#who joked through the fucking terror that’s learning monsters are real

[feralsteddie]

It’s the not knowing, that gets him.

The not knowing what could’ve happened if Eddie Munson had made it out of that fight.

They’d barely known each other, spent a few days fighting monsters after a few months of barely acknowledging each other over the head of their mutual friend after a few years of avoiding each other in the high school hallways.

But those few days were something. It took him a while to realise that, or, to come to terms with the fact that it probably wasn’t all in his head, but they were.

He spends more time than is probably healthy thinking about what could’ve happened, even if he forces the thoughts to stay inside his head, where they can’t hurt Dustin any more than his death already did.

Would they have been friends? Linked together similarly to him and Robin? He could see it. Nights where the three of them curled up on his bed until the sun rose and they could breathe again. Evenings spent watching movies and getting high and talking until their voices gave out.

Would they have been more? There was tension, he knows tension. Could write a whole book on signals and looks and the shifts in tone. Even if he was just trying to deal with the situation he’d ended up in, and he’d been the only age-appropriate guy around, that still left a foot in the door. They could’ve cracked it open some more, taken a step inside. Could’ve learned each other. Could’ve slotted next to one another like puzzle pieces, matching their scars up when they pressed together.

They could’ve just fallen back to routine. Eddie spending time with the kids when he wasn’t. Trading looks over Dustin’s head only a bit heavier after sharing the secrets of what lurked below.

Or Eddie could’ve been swept away by the government. Or hidden away with Hopper. Or arrested in the hospital. Or taken out by the mob. Or or or or.

Not every scenario was nice, but they ran through his head anyway.

Because, the fact was he would never know. Would never get the choice to learn, to see. To either grow with him or grow separately or grow apart.

There was a whole future, full of whatever life he was supposed to have, just gone. Stomped out and leaving blood stains on the ground of the Upside Down. Leaving Dustin broken open and a name no one would let them clear and a skittish look to anyone who dared to be different, in case they were blamed for the next Hawkins tragedy.

Any of those possibilities or a million other ones he couldn’t think of, left empty and dissatisfied. Because he just couldn’t know.

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[zenosanalytic]

Harrow the Ninth: Blood and Guts; With Feeling!!!

While I’m sure the physical trauma, gore, intentional autophagia, unintentional cannibalism, and necrophilia in the book will be what turns mainstream heads, what really grabbed me about Harrow the Ninth was its unabashed and sincere humanity.

Every character in Harrow the Ninth gets to be a full human being. The best example to my mind is Crux: a gruesome cadaver 2 parts loyalty, 3 parts shouting, and 5 parts sheer bloody-minded cussedness; who blew up a long-grieving, broken family(and their completely innocent pilot) for the “crime” of leaving the place that murdered their husband and father and broke them; who insulted, beat, and tortured Gideon her WHOLE DAMN LIFE. And, also, the major, if not only, source of kindness and sympathy in Harrow’s own.

CRUX!!! Kind uncle Crux sneaking her sweets once a year and whenever she gets sick? Reliable retainer Crux always honest with her about her hallucinations and never judging or dismissing her for them; doing EVERY BIT of what little he can to help and protect her? Soft-voiced and kind Crux being the only member of the household who DOESNT abandon her in the Nova AU? THIS IS HOW HARROW SEES CRUX! The guy who casually kicked and spit on Gideon, who treated her as less than trash and never showed her even the shadow of an ounce of kindness is, in Harrow’s mind, the kindest person in her life. That is Fucking Wild.

Everyone is allowed to be 3D in this book, even when Harrow and Gideon disdain them. Ortus -a too-big blubbering joke in Gideon the Ninth, and Gideon and Harrow’s minds both- doesn’t JUST get to be brave, to be selfless, to confront and face up to and SURMOUNT his mistakes and flaws and then ride off glorious and stupid into Valhalla, he gets something so much more important; to speak for himself. To be Known. Understood. Through Harrow’s petty sniping we get to see the love and care he has for his shitty poetry; through her defensively projected self-loathing his regret, his sympathy, the breadth of his Heart, the loyalty to Harrow which lets him be insulted and also the stubborn pride which insists those insults not go unanswered. I’m tearing up just writing this! We get to see, in his meeting Protesilaus, him struggle with the very image of EVERYTHING he wants to be but isn’t, AND we get to see him resolve that displaced self-hatred to BOTH men -who he is, and who he isn’t- and befriend them both, and realize that the physical distance between them is superficial before the siblinghood of souls, and even more: that the conceptual distance between his ideal and his reality doesn’t have to prevent him from being good. He’s still a side character but he gets an arc, development, a story, and resolution, and HE gets to give its summation. And he’s allowed to be Heroic in his own way! HIS words summon his Hero from The River to speak HIS meter while fighting to save them all powered by THEIR shared belief in HIS Art, and then a heaven of his own defining. What other book does that for a JOKE character?!

And again: this is everybody. Yes of course the souls Harrow unknowingly called up, all those too-soon dead from Gideon the Ninth; We get to see Abigail and Magnus’s love for one another -and the dreadful teens, and their universal big-heartedness- up close, and the refutation of(or perhaps counterpoint to) Ianthe’s selfish conception of love gets to come from Magnus’s lips(oh: and Abigail SAVES THE FLIPPIN DAY! Harrow gets to know her and, through this, we get to know the true tragic waste of her death at the same time that we get to watch her MAKE her own meaning from beyond the grave); we get to see Protesilaus’s bravery and grace and kindness; Dulcinea’s indefatigability and cleverness and morbidity; Marta’s selflessness and unshakeable faith in Judith; we get to see ALL OF THEM run literally soul-risking cosmic dangers to shepherd one grieving, suffering, traumatized young woman -their jailer!- not only THROUGH that grief, but also through spiritual invasion by the product of their society’s sins: Of COURSE that was Noble as Fuck and I was Sobbing.

but EVERYBODY! John, for all his exTREMELY fucked up morality and inability to understand her, GENUINELY cares for Harrow, GENUINELY tries to see the best in everyone(even if, I suspect, that’s for mostly selfish reasons), and we get to see the sincerity of that; his care, and the self-recrimination his missteps bring despite that unyielding, bullheaded, self-warping insistence to continue on one Faustian course after another. The Lyctors in all their twisted, ancient cruelty: we get to see their surviving virtues beside their ENORMOUS, demented, murderous flaws -Augustine’s cleverness, wit and charm; Mercymorn’s outrage at endangering the young; Gideon’s faithful dutifulness; the endless love and sorrow all of them have for their Cavaliers- in the context of the fear and strain and loneliness the Emperor has forced them to endure for ten thousand years. We get to see the true grief and betrayal, fresh and bloody even now, they feel at John’s lies and manipulations, the relief they feel at thinking it all finally over, and even some small glimpses of the love they’ve managed to carve out for themselves in all of that: Gideon’s necrophilic makeout with Cytherea’s corpse takes on a whole different meaning when you learn that the first soul he’s truly loved since Pyrra is driving it around. And this too is significant; for all the discomfort it brings Harrow, and the general gross-out factor, and despite their villainy, the Kindly Prince and his Lyctors, the “Adults in the Room”, are allowed to have desires; allowed to be full and sexual people.

And the same sentiment extends to how Ianthe is written. As much as she is Harrow’s tormentor(and she is); as much as she is a ghastly, gaslighting manipulator(and she absolutely is); we also clearly see that she is Harrow’s fellow prisoner and victim on that station. Her terror is real; her suffering is allowed to be real. As much as they would Harrow, the Lyctors would as soon kill Ianthe as help her, and the Emperor not only allows that mindset but orders it thinking it helpful; just so long as his deniability remains plausible throughout. She gets to be Harrow’s safest harbor in a sea of troubles while ALSO being the person fucking with her perceptions to build in her feelings of helplessness and dependency for the SOLE PURPOSE of getting in her pants. Yet Gideon herself names her joy at seeing Harrow alive Genuine; her love for Harrow, Genuine; as twisted and awful-made by the cruel ideals instilled by her life of entitlement and emotional abuse they are, those feelings are still allowed to be real and heart-felt. Her attraction to Harrow, expressed cruelly and selfishly as it is, isn’t dismissed; Muir treats it always seriously, as she does Harrow’s own desires, and repressed confusion over them, for Ianthe. Everybody in this book gets to be REAL.

Fuck even Alecto. Over and over again we get to hear the Lyctors call her a Freak, a Monster, Subhuman(and given her eyes, those white-on-black oddities, it’s very likely she ISNT human; either a Planet-Soul herself or something even stranger); we get to hear from John’s own lips -the person SHE guarded; HER Necromancer in a pairing we have seen presented as the epitome of intimacy through two books- how he betrayed and “killed” her to calm their fears of her; and yet all the while there she is with Harrow, comforting, advising, never shaming or judging, being the only real friend Harrow’s allowed herself to be aware of.

Harrow the Ninth may very well be “Genre” Fiction, but its emotional universal is not only meticulously naturalistic, it is radiantly understanding and humane.

[nagdabbit]

🥺👉👈 pwease? 🥺🥺

okay okay, but like, be gentle? it's just bones right now, and a really good ending, if i say so myself, but, like... bones. it's bones with rules, because i like them. and it's about four dumbasses playing dnd, so obviously i gotta.

