?"

Dodge said, "All our victims died of internal decapitation. We think it happens during the last phase of the treatment, uncontrollable movements. So we've paralyzed him from the neck down to protect him."

"You've finally lost it," Marie said.

"Marie, I - "

"Don't, Dodge," Marie interrupted. "I just... just don't. Okay?"

"You sure he's okay?" Dean asked.

"He assured me of such," Cas replied.

Dean was pissed that his brother took his sweet time replying, but at least he was all right.

"What should we do now?" the angel asked.

"Nothing. At least until Sammy calls asking for backup."

"I was referring to the fact that we are being followed," Cas said.

"What?"

"That blue car has been parked at three of the last four lots," Cas explained. "And now I see it behind us."

"Maybe we should meet this guy," Dean said.

"What if it's the FBI?"

"Then you zap us outta there, got it?"

Dean pulled up to the next diner he saw. He took a seat near the window so he could watch the parking lot.

Sure enough, the blue car Cas pointed out circled the block a few times before parking nearby. The driver, a woman, got out and came into the diner.

She saw him looking right at her, and she smiled. Then she walked over to their table.

"Can I join you fellas?" she asked brightly.

"Werewolf," Cas whispered to Dean.

"Sure, just remember that I know what takes you out. Silver to the heart," Dean replied.

"No need for that," she said. "I'm Sharvari."

"Howdy, Sharvari. I'm Dean, and this is Cas. Why aren't we shooting you dead right now?"

"I was looking for the tall guy and the woman, but kept running into you two. You know them. I can smell it. So I figured I could give you two a message."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Six-one two-one Garden Square, Hemlock, New Jersey," she replied.

"What's there?"

"Proof that there were more than five," Sharvari replied.

"Five what?" Castiel asked.

"Victims. Of the Purge."

"Yeah, we heard all about that sob story. Monsters wanting to be human and dying for it. Why should we believe it?" Dean asked.

"Because it's true," she replied. "And because the EDA is for monsters who just want to live. We've got rules: no killing, no maiming, no turning people, and no media attention. The Purge has ruined us, after nearly four years of safety. Hunters don't listen, but I convinced some folks to let me at least try. You do know the tall hunter and the woman, don't you?"

"Yeah, we know them," Dean said. "We don't know you."

Sharvari smiled. She said, "Six-one, two-one Garden Square, Hemlock, New Jersey. Tell the tall hunter and the woman it's from Crosby."

"Who the hell is Crosby?" Dean asked.

"I'll be going now. Don't follow me."

She stood up and left. Dean wanted to follow, but Castiel held him back.

"You're just gonna let her go?" Dean demanded.

"She might've just given us the address where Sam and Dodge are. What's more important? Knowing your brother is safe or following a random werewolf?"

"Fine, but if I see that bitch again, she's not just gonna walk away from me."

Bad Rain, Episode 10x02 of Untitled, or Season 10 Fan Fiction Part One: New Moon Part Two: Veins Part Three: In the Madness Part Five: Lost to Wait

See Season 10 Fan Fiction series page for more details.

[type2diabetestreatments-blog]

Ask D'Mine: Type 1 Kids and Birthday Parties, How Glucagon Works

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/ask-dmine-type-1-kids-and-birthday-parties-how-glucagon-works/

Ask D'Mine: Type 1 Kids and Birthday Parties, How Glucagon Works

Ever wish there was someone to ask all those pressing, confounding, and disconcerting questions about life with diabetes? Someone who really "gets it"? Well, now there is!

If you haven't discovered our diabetes advice column Ask D'Mine yet, now is your chance to jump in! This Saturday series is hosted by veteran type 1, diabetes author and community educator Wil Dubois.

Need help navigating life with diabetes? Email us at AskDMine@diabetesmine.com

Laura from Arizona, type 3, sends us this reach-for-the-Kleenex tale: I have a question about what is the best site for foods for an 8-year-old girl who was just diagnosed last week. I am sorry, I am just so angry! I grew up caring and watching over my father who has had type 1 for 52 years (he is amazing), but when this happened to my little sweetheart niece I about died. She was doing wonderful in this past week, started giving her own injections, guessing her numbers while she checked her blood—just amazing to see.

