#y’all. peep sammy in the back

[devilat-thedoor]

don’t ask me what i’m thinking. it’s nsfw…

[josephthesnailshow]

Sammy the Catto

Warning: this trollpasta contains LOTSA swear words, I didn't write all of this, a website did, and I only wrote the original story.

Read the original here:

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I never thought bout postin here yo, but I gots a rap ta share wit you muthafuckas; just promise me dat you’re not goin ta laugh. There’s not a shitload I know bout dis thang, n’ I can’t process anything, so if I have shitty Gangsta or anythang else, I apologize. I’m bobbin up in dis biatch, so I can hardly write yo, but here’s a sentence ta describe it ta you, n’ it’s not straight-up good.

So, you know dem shows our slick asses like ta peep on televizzle, biatch? like SpunkBizzle SweatPants, Da Amazin Ghetto of Gumball, n’ others, biatch? I’m brangin these shows up cuz these is examplez of shows dat you n’ I used ta watch yo. Has you done never found anythang weird or creepy bout these shows, biatch? Admit it, you certainly did, n’ I did too yo, but it wasn’t as shitty as others think; dat shiznit was just fo’ tha comedy.

Aside from dem shows, let’s git ta tha rap I’m bout ta tell y’all fo’ realz. Again, I’m sorry if I don’t describe mah thoughts n’ vibe bout this; dis show just fills me wit dread, anyway yo. Here goes nothing.

In late November, I inherited a home n’ was up in tha process of clearin up what tha fuck was left of tha estate of mah pimped out-aunt, whoz ass had took a dirt nap, when I stumbled upon a straight-up odd STD of a obscure show. Da box was badly damaged yo, but tha disc was up in a seemingly slick condition. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da mystery had piqued mah interest, so I loaded it up in mah STD playa ta check it out. There was no problems wit startin tha DVD, except fo’ a funky-ass black screen dat lasted fo’ 30 seconds.

Afta bout 30 seconds, tha text “Sammy tha Cat” slowly rolled across tha screen, followed by tha year 2019 up in a smalla font. This was dumbfoundin cuz mah pimped out-aunt took a dirt nap up in 2020, n’ we was only recently granted access ta her estate. I’m holla’d at nuff of these DVDs was peeped by a cold-ass lil lil pimp dat biiiiatch would babysit when her big-ass booty still lived at home. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was at a nursin home from 2017 until her passing; I was interrupted, n’ tha show continues.

Afta tha title card, tha screen quickly fades tha fuck into white; tha white fades tha fuck into a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass blasted of a lightly furnished, mostly empty room wit a thugged-out door ta tha left. Rather quickly, however, a big-ass pussaaaaay entas tha frame. Da pussaaaaay is prominently white but has black patches n’ spots, n’ you can put dat on yo’ toast. Da screen was straight-up blurry, so itz mad hard ta make up yo, but it appears ta be a thug up in a cold-ass lil pussaaaaay costume fo’ realz. As it turns around, I notice tha big-ass cheeks, googly eyes, n’ stitches on tha front portion of his body; tha odd proportionz of tha costume lead mah crazy ass ta believe it ta be homemade fo’ realz. Afta turnin around, tha pussaaaaay proceedz ta stare up in tha direction of tha camera fo’ what tha fuck felt like minutes until, again, tha screen goes white, which lasts fo’ a phat minute.

Afta all dem minutez of white screen, tha costumed playa is peeped smokin from a funky-ass bowl�”a bowl of what tha fuck appears ta be raw meat. Da source is unknown; I’ma leave it up ta you ta determine what tha fuck tha meat is fo’ realz. Afta emptyin tha bowl, tha playa leaves tha frame, only ta return bout 30 secondz lata holdin tha hand of a maxed biatch. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da biatch was silent n’ frozen, n’ I’d almost assume dat biiiiatch was unconscious if not fo’ her footsteps alongside his muthafuckin ass. Da playa leadz her ta tha bedside n’ sits her down. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch yo. Dude sits down next ta her, until he eventually starts ta shake, n’ tha shakes start ta git worse n’ mo’ aggressive, n’ tha playa is now slightly turned away from tha biatch n’ is, once again, chillin straight-up still. This must have lasted fo’ multiple minutes until he reached back n’ grabbed tha biatch by tha neck. Da biatch lets up a funky-ass blood-curdlin scream dat is so bangin dat tha camera audio strugglez ta pick it up, n’ tha playa covers his wild lil’ fuckin ears n’ starts yelling. Da playa standz up, also pullin her up involuntarily. Da biatch is dragged by her neck n’ then dropped.

By dis point, mah ass is racing, n’ I be trippin n’ up in shock at what tha fuck I be afraid I’ve found. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This felt too real n’ unhinged ta be some indie film yo, but filled wit dread, I continued ta peep it unfold. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Little do I know, however, dat I’ma soon wish I’d turned it off.

Afta droppin tha biatch, tha playa frantically runs all up in a thugged-out door ta tha left side of tha main room, like a lil’ small-ass closet, cuz his bangin right leg is still stickin out. When inside, da perved-out muthafucka shufflez round fo’ bout 10�”20 secondz until da perved-out muthafucka suddenly turns round ta reveal a long-barreled shotgun pointed directly toward tha biatch. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da biatch, still blindfolded, is chillin on tha floor, unsettlingly silent. There be a overwhelmin sense of hopelessnizz dat flows all up in mah body as I peep her exist, straight-up oblivious ta what’s pointed at her n’ shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch isn’t allowed ta peep it comin fo’ realz. Afta standin fo’ a moment, tha playa lowers tha glock n’ casually strutts over ta tha camera n’ turns it off. Da screen goes dark, n’ dat is tha last of tha contentz of tha DVD. Da biatch was presumably capped up in dis scene cuz I heard a gunshot durin it, n’ what tha fuck followed was tha blood-curdlin scream of tha biatch; tha show then ended.

Afta tha show ended, afta all dem minutez of boredom n’ some hesitation, I decided ta report tha disc ta tha local five-o department. They took it fo’ evidence yo, but I’d be lyin if I holla’d I’d heard anythang back. I became concerned bout what tha fuck had happened ta tha biatch, n’ I would prefer tha closure of knowin rather than tha uneasy ignorizzle dat I’ve been livin up in fo’ tha past few weeks. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I been terrified of suttin’ I hoped wasn’t legit but was afraid might be. Dat shiznit was smokin me kickin it, so yesterdizzle I decided ta reach back tha fuck into tha box where I found tha original gangsta disc cuz I knew I hadn’t looked straight-up thoroughly tha last time fo’ realz. Afta anxiously siftin fo’ bout 30 seconds, a cold-ass lil convulsive shock is served up all up in mah entire body when I peep dat shit. To mah dismay, I spotted yet another unlabeled, damaged disc container chillin along tha border of tha box yo, but I couldn’t brang mah dirty ass ta bust a nut on it, much less open it, n’ eva since then, I’ve been feelin uneasy. I’ve thought bout disposin of it so I don’t gotta deal wit it yo, but I don’t wanna git rid of suttin’ dat may potentially be tha solution ta a cold-ass lil case. But fuck dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat there was mo’ than I thought.