anyway, here's a lil bit. not quite the beginning, i guess? i dunno, i've forgotten how to do writing on the internet. be gentle.

~~~

D&D was weird.

It involved a lot of sitting around, trying to stay focused as Heather narrated at them. A lot of trying to be clever, trying to be smart. A lot of trying not to fuck up entirely.

The biggest problem with it all was that, sitting directly next to his highschool--and current--bully, it was damn hard not to feel like he was breathing wrong. Hell, Billy had shown up and rolled his eyes at Steve's presence, so he was clearly existing incorrectly, too.

"Alright, you've made your way from the college library to the very outskirts of the city," Heather said, eyes scanning her notes, while her arms made wide, sweeping gestures. "Almost an hour on horseback through the busy, winding streets. There are no street signs directing, but you see a path breaking away from the main road, and disappearing into the trees. The path is dense and quiet and dark."

"Is it weirdly quiet?" Steve asked, then shrank a little as Billy whipped his head around to glare at him.

But Heather just looked a little proud. "Yes! The sounds of the city have disappeared, but it's that same oppressive quiet that you rode through on your way to the city. Musty and still and quiet."

"Do I notice the same thing?" Robin asked.

"Go ahead and roll…" Heather tilted her head back and forth as she thought about it, "Gimme a nature check real quick."

Robin eagerly rolled her die, and then groaned. "That's a seven."

Heather chuckled. "You don't notice shit," she joked, but her smile was teasing. He liked that about her, the way she could ease tension and soften failure. She was easygoing and kind, just about the only person he'd trust his best friend to. "No, you don't notice anything out of the ordinary. The wood has grown so dead, and quiet so steadily that you haven't even noticed it happening."

Robin made a face, and scribbled that down. "I don't like that one bit," she muttered.

"As you make your way through, you come to a small clearing, and in the middle of it stands an ancient temple," Heather said, hands still weaving the story out in front of her laptop screen. "It's small and crumbling, but the thick vines and moss-covered roots that cover the intricately carved stonework looks like the only thing holding it upright. This is the home of Ash, the cleric. And, Billy, why don't you introduce yourself."

At his shoulder, Billy straightened up a little. "A tall tiefling steps out of the door as you ride up." Steve very carefully didn't laugh at Billy making his character tall. "He is a mottled grey-brown color, almost like tree bark, and his dark hair is pushed back away from his face. He has horns pushing out of his forehead that curl back over his head. He's wearing old, but sturdy leather armor, decorated with oak leaves, the symbol of Silvanus. He's carrying his wooden maul, and he looks very angry."

"Great, who does he see riding up?" Heather asked, turning her attention back to him and Robin. "Althea?"

She nodded, eagerly. "On the first horse, you see the elf that you've been dealing with. She's got her hair braided back, and she's wearing the dark robes of the college, with the crest on the front. You don't see any weapons on her, but she has several books strapped behind her."

Heather smiled, sweetly, and Steve had to wonder just how often they'd get distracted flirting in the middle of a game. But then Heather looked at him, expectantly, "Ront?"

Right, fuck. He shoulda probably thought ahead while he had the chance. "Uh, following behind her, you see a large half-orc, about seven feet tall. He's wearing just simple clothes, no armor of any kind. He has a carved, wooden amulet of a hawk, hanging around his neck, and a battleaxe strapped to his back."

"Perfect!" Heather clapped her hands together, excitedly. "And our party has gathered! Althea and Ront, you arrive in the clearing surrounding the temple of Silvanus. It is late afternoon, the forest around you beginning to cool as evening draws closer. Ash steps out to greet you, and--"

"And walks forward toward them, very annoyed, like he's been waiting. And he says, ah, she finally leaves her tower to visit the peasants," Billy greeted in a gentle accent, almost Irish, maybe. He gave Robin a mean grin.

"Shut up, I finally have something helpful," she snapped, going for haughty and posh. "The village of Oakville--"

"Oak Pointe," Steve corrected.

"--was wiped out," she finished, unperturbed. "Only one villager survived."

"And how is he useful?" Billy asked, and Steve got the feeling he wasn't exactly in character.

"First, he's the only living person who has seen how these monsters operate," she reasoned, just as annoyed.

Billy turned his sharp gaze toward Steve, and it cut just as deep as his words. "And why are you so important to all this?" he asked, in a mocking tone. "Why not run for the lawmen in their castle? Why go to the librarian?"

"My entire village is gone," he said, slowly. "Everyone I have ever known, just gone. My family, my friends, everyone. If I can stop this from happening to others, I'm going to. Guards with swords didn't do a damn thing to help when this all started, they won't help now."

Billy--Ash, whatever--gave him a long look. Not impressed, definitely not, but maybe surprised. "Then why didn't you come sooner?"

"I had to be sure they really were dead, and that I wasn't sick. It spreads so fast, I needed to wait it out," he reasoned. "Someone brought that death to my home. I wasn't going to risk bringing it here."

Billy studied him for another long moment, expression a little more searching than judgemental. But finally he nodded. Maybe not acceptance, yet, but close. "And you, why are you finally here?" he asked and rolled his gaze toward Robin. “I have been sending my concerns for months, and you and your books have ignored me at every turn. So why are you finally here? We could have made so much more headway if you hadn't waited for a witness.”

“Because I might have finally found a clue," she said, triumphantly, expression a little more fiery than she'd worn the week before. "And I'm gonna open up the book to the weird pictures and things that I've been working on."

"What is this?"

"A book I'm trying to translate," she said, jamming her finger against the page as if she had an ancient book in her lap. "I have yet to get very far into it, but it speaks of a temple, deep in the Rootwood," Robin said. "And monsters like the ones we've been hearing stories of. And then I wanna explain the--well, everything that you gave me, so here," she added and handed over her notes. "I'm gonna explain all of that."

"And once she's explained it all, I wanna see if anything she's said fills in any gaps in what I've already learned," Billy said, absently, as he scanned the notes and scribbled notes into his book. "Or, like, if I can piece anything new together from all this."

"Great, whenever you're done reading, roll a history check," she said, and turned back to Robin. "Are you telling him everything?"

Robin smirked, "Of course not! I don't trust him, so I'm only giving him what I've gathered from the book, not the scrolls I've been using to translate it." As Billy glared at her, she held up another set of notes as proof.

Heather had been good about that, helping them figure out what their characters would know about the world that she'd created for them. Gave them pages of more and text for them to use. Steve had his own print out and the notes he'd taken as Robin had explained everything she'd learned, and he pulled it out to follow along. Or, rather, he intended to. Heather beat him to the punch.

"While they begin to compare notes, what's Ront doing?" she asked, easily.

He blinked, felt his cheeks go hot. "Uh, Ront is just looking around the temple."

"Meandering?"

He shrugged a little, "Exploring."

"Poking things?" Heather suggested, innocently.

He saw Billy pull a face, and walked himself back a little. "Only stuff that doesn't look breakable."

Heather narrowed her eyes, lips quirking up in amusement. "Roll a--hm, roll an investigation check for me, please."

"No," Billy said, firmly.

She gave him a wicked look, "Yes."

And Ront's intelligence score had a pretty little negative one above it. Which meant he was pretty dumb. Which meant Heather wanted to cause a little trouble. Meant she was going to let him have fun in order to terrorize Billy a little bit. Get a smidge of revenge for all the shit he's spewed the week before. Which, honestly, Steve could really get behind.

So he hoped, and he prayed--just a little--and threw the die into the little tray in front of him. The math wasn't too hard, thankfully, despite the distracting groan from Billy and snickers from Robin. It was a perfect roll, really. Better than anything he could have hoped for.

But, fuck, it was so hard to keep from breaking, to keep from laughing loud enough to wake the neighbors, that his eyes threatened to water. At his side, Billy had already slouched back against the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Calmly, he folded his hands in his lap, and gave Heather a serene smile. "Zero."

[fanfic-corner]

Bed Sharing

I created this list probably about a month or so ago, and I remember being so hopeful for the finale. I never dreamt we would get semi-canon Destiel, but I also never imagined the finale would be that disappointing. I will be posting a list of 15x20 fics, but for now, take this fluff and ignore your problems for a while.

Lock and Key by tricia_16 on AO3. (144,500 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bookstore Owner Castiel, Musician Dean Winchester, Friends to Lovers, Keeping Secrets, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Virgin Castiel, Angry Sex, Dubious Content, Recreational Drug Use, Fluff, Dating, Song Lyrics, Sharing a Bed, Happy Ending.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: In a world where people get songs stuck in their heads whenever their soulmate is singing out loud, Castiel discovers that being soulmates with an aspiring singer/songwriter can be taxing, to say the least. Finding said soulmate, learning that he's the most attractive human being on the face of the earth, and then not being able to tell him he’s meant for you? It turns out that's even worse. Not having a soulmate is just the icing on the cake on an already crappy life, if you ask Dean. He wants to sell his songs, but he's terrified of singing them himself. He wants to be a mechanic, but he's stuck selling parts, instead. He wants to kiss the ever loving fuck out of Sam's girlfriend's boss, too, but the guy's holding out for his soulmate, which of course means Dean doesn't even have a shot....right?

Notes: The pure terror that struck me at the end of chapter one nearly made me dip out of this, but I stuck through it, and was 100% rewarded with the ending (I screamed. I think everyone is worried about me now).

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: I know I have recced this multiple times before but it is one of my all time favourite fics so I won’t apologise! It is so cute, and it has everything you could ask for in a fic.

Partnered by K_K_TiBal on AO3. (28,112 words).

Tags: Minor Donna/Jody, Minor Eileen/Sam, Detective Dean Winchester, Lieutenant Castiel, Undercover as Married, Suburbia, Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Falling in Love, Love Confessions, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Demisexual Castiel, Demiromantic Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean didn't think that his life as a detective could get much worse after Castiel was promoted to lieutenant. Castiel was a stickler for the rules, had no sense of humour, and never seemed to give Dean a break, even though they used to be partners. But then, despite all of their questionable history, the two are asked to go undercover on a case in the wealthy suburbs of California. . . as a married couple.

Notes: I am screaming, that was so f*cking cute! And the artwork was gorgeous, too. Also, now I ship Jody and Donna. Cas gave off such Holt vibes in this, I was convinced I accidentally started reading a Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic (do those exist?)

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/ Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human. 12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! My favourite trope! And, as an added bonus, the sharing of a bed. 

flowers in the backyard by justkeeponwriting on AO3. (34,710 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homeless Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Minor Character Death, References to Depression, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: After Uncle Bobby’s death, Dean goes to check up on the cabin that he’s inherited. Dean hasn’t been at the cabin for years, but he knows Bobby hasn’t renovated it in ages, so he isn’t very thrilled to be saddled with it. Upon arrival, he notices that unlike he expected, it’s not unoccupied, nor falling apart – instead, a stranger called Castiel has made it into his home.

Notes: This was such a relaxing and gentle read, I nearly fell asleep after I finished it! Cas & Dean’s tentative relationship was written absolutely beautifully, too.

What Happened In Vegas by Ltleflrt on AO3. (18,447 words).

Tags: Sam/Eileen, Alternate Universe - No Supernatural, Teacher Dean, Photographer Castiel, Las Vegas Wedding, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Switch Dean, Switch Castiel, Fluff.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Long time friends Dean and Castiel are road tripping from Chicago to San Diego for Sam and Eileen’s wedding, and a pitstop in Las Vegas turns into drunken love confessions and a surprise marriage. Turns out the pining has been mutual this whole time, but now they’re finally together and on cloud-fucking-nine. Until they remember that this trip isn’t supposed to be about them. To avoid undermining Sam and Eileen’s important weekend, they decide to keep their new relationship status a secret. They’ll keep the heart eyes toned down and their hands to themselves, but the struggle is real.

Notes: Oh my lord, this was absolutely hilarious (especially that last piece of art - I totally lost it) and adorable. I can totally imagine Dean and Cas getting a cheesy Vegas wedding, and we can all dig Elvis (sorry).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn't understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is...Dean and doesn't understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he's a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

Sharing the Rain Dog by almaasi on AO3. (19,837 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternative Universe - Historical (1999), Fluff, Romance, No Angst, Accidental Dating, First Dates, Rain, Dogs, Pets, FBI Agent Castiel, Musician Dean, Singer Dean, Flustered Dean, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Moving In Together, Living Together, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling, Smut.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When some asshole hits a dog with his car and drives off, the first two people on the scene are Dean and Castiel. Castiel's an FBI agent with a plane to catch, and he doesn't have time to take the dog to the vet. Dean's a musician, and he doesn't have the money. An agreement is reached: Dean goes, Castiel pays, and they'll exchange details and meet again to work things out. But who gets the dog? Sooner or later they're going to realise that having shared custody of one pitbull isn't ideal. She needs one home, not two. One stable, loving home...

Notes: Rain Dog was so cute, and so was flustered Dean! The hitting a dog joke is starting to get out of hand, though.

This Game We Play by destieldrabblesdaily on AO3. (1,195 words).

Tags: High School AU, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Bed Sharing.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean and Castiel have been best friends since they were little, and sleepovers are a common event. They've always loved playing the game where they draw out letters on each others backs and try to guess what the other is writing. Even though sixteen seems to be a bit too old to still play the game, Castiel uses it as a chance to silently confess something that he's been wanting to share with Dean for a long time.

Notes: This was adorable. I am 100% here for Cas and Dean being childhood friends.

Minty Fresh Kisses by almaasi on AO3. (7,905 words).

Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Motel Rooms, Teeth, Dean in Love, Human Castiel, First Kiss, Pancakes, Sharing a Bed, Fluff, Dean POV, One Shot.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Dean teaches a newly-human Castiel how to brush his teeth properly. Things don't go according to plan – but for once, the unexpected development actually presents a more promising outcome.

Notes: This was so sweet, and Cas was so cute as a human! Also, I love fics where Sam is just done with the constant sexual tension, it always makes me laugh.

Wee Little Love Child by almaasi on AO3. (10,649 words).

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Kid Fic, Team Free Will, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Cursed Sam Winchester, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Sam Winchester ships Dean/Cas, Matchmaker Rowena, Parent Castiel, Parent Dean, Affectionate Dean, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: After being magically de-aged, little Sammy is under the impression that Dean and Cas are his parents. He wants to know if they're in love, but they can't (or won't) give a consistent answer. The thing is, they have to grant Sam's greatest wish in order to reverse the curse, but they can only do that as a pair. What does Sam want most? For Dean and Cas to express their true feelings. Aloud. To each other.

Notes: Aw, I love Rowena, and I am 100% here for her cursing Sam just to get Dean and Cas to stop being idiots and actually get together.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: the fans are in control now. We control the Supernatural content we are getting, so please create the ending you would want to see. And, if anyone wants to talk or rant or suggest a fic, I am always here.

[infinitycircuit]

TEAR HER TO SHREDS (202X) | TOMIE | AHAHAHAHAH

Sometime between Keiji thrusting her hand away with a pointed look and Keiji taking his first step toward Rinpa, Tomie stops knowing where she is. She stops recognizing the body that other people believe is hers. She does not feel it start to shake with terror or register the seizing of its chest as it struggles to breathe, too fast and too shallow. 

This was her best trick early in life, before she learned the many ways in which sharp teeth and sharper knuckles could be used to negotiate with the world around her. A door would slam in another room of her family’s apartment and she would simply slip her body like a lizard shedding its tail.

Autotomy is the word for this behavior, in animals. It means self-severing.

Keiji Tsutsumi is dying. She is him, she is not her, and he is dying. And then he is dead.

She had been certain they would either both die or both get away, but he’s dead while a body on a train clenches its fists until the nails punch through the palms and bites down on its tongue to keep from screaming. Its mind is whited-out with fury and failure and helplessness.

And she — Tomie — is —

She can’t be here. She isn’t here. That body isn’t hers. Where is she?

She is stumbling disoriented through a yellow-green field as adoring strangers smooth her hair back, put a crown of flowers on her head, kiss her and congratulate her. She’s just won something magnificent. She never has to go back to the place everyone else described as her home.

(All the sets in Midsommar were practical, did you know? That village really existed, at least for a few months. You could step into the wooden temple and smell the sawdust.)