But she just went to her first birthday party over the weekend and could not eat chips, dips, cake or drink the punch and sodas like all the other kiddos were doing. This is when it all hit her. She has changed, she has to think about what she eats, she has to plan ahead... Her 9th birthday is right around the corner and she told her mom that she does not want to have a party. I need to find a place where we can see the nutrition info; and isn't there some way to make a yummy birthday cake for her?!? I want her to have an amazing birthday, one that she deserves to have. I will be forever grateful for any information you can give me.

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Your niece sounds like a trooper-and-a-half! She's a week out of dx and doing her own injections, checking her blood, and thinking about her food. Waaaaaaaaaaaay to go, kiddo! As is often the case, the little persons with diabetes handle this mess better than their families do. (Worst job in the world alert: parent of child with diabetes, especially if you do not already have diabetes yourself.)

So when it comes to our littlest brothers and sisters I don't think anyone will flame me for saying that your first stop should be the Children with Diabetes community. Their food and nutrition section should give you everything you need and more.

As you'll get all the specifics there, I'm going to give you some more global thoughts here. Bear in mind that half the endos out there will be sending me letter bombs after reading this, and that 49% of the mothers of type 1 kiddos will be buying Wil voodoo dolls on eBay... But...

I think your niece should go to parties. And when she's there I think she should eat chips, dips, and cake. I do draw the line at the punch and soda, however. Our kind simply cannot handle liquid sugars. Ever. Well, not recreationally, anyway. As a treatment for low blood sugar it's another thing altogether. Now, back to the chips, dips, and cake. She'll probably need to limit her portions some. She'll need to pack extra insulin, of course. She should have a low-carb breakfast before heading to the party, of course.

In other words, yes, your family needs to take sensible safety precautions, but those medical needs must be balanced with the social needs of the child. Will the party make a train wreck of her blood sugar? Yeah, probably. But how often do these kinds of parties happen? A couple times a year? And how often is a type 1 kiddo's blood sugar a train wreck even when the family does every frickin' thing right? Yeah. About once per week.

I think you just need to take parties in stride. As for her own party, I'm partial to Splenda for making lower-carb yummy birthday cakes. Now remember that at least half the blood sugar impact of the cake is gonna be in the flour. Not much you can do about that, but if you have a cake recipe you like, you can substitute the sugar for Splenda, and drop the blood sugar impact of a slice quite a bit. Splenda has a freaky-looking fake snow consistency in the measuring cup and weighs next to nothing, but it'll work fine and, unlike some other faux sugars, can be used in baking. The cake will have the same flavor and consistency you're used to, it just won't brown quite right. But you're going to cover it with icing anyway, so no one will know. And, of course, you can use Splenda in the icing, too.

So, Laura, no anger. No grief. Your niece is, and will continue to be, the sweetheart she always was. Now, go put on your damn apron, break out the Splenda, and make your niece the yummiest diabetes-friendly cake of all time.

And for the rest of you, today's stock quote for Kimberly-Clark, makers of Kleenex, can be found here.

Ariel from New Mexico, type 3, asks: How long does glucagon take to work? I had read somewhere that it takes 20 minutes! I think if, God forbid, I have to give my four-year-old daughter a shot and she stayed unconscious for 20 minutes I'd die of a heart attack myself!

Wil@Ask D'Mine answers: Wow. What a great question. Glucagon, for those of you who don't know or forgot, is a drug used to intervene in near-death experiences caused by severely low blood sugar. You know, I've carried glucagon with me for years, trained dozens of people (including my own son Rio, right after his 5th birthday) to use it, but never once gave the action time a single thought.

It's instant, right? Well, no. Apparently not.

But before we get into the issue of response time, let's do a quick review. Glucagon is a hormone that causes the liver to release its inventory of sugar. It's the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency drug of last resort for severe hypoglycemia. It's an unstable compound so it must be mixed right before use. Glucagon kits are made by both Eli Lilly under the name of Glucagon Emergency Kit and Novo Nordisk under the name GlucaGen Hypo Kit. As far as I can tell, the only real difference is that Lilly's comes in a red box and the Novo kit comes in an orange box. Both have a prefilled syringe of saline and a vial of glucagon powder. To get it ready to use you must remove the syringe and vial from the case, un-cap the needle, un-cap the vial, inject the saline into the vial, mix it around, then draw it back into the syringe. What could be easier or faster?