Without hesitation, I grabbed tha STD n’ banged tha damaged disc. I was hopin fo’ mo’ evidence, n’ these was tha events dat occurred afta tha straight-up original gangsta disc: Da disc was fucked up but started wit tha pussaaaaay again, n’ da thug was poppin’ off ta a 5-year-old boy, n’ he axed tha pimp ta follow his ass ta tha same blender dat was up in tha previous disc, n’ he picked up tha pimp n’ turned his ass tha fuck into a smoothie, n’ tha pussaaaaay came back ta his closet n’ put tha long-barreled shotgun tha fuck into tha closet, lettin up a big-ass bust a funky-ass big-ass fart as though he regretted what tha fuck he’d done, n’ tha entire thang was cut, n’ tha STD ends.

I started dissin dis show n’ tha fact dat dis playa didn’t even put it up in tha nearby shop fo’ DVDs except fo’ mah pimped out-aunt’s doggy den dat I inherited, n’ I can KNOW why. Well shiiiit, it seems straight-up unrealistic fo’ some anonymous thug ta put they snuff film up in a hood store fo’ others ta watch. I turned off tha DVD, took it outta mah playa, n’ reported it ta tha five-o department. I shared some evidence wit them, n’ I have nuff thangs afta pluggin tha evidence.

This is up ta you ta answer: whoz ass was tha playa up in tha pussaaaaay costume, n’ is tha playa related ta mah pimped out aunt, n’ why was he cappin’ people, biatch? I’ma allow you ta figure it out; as fo’ tha second DVD, I ended up reportin it ta tha five-o as well. Upon again n’ again n’ again hittin’ up tha PD, I found up da thug was already servin time on lockdown on unrelated charges. They is now investigatin tha content of tha second STD of tha show.

I feared fo’ mah game; I had never peeped anythang unexplainable n’ weird until now, n’ ta dis day, a gangbangin’ feelin of dread be always comin over me, n’ I feel like I did suttin’ wrong. When I tell playas bout dis moment, they always give me strange looks, n’ they keep assumin I had a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass shitty-ass nightmare when I didn’t; at least from tha lata events, dat shiznit was a nightmare.

I be sorry; dis should’ve been prevented yo, but cuz of mah curiosity, I wanted ta peep tha show cuz I wanted ta know what tha fuck it was. I be now feelin guilty fo’ what tha fuck just happened, even though I didn’t do anythang wrong.

I was gettin tired, so I went ta chill yo, but tha show stayed on mah mind while I tried ta chill, n’ I eventually went ta chill.

As I was tryin ta chill like a pimp ta forget bout what tha fuck happened todizzle, I started trippin, n’ dis trip seemed aiiight at first. I’ma share mah dream, if you can call it dis shit. To me, I call it a nightmare.

I be chillin up in mah chair, mah livin room is decently furnished, n’ mah TV is hustlin up in complete static. When tha static ended afta 12 minutes, tha oldschool Warner Bros. logo flashed on tha screen, revealin tha text “Sammy tha Cat.” I knew how tha fuck dis was goin ta go yo, but I don’t recall seein Warner Bros. all up in tha beginning. Was dis made by Warner Bros., biatch? Perhaps a lost show, biatch? I don’t give a fuck; I continued watching.

Da episode started wit tha camera pressed against Sammyz grill wit dat giant fake smile, n’ what tha fuck I could make up was dat there was finger holez where tha eyes are. Da thang I never heard from Sammy was his voice.

“Wuz crackalackin’ there biaaatch! “I wanna talk.”

His voice was cheerful, deep, n’ loud, n’ it sounded like da thug was old; da perved-out muthafucka was rappin up ta me; I tried movin yo, but I be havin dem trips where I can’t move at all; da perved-out muthafucka holla’d some sentences dat made mah ass break.

“Yo crazy-ass pimped out-aunt deserved ta take a thugged-out dirt nap.”

When dat sentence came outta his crazy-ass grill, it broke mah ass, n’ I held back tha urge ta cry like a muthafucka.

“I loved her, n’ she left mah dirty ass. When she left me, I was broke. Thatz why I tried ta make mah own show ta git mah scrilla back.”

Da voice was gettin closer from tha screen, n’ it almost sounded like da thug was whisperin up in mah ear. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I fuckin started ta git chills; I could hold back tears as dopest I could. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Sammy saw me holdin back tears, then tha camera zoomed up in on what tha fuck rocked up ta be a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass shotgun up in his hand.

I eventually stopped tearin up, lookin blankly all up in tha shotgun, mah eyes now bobbin. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sammy pulled tha trigger, tha cap hittin tha camera�”possibly tha cameraman too�”as I heard a funky-ass bloodcurdlin scream n’ saw dropz of blood, wit tha camera glitching.

Da televizzle turned off, n’ I heard a aggressive knock all up in tha door beside mah dirty ass. I had nowhere ta bounce tha fuck out. I accepted mah fate; Sammy barged tha fuck into tha room, holdin a sledgehammer; tha pussaaaaay ran towardz me n’ hit me wit tha sledgehammer; I went ta chill n’ be now unconscious.

I finally raised up from tha nightmare, n’ I be finally aiiight dat I be kickin it n’ well, wit no bruises or anything. I gots tha scam ta booty-call Warner Bros. Entertainment cuz I saw tha logo on mah TV durin tha nightmare, so itz appropriate ta do so.

I dialed tha company n’ axed dem if they eva had a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass show called Sammy tha Cat or anythang related ta dat shit. I was kicked it wit by a unexpected response: they holla’d fo’sho, much ta mah shock. Da muthafucka whoz ass played Sammy was playaz wit tha playas behind Warner Bros., commonly known ta some playas as tha “warners.” Da show was up in tha works yo, but tha workers noticed dat tha playa was trippin like a muthafucka bout something, so they ended thang wit Sammy tha Cat entirely.

Sammy’s hustla was sufferin from schizophrenia, anxiety, n’ depression. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. If I be bein honest, I kind of feel shitty fo’ him, despite tha fact dat da thug was a serial killa yo, but tha fact dat da thug was sufferin from three thangs make me pleased dat he on lockdown now, nahmeean, biatch? Da company even holla’d at mah crazy ass dat a shitload of tha crew thugz rumored dat da thug was responsible fo’ tha four Warners’ dirtnaps.

Now keep up in mind dat if you call tha company n’ ask dem bout Sammy tha Cat, they will try ta hide tha real deal by saying, “Fuck dat shit, they aint gots a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass show called that.” I have tha real deal now, nahmeean?