She is outside in Antarctica, breathing in a cold so intense it burns her lungs. Some red wretched thing is kneeling in the snow at her feet. It looks at her with another animal’s eyes before someone else sets it on fire.

(The Thing was a flop when it first came out in 1982, did you know? Critics hated it. Even John Carpenter, who directed and scored it, never expected lonely children like Tomie Katsukawa to imagine themselves into its stark hallways and heavy coats, to watch it so many times they knew the characters better than anybody they’d ever met for real.) 

She is got-away-with-it giddy on a moonlit beach, hugging Keiji Tsutsumi with all her strength and feeling the thump of his heart only a few inches from hers. He squeezes her tight. She knows it is stupid to think they’ll live forever or even to the end of the week, considering they just cracked Rinpa open and scrambled his insides, but in this moment, it feels possible.

(She loved Keiji, did you know? Neither of them was an especially loving person. But they each had enough anger and drive and cleverness to meet quietly for weeks and figure out something to do instead of waiting for the sword over their heads to drop.

Against her better judgment, she had begun to fantasize about visiting him in Canada or having him over to her place to gloat about their victory together. She’d joked about attending his wedding. They were both so smart, weren’t they? They would make it. He was a main character. She could bank on him making it.)

The body on the train is crying, without any sound, without any change of expression, tears spilling out of still-wide eyes while Rinpa speaks. It’s not blinking. Its vision is going. It can’t breathe, why can’t it breathe? Something feels stuck in its throat. Its shoulders are trembling. 

But it’s not hers. She’s not here.

Tomie Katsukawa has seen so many fucking movies in her life. She’s watched characters make stupid decisions and thought, if it were real, she would do something different. She would win. She would live. She would manage the stupid supporting cast in a way that kept any of them from wandering off into the monster-infested woods, just like she’s managed the sets of her own movies, and everyone who mattered would make it out.

So she can’t be here, and this body can’t be hers, and Keiji can’t be dead, because she would have stopped it if she were there, she would have thought of something she could do and done it —

she is not here, she is not here, she is not here

Because if she’s here, it means they fucked up and he left her here. 

In terms of characters who should live, surely the one with people who actually love him should rank higher than her.

“There’s more,” a low, shaking voice manages through tears. Oh. It’s hers. A freckled hand raises to the body’s face and smooths hair away from its eyes. She doesn’t feel the blood streaking across cheek, nose, eyes. "He d-didn’t have time to get through all of it.“

She can’t be here because it would mean she’s crying and shaking in front of people she wanted to trust and depend on her. 

She was trying to help. She can still help.

Once this body stops bleeding and shaking and hyperventilating, she will figure out exactly what to do. She’ll fix it. She’s always been able to fix it.

She has so much to tell them.

She can’t fucking breathe.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 8 [18+]

<- Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 ->

Summary: PANIC.

Bess’s face is paper-white, her irises like pin-pricks in her eyes. She stands frozen in the doorway, unable to comprehend what she was utterly unprepared to see upon entry.

“B-Bess?” you stammer stupidly, also barely processing the reality of the situation.

The noise was enough to snap her out of her paralysis, and, like a rabbit freed from a snare, she turns and bolts.

She only makes it a few paces from the door, into the yard, when she staggers to a halt, breathing hard, muscles shaking, her hands clenching into fists. She roars like a lion—a savage, feral battle cry summoning courage she doesn’t have—and charges back into the barn. In one swift motion she crouches, still running, and snatches the pitchfork from the floor.

Brandishing the weapon at the enormous monster pinning you to the wall, she screams, “LET GO OF HER, YOU FREAK!”

She was ready for a fight that she knew she might lose. She wasn’t expecting the horrific brute to just stand there, slack-jawed. She wasn’t expecting you to shriek and throw your arms around your attacker, protecting it.

Her eyes drift down to your legs wrapped around his waist. Your bodies intertwined. Undressed.

Her tight-lipped grimace of fear evolves into a different kind of wide-eyed dread. This wasn’t an attack. Her rescue attempt wasn’t wanted. This was… what the fuck was this?! She drops the pitchfork and runs, and this time she doesn’t come back.

You feel your whole world spinning.

Nothing is real.

You can barely see.

It feels like you’re being strained through a narrow tube, squeezed like an apple in a cider press. You are vaguely aware of some pathetic whimpering noises, which you realize are coming from your throat.

The creature pulls out his flaccid cock from between your legs, and a flood of cum shocks you awake.

“Oh my god, oh god, oh fuck!” you repeat on loop as he sets you down, pacing as soon as your feet hit the floor. “Fuck. Oh my god.” She saw you—she saw you doing that! With your skirts around your waist and—you barely have time to be humiliated (though apparently embarrassment and terror can coexist, evidenced by your burning-hot face) because more importantly she saw him!

The look on her face. She was horrified. Horrified by what you were doing. What did she think was happening? Some kind of satanic ritual? Some dark witchcraft with a demon or evil spirit? That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That you were being haunted by dark forces—and now they’ll know it’s true! All those suspicions and rumors confirmed tenfold!

Stupid!

You shouldn’t have been so quick to try to defend him from her—if you played along and acted as if he were attacking you, he could have escaped and you could've…

Could have what? Salvaged your own reputation and destroyed his once and for all? No. Your body moved on instinct anyway. Even rationally knowing she posed no real danger to him, you couldn’t let her threaten him without jumping in the way.

“Maybe she will understand,” the creature suggests. This time he is the voice of reason, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder to stop your pacing and muttering aloud. “The girl is your friend.”

You bark a cynical laugh. “Did it look like she understands? Maybe—maybe—if I could explain, but she’s gone. She—” Oh god. Your parents. She must have run straight to the house and told them what she saw!

You risk a peek outside, and glance up the hill. They aren’t storming down from the house at this very moment.

“They hitched the mule to the cart this morning, to bring jugs of milk to town to sell,” the creature explains. In your panic, you’d forgotten. One blessing on this cursed day.

“Bess must have run home, then. At a full sprint, that means we have about five minutes until the whole town is alerted, and about five minutes after that until they break down the barn door with torches and guns.” Finally you’re starting to think again, to plan. “What do we do?”

He clenches his jaw. He had hoped that your promise could come true. That you might be able to introduce him to others, and this time, with your aid, he would not be driven away. Though it was an accident, perhaps being seen by your friend was an opportunity.

But from experience, he knew you were right. That girl was certain to scream ‘monster’ to the entire town, and the hunter who had just sighted him not an hour before would validate her tale, and would be all too happy to learn where the vile creature was living. Any chance of a cordial introduction was ruined. His greatest concern now was your safety—being discovered as his ally placed you in grave danger of being hurt by a mob intent on killing him.

“We must run.”

“But where? There’s nowhere to go! We can’t just show up in a neighboring town—we’ll have the exact same problem, only worse, because I’ll be a stranger to them too.”

“Before our meeting, I wandered for many months in the wilderness, away from the persecution human eyes. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers were my refuge. The caves of ice were a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge.”

“Are you joking? We can’t just run away into the woods—I’ll starve! You might be fine, but I…” You’re breathing too fast, too shallow. The edges of your vision start closing in again. He takes your shoulders, enveloping them in his warm hands

“Food will be more plentiful now, berries and edible greens more abundant. Mousserons are growing. I will take care of you, I swear it.”

It isn’t terribly convincing, at least not to your panic-addled mind. You imagine yourself huddled and shivering on a floor of damp leaf litter, unable to feel your fingers. Goosebumps rush down your arms just picturing your freezing state. Feverish. What if you get sick?!

He senses the nightmares swirling before your eyes, and knows his words have done nothing to reassure you. There’s one more card he has yet to play which may yet abate your fear, though he is loath to admit it. “I know a place we may find shelter. Perhaps a home.”

“How? Where?”

“Geneva. Victor Frankenstein.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Your father? But, you despised him. He abandoned you. What makes you think he would help us now?”

“When I was first given the spark of life by his hand, I arose an uncoordinated, senseless mass of flesh. Endowed of all my present hideousness yet lacking any sign of intelligence, I must, in my infancy, truly have been a horror to behold. My creator could never have imagined I would ever find myself a companion so lovely.

“Such negligence on his part is why I hated him. To create a being capable of sensitive thought, who desired only to be loved, and was too ugly ever to be loved. Why must he have made me able to feel such longing!—such intense emotion!—yet deny me the possibility of companionship? For the maddening solitude he abandoned me to, I wished to inflict upon him suffering matching my own.

“Yet now, any reason I held for anger against him is dissipated. You make me happy to have been created. If the sorrow of my creation is the price to be paid for finding you, then I would happily pay it again. Therefore, for your sake, I can put aside resentment to beseech his aid.

“Perhaps his horror will have diminished now that I can petition myself to him rationally, and have a beautiful, charming mate to attest to my character. He is a scientist. He cannot be so prejudiced against me, whom he created, that he would not be moved by our tale.

“If he is not, regardless, I will not be so easily abandoned this time. He owes me a debt, as a father. He must help. He will help.”

A flicker of hope ignites inside you. If you have a destination—a benefactor—towards which you can run, then perhaps you won’t die like a lost lamb separated from the flock. You nod in understanding. Frankenstein may not willingly offer hospitality, but he will be convinced to give it one way or another—and if your daemon is willing to confront his past for your sake, then you must at least be willing to try.

“OK. I can pack all the supplies I’ll need to survive for a few weeks… warm clothing, blankets, food, what coin I have… and we’ll figure it out from there!”

Yes. This could work, this could really work!

Your spirits kick into high gear. “Hurry—we must hurry! How much time have we wasted talking? You are in the most danger if you are seen. I’ll pack a bag and meet you at my hiding spot behind the boulders in five minutes. Go!”

He kisses you quickly on the lips, and you both dash away to your respective tasks.

 ********

 Your feet pound up the creaky wooden staircase to your bedroom. Your home is small and rustic, but built large enough by your ancestors (out of wood from the surrounding forest) that you were afforded your own private room. It was a bedroom meant to be shared by many siblings, but you were the only one to survive past childhood. Heat filtered up to it from the cast-iron stove through loose floorboards, though on the coldest nights you slept in the kitchen.

It is dark for midday. Even after you throw open the shutters, you need to light a tallow candle to locate your belongings, and start shoving them into your pack. The sky outside is overcast with gray, foreboding clouds.

You look around for the last time at all of your needle-pointing hanging from the walls, charcoal drawings of birds and flowers sketched longingly on a winter day, and pages and pages of writing hidden under the mattress, bearing far too much of your heart to be found. It was a room full of yearning to leave, but it was yours. And you were leaving.

You squish the mass of fabrics down to make room for hardtack, carrots, cheese, and a jug of water you intend to steal from the kitchen. Less space is freed up than you hoped. You pull out a blanket that would have only gotten soaked and moldy the first time it rained anyway.

Will this really be enough to survive? It will have to be, you tell yourself as you sling the straps over your shoulders. It’s time to go.

The sound of voices and hoof-beats drift in through the walls. A jolt shoots through your chest. They were too close. If you ran out the door now, they would almost certainly see you. Shit. You weren’t an especially fast runner, you’d never lose whoever it was in a fair race. You pray they’ll head straight down to the barn looking for the creature, who should already be safely waiting at your meeting place. Then, once they’ve passed, you can slip out quietly and disappear into the trees.

The door opens.

Your hope is crushed beneath the threshold.

Is this it? Are you going to die? Is a mob going to pull you, screaming, heels dragging, from your home and burn you as a witch? Your breath catches in your throat, and you try to swallow but find that you can’t. All you can think is, I don’t want to die.

By a strange miracle, your terror is short-lived. There are only a handful of voices, not an angry mob, and two of them are your parents. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet. Maybe your best friend didn’t stir up a riot to hunt you down and kill you. Maybe, somehow, it was going to be OK.

They call your name. “Are you here? Come downstairs, we have a matter of urgent importance to discuss. Immediately.”

Maybe not.

You finally swallow the lump in your throat, and, tucking the bag behind your bedroom door, slowly descend the creaky stairs.

Your mother and father both have their arms crossed, and a different, yet equally stern expression upon their faces. Your father looks as though he could skin you alive and but would be too annoyed by the effort. Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, but with an odd smile threatening to show in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth—as if she had just won a game you had forced her to play.

As you continue down the stairs, a third person comes into view. A young man with sandy blond hair. Ferdinand. Hairs raise on the back of your neck. What the hell is he doing here? The look on his face is almost the same as your mother’s, except his smile is unrestrained, vicious.

“Hello, darling! Wonderful news. We’re getting married!”

[soulwounds]

「    jensen ackles   ,   forty - one   ,   cis male  +  he/him    」              did  you  know    𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘕'𝘚    real  name  is    𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑     ?!      around  the  island  they  seem  to  be  quite     loyal    ,  but  also     short tempered    ,  but  it  makes  sense  given  they  are  a     FIRE CHIEF     and  come  from     𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋    .  you  can  hear   𝚁𝙰𝙼𝙱𝙻𝙴  𝙾𝙽   by  𝙻𝙴𝙳  𝚉𝙴𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙽   blasting  from  their  house ,  but  be  careful   !   they  can  be  agitated  as  nightmares  bring  back  memories  of  JACK  DEFEATING  CHUCK .    even  so ,  it’s  impossible  to  see    𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅  𝒃𝒚  𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔  𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔  𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏,  𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔  𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉  𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒚  𝒌𝒏𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔,  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓  𝒕𝒐  𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆  𝒕𝒐  𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒓  𝒐𝒇  𝒂𝒏  𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆,  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅  𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆  𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔  𝒂𝒏𝒅  𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍  𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅  𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔  𝒂  𝒃𝒆𝒅   and  not  think  about  them .  

hey  i’m  link ,  i’m  24 ,   &   i  never  learned  how  to  fucking  read .    VERY  excited  to  be  here  again .    i  work  a  lot  but  i’ll  be  on  as  often  as  i  can .   beyond  that  i  hope  you  all  enjoy  the  mess  of  characters  i  have  /  plan  to  have  here !    such  as  dean  here !    feel  free  to  message  me  on  here  or  on  discord  at  ANY  time  i  do  not  bite   &   get  excited  very  easily !

full name :     dean  henry  winchester . alises :   the  righteous  man .   the  sword  of  michael .   squirrel . age :   forty  one . gender & pronouns :   cis male ,  he / him . sexual & romantic orientation :    bisexual / biromantic . species :   human . identifying  marks :    multiple  scars  across  his  body .   some  looking  like  they  came  from  knives ,  others  from  guns .    his  memory  on  how  he  got  them  is  fuzzy .

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍  𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐑  ?

there  was  still  a  fire  at  the  winchester  house  when  dean  was  four  years  old .    an  accident  this  time .    an  electrical  fire .     a  normal  tragedy .     their  mom  was  still  lost  but  dean ,  holding  onto  the  bundle  that  was  his  little  brother ,  watched  as  the  fire  fighters  pulled  his  dad  from  the  flames .     sitting  with  them ,  brother  in  his  arms ,  while  they  consoled  him   &   let  him  wear  their  helmets  would  always  be  a  far  more  comforting  memory  to  dean  than  the  ones  his  father  gave  him  in  the  years  to  come .    john  winchester  became  distant .   negligent .    borderline  abusive .    dean  did  his  best  to  take  the  bulk  of  what  their  grief  drowned  father  put  on  them ,  trying  to  shield  sam ,   &   gave  a  lot  of  his  life  to  helping  raise  sam  where  john  fell  short .

when  he  was  a  late   teen  if  he  wasn’t  at  home  or  sneaking  out  for  a  smoke   &   some  girls ,   dean  worked  at  being  a  volunteer  firefighter .    it  was  something ,  he  thought ,  slightly  productive  to  do  with  his  life  as  it  was  already  obvious  to  him  that  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  go  to  college  with  sam  still  needing  him  around .   at  age  eighteen ,  with  his  high  school  diploma  stating  he  graduated  with  average  grades ,  dean  officially  joined  the  fire  force  at  an  entry  level   &   began  saving  up  money  for  his  own  place .    a  place  away  from  his  father  but  close  enough  that  sam  could  use  it  to  get  away  at  any  time  as  well .

