#well the second copy bc I left my original book back at home and I needed it for class

[quibbs126]

Christ, Mary Shelley’s life sucked

[aprillikesthings]

I lead part of EfM thing today (see earlier posts) and it went well ahhhhh thank God

and I've made my lunches for the next week!

and I'm munching on a salad

and all day I was looking forward to this, the moment I can (re)watch MORE SHE-RA

I've barely worked on my longer fic this weekend (other than copy/pasting a bunch of things Nate said after the show ended into the notes section of the doc) and tbh rewatching the ACTUAL SHOW is hella distracting bc with twenty eps left we're going to start getting into more of the really high-stakes stuff

Also, true story: I originally watched, like, the second half of season 4 and all of season 5 in two days of marathoning with Daci. So quite frankly? The last, like, third of the show is just kind of a blur to me now.

SO LET'S GO

s4 ep7 Mer-Mysteries

A mission in Dryl went badly, they've figured out someone's telling the Horde what they're doing, they're not tracking Adora because she wasn't even there--

YES

plz enjoy Sea Hawk's faces

Bow's sudden nervousness reminds me of when I was in line at the TSA in Dulles airport and was weirdly nervous. I had no reason to be nervous. AND YET. I'm usually totally fine at TSA? But the people at Dulles were scary!!!

(I was way less nervous coming back from Iceland, despite knowing I had Kinder Surprise Eggs in my suitcase. Which are actually illegal to bring into the USA. You can buy "Kinder Joy Eggs" in the USA, which do not have the toy, but the ones with the toys are against the law! Anyway I bought them for Daci. I was only nervous for a split second at customs in the USA bc they asked me what I'd brought home from Iceland and I was like...wool yarn. books. sweets (I'd also bought licorice and chocolate). But he just waved me through. WHEW.)

she's still big mad about this lolol

BUT she's right a spy IS the only thing that makes sense (but also the audience knows shit they don't)

Pearl?? A Pearl who knows too much?????

c'mon I had to

lolol they lampshaded the way lightning keeps striking when Mermista says something

to be fair she IS the most recent addition and the one they know the least

oh hey I also write everything in purple (or lavender) ink

lol

oh, shut up

well not this episode, specifically

LOLLLLL

honestly this is a lot like the DnD episode

so on the one hand, I know Flutterina is doing this to make them fight, but on the other hand Glimmer is right; on the other OTHER hand, I also would prefer a warning before being forced to see my abusive parent having free range of the castle I live in

BAHAHAHA I read Nate saying these two were interrupted on a date night, but also plz notice the colors of the flowers, it's literally most of the lesbian pride flag, they were SO unsubtle

The Ken from Plumeria is talking to the pastry chef from Dryl with the super cute outfit, and she looks bashful for a second after this screenshot; I am now shipping this and no one can stop me

speaking of ships (yes I know this isn't meant to be shippy lol)

a youtube video titled "it's raining on your window and you live in Bright Moon Castle ASMR for sleep 4 hours"

(....I'd listen to that)

(On a related note, mynoise dot net has a bunch of rain sounds on the website, and it also has an app--it's seriously the BEST website/app for ambient sounds because they're so adjustable and never repeat, and I just want everyone to know about them. The rain and ocean sounds are great on earbuds to cover up snoring so you can sleep!!! Worked better than my fancy earplugs while I was on the Camino and sleeping in all those hostels)

And back to the cartoon, where there's obviously suspicious shit happening because people seem to be in two places at once and their communications thing got shattered

oh so her name IS just The General

Flutterina (aka Double Trouble) has got to be like "oh my god wtf is up with this dude I cannot handle this bullshit"

Once again Glimmer proves that her and Catra are actually very, very alike

BUSTED

OOHHHHH they set up a trap I forgot, this is amazing

Adora: "we created a diversion :)" Glimmer: "You were a really good actress. For once."

pfft

Anyway Double Trouble is confessing the whole plan

:(

poor Mermista :(

there's a creepy-ass moment of seeing part of Horde Prime's face as he smiles, roll credits

[falcqns]

Hi i have a request like a Chris Evans x reader and like the reader clean they’re house and chris have this book that he put like important stuff and the reader put that book on their coffee table and proceed to clean and when chris got home chris took a shower and find his book and he ask the reader and the reader said it was in the coffee table but when chris check it wasn’t there and chris got all mad bc it’s important and the reader said she will buy him a new one but chris said i will never be the same or something like that and chris stormed off and a few mins the reader saw the book but dodger have it he was ripping all the pages and stuff and the reader and dodge go to the shops and buy a new book for chris and when they got home chris was already there still mad and the reader gave the book to chris and the reader say something like “I know you said its not gonna be the same but I bought you a new one bc dodge kinda uh play with it” something like that and the reader apologized you can do whatever you want there, pls end it with a happy ending thankyou!

better than the original

pairing: Chris Evans x sensitive!Reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a DDLG relationship and little space, but no actual DDLG in this one, fluff, super sensitive reader (aka me, I cry over everything)

a/n: kind of a part two to "wrong person"?? readers not little in this, but its in the same universe!

you thought he would have been appreciative of you cleaning the house while he was on set, but to your surprise, he got mad.

"where's my book?" he asked, looking around the living room, disregarding all the work you'd done.

"I'm sure it's around here somewhere." you said, helping him look for his favourite book and trying to ignore the upset feeling in your stomach at the way he ignored the clean house.

he rounded the couch, and you heard him exclaim. "oh for fucks sake." he said, before storming off towards the bedroom. you furrowed your brow and walked around the couch. you sighed when you saw Dodger chewing on it, and ripping out the pages.

"Dodger! No!" you said. you took it away from him and placed it on the counter before going after Chris.

"we can always get a new one," you offered, but you knew that was the wrong decision when Chris turned around.

"that's not the fucking point, y/n! that was my favourite book, and even if we replace it it won't be the same!" he said, and he slammed the bedroom door shut behind him.

you felt tears coming to your eyes. you were insanely sensitive, and Chris knew that. he knew better than to yell at you, because you would start crying and wouldn't stop until you he assured you over and over that you weren't in trouble, and he wasn't mad or disappointed. you understood that he was upset, but it still hurt that he got mad and yelled at you, when you clearly didn't mean it.

you walked away and back to the living room and sat back down on the couch, where you remained for the rest of the night, your tears never ceasing. you were just trying to help, and show him you could be a good girlfriend and eventually wife, but instead you made him mad, and angry at you.

you spent a cold and lonely night on the couch, shivering from the cold that the knitted blanket couldn't block out, not wanting to anger Chris any further by joining him in the nice warm bed upstairs. just the thought of the bed made you eyes well up again, wanting nothing more than to cuddle up to him.

eventually, you woke from a restless slumber, and your tears retuned when you remembered that Chris was still mad at you. you glanced over to the book that still laid chewed up on the counter, and decided to go and try to find him a new one.

you stood up and grabbed your wallet and car keys, before leaving the house with Dodger on a leash.

you drove into town and found the first bookstore you could find. you walked in, and your eyes lit up when you saw they had just gotten a new shipment of them. for $15 you could get the regular book, or for $25 you could get a signed copy with a bookmark. you thought about it for a moment, but decided to get the signed copy, even though it cost more.

you paid for the book, and made the quick drive home, hoping that the book would put Chris in a better mood, if his sleep hadn't.

but, when you walked in the door, you knew that wasn't the case. the door shut behind you, and Chris came barrelling into the room.