We’ve been on tha call long, so our crazy asses hung up, n’ fo’ tha company’s sake, don’t call tha company n’ ask dem bout tha show, fo’ goodnizz sake, n’ if you’re wonderin how tha fuck I be bustin up in dis biatch, I be feelin down as a person, I have depression, n’ I have anxiety bout thangs now; I aint gots schizophrenia, however.

Anyway, fuck you fo’ readin bout mah experience, whoever is readin all dis bullshit. I wanted ta git mah rap up there somewhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin’ thru fo’sho. I just want you ta be careful n’ be thinkin before you peep tha thang. If you wanna peep these thangs, do it at yo’ own risk.

[literate-lamb]

Man of the House | four

Sam Wilson/fem!Reader, dark!Bucky Barnes/fem!Reader | 18+

You swore you locked all the doors and windows, so how did he get in?

► warnings(!): injuries, home invasion, ghosts? this is a dark fic.

|| Series Masterlist ||

A/N: Hello, this is me back from the dead! First and foremost, I’m sorry that I haven’t updated this series in... months. This update was way long overdue. My country isn’t doing well but I’ll leave it at that. Your comments on this story has kept me going and I swear I am going to finish this !! Don’t want to keep y’all waiting further, so enjoy!

𝔻𝕒𝕪 ℕ𝕚𝕟𝕖

You woke up startled. The buzzing of your phone’s alarm aroused you from deep slumber, its tune blaring. You groaned, mind slowly processing. Without much effort, you hit the snooze beneath your pillow. The room was filled in total silence once more.

Slowly, the fog in your mind began to lift, giving way to all kinds of sensations to your receptors. Eyes still shut, you stretched your limbs, popping a few joints in the process. You felt sore all over.

Turning over, you patted the other side of the bed. Groping around for the warmth of a body, you expected to find that of your boyfriend. You were surprised to find the presence of none.

The other side was cold as you clutched the sheets. They were cold to the touch. Not a trace of warmth.

You sat up, groggy, eyes slowly adjusting. The room was still quite dark in the mornings, nights starting to get longer as the Earth spins. You blinked a few times, searching for any signs of life in the dark space. There was none.

No clothes from the previous day in the hamper. No phone on the other bedside table. The door to the bedroom was closed. You expected to hear the sound of running water on the other side. But there was none. Not a single peep.

Rubbing your temples, you felt it throb as confusion consumed you. Your mind was jumbled as you tried to reel in the events of last night.

You remembered The Sleeping Cat with Wanda, remembered the worry for Sam. You remembered the pacing, remembered the aroma of chamomile. The teacup was still laid on your bedside, toppled in the saucer, but there. Anything past that came in a blur, concealed by a thick haze.

Was Sam not here last night?

Groaning, you rubbed your temples, willing the action would untangle your frazzled mind. Thinking hard, you tried to remember of last night. All that came out was the brief flashes of shadows and darkness. The silence in the dark and the ghost of a touch. A shiver ran down your spine as your hands unconsciously trailed towards your throat. The ache in your limbs was a reminder of what your mind could not remember.

Standing up, you headed towards the vanity with careful steps, wincing at the soreness and the fatigue. What greeted you was that of a mess. Tousled hair akin to a bird’s nest. Waxy skin gleamed in cold sweat. Dark colouring concentrated beneath your eyes in rings while red lines covered your sclera. You were the qualified portrait of a haunting.

At the base of your neck, redness bloomed on the surface as if irritated. Rotating your head left and right, you observed how the mark covered your neck from end to end. It was large, stopping until your clavicles. Rubbing the flesh, it felt slightly tender to the touch, but not painful. How did you get this?

What exactly happened last night? Why was your mind fuzzy? Why did you feel so lethargic? Why couldn’t you remember ?

Your line of questioning halted when your alarm blared again, startling you from your funk.

Reaching out towards the bedside drawer, you shut the alarm. Your phone lit up as a notification came through.

Ding! Ding!

Two more followed through, breaking the stillness of the morning. For a moment, you almost forgot your dilemma.

Sammie ♥ : Baby im so sorry my phone died

Sammie ♥ : Drank too much tones let me crash his place

Sammie ♥ : Ill make it up to you i swear

You stared at the screen for the longest time, mind drawing a blank. What happened last night?

—

Sam met you at the clinic after work. This time, you were met with a bouquet of white poppies in hand. Consolation. For what, you had a suspicion.

He held your hand throughout the entire car ride, rubbing small circles and the occasional peck on the back of the hand. You both talked about your day, his interesting morning, and the regards from Tony and Pepper. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the unusual morning you had experienced. You weren’t even sure if it was even unusual or a product of your lethargic mind.

It felt a bit heavy, the air. Stagnant, even. You eyed the hand that held yours. You could see Sam was trying, and you appreciated it.

Sometimes you would find yourself rubbing the skin of your neck unconsciously, lost in a different moment. Sam continued to talk your ears off as he drove, hand in your left. But you heard almost none of it. Only nodding and humming occasionally when you did.

As soon as he parked, he made his way over to your side and opened your door. He was sure laying it thick, adamant on making it up to you.

“After you, milady.” Sam held the door to the entrance for you, ignoring the greeter upfront.

The place wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was suitable for an after-work dinner with your morning makeup and casual work clothes. An upscale bistro of sorts.

Sam pulled out your chair for you before taking his place in the opposite. A server came with a smile, recommending the specials and taking your order.  

“I need to apologize, for yesterday and the day before,” Sam started as soon as the server left, menus in hand. He took your hand, continuing where he left off. “I should’ve just told you yesterday.”

His other had joined in, holding yours in the middle. You held your breath.

“I didn’t mean to worry you yesterday,” he said as his gaze lowered. but the truth is, I was embarrassed,”

You gave him a questioning look, attentively listening. “I couldn’t give you what you wanted, you were obviously unsatisfied and I felt inadequate ‘cause I couldn’t do it right. What kind of boyfriend I am for not treating his woman right.”

You were surprised by his confession. All this while, you thought you were at fault for asking him of such a thing. Without prior discussion, without verbal agreement, you just sprung it on him. You blamed yourself, you didn’t expect it would be the same for him.

“Sam, it’s no big deal, I—”

“No, baby,” he interjected, sounding almost offended. “I’m so sorry, for worrying you. When I saw your missed calls, I felt horrible because I made you worry. My mama didn’t raise me like that. She would’ve whooped me.”

“I guess what I want to say is that, I want to be a much more attentive boyfriend.” He brought your hand closer, brushing his lips on the back. “Let me make it up to you.”

You stewed a bit at his words before speaking up, “Sammie, you don’t have to apologize for what happened the other night, but thank you regardless.” You smiled, wondering how you’ve hit the jackpot with this one.