when  dean  was  twenty  the  place  ended  up  getting  more  cramped  than  expected .    dean  was  notorious  with  women   &   thought  himself  as  careful  but  clearly  not  as  careful  as  he  thought .    when  he  found  out  he  was  going  to  be  a  dad  he  initially  rejected  the  idea ,  wanting  nothing  to  do  with  the  child  out  of  fear  of  turning  into  his  father .    sam  was  the  one  who  talked  him  down  from  the  anxiety .   with  his  encouragement ,  dean  slowly  worked  to  learn  how  to  be  a  parent .   preparing  a  room .    reading  parenting  books .   anything .    it  came  as  a  shock  a  month  before  the  due  date  to  when  he  found  out  the  mother  was  backing  out  of  keeping  the  child .    she  had  been  the  one  initially  for  raising  it  at  first  but  suddenly  felt  she  couldn’t  do  it .    though  he’d  be  on  his  own ,  dean  had  steeled  himself  to  becoming  a  father  too  much  to  let  the  boy  to  go  up  for  adoption .    richard  samuel  winchester  was  born  march  7th   &   dean  took  full  custody  as  his  sole  guardian .    he  kept  in  touch  with  richie’s  mother  still ,  who  went  on  to  study  psychology  outside  aurora .

being  a  single  father  was  far  from  easy  but  dean  managed ,  always  taking  help  where  he  could  from  his  brother  or  from  friends .    one  friend  even  got  closer  than  others .    when  richie  was  nearing  two  years  old ,  dean  started  seeing   ( REDACTED )   &   the  casual  feeling  of  the  affair  wasn’t  there  for  long .    things  blossomed  into  something  serious   &   when  it  was  discovered  she  was  pregnant ,  this  time  dean  was  far  more  sure  about  things  than  when  he  was  twenty .     the  wedding  was  small    &   around  nine  months  later  dean  became  a  father  of  two  as  maxine  joined  the  winchester  family .    or  max ,  as  was  preferred .

for  a  few  years  this  seemed  the  perfect  arrangement .    dean  worked  up  through  the  ranks  at  the  station ,  setting  himself  up  to  be  the  new  fire  chief  one  day ,    &   raised  his  kids  happily  with  his  wife .    but  perfect  sometimes  doesn’t  last  long .    their  relationship ,  after  all ,  had  been  a  rushed  one .    after  around  eight  years ,  things  simply  didn’t  have  the  same  spark  as  they  used  to .     the  divorce  wasn’t  nasty ,  they  knew  it  was  a  mutual  thing ,  but  it  still  stung .     he  left  the  court  as  a  single  father  again ,  now  with  joint  custody  of  his  daughter .

at  fourty  one ,  years  later ,  he’s  gotten  well  back  on  his  feet .    no  serious  relationships  seem  to  stick  but  at  work  he’s  finally  gotten  fire  chief .    he  misses  being  in  the  middle  of  the  action  sometimes ,  but  he  loves  his  job  nonetheless .     if  not  at  work  he’s  visiting  his  brother ,  the  bar ,  fixing  his  car ,  or  dedicating  time  to  his  kids .    

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐖𝐀 𝐒  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓  𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓  ?

a  blonde  girl  with  a  sickening  grin .     (  but  he  can  see  beyond  that .   she’s  gruesome .   horrific .   a  monster  made  only  for  the  worst  nightmares  with  two  pure  white  eyes  )    she  reaches  for  the  door    &    her  voice  is  as  sickly  sweet  as  a  child’s .     sic  ‘em ,  boy .     what’s  behind  the  door  rivals  her  for  terror .    a  black  beast  of  a  dog  .    red  eyes    &   snarling  teeth .   blood  staining  its   muzzle   &   paws .    one  breath  blows  away  the  protective  herbs .     &   then  dean  is  helpless  as  it  rips  into  him .    his  leg  first .   his  arm .   his  side .   though  the  worst  of  it  all  is  hearing  sam’s  begging  for  it  to  stop .    but  it  won’t .   it  can’t .     &   WHO’S  FAULT  IS  THAT ,  DEAN  WINCHESTER ?    dean  wakes  up  when   the  dog  rips  his  chest  to  ribbons ,  clawing  into  his  heart .    his  hand  goes  to  his  chest   ---   there’s  nothing  there .

after  fitfully  falling  back  asleep ,  his  mind  plays  the  aftermath .    it’s  dark   &   he  can  feel  pain .    pain  in  his  shoulder .   in  his  side .   in  his  head .    it’s  ripping  him ,  pulling  him .    two  hooks  in  his  torso   &   chains  around  each  wrist   &   ankle  suspend  him  from  nothing  in  an  endless  thunder  cloud .   the  only  time  he  can  see  is  when  lightening  flashes .    there’s  blood  coming  over  his  lip .    it’s  pain  like  he’s  never  felt  before .    it’s  fear  like  he’s  never  felt  before .         SOMEBODY  HELP  ME !      a  desperate  call .     SAM !      when  he  wakes  up  in  cold  sweat  this  time ,  he  doesn’t  go  back  to  sleep .

(   one  nightmare  in  two  parts .   dean  had  dreams  of  the  end  of  season  3  where  he  is  dragged  to  hell .   both  of  the  dragging   &   of  his  first  moments  in  hell  as  well .   )

𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐀𝐑𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘  𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑  𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓  𝐅𝐄𝐖  𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒  ?

he  tries  not  to  think  of  them .   tries  to  believe  they’re  just  dreams  because  the  alternative  is  so  much  worse  to  consider .    at  the  same  time ,  though ,  as  he  starts  to  see  the  things  that  go  bump  in  the  night  as  more  real ,  he  feels  the  urge  to  go  to  his  roots  if  only  to  protect  the  family  he  has  here .    a  fake  life  or  not ,  those  he  knows  in  aurora  are  still  real  enough  to  him .

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 ?

father  to  RICHIE   &   MAX  .    he  will  absolutely  go  off  on  you  if  you  are  mean  to  his  kids .    yes ,  this  includes  other  kids  who  bully  his  kids .   he  doesn’t  care  he’ll  yell  at  you  for  being  an  asshole  no  matter  your  age .   absolutely  no  one  messes  with  his  kids .

still  has  the  impala  here .    can’t  have  dean  without  his  car . 

while  he  is  the  fire  chief ,  fixing  cars  is  a  huge  hobby  of  his .    if  he  didn’t  love  his  job ,  he  would  absolutely  leave  it  to  work  as  a  mechanic  at  the  local  garage .

while  he  mostly  works  on  his  car  himself ,  he  still  brings  his  car  to  the  garage  a  few  times  a  year  for  things  that  his  own  garage  doesn’t  have  the  tools  for .   they  know  him  there  from  his  recognizable  car .

his  father  has  been  alive  for  sometime  but  he’s  recently  found  out  he  died  from  a  stroke  in  his  sleep .   dean  is  stuck  between  the  duty  of  giving  his  father  a  proper  funeral   &   his  own  bitterness  at  the  man  for  how  he  treated  him   &   sam .     this  is  only  worsened  by  the  memories  of  john  that  will  come  back .

he  is  bisexual !    because  i’ve  watched  this  show   &   have  eyes !    i  know !    is  he  repressed   a  lot   &   hasn’t  exactly  had  an  offical  coming  out ?    also  yes !    doesn’t  mean  he  HASN’T  made  out   &   gotten  with  a  guy  or  two  in  the  past .   just  means  he  never  felt  like  he  could  say  anything  about  it  all  growing  up   &   now  just  figures  it’s  too  late .

uuuuuuuuuuuuh   anyway .    i’ll  add  to  this  more  if  i  think  of  more .

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

SAM  WINCHESTER    -    younger  brother .    simultaneously  a  pain  in  his  ass   &   his  best  friend .     practically  raised  sam  but  is  still  his  brother  at  the  end  of  the  day .    they  annoy  each  other   &   love  each  other .    very  happy  his  kids  have  such  a  cool  uncle .

RICHIE  TOZIER  WINCHESTER    -   son .    absolutely  is  dean’s  “little  weirdo”   &   dean  will  say  that  in  the  most  affectionate  way  possible .    he’s  always  trying  encourage  rich   &   that  means  enduring  richie’s  terrible  impressions  then  pretending  they  were  incredible .   he  has ,  in  dean’s  opinion ,  improved  with  that .   his  jokes  genuinely  make  dean  laugh .   he  thinks  richie  is  hilarious .

MAXINE  “ MAX ”   MAYFIELD  WINCHESTER   -   daughter .    he  would  do  anything  for  max ,  literally  she  has  him  tied  around  her  finger .   if  the  principle  called  that  she  got  into  a  fight  he  immediately  asked  if  she  won .   but ,  once  back  home ,  he’d  try  to  be  responsible   &   tell  them  that  fights  maybe  aren’t  the  best  idea .   will  listen  to  taylor  swift  for  them .   secretly  enjoys  it .

EDDIE  KASPBRAK    -    son  figure .    absolutely  will  look  out  for  eddie  as  if  he  were  his  own  kid .    however , the  boy’s  mother  was  someone  he  got  into  shouting  matches  often  with  which  probably  didn’t  bode  well  for  the  future  of  eddie   &   richie’s  friendship .    in  dean’s  opinion ,  though ,  the  kid  needs  a  lot  more  living .   even  if  richie  &  eddie  had  a  falling  out ,  dean  would  still  be  there  for  the  kid  if  he  asked .

ASH  WILLIAMS    -    close  friend .     they  initially  met  when  dean  was  around  eighteen  in  a  bar  that  he  had  used  a  fake  ID  to  get  into .   though  they  ended  up  on  opposite  ends  of  the  bar  fight  that  broke  out ,  they  later  ended  up  buddying  up  in  jail  while  waiting  for  bail .    since  then ,  the  two  have  remained  quite  the  chaotic  duo .

SIRIUS  BLACK    -    acquaintance .    works  at  the  garage   &   dean  trusts  him  with  the  impala .    sometimes  sirius  stares  at  him  for  a  bit  too  long  but  dean  doesn’t  question  it .

JYN  ERSO   -   acquaintance .     also  works  at  the  garage !    lets  dean  borrow  tools  sometimes   &   he  appreciates  that  a  lot .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 .

EX - WIFE    -    someone  to  be  max’s  mother .    can  be  around  39   -  43 .    marriage  was  ended  mutually   &   they’re  on  good  terms  now .     has  joint  custody .    

[jelloopy]

Murder on The Rockport Limited Notes

Previous: Character Creation, HtbG, Moonlighting

Ch 1

Robbie is a halfling who is pretty shitty but he’s good at making “potions” (Robbie is the roommate that everyone really hates but doesn’t want him to leave because he is their plug)

Taako is on the top bunk, Magnus is under Taako, Robbie is next to Taako and Merle is under Robbie

They are woken up at 3 am to report to Lucretia (3 am really?)

”Yeah it’s like Mario Mario or Luigi Mario” ~Griffin (This is so funny because this actually proves that Taako’s last name really is Taaco. Before Justin played it as a joke but this kinda derails that)

Robbie asks them for Pringles when they leave (Thus the beginning of me and the boys not remembering him by anything other than Pringles)

They arrive in their PJs (Taako is in footie pajamas and Merle’s has a flap in at the butt with a Kenny Chesney tattoo on his ass) (When the hell did Merle get that tattoo. Also, why is Lucretia in her full BoB garb right now? Was she asleep and get changed really quickly? Do her robes double as PJ’s? Did she just not go to sleep?)

Taako says he gets night terrors that’s why he’s in like a full-body Onesie/sleeping bag (That is so fricking sad if you think about his backstory later on…)

Magnus just starts changing clothing right then and there when Lucretia tells them that they don’t have time to get ready (This man really has no shame or boundaries. I imagine it was the same in the century tbh)

Leimann Kessler (half-elf man) was murdered before he was even on the train but was able to secure the Relic on the train (Personally, don’t know a lot about how trains work but this to me is kinda odd. Who knew he died? Do their bracers know when the wearer perishes? Is there like a body temp check and a pulse check in there too? We know that it can track them but… how much more can it do…)

All the relics come from a different school of magic. They were never in the hands of someone long enough to learn what they are capable of (Potentially this is a lie. We would have already known the names, schools of magic, and possibly what they could do based upon that alone. I bet Lucretia is hiding that info in her office)

The Gauntlet deals with Evocation magic (Hmmm, I can only imagine why. Maybe because Lup also worked in Evocation magic?)

Avi is manning the cannon! The whole scene with Magnus High as hell. Avi Never learned how to Wink (Avi you’re adorable I love you. Magnus. Get your shit together man.)

Taako pulls the lever too early and they change trajectory into a swamp

Leech fight! (I honest to god forgot this even happened before listening to it again. Not my fave fight)

Ch 2

Merle gets a lot of blood sucked from him by the leeches

Merle is completely submerged in the swamp and Magnus pulls his ass out (Why is it always Merle)

”Scientists have yet to agree” ~Griffin (I personally use this phrase all the time. It just makes me laugh so hard every time.)

Taako can levitate (I really wished he used this more ngl. I would also like to see some more fanart of this)

They are in Rockport! Covered in swamp shit!

Tom Beaudette! We see his house and they get hosed off then they see him at the ticket station again. (What a nice guy!)

Leimann, Diddly, and Justin Kessler (10/10 best alias’ ever)

Taako Charms Tom (It’s a nice go-to huh?)

Merle really wants to murder tom he wanted him to step in front on the train (Merle really is the one who goes straight for murder)

Ch 3

Hudson, Jess the Beheader, Graham Juicy Wizard, ANGUSSSSSSSS, and Jenkins McShittywizard (My favorite train gang!)

Travis making fun of Griffin for how he needs to sleep with 100000000 pillows (I cherish all of these out of character bits where they really just dog on one another)

Angus, my sweet summer child don’t talk to strangers. We know your grandfather’s name was long forgotten even though you’re going to visit him in Never Winter.

The boys legit think Angus is evil and Griffin yells at them bc they are being racist. (1- how are they being legit racist? You haven’t introduced anything about Angus’ race at all?) (2- Jesus he is only 10 years old my dudes)

Graham is 36 years young and is crazy obsessed with trains and his real name is Percy? He is shadowing Jenkins in hopes of learning more about working on a train

Taako from TV! (And so his legend begins!)

Ch 4

Jenkins is harnessing a limited version of teleportation magic

Angus calling the boys out on their bullshit

Taako calling Angus “pumpkin” (Literally melts my heart. I wish someone called me cute nicknames. Also, Taako hasn’t even talked to this kid that much and that name is reoccurring)

Angus has a nondescript blue book that is able to intercept messages sent through magical means (Where did this child get this book and who let him keep it? This is legit just like letting children under 13 have access to the unrestricted internet. It’s literal Hell)

The bit with Angus and “PRYING EYES AND EARS!” (uh foreshadowing my guy)

They find “Jenkins” Dead body after hearing Graham scream

Merle is able to identify a lot of things by looking at the body (It still scares me that he is technically a Physician.)

Angus pulls a small CROSSBOW OUT OF HIS SLEEVE? (Where did he get this, how did he keep it from Hudson, Why the fuck does he have it)

Angus really said “you guys run I’ll get rid of him!” and grabs Graham and runs (How strong is this child. He’s legit lifting and pulling a grown-ass man without help)

”I’m following Angus I’ll see yall in hell!” ~Taako (Yes follow the badass 10-year old please)

”I wanna tell you about the time about this time there were three ogres…”~Taako

The Foley work bit and then Griffin just snapping “The train derails and you all die” (Another out of character goof that I cherish)

”I shit and take 14 damage” ~Griffin (are you okay? How much health do you have? What’s your max HP dude?)

Taako makes the Crab monster Levitate

Magnus punched the crab monster out of the window and it got scrapped up on the side of the train

Ch 5

They follow the Crab into their sleeper car and Magnus attacks with a chair and Griffin says “I imagine because you are so skilled at carpentry that you’ve had to attack someone with a chair before so you are in fact proficient in this attack”

Jess comes in and finishes the crab off with her Soul bound ax that she can conjure at any time (This legit just means that Jenkins did not need to carry her ax to the crypt safe. She let him do it for shits n giggles. We stan)

Jess got her last name legally changed to “Beheader” and Magnus says that he got his legally changed to “The Hammer” (Really Magnus… this isnt 3rd grade stop trying to impress her. It’s that or it could be another sad reference to “Hammer and Tongs” which would mean Julia was “Tongs” D: that is so depressing and cute)

Magnus and Merle are making good progress in solving the murder

”Alright lads” “oh fuck” When Merle keeps up his disguise as Leimann Kessler (It’s so funny because his fake Leimann Kessler is just his current Argonaut Keen.)

”I cast ZONE OF TRUTH” “Jesus you’re like a zone of truth cleric” (Oh honey. This is just the beginning)

Magnus wakes Graham up with a 5% smack with his left hand and then a 6.5% smack also with his left hand (Wtf is this BNHA? Alright Deku)

Taako is an Alcoholic? (He keeps asking for a drink ...This is a bit concerning but it makes sense)

Magnus slaps Graham again with 7.2% and he popped something in Graham’s jaw and he begins screaming but Merle heals him (OKAY DEKU COOL IT MY GUY)

”I wanna be a guy... with a head!” ~” Hudson” (hehe foreshadowing)

SCUTTLE BUDDY!!!!! (A short but adorable life you have my Lil man)

Ch 6

The “fisticuffs” scene with Taako and Angus (Now this is really concerning considering his backstory. I know it’s a joke because of how many people they accidentally kill all the time but like dude… little do you know…)

Angus leading them through the mystery is so cute. But also you know its Griffin trying to get his family to really think it through and I love it. (It really makes my heart really full to hear Griffin get really excited when they figure it out slowly instead of mocking them when they guess wrong)

MERLE YES! MAGNUS YES! YOU’RE GETTING IT! YOU’RE SO CLOSE! (Teamwork makes the dream work baby!)

Magnus jumps out of the train and Griffin gets really serious and gives him the “if you fail this you will actually die” speech (This coupled with the fight scene that Magnus accidentally skipped and the fact that originally Travis did want Magnus to die so he could re-roll a rogue is so wild)

Magnus is gonna become a wrecking ball Jesus (very Magnus-core)

Hell yeah, Magnus! Knock the meat monster into Jenkins!!

Magnus gets hit for 10 points at 1hp and paries it for 10 points! (Top ten anime near-death experiences)

Jenkins threatens to kill the meat monster. Horribly misses then is thrown off the fucking train by the meat monster (Get fucked wrecked Jenkins that’s what you get for being cocky!)

Ch 7

They find the dousing rod compass that Jenkins was using and find the monocle (Pirates of the Caribbean much?)

Taako grabs The Oculus because he has escaped the thrall of a relic before

It tells him that it can make anything he can imagine (This is really interesting tbh)

The Umbrastaff eATS JENKINS WAND!!! and a Lil sigil appears on the handle of the staff that also looks like an umbrella (Lup gets fed lmao. Don’t really understand the Sigil appearing tho. It doesn’t come up any other time I don’t think so it’s cool)