"where the fuck were you?" he demanded, and your eyes widened. "ive been calling your phone, only to find out that you left it here, while you left, with my dog, might I add, to god knows where! why the fuck wouldn't you tell me where you're going? do know how stupid and immature that is?" he yelled at you. you tried to will yourself not to cry, but it was useless. he stood in front of you, eyes dark and face red. to you, he looked terrifying, and you wanted nothing more for him to go back to the nice Chris you thought he was.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you handed him the bag and Dodgers leash.

"I-i'm sorry. I k-know how much that b-book meant to you, a-and I just wanted to r-replace it so y-you won't be angry w-w-ith me anymore. I-I got the s-signed one to-o. it comes w-with a book mark. here-s your d-dog." you said before running off trying not to cry even more.

you ran into the bathroom, and to the linen closet where you had your little hideout. you climbed in and shut the curtain behind you, and let the tears come. you could feel your headspace approaching but you pushed it away.

you'd upset Chris, and he probably hated you for what you did. you knew that the book you bought could never replace the original, but you thought he would have liked it. you took Dodger with you because he needed some fresh air, and he loved going into stores with you.

you just wanted to prove you could be a big girl! that's all! he was really mad at you last night, so you knew even if you were little, you wouldn't get the care that you needed, so you pushed through and remained big for him, but even that wasn't good enough.

you don't know how long you sat there and cried your little heart out, but soon you heard Chris entering the bathroom. he took a seat somewhere and started to speak to you.

"y/n, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you like I did. you didn't deserve that. you worked so hard on cleaning the house and I didn't even acknowledge it because I was focused on a book. I should've let it go when it happened because its a book. I was wrong. it can be replaced. the one you got me is so much better than the other one, and I love that you got it for me. I shouldn't have yelled at you. you're insanely sensitive, and you were probably already on the verge of tears when you came in the house, and me yelling at you was not the right thing to do. I could have asked you calmly where you were going, instead of getting angry." he explained. he waited to see if you would say anything, and when you didn't, he continued speaking.

"and I'm sorry for saying that Dodger was my dog. he's not. he's ours. you take such good care of him, and I know you were only entertaining him because I was still asleep, because your such a sweet girl. I'm so sorry baby." he said. you sniffled, and slowly crawled out.

you walked over to him, tears still pouring down your face, and leaned against him. he immediately embraced you, and rubbed your back as you cried.

"I didn't mean to make you mad!" you sobbed, and Chris shook his head.

"no baby. you didn't. I could never be mad at you for something like that. you're okay. i'm not mad, i'm not disappointed. you're not a crybaby, its okay to cry." he recited like he always did, squashing all your fears before they could even enter your head. he lifted your head to look in your red and swollen eyes.

"have you stopped crying since last night?" he asked, and you shrugged your shoulders.

"n-not really." you said, and Chris sighed sadly.

"c'mon. let's go back to bed for a little, it's still early." he said, and you followed him into the bedroom.

you drifted off less than a second after your head hit the pillow, and had a peaceful sleep knowing that Chris wasn't mad at you.

[radramblog]

What happened to Dirk in Homestuck^2?

Why am I doing this to myself.

I memed a little yesterday when I was posting that article around social medias about Homestuck jokes, because once again we are in lockdown and I am therefore Stuck at Home. Canned laughter goes here. But there’s a topic related to the comic- or more specifically, its aborted sequel, Homestuck^2, that I’m interested in delving into a little bit. I’m going to avoid talking about spoilers as much as possible, but considering said comic takes place not only after the events of the massive sprawl that is Homestuck but also the more linear but still messy Epilogues, some amount of sus shit is inevitable.

Anyway. Much maligned is what the Epilogues and 2 did to everyone’s favourite decapitation target, Dirk Strider, and I have a theory as to why it happened this way.

To begin with, let’s summarise what and who Dirk is through the course of the comics. Fair warning from me, though, it’s been a while since I read through this.

Dirk Strider is a teenager who grew up in a post-apocalyptic future Earth, completely devoid of physical contact with other people and only really ever gets to talk to 3 other people, only one of whom is in anything remotely resembling a relatable situation. He struggles with self-identity, having created numerous robots including an artificial intelligence based on his own brain, aka Lil’ Hal. He’s somewhat of a control freak, and a bit of a cold aloof asshole, but means well, and is pretty gay. NBD. The kinda guy to set up a plan meticulously and thoroughly, not informing any of the moving parts even if said parts are his friends, and often involving some form of self-sacrifice.

Throughout the comic he further reckons with self-identity problems and his own self-loathing including entering a relationship with Jake which doesn’t go well and he eventually breaks off since he knows his overbearing and manipulative behaviour is Not Cool and Pretty Toxic but doesn’t know how to shut it off. Eventually he reaches the God Tier as a Prince of Heart, gaining the power to literally annihilate souls, which he never actually uses since he gets yeeted into deep (Paradox) space and then everything goes to shit. Except none of that happens because of the Retcon (aside from the God Tier bit) and we don’t actually see how that shit progressed in the canon timeline. I think. Dirk’s arc, as it were, doesn’t really come full circle- while he does assist in Dave’s character…growth? he really isn’t the focus of that conversation. This immediately precedes the action climax and there isn’t literally any dialogue after that so that’s what we’re left with.

I like Dirk in Homestuck a lot. It’s hard not to, considering the flashes heavily featuring him (Unite/Synchronise and Prince of Heart: Rise Up) are genuinely excellent, along with many of his music themes being absolute bangers. He gets to interact with Caliborn a lot, with a pretty great banter, there, and the whole splintered personality thing is a really interesting hook for a character. I think he’s my favourite of the Alpha kids, a controversial pick considering I know everyone loves Roxy so much. I think, I’m not as in tune with the fandom as that statement implies I am.

And then the Epilogues/Homestuck 2 came.

Now I read the Meat half of the epilogues first, but that’s more interesting, so we’ll tackle Candy first (this is going to get real confusing for those who haven’t read this comic, huh).

In Candy, Dirk almost immediately kills himself, citing the irrelevance of the timeline as cause, an act considered by whatever mechanism governs God Tier deaths to be Just because he hates himself (and also bc of things we’ll get into), so it actually sticks. This isn’t super relevant for the discussion, but that’s just kinda so unbelievably fucked up? Entirely? I’d imagine if you read Candy first you might get entirely turned off by this, which I’m sure a lot of people did.

Meat is where the, well, meat of post-canon Dirk is. You see, a concept very quickly introduced in the tail end of the original comic is the Ultimate Self, an idea where you somehow encompass every different timeline iteration or alternate version of yourself. This was pretty clearly tacked on to make it so characters whose arcs all happened in the retcon timeline could have their not getting an actual arc explained away, but it didn’t land then and it sure doesn’t land for me now. Anyway, in Meat, Dirk becomes his ultimate self, making him near-omniscient and able to control the fabric of the story himself- for much of this story, he is the narrator. And he uses this power to fuck with all his friends really distressingly without their knowledge (or consent), including breaking up a marriage, in order to further his own goals which largely appear to be just keep the story going so to not fade out of relevance. It’s a plot that makes no sense with his previous characterisation, but I guess now that he’s the Ultimate Self he’s a different person? But I liked old Dirk, and I don’t like New Dirk. He’s a villain now, but he made a much better anti-hero.