“Actually, I thought it was my fault that you didn’t come back last night.” You averted your eyes, shame filling you. “I thought you were disgusted because I didn’t ask you if it was okay before I told you... to put your hand around me. I’m sorry, for springing it on you,” you explained.

A beat, or two passed. You took a peek towards Sam, expecting the same kind of embarrassment on yours. Instead, he was smirking.

“Nah, I wouldn’t take it that way. You have your kinks, and I have mine.” He wagged his brows, the toothy grin breaking through. That was the Sam you knew and loved. “Maybe it’s time we take it up a notch.”

You giggled, feeling at ease now the air was cleared. He was fine. You were both fine.

“Seriously though, I shouldn’t have just gone out like that. Maybe, yeah, there was a part of my ego that was bruised, but I should’ve just addressed the tension that morning.”

“So, we good?” he asked, smiling that toothy grin whilst rubbing your knuckles. “‘Cause I have 1001 ways to make it up to you, y’know what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Sam gave the back of your hand a kiss.

The waiter arrived with your meal, setting the plates in front of you both. You and Sam dug in, enjoying each other’s company. A glass or two was served each as you both shared the times you spent with your respective friends. Hilariously, Tony was still asking if you wanted to back off.

Throughout the night, you would unconsciously rub the sore area around your neck. It was as if to satisfy an itch. You didn’t realize your actions until Sam pointed it out.

“You okay there, baby? You’ve been rubbing your neck a lot today.”

Your hand stilled, stopping mid-rub. Your mind took you back to the day at work, when you found yourself at the other end of the bathroom mirror. The slightly discoloured skin in the morning had turned darker, a blood red bordering on purple. It was large, covering the front of your neck as a haunting imprint. Your foundation had done its job in concealing the bruise, not keen on inviting any curious stares.

You didn’t want to worry Sam.

“It’s nothing. I think my sleeping position was bad last night,” you rolled your neck, making a show of popping the discomfort. “Speaking of last night, did you happen to come back for a bit while I was sleeping?”

“Not that I’m aware of unless I was sleepwalking,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Maybe I dreamt of you last night,” you hummed, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

Despite the bruising, despite the peculiar morning, you convinced yourself. A dream, it was.

--

You had dropped Sam at his abode before driving back to yours. The night had ended on a good note, coupled with many kisses shared inbetween. He had found it hard to leave you after a heavy makeout session in front of his building. You had to remind him of work the next day.

Passing the front door, you locked the door and threw your keys into the bowl set near the staircase. Hopping up the steps, you passed by the mirror in the middle landing. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of yourself.

The image of you filled the mirror. An image of you on the top steps, back towards the ground floor landing. You could see the front door perfectly from there.

Moving closer, you touched the base of your neck.

Your foundation had faded a bit, revealing patches of black underneath. It had darkened, maring your skin with inky darkness. It covered a large area of skin, starting from beneath your chin towards your clavicles. You were shocked, carefully touching the darkening bruise. The sight of it made your stomach queasy, you wanted to hide it as long as you could. You made a mental note to layer more foundation the next day.

Moving further up, you made way towards your room. You switched on the lights.

The sight that greeted your arrival was not what you had in mind.

Your bed was barren, sheets and pillows strewn across the room haphazardly, piled on the floor. The contents on your vanity were knocked over, decorating your floor with knick knacks and shards of glass. A few bottles of perfume were smashed, adding to the disarray, filling the room with a mix of strong scents that left you in a dizzy. The closet doors were wide open, the hangers empty as all of its contents were spilled on your bedroom floor; cardigans, brasseries, shorts, all in the mix.

Your bedroom was left in a mess of colours and scents and at the centre of it all, laid Peaches snuggled among your clothing.

The white cat stood up, stretching her limbs when she saw you. Eyes preening, she trotted forward before you could stop her.

“Stop! Stop Peaches! There’s glass!” you yelled, motioning with your palms for her to halt.

It deterred her, halting at your shout, likely shocked. She stayed put, observing you with her blues. Her tail swished occasionally but she hadn’t moved a limb after.

Sighing, you took a look around the room.

It was a horrifying mess. As if a tornado had passed through and destroyed everything within it. Exasperated, you swore to anything out there that would give you a listen. Seeing the balcony’s glass door and windows still locked from afar, you wondered; how could have Peaches gotten in?

Gesturing for Peaches to stay, you headed towards the supply closet down the hall. It was going to be a long night.

—

That night, after the sudden cleaning spree, you locked every door in the house for safe measure. Every guestroom, every bathroom. Even the attic, the sliding lock in place.

You double checked everything before heading to bed, hoping for a normal morning.

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕖𝕟

The next morning, at exactly 6 AM, thirty minutes before your alarm, you were awoken by a familiar screech.

You chose to ignore it.

—

“Yeah, we made up.” You held the phone in your left as you poured yourself a glass of milk. “No, there was no make-up sex. We had work.”

You chuckled, taking sips as you listened on to the other side of the line. You stood in the middle of the kitchen leaning on the island counter, back towards the yard door. The kitchen clock read 10:35, reflected in the darkness behind you in the mirror opposite, under the fluorescent lights.

“You were right,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Ol’ mighty Scarlet Witch, thank you for imparting your vast knowledge of relationships on this lowly being. Without you, I am no one and I am forever in your debt,” you exaggerated, singing high praises for Wanda over the phone.

While exchanging jabs back and forth, a sudden movement in the mirror caught your eye.

What greeted you in the reflection left you frozen.

Behind the glass of the backdoor, stood the figure of a man. His face the only feature illuminated, his body shrouded in darkness. Dirt and grime mapped his cheeks with long dangling locks framing the sides. The beginnings of a stubble surrounded a hard scowl. But what struck you were his eyes; crazed icy blues in gaunt sockets. They were piercing, locking with yours through the mirror, rooting you to the spot. You didn’t dare blink, even with the locked door in between.

He looked feral. He looked deranged. But, he looked familiar.

“Hey?” Wanda called for you, interrupting your locked state. “You still there?”

Breaking from the reflected stare, you quickly whirled around, expecting to face the stranger. However, darkness was the only thing you were met with.

There was no one. None. Only empty space occupied the place where the man stood. It was as if he vanished or were to never have existed. Or a trick of the mind, you reasoned.

You grabbed the doorknob, shaking it. Still locked, you sighed in relief.

“Hello?” you called for Wanda. “Yeah, sorry about that, thought I saw a raccoon in the backyard.”

You immediately gulped the last of your milk before dumping the glass in the sink, leaving the kitchen in pitch black.

“Hey, do you think you could come over this weekend?” you tried to distract yourself, willing the chill to leave. Real or not, you reminded yourself that you were safe. The doors were locked, the windows shut. You were safe. “No, no occasion whatsoever. Maybe I want to cash-in that offer from the other day.”