Taako grabs the teleport wand thing and asks everyone to leave and he grabs a bunch of shit from the Cryptsafe pile (Very Taako-core)

They make it to the engineer’s room and Graham tries to slow the train down but he can’t

Taako wanted to open the gate to Never Winter to Phandalin but they change it to Jenkins’ garden because it needs to be a room with “one entrance” (Solid idea on Taako’s part. If it were to work no one would have been hurt)

Taako pushed Angus off the train and he looses two teeth (This man pushed a whole child off the train… ‘Ight)

Magnus dies by jumping off the train (Top ten anime death scenes)

Taako successfully opens the gate into Jenkin’s garden and the train crashes into the garden

Magnus is stabilized by Merle (Awe so the Cleric can do his job!)

Angus gives them pringles for Robbie and the compass. Taako gives Angus one of the forks from his grandfather’s set.

They go to a nearby Never Winter Clinic to get patched up

Out of character, they choose to work on voices and Griffin calls them out bc he’s been doing 8 “different” voices and Clint goes “Yeah try doing that for 40 years” get fuckin rOASTED Ditto! (Also Griffin I love you but like 3 of the voices were the exact same and 2 were so similar it wasn’t funny. Don’t get me wrong different voices aren’t my strong suit either but ya did give it your best shot so.)

We goin’ back to the moon baby!

AVI MY MAIN MAN! (I will forever and always want and need more Avi screen time)

The oculus works with illusory magic (Which is very interesting bc I know it was made by Davenport because he also worked in allusory magic but I don’t ever remember him using any magic… who knows maybe he has and I just never realized)

Lucretia thought they were gonna get it off the train before it left... woman… (You’ve known these men for how long and you thought they were gonna w h a t?)

Next: Lunar Interlude I, 

[revelaare]

Shit said in the Crimson Discord & VC, taken out of context part 2, (the sequel)

Big NSFW warning, probably

his meat slid off and then slid right back on

[PRONOUN] can punch me in my uterus and make a hammock out of my ovaries

it’s one of the worst fucking things i’ve ever heard, and i’ve heard someone literally shit their pants

they tagged me and my ass clenched

this man just said “I want to eat ur ass and then kiss you” ok buddy

a man with a plan

my grandpa is texting his hoes from his flip phone

god my lawyer was a hit but idk if she will be the chosen one or not

hello give me your toenails

i'll touch you in a non-weird way

he was in that movie with the people, he was the human.

i want her to brush my hair

If we have dick glasses they have to be of the highest quality for the best experience

i don't wanna watch that white nonsense

i would throat him like a fine wine

these millenials can't live without ac? back in my day we lived on the sun

yall better put those goats on a wheel, tell them to start running

he looks like a bitch

yes or no, u wud punch the light bulb out of thomas edisons wrinkly pruned hand and asked him if he believed in god

still has skin and a working body

i needed to wait until my voice changes

you thought i was snacking on joe biden’s savory meat stick

barack guckin oglizzy, oguckma, barack osugma, Joe choden, OglchnnngggHHHYynnUUUnnghhma

why did i have a dream that i was taking the lid off my car

false gods require wine, real gods require coochiefice

fettucine wet ass pussy

that was all you sent me. the picture of a raccoon and then nothing

it isn’t hate, it is ‘continuously let down by’.

i never went to school who science

i’m gunna go peer pressure my mum into a shot

thank you for furthering my career at hot topic

i will suck the ingrown hair off of him

it has huge jackman in it

i chomped on this eggshell, got my calcium in for the day

i will take you to touch the mango

i want to see all the big things

[PRONOUN] has collar bones so deep you could hook a clothing hanger into it

no asscheeks in fucking family chat you animals

he will eat you alive and suck out your intestines like its a spaghetti noodle

[NAMES]’s Tiggle Biddie’s

dropped acid, cried the whole night.

my stomach is hooping and hollering, i’m about to eat some sleep

you want my throatsac ??

please dont know me as the toenail eater

you have to keep the skin on one side while you eat the other, thats basic mango physics

i mean he is some good sasuage

calm down dick Hannibal

respectfully, what the fuck is this

tbf i only eat my steaks where they need tampons

you committed acts of culinary terrorism

does your refrigerator whimper and cower in the corner when you approach it. that's your fridge trying to use echo location to locate a safe space

thundercuck

i almost met Jesus, I almost got an autograph. Almost got a greatest hits signed album.

respectfully, are you smoking fucking crack?

my left testicle could play better than you

i’ll eat him with ketchup

son of a biscuit eating bulldog!

now it’s back to me sucking, all is right in the world.

holy fuck weasels.

holy fuck, weasels!

why does the bad guy look like the Statue of Liberty?

this is a man that sometimes willingly dresses like a lumberjack

and me, being an emotional cripple, must make jokes about this.

hey my name is [NAME] i'm **definitely** who i say i am

[NAME OR PRONOUN] offered a back massage by calling it the “tickle thing”

i love a man who puts his parents in a nursing home.

my brain is going to take a hot shower

wait have u seen steve harvey's coochie

if it were me i would simply not be pregnant

look im not about to be out here saying i love [NAME OR PRONOUN] feet, but i am about to be out here saying that their feet are some of the nicest feet i've seen in a long time

i named my cloyster renesmee

[NAME] was texting me from the bathtub

you’re pregnant? That’s unfortunate.

do I say dumb shit? Perhaps. Do I take ownership? Perhaps.

i pay for things in blissful ignorance

i am an emotional vagrant

i am an emotional fragrance

to make a long motherfucking story short...

this enchilada tastes like asshole and sadness

you are not an ugly bitch, you’re just a bitch

that’s not a nut shot, buddy.

i’m sad because i sucked the meat off of this pumpkin spice latte

i want to make a blanket out of his eyebrows

what are you disgracing my Christian eyes for?

he be looking at that dick like why does it go so much to the left?

I want her to record an audio book for me so I can fall asleep listening to her voice.

Can I lick you like an ice cream cone? Asking for science.

like you're out to lunch with your bromie and you're eating some rubens or something and you wistfully look over the rim of your sunglasses and just: You ever buss 2 fast

my accent is flaccid

timotay chalamaymay’s sweet ass

on the bright side mcallister’s gave me 3 pickle spears. Almost enough to make a whole pickle.

you think they came from the same mommy pickle?

HIS DOODLE IS OUT

i thot that meant [NAME] wanted to...doodle his noodle

i don’t use commas, i don't respect u enough, fuck ur reading comprehension.

does australia have seasons

i want someone to embalm my body with mcdonalds sprite

his hermione grangina

purrrr my last email

its lore locked beneath 30 layers. u can only understand it if uve had a near death experience

LET'S GET FUCKY

i wanna have the heart of a stoner

his man titties look like little tattooed pillows

SWIGGITY SWOOTY COMIN FOR THAT BOOTY

there were no cheeks to shake. nothing to clap. no noise to be had from her literal slices of wonderbread

u ever just fuck around and ur tits fart

put a lil mint leaf on it for authenticity

alright brother god bless may u be fertile

i feel like im being advocated for something i shouldnt be advocating for

and i am adam with my fat pendulous balls lol

i’m making whuppie with whoopie godberg

theodore tits fart rex

yeah man do u also have the third toe on ur shoulder

the green spaghetti monster is coming for me and i can't blame him

today i learned starfish do not poop

that was nothing compared to some other things I saw

listen I'd willingly watch [NAME/PRONOUN] in a cell for 24 hours. Imagine that sounded less creepy

i'd lick a dirty flip flop off her abs

i’m tempted to show you all the gravity defining boobs, maybe tomorrow

my brain is on vacation

good morning! i ate breakfast and im ready to go to bed

tape the titty in

ive unironically had nightmares with [NAME] in them

the peanut in the auditory canal

so far this feel all comfortable, does this all make sense?

i know it's kind of a schlep to get through

nail polish or no nail polish for the shower?

and then he saw those big tt honkerz... and it all went down hill from there

can y’all stop chanting curses in the chat my furniture is stuck on the ceiling

EH?! CIAO? HELLO??

in Russia this is not ok 

i can’t buy pants here on Sunday either

IT'S LIKE TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS TO EAT ON A SOGGY PANCAKE

imagine me going up to [NAME/PRONOUN] and being like i love the way ur flesh smells

in a supermarket. The sickly blue light where humans congregate. Animal human masses. Nameless faces. Whole lives boiled into generalized categories like "asshole who definitely does need 4 boxes of cheerios". Yout hink and realize while stabding in line u didnt grab the bag of frozen peas...but its 2 late

its truly the only picture that gives me pure joy

are weasels real

my work mum just messaged me the phrase "use your booty call wisely" with no context

"let's bring u to the mustache chair"

If you’re not doing coke under the coke sign what is the point?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Daniel Michaelson: Ryan and Nate, After

(Essentially a direct continuation from the earlier Unaffected piece - this is the first Ryan Michaelson (Danny’s slightly younger brother) POV and it’s less whump than whump-adjacent angst but hey, caretaker fight!)

Ryan drives home shaking with a rage he can do nothing with. They’ve dismissed court for the day, Abraham Denner dragged back to whatever cell they’re holding him, Ryan let off with a stern warning not to punch the defendant ever again.

He’d love to do so much worse, if only someone would give him the chance.

His knuckles ache from contact with that monster’s skin, bruised and a little bloody, but it wasn’t enough - it could never be enough to make up for the sound that had echoed and bounced around the courtroom, the sound Denner had made just for him - looking right at him with that bright sparkling amusement in those inhuman predator’s eyes.

Danny, with his voice locked away, whining in fear and pain, the sound of his attempts to beg for mercy, the sound of him trying to scream.

How could that fucker do such a perfect impression of him?

His heart beats so hard he can barely breathe as he drives them back to the apartment. He takes turns too fast, slams on the gas so hard his tires squeal when the light turns green, hits the brakes with enough force to rock himself and his passenger forward into the catch of their seatbelts.

“How often did you hear him make that sound?” Ryan asks Nate, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, trying to keep his voice calm when he really wants to shout.

Nate, staring down at his own hands with a pale face, only shakes his head.

“Don’t you fucking shake your head at me,” Ryan spits. “Don’t you dare act like you don’t understand the question.”

He is lit up with rage, with the way the everyone in the courtroom looked when that fucker started talking in that odd voice - the way he’d seen only the back of Nate’s head as his shoulders hunched him forward, knowing exactly what would happen.

He is so deeply angry that he lives in a time and place when he cannot simply kill Denner himself, have his vengeance, and take Danny somewhere so far away, where no one knows who he is or what has happened to him.

In this time - in this place - he can only watch them put Denner in prison, refuse to give comments to the reporters that swirl in a constant crush looking for a personal take on ‘the Carver in the Cabin Kidnapping Case’, and try not to punch the passive asshole that had sat by and watched Danny be wrecked, again and again, until what they brought back didn’t even act like his brother anymore.

What they brought back to Ryan was a man who was profoundly damaged, covered in scar tissue, who can’t bear to be touched by anyone but the motherfucker sitting in the passenger seat.

“I asked you a goddamn question, Vandrum. How often? How often did he put that fucking thing on him? How many times did you hear him cry like that? How often or I swear to God I’ll drive us both into a fucking tree.”

Nate shifts in his seat, carefully turning those blank green eyes to look out the side window, to keep himself from facing Ryan’s righteous anger. “T-too often,” He says softly, without any obvious emotion in his voice. “C-C-Can we keep it t-to that?”

“And you just fucking listened to it?” There’s an edge of tears to his voice that he can’t quite hold back, and Nate shifts in discomfort.

Nate, who can hold Danny through his tears with perfect soothing reassurance, can’t handle even the implication of hard emotions in Ryan.

“I d-d-didn’t have much of a ch-choice, if I w-w-wanted to be there to h-help after,” Nate mutters, worrying his hands together, rubbing his thumb over the bumpy back of his bad hand, pressing compulsively into the spots Ryan knows hurt him, until he winces but seems to somehow calm.  “I h-had to l-l-listen. S-so I could h-help later.”

“Why didn’t you do something in the moment, Vandrum? Like, say, before Danny learned to call himself a goddamn fucking dog?“ There’s a beat of silence, but before Nate can come up with an answer Ryan hits the gas again, takes a turn too hard, throwing the both of them to the side. “Never mind. I heard the trauma expert, I know all about that ‘learned helplessness’ and the rest of it. I get that the asshole had you for even longer. I get it. Don’t even try, I don’t even want to fucking listen to your reasons today.”

He’s being cruel, but he can’t stop himself - he can’t get the sound of Denner’s braying hyena laughter out of his mind as they dragged him out of the courtroom and dismissed for the day, the laughter echoing and bouncing inside his skull.

He can’t imagine Danny having to listen to that laughter for four straight years. He can’t imagine it, and the horror of trying is making him lash out at the only person here who he knows will just take it and not fight back.

Nate nods, slowly. “I w-w-wish I had, you know,” Nate says softly, a little plaintively, like he’s trying to placate Ryan - and maybe he is. “I wish… b-but I forgot how t-to fuh… to fight back. All I c-c-could remember h-how to do was huh-… hold onto him a-after and try to convince him to c-c-come back to me, c-call him Danny even wh-when he begged me n-n-not to, I-”

“Yeah, well, at least there’s that, fuckin’ great, what a great goddamn martyr you are,” Ryan snaps, taking another turn hard enough to see Nate get flung around a little bit, smiling grimly.

“I’m n-n-not s-saying I’m a martyr-”

“Yeah, I got that, you piece of shit, that’s the fuckin’ joke. What you are is a bystander who watched my brother get fucked and told he’s not human for four years and you did absolutely nothing to stop it.”

“Wh-wh… w-hat was I suh-supposed to do, M-Michaelson?”

“I don’t know. Something? Anything? Anything at all?”

“I b-b-burned a fucking house d-duh-… down to save Danny.” Nate leans forward but his seatbelt is still caught from all of Ryan’s hard turns and moving too fast and he can only drop his head, staring back down at his hands. “I, I know I waited too long, but… I tried. I t-t-t-tried so hard. It, it took s-so l-long to be able to…"

“And in between trying, you listened to him put a fucking muzzle on my brother. Forgive me if I’m not feeling real up to treating you with kid gloves when I’ve seen pictures of my brother bleeding from every single part of his body. You’ll have to give me grace - my fucking mother says that all the time - if I can’t stop hearing that sound in my head, the way my brother screamed while you did nothing.”

“I-I-I…” Nate finally just goes silent again, and part of Ryan wishes he would snap back, get angry at him, get defensive. But all Nate does is slowly nod, turning his head to stare back out the window, waiting for Ryan to get him back to the apartment, back to what passes for home, back to Danny.

It’s not kind, but he doesn’t actually like Nate Vandrum, doesn’t like the absolute obsession Danny has with doing everything for him. He can’t say anything about it, but he doesn’t like that the man is living in Danny’s apartment, yet another visible reminder that Ryan’s brother lost four years of his life to a psychopath that left him scarred and frightened and fucked-up in bone-deep ways Ryan can never hope to fix.

He could kick him out, maybe - Danny doesn’t really have much in the way of willpower left and probably couldn’t stop him - but, selfishly, he needs there to be someone else to hold Danny through his breakdowns and his bad days.

He can’t sit in the courtroom all day everyday, watching that fucker’s loving smile whenever they show new evidence of the physical, mental, emotional wreckage he’s made of Ryan’s older brother - and then come home and be able to put any effort into trying to glue some of that wreckage together in person.

Nate is broken, too, even though he outwardly seems stronger. Ryan has seen him react with terror to just hearing Denner’s voice in a recording on the news, eventually locking himself in the bathroom until a baffled Ryan had agreed to turn the TV off. 

He’s seen Nate flinch when Ryan enters a room unexpectedly or raises his hand too quickly in a gesture, seen him creeping out into the living room after nightmares (and he and Danny have so many nightmares) to sit on the couch, staring at nothing, just staring and staring until, inevitably, Danny’s weird new Spider-Sense for Nate wakes him up and he finds his way out too, to kneel or sit on the floor, leaning his head on Nate’s thigh, one arm around his leg.

It’s fucking awful to watch, but Danny will only sit on the floor.

It’s been months and he still only sits on the floor, won’t even sit at the kitchen table. He cooks and cleans in a manic whirlwind of energy and then he sits on the fucking floor to eat, waits to be given permission to use a fork and spoon, wolfs down his food with incredible speed like he thinks Ryan will take the bowl away before he’s done.

It took them three months to get him to even sleep in the bed. It’s his own bed from before the abduction, and still they had to convince him to stop making himself a folded up blanket-bed on the floor, patiently explaining to Ryan, over and over, that puppies have to sleep on the floor - he’s not allowed to do anything else. Even then, he only started doing it because Nate started sleeping there, too.

He may not like Nate, but the older man is the only one who can talk Danny into sleeping in the bed - who can give him permission, as fucked as that is - and who seems to be making progress to get him to sit in chairs.

Nate is broken, too, and sometimes he forgets it. Like now.

Ryan feels a sudden stab of regret for pushing, for calling Nate names when all he’d done was be a victim, too. It’s too late to apologize, and he can’t quite force the words out, anyway. So that makes two of them who are shit at talking, he thinks with a stab of bitter humor.

Now that he’s seen his testimony, he knows Nate used to be an English professor and somehow that’s the saddest fact of all.

Nate Vandrum used to be someone who spoke for a living. He was apparently one of the most popular young professors at his old job - maybe just because even Ryan can admit he’s pretty fucking good-looking if you overlook the scar on his mouth and the way his sets his jaw into a vaguely annoyed leave me the fuck alone expression everywhere he goes.