But this would be fine if he (or the epilogues, or Homestuck^2) were written well. But they aren’t. Dirk’s dialogue is long, painfully drawn out, with tangents that tend to amount to pure wank, misused literary references and pointless metaphors that go on and on, filling the screen with a bright orange screed that hurts to look at as much as it does to comprehend. It’s not fun. And we’ve seen Dirk communicate before, obviously, the story of Homestuck is built around chatlogs, but it wasn’t like this. He was sarcastic, dryly witty, blunt at times. Even when he was literally talking to a different version of himself it didn’t get that masturbatory.

I was so confused about what the hell happened to Dirk, because I had no idea what the hell someone writing this character was thinking when they turned him into this. And then, the 21st page of Homestuck^2 dropped.

And it all came together.

What Ultimate Dirk and Terezi are referring to is Pony Pals: Detective Pony, a children’s book about some girls who hang out with ponies and solve a mystery. It’s a real book, buy it for your 5-year-old.

Except they’re not referring to that, they’re referring to the Homestuck Canon version of Detective Pony- a birthday gift from Dirk to Jane, heavily edited and to be much more obscene and eventually developing into it’s own story, stated to be “tough, emotionally draining, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible”.

Except the quote “Remember Longcat, Jane?” and references to philosophy, dead languages, and ancient earth culture aren’t referring to the three pages of the Dirk-edited Detective Pony we see in the actual comic itself. That quote doesn’t appear there.

That image is from Detective Pony, by Sonnetstuck- the 40,000 word fanfiction from 2014 that serves as a completed version of Jane’s copy of the book. An expansion of what we see in canon. And it’s a tough, emotionally draining read, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible.

It’s a very good fanfiction.

In the later bits of Detective Pony, we can start to see the origins of what would become Ultimate Dirk’s signature style of writing. Long blocks of rambling text, orange dripping down the page, references to philosophy and history and language that go on and on. And it probably does look familiar to those who read the Epilogues and ^2. 

But there are a couple of key differences here. First of all, it’s just better written? The way these rambles circle back on themselves is so excellent, the absolute absurdity of this being written on top of a pony book for little girls, the humour (beyond some of the more immature stuff), it’s just a really well-written piece of fiction. Hell, you don’t even need to be familiar with the character of Dirk to enjoy it. It’s a harrowing piece, but it’s also self-aware- because it’s not supposed to be tough, draining, cathartic etc. just for Jane- it’s clearly that for Dirk himself.

The second part is, of course, that this is a fanfiction. It’s not canon, it’s not official, this is by someone who really likes Dirk for people who really like Dirk. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so if you bounce off it (and I’m sure a lot did), then you don’t have to keep reading it, it’s fine, thanks for playing. As much as Homestuck^2 tried to doll itself up as “dubiously canon” it’s still the official continuation of the story, and that means if it’s as difficult to get into as Detective Pony, that’s going to be a problem for a lot of people.

The other part of it is that Detective Pony’s exploration of Dirk’s character is, well, in character. When the man himself steps in as a character in his own book, the explorations of what he is as an author, who he is as a person, make perfect sense for what we see of him at the start of the comic. He is that manipulative, blunt person, and he is aware of his faults. He’s the kind of person to hide a lamentation on his own failings inside an impenetrable maze of a story layered on top of a book about fucking ponies. Ultimate Dirk does not act like Dirk, outside of the “manipulator” angle, something that Dirk was aware of and trying to improve in the comic. But I guess people don’t have arcs, right?

It’s so interesting to see the seeds of Homestuck^2 laden within Detective Pony- because the meta angle that and the epilogues take is also represented in said fanfiction. While the nature of canon is a facet of the work, the idea of authors and narrators fighting for control of a story, different ideas in mind for the characters, one being more personally connected to them than the other, it’s all there. When I wrote about Fallout 4 in the past, I mentioned being worried that Bethesda took the wrong lessons from Skyrim- seeing something successful and trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. I think Homestuck^2 is an extreme example of this- the writers of the comic saw Sonnetstuck’s masterwork and thought, yeah that’s great, we can do that. But they just can’t. And with the comic crashed and burning, the probably won’t ever get a chance to. Dirk is forever stuck as this amalgamation of himself that looks nothing like any individual version of him ever did.

At least we will still have Detective Pony, and many other excellent fanworks, for actually good Dirk content. I admittedly haven’t looked into much fanfic written during/post-epilogues, and I’m kind of afraid of what I’ll see- I can only hope the fanbase didn’t take the same wrong lessons as the official team did.

[bookworm-2692]

About a week ago I finally finished bookbinding @airdeari‘s beautiful Zero Escape fic The First Nonary Game. It took about a month (between all the waiting for glue to dry and also several days each week when I was unable to work on it), and was so much fun! It’s so satisfying to just... hold this book in my hands. 

Details about how I made it, along with additional photos (and commentary) below the cut.

So I came across this post on Tumblr, which immediately inspired me to try bookbinding myself. I spent a few days watching so many tutorials from the youtube channel linked in the post (I’ll link the specific tutorials I used in this post), and googling how to actually manage to print pages so they form proper signatures, because the inbuilt booklet creator in Word doesn’t exist in my Word apparently so that’s fun.

Anyway, once I started, I asked @airdeari for permission to print and bind his fic, and he immediately said yes, so that was good. Then I spent a good couple of days copying the entire fic into a Word document, and fiddling with formatting so it would look like an actual book (section breaks, page numbers, headers with the fic title on the left page and chapter title on the right page (this took ages to work and I kept on stuffing it up), and making sure things just... looked nice. I added in the art After The War that @keycrash created specifically for the fic (third pic above), and an “afterword” containing credit and links and the author’s notes from AO3 (because even if I’m the only one who will ever see it, it still feels weird to not add the credit stuff in so it’s there).

I then saved the document as a PDF, and used CheapImposter to correctly shuffle (impose, hence “imposter”) the pages so when folded into signatures, each page would be in the correct order. This program was the first free one I could find, and was great because you could specify the number of sheets you want per signature, rather than stuck with a default. I chose to have 11 signatures of 6 sheets of paper, since that was the amount that would have the least blank pages and the end of the book. The file was 261 pages, so with two pages per side, and two sides per sheet, you divide the number of pages by 4 to get 66 sheets of paper

I then printed. There was only one (1) paper jam in the process, which was great. Unfortunately, I realised after I printed that one of the headers for one chapter was wrong (I hadn’t properly disconnected the two chapters), but fortunately that only involved reprinting 4 sheets of paper.

I used the following tutorials to make the books: DIY Textblock, a general “how to make a textblock” tutorial; DIY Kettle Stitch, a specific look at the stitching for a textblock, since the first tutorial doesn’t focus on this; DIY Book Cloth, since I chose to use fabric for my cover; and DIY Hardcover Book, how to put all those pieces together.

So then I started folding all the signatures. I was watching so much Brooklyn Nine-Nine during both the folding and stitching sections, since it was repetitive actions I didn’t need to concentrate on that lasted hours.

It was at this point that I sliced each signature one by one to make the end smoother and less pointy. In future I recommend not doing it at this point - wait until the very end. Instead, move straight onto stitching. 

I don’t have any photos of the stitching portion, since my phone died the morning I started the stitching, and I wasn’t able to replace it until after all the stitching was done. In fact, originally all the photos from before the stitching were lost too. It was only about two days ago that magically the My Photo Stream thing kicked in and brought back all the photos - if it had worked two weeks earlier I would’ve had more. As it is, all photos from September to January are gone forever, unfortunately. But that’s another discussion entirely.