Upon reaching the parlour, you found Peaches curled up on one of the sofas, her small body snoring softly. The sight warmed you. Choosing to sit near, you stroked her white fur, much to the pleasure of the feline. Her soft purrs assuaged your trepidation by a bit.

“Hmm? I’ll tell you soon? Maybe we can have a double dinner date or a girl’s night, whichever you—“ you halted, shocked by the mirror on the mantelpiece.

There, in the reflection, was the same man. Same hair, same face, same piercing blues locked on you. Except this time, his tall silhouette was in view, adding to the intimidation. He was on your porch, behind the huge windows, peeking through a gap in the curtains. You felt your heart in your throat.

Everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.

Real or not, you weren’t taking chances. Springing to your feet, you quickly turned. As soon as you did, he was gone.

“Hellooo?”

“Wands, I’ll call you later, okay. Bye.” You ended the call abruptly, having no time to explain.

Frightened and alarmed, you immediately picked up Peaches, scared for her safety. You shut the lights and slowly made up the stairs, feet light to not make too much of a peep. You were safe.

All the doors were locked. All the windows were shut. If he was an intruder, if he was every bit of the sense flesh and bone, he’ll never make it through.

You were safe.

As soon as you reached the middle landing, fear gripped you, halting your limbs, freezing you in place. The hairs on the back of your neck stood with goosebumps prickling your skin. There, in the mirror, stood the man; the same icy blue eyes locked on yours. Except this time, he was directly behind you, decked in black leather at the bottom of the stairs, waiting.

A beat or two passed. You stood on the stairs motionless. Nothing happened. Not a single movement, not even a single sound.

You gulped, daren’t leave his gaze. He just stood there; never moving, never blinking, face stoic. You thought you didn’t even see him breathe, his chest remaining static opposed to your rattling lungs. Eying his feet, you saw he donned heavy boots that were sure to creak a floorboard or two, yet you had heard none. The front door remained locked. He had come in undetected. Like a ghost.

Was he the ghost story that had everyone spooked?

Averting your gaze from the reflection, you expected him to disappear just as the previous encounters — wrong move. When you turned, he was still there, at the bottom of the stairs, staring. Slowly, his left hand began to move, clutching the banister. A crunch was heard where he gripped.

That was when you realized, he, was every sense of the word, real.

You quickly ran upstairs, taking the steps as fast as you could, feet almost tripping in your haste. Adrenaline pumped your veins, your vision tunneling. Peaches yowled in your arms, shocked by the frantic jostling and your harsh grip. Her claws clung to your jumper. Loud were the thumping of boots signalling his presence behind you.

When you’ve reached the second floor, you shrieked. A cold hand had shot out, brushing against your ankle. It was freezing against your adrenaline-flushed skin, the opposite of a burn. You dodged it and ran through the hallway.

Upon reaching your room, you immediately slammed the door and locked, jamming the knob repeatedly. You stared at the door in shock as it began to shake and rattle. The doorknob twisted a few times, the man demanding entry.

And then it stopped.

You stood there, dumbfounded. Had he given up? That was impossible to believe.

Setting down the feline, you took a step back and crouched to the floor. Levelling your eye to the ground, you decided to peak through the gap beneath the door, checking for his presence.

As soon as you did, you scurried away, like a woman burned.

In the space beneath the door, the man was doing the same; crouched down, eye levelled with the floor, checking your every move. Your blood froze when you both had locked eyes, his cold stare penetrating.

That was when it started again. Except this time, he intended to knock the house down.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The door shook on its hinges, rattling from the knocking of fists and twists of the knob. After an unsuccessful entry, the thumps turned into booms. He had switched tactics, demanding entry with his boots. You were terrified, counting your seconds with each rattle and boom, expecting the door to fly off its hinges.

Your breathing quickened, elevating with the palpitations of your heart. You were soaked; patches of perspiration darkened your jumper. Your mind was frazzled, the adrenaline taking over, making way for a panic-induced mind. You felt confined. Restricted. Caged.

You were trapped.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The furious booms never ceased, adding to your raging anxiety. Your mind ran for solutions, for an exit. For safety.

Raking over your room, your eyes landed on the balcony doors. You threw them open harshly, thinking they were your escape, but one look at the drop made you reconsider. A fall would surely break your ankles the least, coupled with an injury and the nearest neighbour being a kilometre afar, he was bound to catch you.

Hurriedly and carefully you opened the adjacent closet doors, this time without a peep. You grabbed Peaches and holed yourself in. You hoped the balcony doors would throw him off.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The furious stomps and booms never ceased, pushing you further into a corner, trapping your mess of a mind.

Fingers gripped tightly, the weight of the phone heavy in the palm of your hand. With trembling digits, you dialed the first number your frazzled mind could register.

“Hey, baby.”

You whimpered, alerting Sam. Immediately clamping with the other hand, you muffled your voice, lest your plan failed. Next to you, Peaches softly purred, oblivious to the danger beyond the door. She didn’t need to be calmed. As for you, it was a different matter.

“Hey, calm breaths. Breathe. Follo—“

“Sam, help me,” you cut him off, voice barely a whisper. “He’s here. There’s someone here.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The banging on the bedroom door continued. You hoped it masked your call and the sturdy door could shield you further until help arrived.

“He’s trying to get in,” your breath hitched. “Help.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

On the other end, crinkling and jingling reached your ears. Sam called your name.

“Where are you? Are you somewhere safe?”

“I’m,” you gulped, taking a shuddering breath. “I’m in my closet. He’s outside my room.”

A particular loud bang startled you, sending you into panic once more. You swore your own heart almost jumped out, the grip on your phone tightening as if it was your lifeline. The only medium connecting you to safety.

“Shh shh,” Sam tried soothing you over the phone. “I need you to keep calm, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nodded furiously, forgetting his physical absence. Tears and sweat clung your hair to skin. You were a frenzied mess.

“Listen to me, I need you to hang up and call the cops, alright?” The roar of an engine filled the earpiece. “I’m heading to you as fast as I can. I’ll alert the cops as well. Stay on the phone with them until they or I come, okay?”

“O-okay,” you sniffled.

With that, Sam hung up, cutting off your source of assurance.

Quickly, as told, you dialed. The resounding beep was a waiting game that lasted an eternity for your rattled conscience.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“T-there’s, there’s a man in my house. I don’t know how he got in,” you explained, voice meek. “Please... send help.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“Ma’am, what is he doing?” the dispatcher asked, no hint of emotion. “Is that him I hear in the back?”

“He’s banging the door to my bedroom. He— He’s been trying to get in.”

The banging seemed to get louder and louder as you continued to talk. You cowered further into the closet as much as you could, willing your body to camouflage into the sea of hung fabric. Peaches followed, nuzzling into your side, giving her own form of assurance.

“Okay ma’am, the officers are on their way. Stay on the line with me.”

BAM! CLICK! BAM!