A little more than seven years ago, Nate Vandrum was thirty years old and, as far as Ryan can tell from the testimony and the supporting evidence the lawyers have shown, spent every single day lecturing students on some kind of literature crap - gothic and fantasy and horror something-something, Ryan really couldn’t give a shit.

Now he can’t manage a single sentence without a stammer and reacts to any kind of crowd attention on him by going into that weird blank-but-angry face that nearly turned the jury against him… until the lawyers showed him photos of Danny.

Even Ryan had leaned forward, looking more closely in fascination, as the self-protective mask fell off and everyone in the room had seen vulnerability written across him for the first time. Ryan had felt something in him unwillingly whisper, Jesus Christ, he loves Danny so much.

The love bothers Ryan, too.

It all bothers Ryan.

He’s older - by a decade or so - but when Nate looks at Danny, all of that hostility falls away, replaced by a level of devotion and focus that isn’t natural, that Ryan doesn’t like. He doesn’t trust it - but Danny looks at Nate the same way, and Nate was the one who got Danny out of there and to a police station at all, and… well, it’s not like he has anywhere else to go.

Nate has no living family - his only serious friend was murdered the first time around - he’d long since lost his job, his prospects, everything he owned. Nate has absolutely nothing on Earth but Danny, and it kills Ryan to admit it, but Danny would wilt away without him.

Danny’s a goddamn shipwreck, and Ryan can’t do this himself - so he takes Nate back to the apartment and tries to tell himself to stop being mean, to stop pushing, to try and understand the pressure Nate was under just to go along with whatever he had to, to survive. That if he hadn’t gone along with it, focused on trying to glue Danny back together as best he could and give him some reason to stay alive, Danny would probably be dead.

They’d told Ryan Danny was likely dead - the cops and the detectives. After he’d disappeared and they’d found his bloody car a state away, abandoned by the side of the road, they’d told Ryan to manage his expectations. To hope for recovery, not rescue.

We’ll do everything we can to bring Daniel home, a parade of detectives and FBI agents (when they found the car across state lines, suddenly a whole new slew of people had come knocking) had told him - but they’d meant to bring his body home, not a living man.

His parents had tried to plan some kind of memorial service, a funeral, after two years. Ryan had lost his shit so spectacularly they had never brought the idea up again.

He had known, deep down in his bones, that Danny was alive somewhere and waiting to be found. He had known it with perfect certainty, with the surety he and Danny had always had for each other. They were brothers down to the marrow, even if Danny had been adopted out of a pretty bad foster care situation and Ryan had been the biological child his parents had been praying for a decade to have. He knew, every single second of every single day for four straight years, that his brother was lost somewhere but still alive and waiting to be found, and he would have done anything to know where he was.

Then Nate Vandrum had driven a truck taken from a dead man four years earlier up to some cops in Canada, introduced himself, and shown them Daniel Michaelson, bruised and battered and dazed and terrified. He’d told them they were missing persons from America and he might have just killed their abductor.

No such fucking luck, unfortunately.

Abraham Denner ended up with nothing worse than mild smoke inhalation, even as the cabin burned to the ground around him.

Now Ryan’s knuckles are bruised and aching from the closest thing to actual justice he’s been able to find - punching him a few times across his smug fucking face - and he has to make nice with his brother’s sort-of maybe-boyfriend.

He needs a drink. He needs twelve drinks, and two weeks of peace, and at least a months’ worth of some kind of drug.

He pulls into the parking spot right in front of their apartment. “All right Vandrum, get the fuck out of my car. Let’s go see what my brother has done to himself today.” He slams his own car door shut when he gets out, shaking out his hand again.

He’s never punched a man more than once in his life, and he would happily have beaten Abraham Denner to death right then and there with his bare hands if the bailiff hadn’t pulled him away.

God, that fucking laughter’s going to haunt his dreams.

The laughter and the sound of Danny when he’s not allowed to scream.

Nate follows him to the door, a little warily, keeping a few feet behind him at all times. Ryan wonders wearily if he’s just nervous Ryan’s still pissed - and he is, he’ll never stop being pissed at having to open a home to an asshole that just stood by and watched the creation of every new scar he’s seen marking his brother’s skin - or if this is one of those things that bastard trained into them, to stay behind, like a dog heeling at its master’s side.

When he wanders in, the apartment is pristine and spotlessly clean - Danny cleans, he cleans with a frightening manic energy whenever he’s frightened, and he’s frightened all the time - but there’s no obvious sign of his big brother.

Ryan sighs, dropping his keys and wallet in the little dish on the side table next to the couch, wandering past it, looking into the kitchen. A crockpot’s on the counter and he can kind of smell whatever Danny’s got in mind for dinner, but no Danny.

“Shit, where’d he go?” Ryan mutters, wandering down the hallway where the bathroom and bedrooms are. Bathroom’s empty, and it’s always the first place he checks, since there’s a little ring of old soap scum Danny is currently on a one-man mission to eradicate.

“Danny? You around?” He calls out, but there’s no reply, and his heart starts to pound. It makes absolutely no sense - it can’t happen again, the asshole who did it’s sitting in a jail cell and about to go away to prison for life - but Ryan feels the cold dread wash over him from four years ago, the surreal knowledge that his brother is gone, gone and not coming back, gone forever, gone gone gone-

Nate’s hand is on his shoulder and Ryan jumps, spinning around to look the older man in the eyes.

Nate’s blank expression says nothing - but the hand resting on his shoulder says he understands, and Ryan bristles against it. He doesn’t want Nate Vandrum to understand him - he wants him to leave, or to have been a hero a couple years earlier, or something.

That dramatic rescue was Ryan’s greatest wish in life, but fuck if he didn’t wish just as hard that Vandrum had gotten off his ass three and a half years earlier than he did, so maybe Ryan’s brother could have come back with a little more of himself left.

“I’ll ch-check his r-r-room,” Nate volunteers, a little hesitantly, and Ryan only nods curtly and watches him as he moves back into the hall, opening Danny’s bedroom door and stepping in. Nate walks with slow, deliberate steps, but Ryan has noticed before that they are nearly silent.

Nate moves through the world trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, with a face that dissuades anyone from looking too closely or asking him what’s wrong - and still Ryan has seen him in tears, pleading I’ll b-b-be good, I c-c-can be g-g-good, Ash-, Ashley, I can b-be g-g-good, I pr-promise, try harder, I’ll t-t-try harder just after seeing a bottle of vodka with a certain red label on it sitting on the kitchen table.

Ryan had accidentally bought Ashley Denner’s favorite brand.

Fuck, he’s such a jerk for taking today out on the guy. It��s not his fault, none of it is, and Danny seems to think he’s a fucking saint.

Even if Ryan won’t ever be comfortable with the way Nate looks at his brother - devoted and oddly adoring, all that hostility and defensiveness gone in a blink of time, all his cold silence dropped in favor of open affection.

Nate’s head pops back out of Danny’s room. “C-Closet,” he says briefly, and then he’s back in there, and Ryan follows him.

He doesn’t trust Nathaniel Vandrum - not as far as he can throw him - but he seems to be the only thing on earth able to hold Danny together and the only person who knows who Danny is now, not just who he used to be.

Ryan pauses in the doorway, watching the greatest bit of evidence he has for why he keeps letting Nate Vandrum hang around.

Danny’s curled up in the closet, half-hidden behind some old boxes of things from college that Ryan never had the heart to get rid of. It’s so strange to watch his tall, lanky brother fold himself so fully in half, so only his eyes and a few freckles and his scars are visible above his knees. The red hair hangs in his face.

The sweater and pants, clothes he owned before his abduction, hang off a frame that’s even thinner after four years forced to earn every single bite of food in the most violent and grossest ways imaginable.

“Danny?”

“R-Red,” Danny replies automatically in a scratchy, hoarse voice, and Ryan fucking hates Abraham Denner so, so much. How bad does it have to be, to take someone’s name away - to take it so thoroughly they won’t even answer to it when they’re free and no one’s going to hurt them ever again? And why did Danny have to lose his name but Nate gets to keep his?

“Right.” He fights back the instinctive flip of nausea and forces out the awful pet name Denner has somehow brainwashed his brother into believing is his. “… Red. Are you okay? Why are you in the closet?”

“I fucked up,” Danny says in a whisper, pulling himself into an even tighter ball. He’s a grown man as frightened of punishment as a child. Ryan swallows against a lump in his throat, at the awful lurch he never stops feeling as it occurs to him, over and over again, that Danny is afraid of him. “I fucked up. I was trying to, just to use the dishwasher but I fucked it up somehow and I broke one of the glasses and no one was here to punish me, no one was here to fix me. I tried to fix myself but it didn’t work, it didn’t… Will you fix me?” His eyes raise slowly up to Ryan’s and he nearly flinches away from the empty fear and desperate need written on Danny’s face.

“I can’t do that,” Ryan says, and his lip are numb. “There aren’t… you’re not in trouble.”

“But I fucked up,” Danny says, confused, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, I am so sorry, I’ll try harder next time-”

“Is the glass still in the dishwasher?” Ryan asks, just to cut Danny off, just to keep from having to hear the constant refrain in Danny’s mind. Be good, try harder, I’m so sorry, I can be good, I can be so good for you.

That braying hyena laugh in the court, directed right at him, is echoing around inside his mind. This is what that monster did to his brother - this is how little is left of him.

Danny looks at him, with that ring of red scarring over his face, and Ryan can see where the muzzle would have been tied exactly, outlined clear as day. Could imagine Danny trying to fight, bleeding as it was jammed on him against his will, trying and failing to scream-

“Y-yes,” Danny says, interrupting Ryan’s awful cycling thoughts. “It’s all in there. I’m so sorry, Ryan, I’m so sorry I fucked it up - I’ll do better next time, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I got it. No problem. Nate, can you… deal with this while I handle the glass thing?”

“S-s-s-sure.” Ryan watches Nate kneel down next to Danny, moving carefully to lessen the pressure on his bad knee (Abraham bashed it with a hammer to make sure he could never run away again, Danny had said one day, casually, as though these were the kinds of anecdotes that were perfectly normal to share with your brother over morning coffee), reaching out with his own lightly-scarred hands to take Danny’s heavily-damaged ones. “L-let’s get up and in-into the bed, oh-okay? Okay, Red?”

Don’t call him that, Ryan wants to snap, but it’s the only name Danny answers to.

Danny nods, slowly letting Nate pull him up to his feet, moving like a man trapped in a fever-dream, sluggish and uncertain of himself. “I fucked up,” He says, looking slightly down at Nate. “I have to do better next time. I have to be good, I want to be good, Nate. I have to want to be good.”

“Y-y-y-you are good,” Nate murmurs, and the love in his voice is sickening and Ryan can’t look away. “Let’s l-lay down, just for a m-m… a minute. Here y-y-you go, Red, that’s r-right…” He guides Danny up into the bed, gets him to lay down under the covers, slowly lays down beside him. All the while he has that besotted, adoring look on his face, and Ryan hates Nate Vandrum nearly as much as he hates Abraham Denner.

Danny won’t touch Ryan. If he hugs him, his brother leans into it with a practiced lack of feeling and mutters the body can do whatever you want to, which turns out to be the creepiest fucking sentence Ryan had ever heard a person say out loud.

He won’t touch Ryan and he doesn’t trust him, but Nate Vandrum - who sat and watched him be torn apart over and over and over again and did nothing but four years - gets to help him into the bed and lay with him now, gently running fingers through his hair, and Danny closes his eyes and smiles at the affection.

“Th-thank you for being nice to me,” Danny murmurs, the constant refrain of gratitude that has also been conditioned into him, his unswerving certainty that he should be thanking everyone all of the time just for the simple gift of not having been murdered yet.

Ryan wonders sometimes if enough of Danny made it back out of the woods to be worth rescuing. Then he hates himself for the awful fucking thought.

Nate’s green eyes flicker over to his, and Ryan knows what this is - it’s a dismissal. Nate and Danny are curled up together in the bed, and Ryan’s presence is no longer needed. He turns on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind himself, pissed and anxious and full of an unsettled energy he can’t do anything with.

As he walks out into the kitchen to figure out just what kind of mess Danny has left for him to deal with in the dishwasher, he hears Abraham Denner’s braying laughter again, settling against his back, crackling down his veins in sparks of pure and abject hatred.

Abraham Denner didn’t kidnap his brother - he destroyed him, and he took pleasure in doing it, in breaking a man down into less than one and making him think he’s a dog, a puppy, not a person at all.

Ryan’s been given the job of trying to put that man back together, and his only assistance comes in the form of the much-older man who was a victim alongside him, his sort-of maybe-boyfriend who can’t keep his eyes off of Danny, who looks at him with an unsettling intensity, who does anything and everything for him as though the rest of the world is an inconvenience and all that matters is Danny Michaelson.

All that matters to him, Ryan thinks bitterly, is Red.

Ryan opens the dishwasher to find the shattered remains of the pint glass inside, and wonders to himself just how much of his father’s money it would take to bribe the guards to let him murder Abraham Denner right there in his jail cell.

Knowing Denner, that asshole would just fucking hyena laugh at him the whole damn time.

[beerecordings]

Sorry if its annoying with all my DA JJ questions if you need me to stop I will. How was JJs relationship with Damien and Mark before everything? Did he have magic before the mirror or did it all come after? If Dark and JJ was able to hold a calm conversation, would they be able to? Do JJ sometimes jump around mirrors to scare/joke with everyone? What does he think of everyone and what do everyone think of him (iplier and skeptic egos) once more sorry for spamming with all these

no i love it thank you for talking with me!! these questions are spicy and i love them. spam me anytime

ahh JJ with Damien and Mark!! okay let me think what’s the canon on this first of all - we know Damien had recently brought the DA onto his team to help him as mayor and through WKM he shows a huge trust and affection for us, even helping us to bed and confiding in us his thoughts about the murderer. I think Dames and James must have been thick as thieves. Jameson was this incredibly clever lawyer, dapper and suave in the public eye, never losing a legal fight, quick as a fox and just as savage in the courtroom. and on a personal level? Jameson’s just fun for Damien. He’s so witty and sarcastic and passionate, but there’s an intimacy to realizing that, because most people don’t take the time to learn any of that about him, and assume he’s just sweet and quiet, but Damien took a real pride in uncovering these layers of Jameson and the two of them got along really well because Damien is also kind and witty and clever, and, what’s more, he was really missing someone who could wake up his more wild side... when he wants to remember a little of what it was like to be a party kid in college or he’s really missing Wilford’s chaos, it’s Jameson he goes to to have an adventure. they were very close and trusted each other deeply, which is why, when Damien hears about a party that’s bound to be wild but also emotionally important for him - and a chance to introduce old friends to new! - it’s Jameson he wants there. it’s really terrible for Jameson to know that his sweet, warm, intelligent friend who just wanted to make the city better for everyone is now this tortured, stripped composite of the darkness inside of him, and he hates Dark as well as fearing him for what he represents about Damien. (an added level of angst to Jameson’s new terror for Dark if we suppose that he might have also been a little bit in love with Damien...)

I think he and Mark were likely friends as well for a while! not as close as he and Damien, but he had a lot of fun with Mark and they worked on some very engaging legal projects together, leading Mark to develop a trust for Jameson as well and eventually invite him to the party. Jameson really liked running around with Mark because he had some WILD ideas, up to and including museum robbery, and they were always doing something chaotic. Mark always knew Jameson was up for anything. but eventually Mark started getting... weird, and obsessive, and kind of creepy, and then he really withdrew from everyone, so Jameson let him go for the most part, and kept their relationship largely professional. he was upset more by how much it hurt Damien to see Mark withdraw than by the fact that he himself had lost Mark.

the magic question is more complex cause I have to explain my idea of like Marvin’s magic to go along. basically I headcanon in most universes that certain people are genetically capable of “having” magic, but it has to be triggered by contact with other magic. so maybe Marvin was born, he doesn’t have magic, but because he’s expected to be a magician he goes looking for it and is exposed to it, which triggers magical abilities in him. Not everyone has that capability. For instance, Abe, even though he is exposed very heavily to the magic of the house, never develops abilities of his own (maybe he turns things black and white actually I like that but that’s all i’m giving him!! lol). He is saved by the power of the house and made immortal in some way because of it, but he is always a passive recipient. On the other hand, Wilford DOES have that capability, so when the house acted on him, it triggered his capabilities, and now he’s able to actively utilize the power. well JJ, from what we’ve been talking about, is clearly not like Abe - but he’s also not quite like Wilford. he does seem to have powers and some control over them, but that level of control varies, and he is sometimes acted upon by the power of the house, like when he wakes up different than he was last night and can’t change back. So, yes, he does have magical capabilities, but they’re at war with the power of the house, and they hadn’t appeared to him before he was trapped in the mirror (and never would have if he wasn’t exposed to magic). he was just a normal happy lawyer party boy!!!