The above is the first book photo on my new phone, so as you can see, all the stitching was completed, the spine was glued, and the purple paper attached. I couldn’t buy two A4 sheets, so instead I had to buy one A3 sheet and cut it in half. Which was difficult cycling home from the city with an A3 sheet that didn’t fit in my bag on account of being A3 and not A4, but oh well.

I don’t have a book press, so I used a pile of DND books and my brother’s weights instead, as shown below.

I then had to re-slice the book after this point bc my first go wasn’t even, on account of slicing each signature separately. Next time definitely I’ll just do it at the end like this. I then also sanded it to make it smoother. It’s still not perfect, but it’s something that’ll take practice and patience so.

Next I made the book cloth, which involves using appliqué sheets to combine cotton fabric and tissue paper. But first I want to talk about the fabric I chose for the cover, because I’m quite proud of it. I spent ages wandering around the shop, trying to find something that fit the feel of the book. Spoilers for the content of the fic if you haven’t read it yet, and also for the source material (999/Zero Escape). I was thinking about some sort of blue swirl thing, because of the Gigantic sinking. I found that, but hesitated because it didn’t fully fit, and my favourite colour is blue so I always pick blue. I also considered flames/fire because of the incinerator thing, but couldn’t find any. I can’t remember if I just couldn’t find any four leaf clover fabric, or if I’ve just since thought about that as a cover. But instead I chose the butterflies below. They fit in several subtle ways that I’m proud of. The colours of blue and pink(/red) matching the receiver and transmitter coding all throughout 999, as well as the moments of purple as well (I don’t think I need to get into that, I’m sure it was analysed to hell and back when the game first came out). The butterflies also point towards the butterfly effect, and in turn the different timelines present in the series. So together it just works. /spoilers over

It’s also just a pretty fabric.

Now the making of the book cloth. I had to make it twice, because I was too impatient the first time, so the iron was too hot and it steamed, which wrinkled and warped the tissue paper, so the fabric was all wrinkly too. The second time took ages and was a worse quality appliqué sheet, but worked well enough anyway.

(My parents: did you have the iron out? what were you ironing? you never iron)

And then I cut the book board to size, using the measurements from the tutorial video. I’ll repeat them here: front and back cover: width = width of textblock minus 3mm, and height = height of textblock plus 6mm, and spine width = width of textblock spine, spine height = same height as covers

I then glued the board onto the book cloth, and put it under the book press. The dnd books are not large enough to cover the whole thing, and also I really wanted the board to stay flat and not curl, so I grabbed way more dnd books and way more of my brother’s weights. I also accidentally started putting the glue on the wrong side of the board (bc one side is smooth and the other is rough), hence the colour difference as well.

The corners were cut and folded and glued over...

And then the textblock was glued in, and put in my book press for a whole weekend. I added a sheet of paper to absorb the glue so the pages wouldn’t become wrinkly, but instead the sheet I added was fine and every other page in the book is wrinkly. So I dunno what happened there. After the weekend I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back for another week to be sure.

And then the complete book is shown at the top of the post!

As I was starting I was talking a lot about it, like about the process I had to go through, or how I was going to obtain what I needed, etc. Mum asked if she could read the story. I froze, like a deer in the headlights... because this is a fanfic. She saw my fear and immediately backed down, explaining she only wanted to read it because if the story was that important to me that I was going to literally turn it into a book, she wanted to read it to yknow like know me better or something? Which makes sense. And when I got over my initial reaction, and remembered that indeed it was technically my dad who introduced me to fanfic, and thought about it more, I said okay. Because since the fic is technically a prequel to the first game, and most of the characters are technically OC’s (like, from the first game we know that all eighteen children must exist, but most of them don’t have names or anything so they are effectively OC’s), then knowledge of source material isn’t strictly necessary. This fic can probably be enjoyed on its own. I mean I’ll probably have to explain the concept of morphogenetic fields, and the last four chapters might not make sense? But I’m okay for my mum to read it. So when she’s less busy at work I’m going to download the epub onto her phone for her - we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, this fic is a masterpiece, extremely well written and I highly recommend it. As said, most of the characters are effectively OC’s, and yet they are all given such rich histories and personalities. All of them have access to the morphogenetic field, so I’m just so glad that @airdeari​ explores nine unique relationships with the field - nine unique sibling dynamics, and esper powers and abilities. It’s just so good.

[scouthearted]

“That Time A Ghost Tried To Kill Me” I’m curious about that story too but I need to ask, what the hell? Is magic attracted to you or something bc damn the fey seem to love u

Frankly, god I wanna know too. It hasn’t happened as much since I moved cities again, maybe it was partially location-based.

Story copy/pasted from the same post!

Alrighty then time for what is without a doubt my scariest magical encounter and also my first noticeable one. All the backstory you need for this one is one, that at the time I was eighteen years old in my senior year of high school and living with my mom (who worked a lot), then-stepdad, and three of my brothers in a fairly large city in Georgia. Two, there’s legends… maybe not legends as they’re too close to me to be legends… that both sides of my family are highly spirit sensitive and many of them can see ghosts. As a younger person, I never believed that in the slightest and thought it was bullshit, because I’ve always been very spirit blind in a family where that’s downright unusual (and before you make references to certain Stiefvater novels, I’ve heard them all already).

My family had moved to Georgia about a year before so my stepdad could be closer to his family and so my mom’s health might improve due to the nicer weather. We were originally in a different apartment, but that one actually started falling down the hill it was built on, so we were moved into another building in the same complex. It was a surprising adjustment. This new building had flooding issues and it also just felt damn weird, but it was better than, yknow, a building falling down a hill, so we dealt with it. We even dealt with it when I would walk in the kitchen and loaves of bread and boxes of cereal would fall on my head. Huh, I decided, I must be a heavy walker, or else this apartment is ALSO falling down a hill and is a little bit tilted.

And then the books started also falling when I walked past one of the many bookshelves in the home. I had a sore head almost constantly and began to avoid the bookshelves (believe me, I was tearing through the school library anyway, rereading things I’d already read could wait). I wrote it off again.

One night, I was in my room writing… I feel like it must have been November, because NaNoWriMo is the only reason I would have to lock myself in my room and write for hours. My stepdad knocked on the door and when I told him to come in, he asked why I was knocking around in the laundry room so late at night. I told him I’d only been writing and offered to show him my progress as proof, but he swore there was a woman in there and my mother was asleep, so who else could it be? After a few moments of a standoff and us realizing it didn’t really matter, he left, and I resumed my writing.

About a month after that, I was sleeping when I woke up to something distinctly like the smell and sound of popcorn popping. I look up and my lamp (which was off because, yknow, sleeping) is on fire. Legitimate sparking and flames fire. So I do what every kindergartener is taught and I run through the halls of my apartment saying “GET UP EVERYONE THERE’S A FIRE IN MY ROOM” and my mom and stepdad rush towards the fire. As soon as my stepdad steps in, the fire flickers, sputters, and dies. I’m told to go toss the lamp in the dumpster and go back to bed. Faulty wiring. Okay.

About two weeks after THAT, I am leaving my room when the window falls out and onto my bed. I’m talking glass panes, frames, the entire window. Okay, faulty building. Same apartment complex where a building fell down a hill, remember? We call maintenance and they fix it. We double check the work because goddamn if they didn’t say they fixed the dishwasher only to have it break again, so. This is truly, really fixed, however.