Oh wait. Did I forget to mention that this procedure needs to be done by a presumably freaked-out type 3 whose loved one is out cold on the floor from low blood sugar? Right. Glucagon is used when it's too late for glucose tabs, gels, or Skittles. Glucagon is used when lows are so bad the PWD is unresponsive. The procedure above takes less than a minute, but I'd wager it would be one of the longest minutes of a type 3's life.

In fact, I know of one tragic story from the northern part of our state. A panicked mother injected just the saline into her unconscious son. She forgot to do the whole inject, mix, draw thing.

He died.

After I heard about that, I started all my glucagon carrying families on regular fire drills, having them practice with expired kits (minus final injection, of course). The PWDs generally have a great time simulating a low-blood sugar collapse. Oh, speaking of expired, these kits don't last forever and I'd bet that more than half of you are carrying expired ones. Make sure your damn glucagon kit hasn't expired. Go check.

Right now.

I'll wait here for you.

OK, so how long does it take to bring you back from the almost-dead? "One minute" is quoted a lot on the web, but it's false. And I think I know the source of the confusion. The physician prescribing sheet for Lilly's kit also lists another use for glucagon—and you'll love this—as a muscle relaxant for colon exams.

Yes. You always suspected that diabetes would f - - What? Oh. Well, my PG-13 rating won't allow me to clearly spell out what I'm thinking, but I'm sure you can figure out what I'd say next if I could.

Anyway, when injected intravenously, the onset of glucagon as a muscle relaxant is one minute. But nowhere in the scientific literature could I find anything close to a one minute action time for revival from a bad hypo. I think someone, somewhere along the line, saw the colon exam chart, didn't read carefully, and put the one minute time on the web. Since then it's just been repeated again and again. Copy, paste. Copy, paste. Copy, paste.

This is why you should never believe anything you read on the web.

Oh. Except here at DiabetesMine, of course.

In point of fact, the two pharma companies that make glucagon are vague about the action time for hypo revival. The sheet for docs from Lilly says, "An unconscious patient will usually awaken within 15 minutes following the glucagon injection."

Ah.

Usually awaken.

Within 15 minutes.

How comforting.

Novo's glucagon page states their product works "within about 10 minutes."

Ah.

Within about.

Very precise.

So is the Novo product five minutes faster, or is this just marketing BS? I'd still put my money on the only difference between the two being the color of the case.

More fun glucagon tips: Glucagon makes most people puke. So after you stab your loved one, roll them on their side (for complex anatomical reasons, the left side is preferred), so that they don't choke when they throw up. Oh. Unless your diabetic loved one has collapsed on an expensive oriental rug in which case the procedure is stab, drag, roll.

Then call 911. Severe lows, like earthquakes, can have aftershocks. If you just emptied your liver of sugar, you have no more reserves. A second bad low could be a one-way trip to the great beyond, so glucagon use requires a visit to the ER until things stabilize.

Oh, and according to the info sheet in the kits, if your PWD is still out cold after 15 minutes, you can give a second shot. For kids, a kit holds enough for two shots. For adults, you are out of luck unless someone has a second kit handy.

Some people worry about what if? What if the PWD is lights-out because their blood sugar is too high rather than too low? The official advice is to give the shot anyway. Highs take quite a bit of time to kill you. Hours. Severe lows can kill your pretty damn quick. Minutes count.

Where to inject? Several training manuals for school-based personnel are advocating injecting into fat, just like insulin, but the microfilm-sized instructions from both pharma companies advocate straight into muscle of the arm, butt, or thigh. Would that hurt? Hell yeah.

But don't worry, type 3s. If you've broken out the glucagon we're unconscious anyway.

We'll forgive you an achy butt for saving our asses.

This is not a medical advice column. We are PWDs freely and openly sharing the wisdom of our collected experiences — our been-there-done-that knowledge from the trenches. But we are not MDs, RNs, NPs, PAs, CDEs, or partridges in pear trees. Bottom line: we are only a small part of your total prescription. You still need the professional advice, treatment, and care of a licensed medical professional.

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

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