The tune of the intruder changed, you noticed. Booms on the wood paired with the clicks of the lock. He was picking the knob, relentlessly.

“Please,” you pleaded, choking, overwhelmed. “Please hurry!”

“Ma’am, they’re on their way,” the dispatcher came out sounding annoyed. “It’s going to be fine. Just stay with me.”

You didn’t feel reassured at all.

Time felt long with the dispatcher’s voice still droning in the background, but you paid it no mind, lost in the loud silence of your own, the rhythm of your heartbeat the only welcomed companion. 

Then, everything stopped.

No loud pounding and kicking. No empty words of assurance. Nothing. Total silence .

The cellphone in your hand laid motionless. The once active speakers were silent, the once bright screen remained black. And just like that, your one connection to the outside world was cut.

You gulped, holding in a shuddering breath, the contrast clear against the silence. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved by the reprieve the silence brought, or dread by the disconnect to the outside world.

They were coming. They told you they were coming. He told you he was coming. You had Sam’s word for it.

Beside you, Peaches gave your hand a few licks, reminding you of her presence. For a moment, it soothed you.

CLICK!

It disturbed the sudden silence. It disturbed your racing thoughts.

It was the click of the bedroom door.

Slowly, the creek of the wood alerted you. He was inside. He had managed to unlock the door and was now inside.

He was inside.

The realization sent you into another bout of panic. This time, it intensified, filling your mind with gruesome scenarios, the next more macabre than the other.

Heavy footsteps entered, bending the wood beneath. You listened closely, hoping the intruder would take your bait of the open balcony.

One. Two. Three. Four.

You counted the number of his footsteps, waiting for him to pass by you and leave.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

He was getting closer. With bated breath, you waited for this nightmare to be over, praying in your head to anyone out there for your safety.

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

And then he stopped. Right outside your closet door.

Time came to a stand still. You clutched your mouth tightly, preventing the whimper that threatened to escape and hoping your shallow breaths wouldn’t give you away. Except, you knew. You knew that he knew you were in here. If the balcony wasn’t a good enough bait, where else would you have hid besides under the bed?

This was it. This was your last moment before he caught you. Your last moment, never to be seen again. You’ll never be able to tell Wanda about your haunting experience. Never win that bet against Tony, even though he had made his point. Never uphold that promise you made with Sam.

Were you willing to let him catch you? To just give up after all that trouble?

Slowly, on unsteady limbs, you reawakened. A new type of determination overtook you. The determination to stay alive, to keep hold onto your promise.

You waited, ready for the moment he would wrench the doors open. Feeling around, you grabbed the closest thing you could reach: a clothes hanger. You gripped it tightly, intending to swing it as a weapon.

The shadows of his feet extended, alerting you of his near presence. You readied yourself.

As soon as the doors opened, you attacked. You cried, hitting him repeatedly with your flimsy weapon, mind lost on adrenaline. He cowered, arms outstretched, shielding himself from your assault. From a corner, Peaches started hissing, baring her fangs as the ends of her fur stood up.

“Stop! S-stop!” the intruder begged. “It’s me!”

You halted, recognizing the voice; Sam .

Your fogged up mind lifted at the familiarity, finally realizing your surroundings. As if a switch, everything came crashing down; the adrenaline, your limbs, and the courageous front, in one fell swoop.

Sam caught you before you could hit the floor. His arms and body caged you, holding you as you sobbed, releasing all that was pent up from a game of cat and mouse. His warmth soothed you, a contrast to the chills you felt all evening. He was your comfort. He was safe.

In the distance, the sounds of multiple sirens filled the atmosphere. It didn’t come with the relief that you hoped for.

“Shh, I’m here. I’m here,” Sam cooed. “You’re safe.”

This time, you were safe.

A/N: I’ve already drafted the ending to this series. My estimate is that we have about 2 chapters left before the epilogue! Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me if you have any theories to what’s going on, I would love to know  (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[goldenangelbloodcastiel]

Guess whose back…BACK AGAIN and wants to write for you guys!!! Oh my gods y’all I haven’t written anything since like 2017..🤦🏻‍♀️😅😂

It’s been so long but I really want to write so send me in some stuff and I’ll see what I can get too! I’ve been re-reading my old Drabbles and docs and it made me nostalgic for my past self and I feel like I’ve lost some of that personality, but let’s see if I can get some of it back by writing a little fan-fiction!!

1.) Send a Gif

2.) Add a small description, maybe how you view it going..

OR

3.) Send a Gif

4.) Add a line or two (2) of dialogue

Can be request from the following fandoms:

-Supernatural: Basically any character

-Teen Wolf: Stiles, Derek, Peter, Chris (daddy Argent *wiggles eyebrows*), Duke, Theo, Liam, Brett, Nolan, Allison, and Malia.

-Marvel: Steve, Bucky, Loki, Wanda, Pietro, Nat, maybe throw others out there cuz I can’t think of everyone..

-The Vampire Diaries & The Originals: Kai, Enzo, Any Mikhaelson (can’t spell rn 🤦🏻‍♀️), Hayley, etc.

(Yes you can request fandom crossovers cuz I’m obsessed with them right now!! Especially the edits of Void Stiles and Kai Parker..)

Get to Gif-ing loves!!

Thanks!

Tagging a few of my mutual peeps: (yes I see you lovelies and I know it’s been so long I’m sorry! 👀😘)

Tags: @rcaffa @capnjacksparrow14 @bestieswithmydarkthoughts @surfin-the-sun @justlissca @escape-the-cruel-world @oh-the-misery @livelovelike555 @waywardbaby @uncertified-queer @beksib @lucifer-in-leather @notnaturalanahi @doro7winchester @little-red-83 @iwantthedean @sammy-moo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @plaidstiel-wormstache @charliebradbury1104 @weepingredwillow @wayward-winchester67 @babysimpala

[woodswalker96]

Some Camp Cretaceous Season Two Theories!

Okay, let’s get this out of the way before I watch Klayton Fioriti’s video and that topic bleeds into mine. I’ve got a couple of theories that are based off some of the other tumblr peeps posts as well as some Fioriti’s videos, along with some that I surmised from my own viewing. I start with the obvious one(s), and go from there. 

Theory #1: Ben is alive and reconnects with the group.

Like I said, pretty obvious. Even though the ending is pretty ambiguous and a more cynical side of me could say the finger twitching is postmortem muscle twitch, I highly doubt the writers will kill him off and not have him return to the group. That being said, the exact nature of this reunion is up in the air. Will Ben be mad at the group for leaving him and losing track of Bumpy? Will it be a joyous return full of strong emotions? Will Ben be understanding of them being forced to leave him, only to ironically be left behind themselves? There are a number of ways this could go down, I just hope that the writers continue to do it well. *By the way, if you haven’t yet, check out @ren1327 ‘s fan-fic titled Sweet Survivor for a possible way this could go down, especially if you ship Ben and Kenji.