Except three days later, I’m sitting on my bed when I hear an insistent voice and feel a tug on my arm. “Get up. NOW.” Instinctively, I stand and move away from my bed. Just in time for the window to again fall and this time shatter, the heavy glass landing all around my bed and my room. I’m only just out of range. It hits me that this would have killed me if I didn’t get up at the second I did.

So at this point, I start freaking out and I call my best friend at the time, who happens to be a self-professed witch. I’m crying and freaking out and she talks me through how to purify spaces. I use a whole big round cylinder thing of kitchen salt. And the thing is? It seems to work. Everything stops. I sleep on the couch for a week because I’m scared and want to be sure, but everything is back to normal, and the worst part is that I’m completely out of excuses for what has happened.

About four months after this purification, the bread starts falling on me again. At this point, however, the flooding has gotten Too Much and we’ve been told we’re being moved once again. At the new apartment, nothing happens. It feels safe.

There’s two epilogues to this one. The first one is in talking to my mother a few months later. “There was definitely something in that apartment. I saw her standing at the foot of my bed, and she threw things at me, too. I didn’t know she was haunting you as well. I didn’t want to scare you.”

The second one is in talking to my grandmother a few years later, after moving to PA. “Of course that place was haunted!” she said. “Ghosts feed on energy. Teenage energy. Electronic energy. Your apartment had plenty, with three teenagers and all that modern technology. Was it near a stream, you say, they like water, too…”

“Oh god. The flooding.”

“There was flooding? You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

And basically that’s how I kind of got over myself and realized my family wasn’t as weird as I thought and also how a ghost almost succeeded in ending me.

[metalchickaf19]

The Bowers Gang: Ship #15 - Henry Bowers

Request: hello i would like to request a ship, if you don't mind +_+ i'm not really tall,average build, really long dark hair. i'm fond of formal office wear and in general prefer dark colors and non-revealing clothes, if that makes sense. as a person i try my best to be a good friend though at some times i'm a bit too caring and at others times i care less than i should bc i'm sick or busy af(i easily get sick.). i tend to be anxious and even a bit paranoid bc of some kind of ocd i dunno ( i get all those unnecessary thoughts like "i should leave the bus immediately bc i've got a bad feeling about this dude" and then i should look 10 times to the left and 10 to the right to calm myself somehow ._.) my hobbies is reading (mostly scandinavian detectives), watching films and playing tabletop role-playing games. also i secretly like date sims. in society i try my best to be polite and patient(i'm this person who takes all the shit goin my way to stop conflict from happening), but with my friends i can be more open and even impulsive. that's it. i hope it's not too much and my english is okay.

First and foremost, it’s kind of astonishing that you were even able to befriend The Bowers Gang at all - let alone start hooking up with their leader

Their reputation (+ Hockstetter’s hardcore creeper vibe) kept your paranoia on high alert for a long time - so much so that it was all you could do not to drop the few classes you had with specific members of the group

... And it was that insane, animal fear that would eventually cause the guys to target you later on

Hey - you were walking down the hall one day, saw the guys standing around Belch’s locker, and instantly turned on your heel to avoid them

I can’t help the fact that Patrick saw you do that

And I can’t help the fact that that gave he and the guys reason enough to start messing with you

Wound up resulting in a super adorable relationship with Bowers though, so yay (and genuine yay this time - not yay with a question mark attached to it)

Joins in whenever the guys make fun of your “office wear” proclivity (and they make fun of it often)...

... but secretly kind of likes the fact that you prefer non-revealing clothing

Mostly because he’s a misogynistic bastard who doesn’t want the girls he dates “on display” for everyone else, but still - Bowers is down with the corporate causal aesthetic

Sometimes lets you read to him, which is one of the most endearing thing I’ve ever heard  

Was originally something you only did when Henry got sick (he was in a fever-coma once, and you figured some quality Scandinavian literature couldn’t hurt), but now it happens basically every time he wants to get his mind off of something

... And Bowers wants to get his mind off of something a lot

So it’s not uncommon for people to catch you reading to him while he carves into things with his knife, puts his head in his arms and “sleeps,” etc.

Generally tries to look like he’s not paying attention to the story, even though it’s obvious he’s invested (i.e. glances over at the book for a second when something surprising happens, tends to open his eyes during intense parts when he’s had them closed for a while ...)

Aka: One of the most dangerous people in the city of Derry is becoming a hardcore reading buff, and that’s 100% because of you - congratulations

Makes all the guys check up on you whenever you get sick

... Seriously, it’s so cute - you’ll just be sitting at home, all stuffed up and gross, when suddenly you’ll get a random knock at the door

... at which point you’ll open it to find either Belch, Victor, or Patrick standing there with the rest of the guys waiting in the car behind them

Just let that imagery sink in...

Have you fully appreciated how adorable it is?

Okay, then.

Sometimes you get a Victor Criss care-package complete with aspirin, tissues, and suckers to keep you going (hence why you tend to hope it’s Victor when you hear that knock on your door), but it usually has something Hockstetter-esque added to it in the few instances when Patrick gets to bring it to you

... He once switched out a little book of poems Criss gave you with a pocket-sized copy of the Kama Sutra

Just had that on him for some reason - pocket-sized copy of the Kama Sutra

Regardless though, Henry never comes to the door (even though the guys always show up on his orders) because he’s too macho to show he’s concerned about your well-being even though it’s painfully clear he’s concerned about your well-being

Have fun with that even mix of ice and passionate care

*Somewhat triggering, but kind of lighthearted side-note*

Patrick is the single worst thing that has ever happened for your anxiety issues, and he loves every second of it

Sometimes physically interferes with your compulsions, because he doesn’t want you to be able to calm yourself (holds your face still when you try to turn your head back and forth a certain number of times, will block your exit if you start to feel overwhelmed in a specific setting, etc.)

Also actively triggers a lot of your intrusive thoughts (”You really feel safe right now, princess?” *Ultra-specific Hockstetter smirk created to make you doubt yourself* “Really?”)

Also sits behind you in one of the classes you share together, and constantly does things to fuck with your hair

It’s not really important, I’m just letting you know

Sometimes keeps a lighter under the ends just long enough to create that “singed” smell, twists a few locks around his fingers, etc.

Basically just wants to remind you that he’s there (right behind you) as often as he can, and has always liked your long dark hair, so that’s the route he takes

I’m so sorry for the paranoia in you; truly

*Somewhat triggering, yet kind of lighthearted side-note over*

You, Belch, and Victor are arguably the most tight-knit friends in the gang, and it’s kind of amazing on every level

Ya’ll share 3/6 classes together (without Patrick or Henry), so you really got used to being your authentic selves around one another over time

Nerdy inside jokes, deep talks, genuine “this is me” moments - you guys have it all (and, to be honest, you’d all be super down to arrange a hangout without the other guys if any one of you had the balls to suggest it)

Low-key very similar to The Losers’ Club when it’s just the three of you, but we’ll pretend I never said that

Victor came to one of your table-top gaming sessions once

Only attended the one time (because cold-blooded reputation/genuine lack of skill), but he befriended some of your nice table-top gaming compatriots, so good job being a positive influence

... Alright... now get ready for some pretty legit unpleasantness  

Henry unloads on you often because he knows you’re willing to take it, and sometimes the kid just can’t help himself

You know that scene from the movie where he yelled at Belch to shut up (when he was cutting Ben)?