for now, JJ and Dark’s “calm conversations” are uhhh well you saw a Heist with Markiplier hahaha. Dark gets mad that JJ is playing along with Mark, JJ sits there and seethes and trembles and refuses to talk to him, Dark sometimes intentionally tries to scare him with mirror imagery, etc. but I’m assuming you mean an actual conversation and... actually calm haha. it would take them a long time to get there. honestly? i think they’d have to be physically stuck in the situation lol. it would take JJ at least half an hour to get his courage up to talk to this asshole, and even then, he’d be all pissed and not wanting to talk. Dark would still be angry and accusing him of stuff and trying to manipulate him, and then JJ would start yelling back, and then they’d rEALLY BE FIGHTING, OH, YOU WANT TO DO THIS, ASSHOLE, YOU WANT TO ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE VICTIM, YOU TRAPPED ME IN A FUCKING MIRROR SON OF A -

two hours later they are sitting huffily on either side of the room, silent. Dark has a big bruise on his cheek. and maybe a tear in his suit. and a broken hand. but maybe the next time they meet, there would be something calmer about it. like the anger between them is cold now. and JJ just kind of wants to understand, like he always has wanted, and he’s so frustrated, please, just talk to me like Damien would, can’t you just - and Dark, when he answers, is quiet, is resigned, “I am not Damien and I never have been, stop holding on to that memory, stop expecting me to be sorry for any of this.” and from there, they begin to work on it. maybe someday JJ will come to terms with what Dark is. maybe someday Dark will stop trying to misplace his own self-hatred onto Jameson. they’ll need each other, in the end, if they want to defeat Mark.

YES JJ definitely pranks the other egos with his powers lol as long as it’s not the au of this au where he’s terrified of mirrors which is also valid. Chase screams EVERY time Jameson appears in the screen of his computer. he’s just trying to tell him it’s dinner time!!!! and scare him lol

Jamie fucken loves the septic egos!!!! they saved him and in the first few weeks where he’s really sick they all do so much to take care of him it’s crazy to him. he’s never really been... vulnerable before what happened. but now here all these guys are, looking after him even though he feels like some kind of monster, and they’re all so much fun. funny Chase, enthusiastic Jackie, wild Marvin, Henrik in all of his loud, pushy love. the whole house is kind of loud and he’s usually pretty introverted but he gets used to it and really likes living with them. he spends a few weeks after he gets better trying to like make up for the fact that they saved him, but everytime he tries to do something nice they’re always thanking him too much and paying him back with nice things of their own. eventually he learns he’s just going to have to be an equal part of the family!! sucker. they love him a lot too

he would not have much contact with most of mark’s egos because he doesn’t like Dark, but he still feels affectionately towards Wilford and on the rare occasions they meet up, they have fun and JJ tries to take care of him. he also likes Bing cause Bing comes over to see Chase. Mark’s other egos are all kind of scared of him cause he makes Dark ANGY lol. they see Jameson coming and they’re like “RUN RUN RUN IT’S THAT LITTLE MUSTACHE MAN DARK HATES SO MUCH - ”

[fuck-bowers]

never got over him (richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak)

(a/n: I’ve never written a true reddie fic, but bill hader’s outstanding performance drove me to write this super, super sad fic. let me know what you think!)

“And you never knew How much I really liked you Because I never even told you Oh, but I meant to Are you still there?” - Back to the Old House / The Smiths

It was months ago. It was months ago and you still couldn’t shake it.

You hadn’t met anybody else; and maybe that’s why you always thought it was a passing phase, never wanted to “come out with it”, because Eddie was the only man who’d ever made you feel like you could truly love a man. Like you could live forever with him, only the two of you, bantering til you both died.

He died without you, and every day since you half wished you didn’t make it out of that pit either.

Sometimes it was a full desire you had to suppress. Sometimes you couldn’t suppress it. As the days went by, the weight became heavier.

One day, it was finally too much to carry.

_____________________________________________

“So when are you gonna come out with it?”

Thomas, a fellow comedian, asked you late at night in your apartment. Cigarette smoke poured from his mouth and shone blue in the moonlight from the adjacent window.

The question was rarely asked, but when it was suddenly presented to you out of the blue, you reverted right back to your childhood disgust like a bad mental reflex. Anxiety filled your lungs and bubbled out of your throat and spilled out your mouth.

“... Come out with what?”

Thomas took another drag, staring at you with those sharp blue-grey eyes of his. You always had a fondness for them; their raw intensity juxtaposed with his comical nature.

“I mean, like knows like. I know this is something you bury under jokes. We all learned to laugh rather than cry about things we’re afraid of, things we’re insecure about. I’m just wondering, since you’re only getting older… Since we’re only getting older, when you’re hoping to... You know. Open that door. Especially now that people are more accepting. I know when we were kids… It was harder to do.”

Thomas only wanted to help. You were sure of that. But it didn’t feel helpful.

“I don’t…” You scoffed in a laugh, a bitter taste in your throat. “I didn’t realize you worked for the CIA, this interrogation is top notch, Tom, really-”

“Rich,” He interrupted with a smile. “Come on. It’s me.”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke once more.

“You had a friend, I thought, who just passed. You were talking about him the other night shitfaced. His name was… Eddie? I think?”

You stared at him, emotions flowing through you like the gushing water from a violently burst dam. You furrowed your eyebrows, taking a sharp inhale.

You hated talking about him like this. When he died, it felt like he became an imaginary friend that belonged only to you. No one else could keep the privilege of knowing him like you did. Not his mother, not his widowed wife. Not even the other Losers.

Thomas wouldn’t understand. No one would.

“Yeah. Eddie. Kaspbrak.” You muttered, voice wavering slightly as you felt your chest tighten.

_____________________________________________

There was never a specific moment that you fell in love, only a moment in which you had verification for sure that you truly were in love the whole time. Every moment around Eddie afterward was either heaven or agony.

“Eds. Either take that ridiculous fucking shower cap off, or go home and shower.”

Eddie scoffed, that short, cute way he would anytime you said anything to him.

“I’m not letting ceiling dirt or hungry bugs into my hair just cuz my cap annoys you. Stan told me he didn’t wear his one time, and the next day it was like he had dirt dandruff for a week.”

It made you let out a laugh. Butterflies followed.

“Wow. I’ll have to ask him how the ‘hungry bugs’ affected his fro.”

“Well, you won’t have to ask me about my hair.” Eddie was reading a comic book in the hammock, legs hanging off the side.

“Take it off.”

“I will not.”

“Eddie.”

“Fuck off!” He squeaked. “It stays on. This place is dirty as hell.”

You got up out of your seat and reached for the cap, but Eddie was quicker and backed up onto the edge of the hammock.

“Stay away!”

“I warned you, Eddie!”

“No! No you didn’t, actually-”

The two of you began to wrestle, you aiming towards the head, him aiming at your stomach.

“Fuck! Don’t tickle me!” You cried, unable to keep the smile off your face, or the laughter out of your mouth.

“I’ll do what I have to do!” Eddie yelled.

“I am the fashion police, take off the fucking shower cap!”

“Don’t infringe upon my clubhouse rights!” He quickly cried.

“I’m not infringing! I have a warrant!”

“A warrant?” He loudly repeated in surprise, the two of you laughing hysterically, so much so that neither of you noticed you were about to slip off the edge of the hammock and onto the floor.

When you did, landing on both the hard ground and each other, the laughter petered into groans.

“You idiot.” Eddie croaked, sitting up and holding his shower cap against his head.

You sat up and looked at him with a smile, and the two of you, lightly intertwined, sitting awfully close, looked into each other’s eyes. Your smiles slowly faded into hesitant expressions, waiting for something that the two of you knew would never come.

That’s when it hit you. That’s when you knew that you really, truly, did love him. The worst part of it was that you knew there’d be no escaping it.

Even when neither of you had the courage to lean forward just a few inches and kiss, or to spill the fact that you might want to be more than friends - even though the two of you were totally alone, for the first time in a long time - you knew nothing could come of it. What if he didn’t want you back? There was no way. It’d ruin the friendship you held above everything else.

“Fuck.” You thought, and realized a second later that you muttered it out loud.

Eddie immediately scoffed, sarcastically smiling. Behind his eyes you could see a type of fear that you knew too well. “What?”

In a last ditch effort to change the subject, you quickly snatched the cap from off of his head and shouted “Gotcha!” in his face, getting up as quickly as you could and racing up the clubhouse stairs.

“You dick!” Eddie laughed, racing after you.

27 years later, you relived this moment every day in your mind, even if just for a moment or two.

_____________________________________________

The memory you wished you could never relive, but did all the time, were the last moments of Eddie’s life. Him hovering over you, excited as all hell that he rescued you from the deadlights, that he killed the monster by himself just because he believed he could. Bev told him, apparently, that that’s all it took.

Bev wasn’t wrong. You didn’t resent her for telling him that, not really. Maybe his belief wavered. Maybe he got lost in the excitement and in your eyes and maybe the two of you lived in a cruel fucking world where aliens can kill innocent people for centuries until there’s no other perfectly innocent children or people to kill, only a bunch of broken adults that made a pact long ago.

Eddie wasn’t broken yet. Neither were you, really. Not until that moment.

_____________________________________________

This wasn’t really stuff you could tell a shrink. You, of course, tried - because there was nothing else to do. You had to talk about it to somebody. Sitting in your apartment for days on end smoking cigarettes and crying to yourself trying to make up jokes wasn’t doing shit for anybody, especially you.

“And… And he died, while the rest of us were busy taunting this… Clown alien thing that terrorized us as kids. And we go back, after it’s all said and done, the clown is dead, we, uh… We ripped up his heart, and…”

This part of the story was always too much to tell. You hated crying in front of people, but there was no avoiding the pain that this memory conjured.

“And…”

Fuck. You couldn’t even finish the story. The older woman before you wearing old-timey glasses and that critical, confused expression she always had on barely blinked as she stared. You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes. It actually felt like your heart was vomiting up feelings.

“And I come back to tell him the news, how we did it, how we didn’t have to worry anymore, and… He’d have been so happy, I knew he would be… And he has this dumb, not… Not-there expression on his face. And I try to wake him up, and sure, I thought he lost a lot of blood, but I didn’t… I didn’t think he’d…”

It was too much to bear. Your level-headed volume of speech bordered hysterical as you remembered that fateful day.

“We left him. We left him down there. I still…. I can’t believe he’s still down there. And always will be. And there’s nothing I can do about it. And he’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I fucking miss him… So much. It’s all I can think about since it happened.”

There was a long moment of silence, Dr. Elbert staring at you with pained eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You breathlessly bid, wiping your face. She adjusted her seat.

“No, no, don’t be sorry, Richie, I’m glad you’re talking about all this.”

She scribbled a note down on her pad before looking back up at you with a smile.

“This dream was so traumatizing, but it lets us in on what you’re truly feeling, and that’s the best part. I’m glad you’re opening up about it, because we get to see what your mind is trying to tell you. This is pain, so deeply rooted inside you that it’s the most vivid within your subconscious, and you feel these invented experiences to the point where it seems like reality. Eddie, who’s killed right in front of you, is the subject that triggered your first realization of your sexuality. You didn’t get to be with him at such a critical time, moments before his death in the dream, and together with him in real life - because you were busy killing an entity that ruined your childhood and poisoned the rest of your life with undeserved shame. The bullying you experienced, Richie, IS that monster. You’re trying to bury the pain, you’re trying to eradicate the negativity that you’ve been tortured with all this time. And after you no longer feel that pain, after you killed the shame, you feel free to finally be with him, it’s too late - he’s gone. Do you see what I’m getting at? You’re so focused on that shame, too embarrassed of it to let it exist for another second longer... that you let the love of your life go. And you feel so guilty about it that it manifests in your dreams.”

She scribbled another note on her notepad.

“Was this dream only a one-time dream three months back, or is it recurring? Oh, and have you mentioned this dream to Eddie at all?” She lifted her gaze to meet yours, pen ready to write, hovering above the paper.

You stared at her through deadened eyes half filled with tears. You took a deep breath in.

“Is our hour up, yet?” You asked, bitterly.

___________________________________________

It was so late at night and you didn’t want to call him. You didn’t want to need anybody. You didn’t want to have panic attacks or dreams that triggered them at three in the morning. But it turned out, at least in the moment, that you were that person.

Eddie was an adult - usually in your dreams, he was a boy, and so were you. But now he was older, and so were you. However, not forty, but thirty. Eddie’s forehead lines that you loved to see when he lifted his brows in surprise were dulled by youth, a youth you never got to be apart of in life. His hair was combed neatly the way it always was and it shone chestnut in the sunlight, and the pigeons in the park walked around your picnic blanket, and you waved them away from the sandwiches and fruits scattered in front of you.

“Hey, back off, assholes, no one invited you!” You hollered, and most of the pests flew away.

“One of these birds is gonna shit all over our food, I just know it. There’s a million of them out here.” Eddie muttered.

You scoffed. “Eds, why are you always worried about everything? If you eat the food rather than talk about how worried you are, nothing bad like that can happen.”

He smiled at you. “Wow. I forgot you were the ultimate optimist.”

You shrugged. “Well, yeah, a pigeon could ruin everything, but not really. We’d just go get takeout or something. The walk would probably be nice.”

For a moment, all you could hear were the muffled noises of the city, cars and talking people and laughing kids and chirping of chickadees.

You looked at Eddie tenderly. He was the most handsome you’d ever seen him.

“Nothing could ruin our time. Cuz it’s our time. I get to be with you, and...”

Eddie stared at you with a smile so genuine it warmed your heart. Sunlight touched beneath your skin for the very first time.

“You really feel that way?” He asked, barely concealing excitement.

You let out a laugh. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see.

“Eddie, I love you. I’ve… I’ve loved you since we were kids. I can’t get enough of you. Really. Don’t you know that by now?”

It looked like you’d given him a deed to Disneyland. He smiled and looked down.

“I just wanted to hear you say it. I… I never got to hear you say it, did I?”

It felt like a crack suddenly split into your heart.

“What do you mean?” You asked, fear in your tone.

He began to tear up, and it ran the crack in your quickly beating heart right through.

“I, uh… I didn’t get to hear you admit it. Until now, but now it’s too late, and… I miss you, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you, either. I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.” Eddie’s words jumbled and melted into tears, and in a rush of sadness you reached out and held his face, over the picnic basket that you shoved to the side, getting on your knees and crawling over to him.

“Eddie, stop.” You said, now tearing up yourself. “Stop. We’re here now, and even if it’s just right now, right now is real, because we’re both here. It’s real. And we love each other. And we both know we do.”

“But it’s too late!” He interjected, looking at you with those big sad brown eyes you’d fallen in love with so many years ago. “We waited too long! We forgot about each other! And we-”

You quickly kissed him. It was the embrace you’d always waited for, that you’ve always been too scared to administer yourself. Finally, it was happening, and he was kissing you back with all the emotion you knew he’d withheld all that time, matching your long unrequited love.

You’d always dreamed that he’d really loved you back. Your happiness was unparalleled.

He grabbed the back of your head and you put your hand to the side of his neck, pressing into the kiss.

It was the greatest kiss you’d ever had, until it was over.

You woke up cold, shivering in the sheets of your king sized bed, alone in LA in the dark.

It was raining outside. 

It never rained in California.

You didn’t want to call him. You really didn’t. But ten minutes of bawling your eyes out and feeling like your heart was ready to explode was too much to do alone, so late at night. This was the final straw. You had to get over Eddie. You had to let him go.

“I’m so sorry I woke you up, I didn’t want to wake you up,” You spoke, words rushing out one after the other to try and apologize to Thomas, who walked inside from the pouring rain. “I, I j-just had the worst-”

He quickly pulled you into a hug, and though it had that wet, unpleasant feeling to it from the rain, it was the warmest embrace you’d felt since you’d hugged Eddie, just months before.

You unloaded, crying hysterically into his arms.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, his jacket muffling your cry.

He ran a hand through your hair, holding you close, holding you tightly.

“No, Rich. I’m sorry.”

__________________________________________

[high-queen-margo]

Letters

Summary:  For @whitespiresarmory third theme: Kady writes letters to Julia, who she assumes is dead, after she runs from Reynard. Pairing: Kady/Julia Warnings: Drugs, suicidal ideation Length: 2,154

Read it on AO3

When the police came to Kady’s house to take her dad away, she ran to her room. When her mom came to her and said “Chickadee, baby, I messed up, people are dead, the hedge witches want you,” she ran to Brakebills. When Reynard took the Freetraders’ hearts and turned to Julia, she ran, and she ran, and she ran.