Theory #2: Bumpy could be at least horse-size by the time the group catch up with Ben and Bumpy.

Given that Bumpy was a mere hatchling when the gang sans Kenji and Darius first met her and she was the size of a mid-sized to average dog the next time we see her (a few days at best), Bumpy could continue to see accelerated growth to end up the size of a horse by the time the rest of the group reencounter her and Ben, if given a few days in between then and the s1 finale. But I should also take into consideration that Bumpy could stay that size for a little while longer. For this, I point to the baby T. rex from The Lost World. Already a dog sized animal, characters Roland Tembo and his hunting partner Ajay discuss how it’s “probably only a couple of weeks old, never left the nest”. Now, this could mean either the baby (big) dinosaurs start to slow their growth down at a few weeks, or they just continue to ramp up their size. It should also be noted that Rexy was only a few years old (possibly three) by the time of Jurassic Park, when she was already at adult size. Either way, Bumpy could stay small for a while, or she could get big all of sudden again. 

Theory #3: Blue will become an antagonist, at least at first.

This goes back the end of episode one and beginning of episode two, primarily the latter. Blue is typically thought of as the tame, new mascot of Jurassic World and the modern Jurassic Franchise. I would disagree to an extent. While I like the idea of Velociraptors being the menacing threat that they are, I think that Blue opens the door for just how far one can take raptor intelligence. Blue, like animals in general, isn’t always on the hunt for food or seeking to kill all humans. She knows when to discern a potential threat from an ally or just some rando shmoe. When we first saw her Camp Cretaceous, I didn’t take her appearance either a tame dog or a man-hungry monster. She just curious. She only turned menacing toward Kenji when she felt threatened by the camera flash, and towards Darius when he invaded her space. But all of this context aside, we know that she’s out now, and we know that from the stare-glare she gave Darius back in episode two that she’ll likely run into at least him, if not the rest of the group. Perhaps being the only raptor on the island, she might target the kids before any other dinosaur, because she might be aware that little teens are easier targets than most other dinosaurs. She could even attempt to attack Ben and Bumpy. I could also see her terrorize the group once they’re reconnected until Darius manages to come across a resonating chamber from one of the fallen raptor squad and uses it to communicate with Blue, too which she is intrigued, confused, and possibly feel some other strong emotions from hearing the voice of one her dead sisters coming from this teenage human. At that point she leaves the group alone and gives Darius one last look before jetting off to live out the rest her life on the island in solitude.

Theory #4: Mantah Corp come to the island.

This something I found on the TV tropes website (tvtropes.org); quick summary, Mantah corp come to the island to obtain dinosaur assets and the kids who were once fighting for survival against the dinosaurs now have to save them. Mantah corp is likely one of many different corporations who want their hands on that sweet dinosaur-cloning, genetic power. With their ties to Sammy, this could give her a personal arc to stop them (the whole “it’s personal” thing), as everyone, especially Yaz, and maybe Brooklynn and Darius, feels majorly invested to help her. Related to this...

Theory #5: Dave and Roxie run some kind of rescue mission to the island.

Another one courtesy of TV tropes, they mentioned that these two, along with potentially the parents of the kids, mount up some kind of rescue mission to Isla Nublar. There are many ways to go about this. They can do illegally or under the table, like with the Kirby’s in JP3, or as in Fallen Kingdom with Lockwood, Eli Mills, and Claire. I don’t think they’ll straight up kidnap someone and lie their way with money bribery. Instead, I can actually see a more underhanded mission go down, one involving Mantah Corp. Get this: we know that when Mantah Corp wanted something from the Gutierrez family, they didn’t straight up go “Hi, we’re from Mantah Corp! We give cash if you give us your teen daughter to us as a spy!”. They will likely send some agents that don’t reveal themselves as Mantah Corp to Dave and Roxie, only that they hear their plight to bring the Nublar Six (that could be the name Dave and Roxie give them to raise awareness of their plight) home, since government officials won’t risk a mission to privately owned island, and Masrani Global also won’t risk it (This could come back to JW:FK, as they are too rash here with these kids, so they debate about it for the dinosaur survival in 2018). Dave and Roxie are suspicious but are without any other option, and choose to go with a bunch dinosaur mercs (this is what I’m calling the nameless mercenaries of the Jurassic franchise). Only after they’re on the island do they realize what’s going on, and join the kids to save each other and the dinosaurs from Mantah Corp. 

Theory #6: Baryonyx is the new primary antagonist(s).

There are three differently colored Baryonyx in connection with Jurassic World through the toy line. It is possible that they become the new antagonist theropod for the second season.

Some other theories are the inclusion of Rexy and other dinosaur species from the Jurassic World movies, seeing species going extinct again, the Dilophosaurus and Spinosaurus coming back, and possibly even running into other stranded survivors.

So long this post was, hope y’all enjoy!

[captainshyguy]

not to be a little melancholic but i've been thinking a bit about all the people that have come and gone in my general social circle like. not just irl, but online too. the close friends, who eventually left, and the ones on the outskirts, but were always there. at least, for a time. the people you never quite talked to, but were in your bubble, in your life, if just for a bit. the people who will only be icon, words on a screen to me. the people who will forever be 14 in my memories, because its all i have of them 

its just...its weird yknow? not even getting into social circles from school, friends you grew apart from, friends of friends of friends in your class that you had an odd connection with

but online its like. i’ve been in a few online communities in my time. the penguins of madagscar community on fanpop, one for the same fandom on deviantart, the agents of shield one here, then the maze runner, then star wars, then mario, then star wars again...i’d say ‘and hollow knight now’ but lets be honest, i haven’t made....many friends or even mutuals through it solely X]

i guess my point is like. all of these communities were different people. and over time, whilst i’ve generally stayed put (until i was physically the last one left, and jumped ship, like fanpop) people just. they left yknow? maybe it took a couple of months, maybe a couple of years, but they did, and its such an almost...odd thing to experience

im not saying people cant leave, not at all but it just made me think how many people i’ve known, how many i’ve been friends with, how many existed in my orbit. how many i only have pieces of. and i guess...how many people’s orbits i was in. the person i was in the past lives on through each and every one of then, and i have no idea what stuck. what’s their ‘luke’ memory, their takeway. heck, some of them wouldn't even have it by that name. 

one thing im glad about in a way is like. from each of the communities that like. meant something to me, i managed to grab a few people almost. a few that also dug their heels in, a few that are still in my orbit, however close or far, but they’re there. they’re posting actively or somewhat actively and i know where to find them. and thats nice 

it just makes me wonder sometimes yknow?? how many people currently in my circle, currently in my orbit, will eventually leave one day? who will stop posting, who’s icon i simply will never see again.

i do hope, with all my heart, that all the ones that i fell out of touch with are doing well 