Yeah - that type of rage-filled Bowers energy has been directed at you in the past

Low-key one of the most unhealthy aspects of your relationship, but you tend to default to radio-silence at the first sign of Henry starting to lose it on you (what with your dislike of conflict and such), so it typically never escalates past one hardcore outburst (like Belch’s “shut up!”)

Never outright apologizes to you for it, but tends to try to get physically close to you after he calms down as an indirect way of saying he’s sorry

I.e. Will sit down next to you without saying anything, will come into a room you’re in and awkwardly walk around without acknowledging you, etc.

Basically just tries to let you know he was wrong with his actions rather than with his words

... And if you want a future with Bowers, you’re gonna’ have to get used to accepting apologies you never got like that

Sorry - it’s just the way his broken brain works

Overall though, a great relationship, and one that works well with the rest of the guys

They all love you, dude - you’ve been accepted. Just feel that

[sortasirius]

A Life Worth Living

Pairing: Dean/Cas Dean/pretty much anyone he’s had a relationship with in the show and original characters bc I have a problem

AN: Looks like I’m down the rabbit hole with Dean coming out lol.  This is angsty......very angsty.

Warnings: Abuse, Alcoholism, John Winchester being a horrible parent, Violence

Words: A very gratuitous 3643

As always, up on my AO3 here.

Dean’s first crush was Eleanor Andrews when he was four years old.  She was blond and had pink ribbons at the end of her pigtails.  She and Dean pretended to get married in the playground in Lawrence, Kansas and promised to be together forever.  The last time he saw her was the day that Mary died, and he had given her a worm he found in the grass.  She said she’d keep it forever.

When Mary died, John made Dean become a man overnight.  He was four years old and told how to hold a shotgun that was taller than him.  They spent the next few years on the road, or at Bobby’s, or at Pastor Jim’s.  Dean saw less of his father than he’d like to admit, but took care of Sam, because that’s what John told him to do.  “Watch out for Sammy” was the constant mantra he was never, not for one second, allowed to forget.

When Dean was eight and Sam was four, John started taking him on the road with him.  Different hotels, cities, towns, highways every week.  At first it was cool, Dean liked watching the winding asphalt roads, twisting up towards mountains or around lakes, sometimes windy, sometimes still, sometimes hot, and sometimes snowy.  Hotels always had TV and a bed all to himself.  He would take Sam to preschool and walk over to school himself, where everyone always thought he was cool because he was always the new kid.  He would leave school, pick up Sam, walk back to whatever hotel they were staying in that week, make Sam dinner, tuck him in, and then keep watch for anything that might come in.  It was kinda lonely sometimes, especially since they moved around so much, but that was okay, as long as he could take care of Sam.

When Dean was ten, he met Sarah Deleon when John had them stay in Lafayette, Indiana for two months while he hunted some ghouls.  She had brown hair and bright green eyes and wasn’t interested in talking to him, which made Dean want to talk to her even more.  He met her when he was trying to drag Sam out of the library after school.  He recognized her from his class and had swaggered over to her the way he had seen the cowboys do in his favorite Western movies.  She had barely looked up from her book until Sam asked what she was reading.  Turns out it was a book about a cowdog named Hank, and Dean ended up stealing it from the library and reading it every night.  He really wanted to live on a ranch sometimes.

She, Dean, and Sam were pretty much inseparable for the next few weeks, staying at the library right up until closing, until Mrs. May told them all to go home before it got too dark.  Dean liked the way Sarah laughed at him and told him to read more, and he really liked the way she listened to Sam.  When John came back and told them to get in the car one early morning, Dean felt an ache in his chest that he didn’t get to say goodbye.

As the years wore on, the novelty of travel wore off.  Hotels weren’t interesting anymore, just more of the same.  The food was almost always bad, and the cool factor of being the new kid transformed into being the weird kid by the time Dean hit middle school.  Dean was Sam’s constant protector, and even though he would do anything for his brother, even give him the last of the Lucky Charms, sometimes he just wanted to be able to get a soda without worrying about what John would say if he did.  But, of course, the one time he did that, a shtriga almost killed Sam, and John, bursting in at the exact right moment, did what Dean couldn’t do, and never looked at Dean the same way again.

Dean’s first kiss was a girl named Bria Zuniga, and she kissed Dean behind the school in Pinedale, Wyoming when he was thirteen.  She had black hair and bright blue eyes, and Dean remembered how nervous he had been when she had leaned in, he thought he was gonna be bad at it.  John had dragged them out of there two days later, and Dean had given Bria another kiss before they left.  John had clapped him on the shoulder.

Things got complicated when he turned fourteen.  Dean and Sam, who was growing like a total weed and was going to be taller than Dean, damn him, were left in Riverside, Iowa, James T. Kirk’s future birthplace, which was totally awesome, while John hunted a demon in the area.  That was where Dean met Jim Barnes, and it was like he could see through Dean’s cool guy loner persona.  He had light brown hair and dark brown eyes and they bonded over Star Trek and Batman, and Jim even showed Dean his comic collection, which was pretty cool.  He introduced Dean to Kurt Vonnegut and gave him the copy of Cat’s Cradle Dean still has to this day.  Dean introduced him to Led Zeppelin, and when Sam was studying at the hotel and insisted that he could take care of himself for a couple of hours, they went out to the movies and saw Jurassic Park.  That night, they walked back towards Jim’s house, talking about which dinosaur they would keep as a pet, when Dean kissed him.  It was simple and short and kinda sweet, and afterward Jim put his hand in Dean’s and Dean walked him to the door.  Four days later, right after school, John was waiting for them, the Impala running and the kind of look on his face that told Dean not to push any buttons if he didn’t want a black eye, but he was always a risk-taker, so he ran back inside and gave Jim one last kiss in the dirty school bathroom before watching Jim Kirk’s future birthplace fade away like fogged breath on the window of the Impala.

Dean was sixteen when John had told the cops that he could rot in prison.  He had given the cop a black eye and they had shipped him off to Sonny’s and even though it hurt to be away from Sam, for the first time in his life, Dean had friends, he did well in school, he made the wrestling team, and he met Robin.  She had dark hair and dark eyes with a kind smile. Sonny never made him feel like he was less than, and for the first time, he didn’t have to think about what was out there in the dark.  He still missed Sam, but not having John around was like being able to see blue sky after years and years of overcast. He told Robin his dreams, talked about his love of cars, how much he liked to sing.  She listened, and he listened to her dreams, let her take all the photos of him she wanted, and sort of, kind of, fell in love with her.  She kissed him on Sonny’s couch with a guitar between them, and he made promises to her that he really wished he could keep.  And when John came back on the night of his first school dance, his dance with Robin, he really wished he could be someone other than Dean Winchester.  Sonny gave him a choice, gave him a chance at normal, at Robin, at a family that didn’t drink too much and bruise your wrists when you didn’t do the dishes.  But when he looked out the window and saw Sam with his stupid toy plane, he knew.  Dean couldn’t, wouldn’t leave Sam.

After Robin, Dean didn’t really pay attention to anyone but Sam.  He met girls, flirted with girls, kissed girls, hooked up with girls, and then left girls as easy as drawing breath.  And hell, when you move around every other week it was easy.  Arrogance and disdain for school bought him cool guy cred, and cool guy cred usually meant that people left him alone.  When he was seventeen, he met Amanda Heckerling at Truman High.  She was blonde with blue eyes and was whip smart.  She kissed him and it tasted like candy.  He liked her a lot, but he didn’t want to feel that vulnerability he felt with Robin, and when she called him out for being afraid, he did what he did best. He ran away.