And she hid. She warded the flophouse down in Midtown and crouched in a corner and reinforced her mental wards and shrouded as much of herself as she could. To most magicians, for a time, she didn’t exist. Every second she sat in that corner, invisible to everyone but her own guilt, she tried to wrench herself out of her terror and find help.

Julia was back there with that monster.

Julia was dying if she wasn’t dead already.

But Kady didn’t move. She cried and she dragged her nails down the skin of her arms so hard she bled. All her life, she’d put on the mask of a warrior to cover the scared little girl beneath it. She’d always been a runner, but she never should have run from the one person she had left.

When morning came, after the night passed in a haze, Kady checked her phone. No texts. No calls. She ran through her contacts and hovered over Julia’s name, finger poised, desperate to know whether she was alive and terrified of evidence that she wasn’t.

The phone rang until it hit voicemail. Kady threw it into the wall, then collected it with its cracked screen and called again. She called three more times before crying into the receiver after the beep: “Jules, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please call me back if you’re okay.”

But the day passed and Julia didn’t call back. So did the next day, and the next week, and by the end of week two Kady had traded her phone for drugs.

She didn’t know what made her start writing the letters. She’d never sent any to her dad, or to her mom, or to Penny, or to anybody else she’d left behind, but she found a pen and a torn, wrinkled piece of paper and started writing, tears falling onto the words and smudging them.

Julia,

I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what else to say except that I wish I would have done something. Anything. I’m a coward and you suffered for it and I’m so, so sorry.

The world isn’t okay without you in it.

Kady wiped her eyes, crumpled the paper, and shoved it deep into her pocket. What was she doing? Julia would never read this, and “sorry” wasn’t going to bring her back.

But the next time she found something to write on, she found herself doing it again.

Julia,

I miss you. I don’t know what you believed in, especially after what happened, but whatever it is I hope it’s nice. If anyone deserves peace, it’s you.

I’m not doing so good. It’s been a month now and I’m still sick to my stomach all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t think I’ve cried this much in my whole life. Everything feels pointless.

You know, I don’t know what I believe about where you are now either, but I’ve thought about joining you. The thing is, I’m still a coward. I’m still running. Afraid of what comes next. I haven’t led a life deserving of a good death, Jules, and even if I had…I’m afraid of how to face you if we meet again.

I guess I’ll keep surviving until I don’t have a choice.

Kady stared at the letter, glassy eyed, before stuffing it into her pocket with the first one. It was pathetic, all of it. The letters. The wallowing. The fact that she hadn’t even changed her clothes since she’d run. At one point in her life she’d promised herself she’d never let things get this bad, but she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

The next time she wrote was after a dream. She’d had so many nightmares she became accustomed to them. What she couldn’t handle was waking from one simple, normal dream in which Julia was alive and well and lying peacefully in bed next to her. The rigid flophouse floor had never felt so cold and desolate.

Julia,

Do you remember the first night you invited me to sleep in your room instead of on the couch? We were up until like three in the morning talking about all the wrong we’d done and how we were going to make it right. I just had a dream about that night.

I’m fucking losing it. I know it didn’t really happen, but in the dream you faced me and held my hand and got close enough that I could see all those golden flecks in your eyes. Then I woke up and you were gone again. I can’t stand it. It hurts. I just want to be able to hold your hand and forget about all of this.

Fuck it all. I wouldn’t even admit to myself how I felt about you because it would have made me feel weak. What a joke, right? Look at me. I’ve never felt weaker than I do now without you. I loved you, Jules. I still love you. I wish I had the chance to tell you how important you were.

“You her? The miracle girl?”

Kady looked up at the man standing over her. He was young and dirty loose-fitting clothes, same as almost everyone else in the place, but she didn’t think she’d seen him before. He must have sought her out from elsewhere.

She heaved herself to her feet and tried her best to look like she hadn’t just been crying. “That’s me,” she said. “What do you need?”

The man rubbed his nose and looked away. “I don’t know if I have enough to pay for a life,” he said, “but…can you bring people back? From the dead, I mean.”

Kady snorted. How ironic. “If I could, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Yeah, I thought it was a stupid thing to ask.” He sighed. “What about my leg, then?”

She hadn’t noticed before, but he leaned to one side as he stood, his leg twisted out to a slightly unnatural angle. She may not be a true healer, but she’d been hurt enough times to learn how to take the pain away. She told him this, did a spell on his leg, and took the methadone he offered. She had it in her by the time he walked out the door.

When Kady opened her eyes and saw Julia’s face, she thought she must be hallucinating, or maybe even dead. It would track for an opioid overdose to end by mocking her like this.

But the vision didn’t fade. It touched her, and it pulled her to her feet, and it carried her out of the flophouse to Julia’s apartment where it dawned on her that this was real.

Julia helped her onto the couch and busied herself pouring a glass of water, then sat on the edge next to Kady and held it to her lips.

Kady wanted to push it away and talk, but she was parched, so she drank. When she finished, Julia set the glass on the side table and brushed Kady’s hair out of her clammy face and frowned down at her.

“What did you get into?” she murmured.

“Who gives a shit,” Kady murmured. “You’re here. Right? This is you?”

Julia nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve been here. Where have you been?”

Kady shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes. That night had played over and over again in her head since it happened: her friends lying dead on the floor, Julia standing in front of her and demanding that monster of a god not to touch her. She’d had the image of Julia with her throat slit, her blood coating the hardwood, burned into her imagination for weeks.

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her chest as she pulled Julia down and hugged her as tightly as she could. Julia tensed for a moment, then gave way to her touch and cradled her head in her arms as she cried.

“I thought you were gone,” Kady said. “I thought you were dead.” She pulled back and looked Julia in the eyes. Part of her still thought this could be a trick of the drugs, but it felt so real. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?”

Julia furrowed her brow. “What?” she said. “When did you call me?”

Kady stared at her. “The day after…you know,” she said. “Five times? Then every day for, like, two weeks. Did you not get any of those calls?”

“Shit.” Julia closed her eyes and covered her face with her hand. “Marina trashed my phone that night and gave me a new one, just with my family’s numbers. That’s my fault; I told her to patch over those memories and make sure I wouldn’t remember what happened.”

“Marina helped you?” Kady hesitated. “What happened after I left?”

Julia looked down and twisted her fingers together. “I don’t want to talk about that yet,” she said. “Um…you know where the shower is if you want to use it. You left some of your clothes in my dresser. And I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Okay,” Kady said. All she really wanted to do was sit there next to Julia and talk, or not talk, and just be happy that she was alive, but she could tell she’d struck a nerve and she smelled terrible anyway. She took one more long look at Julia before getting in the shower.

It felt good. She’d almost forgotten how nice it is to feel clean, so she took her time in the shower, letting the hot water run down her skin. She found her toothbrush in the bathroom, too, and spent five minutes scrubbing her teeth. She felt more awake now, more like a person. Like she’d finally come out of a long nightmare.

Julia was sitting on the couch in front of a stack of wrinkled papers when Kady came out of the shower, and it took her a few moments to realize what they were. Julia looked up when the door closed behind her and tentatively shifted the papers in her lap.

“I, uh…I was going to wash your clothes for you,” she said. “I felt these in your pocket so I took them out and then I saw my name, so…”

“Jules…”

How was she supposed to justify this? Julia was never supposed to be able to read those letters; they were for herself, as pathetic as that was.

“Are you okay?”

Kady blinked. “I mean, that’s kind of a loaded question. You did just pull me out of a flophouse.”

Julia looked down at the letters. “You pretty much just said here that you wanted to die. I don’t know when you wrote these but…just tell me you won’t.”

She looked up and Kady could see now that her eyes were red and puffy.  Had she been crying? A pang of discomfort settled in her chest. “I was pretty high when I wrote that,” she murmured. It wasn’t a lie.

“Kady.”

“I won’t,” Kady said. “I promise, okay? I was alone then, but now I’m not.” She sat down beside Julia. “Forget about me. What about you? How have you been doing after…?”

Julia snorted and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. “About the same.”

“This is so fucked.”

“Tell me about it.”

They sat silently for a few moments, neither of them looking at one another, until Julia said, “Did you really mean that stuff you said about me? In the letter about the dream?”

Kady paused, but there was no use in denying it. What was it she’d said? I wish I had the chance to tell you how important you were? Well, now was her chance.

“Of course I did,” she said. “I can’t even remember the last time somebody made me feel…I don’t know. Hopeful? Happy? You’re someone I actually wanted to be open with for once in my life.” She laughed dryly. “I mean, I sucked at it, but I wanted to.”

Julia hummed and reached out to take Kady’s hand. She ran her thumb over her knuckles and pulled herself closer. “Can we just…”

“Yeah,” Kady breathed, allowing Julia to curl up against her side and rest her head on her shoulder. She almost thought she might cry again, but she managed to keep it at bay as she held Julia and breathed with her in steady silence. Maybe things would be okay, she thought. As long as they had each other.

[mst3kproject]

It’s Alive!

This movie has Tommy Kirk and several alumni of Attack of the The Eye Creatures, including director Larry Buchanan.  Watching it will either kill me or make me invincible.  Only one way to find out which.

Norm and Leyla Sterns are on a boring-ass road trip through the Ozark plateau, looking for the Real America or something. They detour to see some fiberglass dinosaurs and then realize they’re almost out of gas, but helpful stranger Wayne Thomas directs them to a nearby farmhouse that might have some they could borrow.  This place turns out to belong to a reptile-obsessed guy named Greeley and his abused housekeeper Bella.  They don’t have any gas but the delivery truck should be along soon, so Greeley insists that the Sternses stick around and see his menagerie of creepy-crawlies. It’s pretty obvious (even to Leyla) that he’s going to kill them, along with Wayne when the latter shows up to look for them, but I doubt anybody expected he would try to feed them to the suspiciously humanoid dinosaur that lives in a Styrofoam cave under his house.

Holy shit, is this movie ever bad.  For starters, I have no idea whether it’s supposed to be taking place during the day or at night.  In Attack of the The Eye Creatures we had people telling us it was dark out, so we knew that we were looking at shitty day-for-night instead of just shitty photography in general. In It’s Alive! we’ve got exactly the same bright sunshine through a dark filter lighting whether we’re inside, outside, down in a cave, high noon or the middle of the night.  Worse, all these poorly-lit shots are set up so that it’s almost impossible to tell where people (and monsters) are in relation to one another.  We never get a sense of the spaces we’re in, or which ones are dangerous and which safe.

The actors are impossibly bad, every single one of them.  They all try, but they all fail – whether it’s Bella weeping for fear, Leyla shouting at her husband, Greeley cackling evilly as he threatens them with a gun, or Norm calling for help as the monster closes in.  You never believe a moment of it.  At best you’re laughing.  At worst you’re squirming with secondhand embarrassment.  This is especially fatal to the inevitable love story, which was doomed from the start because Wayne and Leyla are hitting it off mere hours after Norm was eaten by the creature.  The married couple were arguing just before it happened, true, but you’d think Leyla could spare a little time to grieve for somebody she once loved, rather than making jokes about how love will last with a paleontologist, because the older you are the more interested he is.

The pacing is weird.  The first bit of the movie, with the Sternses looking for gas and falling into Greeley’s trap, Leyla wanting to leave and Norm telling her not to worry, is not too slow and feels like its going somewhere.  It tends to remind the MSTie of Manos: the Hands of Fate, except that It’s Alive! has fewer awkward pauses and less repetition (now there’s some faint praise for you). Things bog down a little once the protagonists are trapped in the cave, but eventually Bella arrives with her offer to help Leyla and Wayne escape if they’ll take her with them… and the movie veers off into a long-ass, no-dialogue flashback about how Bella ended up working for Greeley.  This features lots of dreamy music and slow-motion running, and feels like part of an earlier daft just got randomly sewn into the film we’re watching in order to extend the running time.

If that seems oddly specific it’s because I’m around eighty-five percent sure that’s what happened.

And of course there’s the monster itself.  In the halls of the St. Phibes Institute for B-Movie Monsters, it’s a legend, right up there with ridiculous specimens like the Giant Claw and the Creeping Terror.  It looks kind of like a catfish costume made by a junior high drama club who didn’t have the money to buy any supplies that weren’t already in the art classroom. It’s got bulging eyes and teeth that stick out at odd angles, and I think it’s supposed to be significantly bigger than a human but it’s obviously not.  It’s hilariously awful, and the most amazing thing about it is that Larry Buchanan actually recycled it – it originally appeared in his previous film Creature of Destruction (which was a re-make of The She-Creature, of all fucking things).  There was so little money for this production that they had to re-use bits of previous under-funded productions.

It’s too bad the monster is only in at best a minute and a half of footage, because the only real entertainment to be had here is laughing at it.  It’s even worse that it never appears in the same shot as any of the characters except in one particularly awful matte, because seeing this thing strangle people and then pretend to chow down would have been bad movie diamonds.  It is pretty funny when Wayne tries to explain that it’s a mosasaur (a mosasaur - @palaeofail is crying right now and doesn’t know why) that somehow survived millions of years in the cave in suspended animation.  Sometimes ‘it’s a cave, caves have monsters in them’ really is all the explanation you need.  It worked for The Black Scorpion.

The slogan of Attack of the The Eye Creatures seems to have been we just don’t care, but I get the impression that a few people cared a little about It’s Alive!, because the movie does attempt to say a couple of things. First, it’s a film about the lost joy of the Road Trip.  Leyla Sterns grew up in New York and wants to see the real America, which she imagines as a rural idyll of small towns and roadside attractions.  Greeley has a similar view of his own life: he ran a little zoo called the ‘Serpentorium’, where people would stop to see his snakes and lizards, as well as a few more exotic animals such as a lynx and a monkey, and to get a tour of the caves. Once the new highway came along, his visitors dried up, and he devolved into a misanthropic asshole.  One of the little joys of travelling, along with the livelihoods earned from it, has been sacrificed at the altar of efficiency. Grist for the wheels of progress, if you will.

On a less-explicit level, It’s Alive! is also a film about the nature of monstrosity. The creature in the caves is a monster – it’s loud and ugly and it has big teeth, and it eats people for dinner. Nobody could argue that’s not a monster, right?  Maybe so, but what about Greeley himself?  He kidnaps and tortures travelers to either keep them as slaves, as he did with Bella, or feed them to his creature, as he plans for Norm, Leyla, and Wayne.  People who torture and murder strangers in real life are often described as monsters, and unlike the thing in the cave, Greeley is aware of the moral dimension of what he does.

The creature, after all, is an animal.  It’s just doing what it does, feeding, protecting its territory, and defending itself.  Greeley is a human being.  He, too, must eat, protect what is his, and defend himself, but he consciously chooses to do these things in a way that harms others.  If he wanted a housekeeper he could have hired one, but he chose to force Bella into that role instead.  When he learned that the creature preferred humans to the animal carcasses he brought it, he could have refused to indulge it, but he didn’t.  The fact that he makes excuses for the things he does only reinforces that he knows he is in the wrong.

Can we not therefore argue that it’s Greeley who is the monster in this monster movie?  I honestly think this is a point the film-makers were trying to make, because we see way more of Greeley’s evil than we do of what the creature’s doing. Bella’s over-long flashback never shows us the creature once.  Instead it’s all about how Greeley captured and broke her.  The creature is just one of several tools he uses to express his hatred of the human race.

Another kind-of-interesting thing in It’s Alive! is the question of who’s story it is. Our audience identification characters are Norm, Leyla, and Wayne, but they’ve wandered into a story that was already happening.  The real protagonist is Bella.  Her flashback shows us her capture and how she tried to escape but couldn’t – now Greeley is getting tired of her and may replace her with the younger, prettier Leyla, and so she acts to save not only her fellow prisoners but herself.  For years now that only thing that’s kept her going is fear of death, which she eventually overcomes to have her revenge on Greeley and his creature at the cost of her own life.  She dies at the end, but she wins, because she dies knowing that she's accomplished her goal.  I’m pretty sure this was intentional, too, because Bella being the hero of this story is the best explanation for why her flashback was so damned long.

It’s cool that there’s some actual stuff to think about here, but the poor execution means It’s Alive! is still not enjoyable on any level but a b-movie bullshit one.  Even then, it’s hard to watch, because everything in it looks and sounds so terrible – the lighting, the monster, the actors, everything. It’s not boring, but not particularly exciting, either.  It’s just… bad.