Dean got his GED at nineteen and watched Sam go from little brother to actual man.  He studied hard and Dean was fiercely proud of him for it.  And then, one night, when Dean was twenty, he came back from a bar in Flagstaff, Arizona where they were staying, and Sam was gone. Panic settled in his throat like someone was choking him.  He spent a week without sleeping, looking everywhere for Sam.  He checked every hotel, snuck his way to every security room with cameras he could, asking anyone who would pay him the time of day if they had seen him, but no one had.  And then, nine days after Sam had disappeared, John came back, and if Dean had wished he was dead before, it was nothing to what John made him feel.  He was pretty sure his jaw was fractured and he knew he had some cracked ribs, but that was nothing to him, all that mattered was finding Sam, getting Sam home.  John found him in some shitty little apartment on the outskirts of town with pizza boxes and a dog and a stolen car outside.  Dean had gripped him tightly and ignored Sam’s questions about the state of his face.  He tripped, he said, coming out of a bar.  Sam told him he drank too much.  Dean looked at John’s bruised knuckles and quietly thought he didn’t drink enough.

Dean met Andrew Hawkins on his twenty-first birthday in Roundup, Montana.  Sam was studying for the ACT, whatever that is, and John was out on an extended rugaru hunt or drinking binge.  Andrew had hazel eyes and dark brown hair and they made conversation over a friendly game of pool.  A friendly conversation turned into too many shots, and then they stumbled into the alley behind the bar, away from the prying pink neon lights, and Dean let himself touch and be touched, knowing that it meant nothing, but meaning everything in the moment.  Andrew took control in a way that Dean had never known, and when he came back to the hotel with too many hickies on his neck, Sam laughed and said he hoped she didn’t look half as bad as Dean did.  Dean laughed to hide the shame that rose like vomit in his throat.

Sam left for Stanford when Dean was twenty-two.  When he told John, during the middle of an argument, because Sam always had impeccable timing, Dean felt like the world was falling out from under him.  Who the hell was he if he didn’t have Sam?  He couldn’t even remember being his own person anymore. John had tried everything, screaming, slamming things into walls, breaking glass, getting in Sam’s space, but Sam wasn’t afraid of him anymore, and John had never hit Sam, not that Dean would ever have let him.  Sam left that night, taking only what he could carry in a bag and looking back at Dean with what Dean thought might be an apology in his face.  John had yelled after him that if he was going to go he should stay gone, and that was that.  The frail wooden door slammed behind him, and Dean’s little brother was out on his own.  Even years later, Dean didn’t tell Sam about the rest of that night, but he was lucky to survive it.  He kept John at arm’s length after that, after his right arm had healed, anyway.

Dean tried to be a nomad, not get attached to anyone for anything except for the Impala.  He and John made tracks across the country, so many miles on the odometer he almost expected it to break.  John routinely dragged them to the west coast just to see what Sam was up to, and that was when he started to let Dean off on his own.  The grooves in the highway were his best friends, and he went places John would never go.  The deep South, the Canadian border, bigger cities, all the places he had wanted to be when he was younger.  He fought ghouls and ghosts and demons and vamps.  He repaired junker cars when he stopped by Bobby’s every so often.  He checked in with John every other day and they sometimes met up for a hunt.  He met people, fucked them, and then left.  Had the bendiest weekend of his life with Lisa Braeden.  It wasn’t really freedom, but it was about as close as he could hope for.

Dean met Cassie in Mississippi when he was twenty-four.  She had dark hair and dark eyes. She was smarter than him, prettier than him, and even though he had a pact with himself to never get attached, she made herself comfortable in his heart.  He felt himself falling, like he had taken a running leap off a cliff and there was nothing below him but endless air and sharp rocks at the bottom.  So, in the middle of the night, he did what John would have done, and he left, trying to ignore the tears that spilled from his eyes as he crossed the Alabama border.

John gave him the Impala on his twenty-fifth birthday.  She was everything he had ever wanted in a car.  His first home, with his and Sam’s initials carved in the back.  John had bruised the back of his neck with his hand and told him to take care of the car.  Dean swore he wouldn’t let him down.

It all went to hell when Dean met Connor Stevens two months later.  He was on a routine hunt with John.  Vengeful spirit, whatever.  He was doing research in the library when this dorky guy with glasses, a bow tie, red hair, and blue eyes sat down at his table.  The got to talking about what they were reading and ended up having dinner at a way too nice restaurant that Connor suggested.  It was a break from burgers and beer and the ever-looming presence of John.  Connor asked him halfway through if this was a date, and Dean blushingly said he hoped so. They ended up back at Dean’s room since John would be out most of the night.  Until, of course, he wasn’t.  Dean was used to being afraid of John, but never before had he felt terror like that. John didn’t speak to him for nearly two months, and Dean was left floundering in a lake of guilt and shame, mixed with a healthy dose of defiance, but he always came back to John, because that’s what a good son does.

When John disappeared when Dean was twenty-six, he didn’t have anyone to turn to, so he went back to Sam.  He hated that he had to take Sam away from his life, where he was clearly thriving with his very pretty girlfriend Jess and his good grades, but Dean was no soldier with no one to follow, and he swore to himself that once they found John that he would let Sam go.  But the universe never seemed to give him what he wanted, and Dean had to drag Sam away from Jess burning on the ceiling, just like their mother had.

He and Sam become hunters together, and even though he knew he could never heal the pain of losing Jess, he could at least make it so that the Impala became Sam’s home again.  Her tires sped along the winding roads all across the country, and even though it was selfish, having Sam back made Dean feel as calm as he had in years.

John died when Dean was twenty-seven.  Dean felt his heart break, but also felt like someone had taken handcuffs off him that he had been wearing for so long he didn’t even realize he was wearing them.

Dean went to hell when he was twenty-nine. The sound of the hellhounds tearing through the house towards him were terrifying, but the knowledge that he had done this for Sam made him feel a little better about getting ripped to shreds by dogs from hell.

Hell was worse than he could have ever imagined.  Torture was about the best thing that could happen to you down there.  Allistair had convinced him to pick up a knife, and even though he knew it was wrong, he knew that John would hate him for what he was doing, he took the knife from Allistair and thought, what the hell, John hated him anyway.

Dean met Castiel when he was thirty.  He had black hair and blue eyes and giant black wings.  He left a mark on Dean even before they met.  He stood too close to Dean and made him feel like he was being x-rayed every time they made eye contact, but Dean could never make himself look away.

Dean settled down with Lisa Braeden when he was thirty-one.  She had black hair and brown eyes and the kindest and most beautiful heart he had ever known.  He was very lucky to have her and Ben.  Probably a little too lucky.  He slept with a gun under his pillow every night.  You never knew what was waiting in the dark.  He had nightmares about Sam throwing himself in the pit and she would comfort him, and when Sam showed back up when he was thirty-two, she let him go hunt with him.  He made her forget him when he was thirty, and that was a wound that he knew would never really heal.

Dean went to Purgatory when he was thirty-four.  He spent a year there with Benny, vamp turned new best friend in tow, and every night, when he was trying to sleep, he would think of one thing, where, how, when to find Cas.  It was stupid, he was probably dead, Benny said pretty much every day, but until they found a pile of bones with a trenchcoat, Dean wouldn’t believe that.  They ended up finding him, and losing Cas to Purgatory just as he and Benny escaped made Dean want to jump right back into it, and he wasn’t really sure why.

He met Amara when he was thirty-seven. She was all powerful and deeply frightening, but Dean felt a pull towards her that he had never felt towards anyone or anything.  She knew this, she tried to use it against him, but something broke when she started torturing Cas, probably because they were best friends.  Because Dean needed Cas.  He needed Cas.  He needed Cas.

Dean lost Cas to an angel blade held by Lucifer when he was thirty-nine.  He begged God, Chuck, whatever to bring him back.  It was like someone punched a hole in his chest, and when they burned his body, it sort of felt like Dean was burning too.

Jack brought Cas back when Dean was thirty-nine.  It felt like he had aged forty years since he last saw him.  He didn’t tell Cas that he didn’t cope well with him being gone, but he thought Cas knew, because Cas knew everything about him.  They went back to the way things should be.  They hunted, watched movies, sang terribly in the Impala, and Dean felt like he really, truly, had a family again.  He would look at Cas when he didn’t think Cas could see, and even though he knew they were best friends and nothing more, sometimes Dean would think about just how beautiful Cas was.

Dean kissed Cas when he was forty-one. He was older, that there was less time, that Chuck was going to kill him one way or another, and Dean didn’t want Cas to be another what if, especially if he was about to spend eternity in Hell, which is probably where he would end up anyway.  He kissed him in the Impala, when he and Cas tried to escape Belphegor’s incessant talking and Sam had disappeared to read in his room in the bunker. Zeppelin played softly from the Impala’s speakers, and Dean instinctually leaned forward, like he had meant to do it all his life.  Cas’ lips were chapped and soft and Dean didn’t ever want to pull back from him.  But when he did, Cas gave him the kind of smile that made it all worth it.  The pain, the self-hatred, the hunting, the angels, devils, destiny, and God himself are all worth dealing with if it meant that this moment could exist with Cas in the Impala.

Dean told Sam the truth when he was forty-one.  He told him about John, about Flagstaff, about Stanford, and about Jim, Andrew, Robin, Cas, and all the rest.  Dean laid his heart out on the line, because if anyone deserved to know who he really was, it was Sam.  And Sam, because he was the best brother in the world, didn’t say anything, just leaned forward and hugged Dean as tightly as he had when Dean left Sonny’s.  It was one of those hugs that sort of made the world turn a little easier, and Dean knew that he was still the luckiest guy on earth to have Sam Winchester as his brother.  His family, Sam and Cas, they’re what make life worth living, and even if they had ten years of ten minutes left together, Dean was finally going to make the most of it.

[peterjakes]

the society christmas day headcanons

here’s one part of my contribution to the society secret santa for the lovely @theswiftiewholived​ x

alyssa, i really hope you like this (sorry for the lateness lol)

grizz wakes up first, far too excited to sleep through the morning, he takes special care not to wake sam up (who sleeps almost until midday – being a dad is tiring stuff guys)

whilst sam is asleep, grizz starts preparing for the christmas lunch (pretty simple stuff but grizz enjoys cooking and would never let sam go near the oven considering all he can make is burnt toast)

grizz would usually help his mom christmas day (his dad being far too occupied to do anything for the family)

after a while, sam, very sleepily, manages to force himself out of bed to join grizz in his plaid pjs (how cute would he look?)

grizz is already wearing a ridiculously ugly christmas jumper which sam loves even though he wouldn’t be seen dead in it (it’s seriously ugly but grizz rocks it ofc)

whilst grizz cooks their dinner, sam sets the table and brings down the few presents each have got for each other, carefully placing them around their small tree

the tree is grizz’s parents; quite small but good enough, both sam and grizz spent one afternoon decorating it together but spent most of the time bickering over who had the nicest decorations

it’s a mishmash of old decorations from the eliot’s and some handmade ones grizz’s mother made

christmas dinner is simple but sweet, grizz didn’t want to make too much fuss and sam enjoyed that

before becca and eden join them for opening presents, the two sit down to give each other their presents

sam made grizz promise to only give something small; he always thought smaller presents were more meaningful. grizz didn’t listen ofc but neither did sam – the two were very competitive over getting the best present

sam had scoured almost every single house and building in new ham until he found the perfect present for grizz

a few days before christmas day he’d finally found an original copy of Frankenstein, grizz’s favourite book

grizz was definitely the most excited to give sam his present and pretty proud of himself; he was never one for buying grand presents, but he was happy with the present

when he left for the expedition, grizz started writing again, only little pieces of how he was feeling, what he was thinking. Most of these started out about being in the open air, being one with nature but they all turned back to the one thing that grizz couldn’t escape from: sam

he’d started writing just about sam and only him, sometimes just little things he’d remember to keep him going – the way he smelt, the way his eyes glistened, that damn smile

he wrote about him every day during the expedition; and even afterward, when they reconciled, he carried on, it just became second nature to him, and it was only a week or so ago when he realised, he could show sam or give it to sam

grizz insists that sam gives the present first; he can see how excited sam is but is also still pretty wary about giving his present (he’d never shown anyone his writing before, but it made sense for sam to be the first)

grizz hoped sam would give him a book and is honoured he’d remembered his favourite book (even though of course sam would)

opening the gift, sam eyes flicker from slight confusion to absolute awe that grizz would put so much work and effort into a present for him

he spends the next 10 minutes carefully and intently reading every page and piece, at least twice until he’s soaked it all up and realises how much he’s in love with it and the boy sitting beside him who gave it to him

becca comes along with eden mid-afternoon; grizz found an old version of a very hungry caterpillar for eden and one of his mom’s pendant for becca (it’s a midnight blue which he thought would go well with her skin tone)

for becca, sam had made her a pair of gloves and a scarf; eden some booties and mittens (he loves to knit whenever he gets the chance)

becca and eden gave sam a photo album becca had started making a few weeks after arriving in new ham, full of photos of their friends, special occasions, and grizz an embroidered notebook

in the evening the house becomes full of their friends – allie, will, gordie, bean, mickey, gwen, kelly, helena, luke etc and they all watch a muppets christmas carol bc it’s sam’s and luke’s favourite christmas film and they both insist on watching it and nothing else (these two are brilliant sulkers as grizz and helena know only too well)

everyone finally agrees and eat cookies that helena baked with the help of luke (he badly decorated them, but he tried)

sam forces grizz to wear one of the many santa hats gordie brings round to get everyone in the mood (and sam is actually surprised how cute he looks)

grizz spends the whole time watching sam enjoy the film, barely paying attention to the weird puppets or michael caine (even though he loved the muppets when he was younger)

grizz did this a lot, whenever the two would sit down to watch a film on netflix he’d last about five minutes before he stopped watching the film and watched sam instead; sam was far more interesting

sam knew he did this, sometimes he’d try to get grizz’s attention back to the film but other times he’d leave him be, quietly and secretly loving every minute of grizz’s longing and loving stares

allie and will bring some of the pressman’s old board games (monopoly, kerplunk, cluedo, twister etc) and carry on the family tradition of playing at least 2 board games on Christmas Day

during a game of battleships; elle arrives (mostly bc of helena’s nagging) and brings some homemade mince pies (dw, she didn’t use any poison this time)

luke gets drunk on eggnog and no one actually knows how he did it but helena decides a luke drunk on eggnog is too much to handle and takes his home before he gets too much

over the course of the evening everyone else seems to go home, leaving sam and grizz alone to just enjoy each other’s company, watching various other classic films (a christmas story anyone?) until they both fall asleep in each other’s arms in front of a dying fire