(im musing about specific people under the read more, WILL get long kjdfhnd) 

from my primary/secondary school i dont have anyone exactly. the closest i have is one guy i was pretty fond of but not like. romantically. i follow his youtube and whilst i dont really watch the videos seeing his face pop up every now and again is nice. but man i do think back on those secondary school friends. funnily enough by the end whilst i liked my “official” best friends i honestly ended up more fond of others. sarah, priya, shriya, zarah, zi yu, kyle. danny, introducing me to treasure planet, hiding away with him and his friends to watch films in forgotten rooms when it was near the end of the year, then liam, of course, man..its weird he was my best friend in the first few years when i moved there, then we got put in different classes so we just didnt see eahc other much. but that fondness was always, always there. god, and jake....i wonder if he thinks back fondly to the two of us pretending to be transformers. i wonder if im still jazz to him. god, and then sophia, just, not even hanging out but having our little ‘hot buttered toast’ song. i hope thats the memory she has of me. (i haven’t even listed everyone from this part, and i couldnt! it was a 7-8 year period of my life! right during my brain developmental stages!!)

its weird i was in love with ryan for nearly three years. a lot of those memories are soured knowing one of my friends spread it around school and everyone secretly knew, (and looking back i was way out of his league like, morally lol) but still. maybe once or twice a year i’ll dream about him, and for a brief moment, im there, sitting with him in geography as he shows me magic tricks, during that period i do genuinely think he liked me too (before it wore off for him lol) and im still in love. 

from college, man....ewan was like. i have a feeling he was leading me on since he had a girlfriend lmao, and was just flirting for fun bc he saw i was shy and was trying to get me to react, but it never felt like bullying yknow? i dont think he was actively trying to make fun of me. so i dont know, it was nice, it felt nice and it still kinda does. 

khairun.....im so glad i still have her. i’m still a little gay for her. i remember sitting with her on the bus, riding for hours as we were on the geology trip, and she would ramble about the game of thrones video game and she’d squint so happily and her eyes would sparkle. she talks about dark souls now and i only see her messages, but i can still feel her enthusiasm. or tanisha and fatima, my other geology friends, my maze runner friends. seeing the scorch trials with fatima in the cinema. joking about newt and thomas with tanisha. sitting around the table with my actual friend group, in the big lounge chair reading the tolkien dictonary, joking about the flash with bindiya. sleeping around maddie’s house and playing would you rather. 

heck, i didnt even touch on teachers!!! teachers i connected with so much on a genuine level!!! mrs chambers, mr hauge, mr wrght, miss lloyd, mr hutchinson, miss petra, mrs young! mrs mohammed, mr santa maria, mr longdon, miss langley, mrs maize, miss davies. i know with teachers, the kids must start to blur together at a point. but i just....i hope, at least. with those first two, they’ll remember me, just a bit. i keep having dreams where im in my old school, and i try to find them., i’ve found mr hague a few times. but until about a month ago, whenever i got to geography, miss chambers was never there. im glad i finally found her. 

then fanpop...lexii, having the same birthday as me, talking with kait and roleyplaying as penguin ocs in high stakes situations. dating dylan fkjdngjdh, rigging the club’s presidential election. its weird, i dont have a lot of memories from this time. just....just people? people posting their ocs, people drawing ech others ocs. kaitlyn, anya, kait, dylan, lexii, imaneasel, mya, peacebaby, madascargirl, kate, starslight, imogen, tressa, sammi, crystal, cc, syliva, jasmine, hikari, amber,  yellow, steff, lilly, blue, richard, monique, sharpey, hannah, icicle, ratking, cian i- god, there was so many of us. theres more, i can think of more names. there was so many

anya did what i did pretty much and went to deviantart then kinda dug her heels in and didnt leave, though i don think she’s more active on toyhouse. and yet, i still see her art there, so its nice. having her throughout the years has been nice, watching as both of our art improves. she’s always been a bit ahead of me. then cian i’ve been talknig with pretty much every day for about 6 months now, thats been nice 

and then here, man! the agents of shield fandom! man! i dont remember a lot of names honestly besides the ones who stayed, and sam. i hope sam’s okay. y’all who stayed, who are still mutuals, the hm....five of us i think? though the one ofy’all i was closest to isnt around as often X[ but still. im happy y’all are here 

some of y’all that have been around long enoguh will know i was best friends with kacie for a while. from....i think that was my brief stint in the dan and phil fandom. she. well. she’s okay, the last i heard of her. but my overtalking screwed that up i think. my last message from her, a few years later, was amicable at least. i still feel awful about that if i think on it too hard

i think i only picked up ronan from the maze runner, at least, that i talk to, yeah, right, there’s two others that are still about but i dont think we’ve ever held a convo X] 

and u current peeps! from mario, star wars and.....im not quite sure where for some of you! i love u all! especially y’all that have been around forever, just, liking each others posts every now and again., i dont know how many people you all follow, but i follow less than a 100. i might only be a blip on your radar, but i like seeing y’all, genuinely. thank you for being in my orbit. i hope i’m a comforting or at least. nice reliable presence in yours, for as long as we all stick around.  

[jamesdwannabe]

ok but what was ur old rp url for THIS blog before u stopped doing rp on it? because i follow u and want to know who u are lol

Oh right 🤣 I’m such a handful y’all 💁🏼 I know that this one was darktimes but as we all had to do it was some variation of that!! I had my fave muse ever John David Washington. I’ve rped with literally the entire community at some point cause I was like…the tenth person to start rping on tumble lmfao. I’ll post all my accounts soon the second I find them 💋😘

But for further info, GLEE RP WAS MY ENTIRE WORLD!!!

Cause like I said I rolled up in the very very early 20’s even earlier than when Karson 🧵 his kargo shorts and never took them off but I’ll list the fandoms and fcs I always use

FINNEGAN JAMES HUDDLE HOUSE my baby 😭 I’ll give y’all brittana and finchel and goddamn fabbery my god y’all bitches blew up. Even got to achle how much y’all saw their rare and raw chemistry 🧪 and I’ll always cry that the pussy bandit wasn’t my forever and evermore babygirl cause ugh. A bitch is perfect like GO LEA YOU STUPID FUCKING RACIST PIECE OF SHIT 🤣 oops I’m supposed to be forgiving everyone so my bad kiddo. But you really was a total piece of shit towards the end of thet show Lmfao RIP NAYA but yall know nals the second she swam herself out the lake after visiting her little 🍼👶🏻 first of course 💋 she had me fling Lea straight into the ☀️ so her and apollo could torture that bitch for eternity before sending her back 🤣 and princess 👑 di of course let us cause Satan is snitch and a bitch and he could never bring our princess down except to attack her on equal rights via her soulmate so 💁🏼🤣💕 but like I said we forgive and forget her in our heavenly oasis. Anyway…my point was our 🛳 on the show was a dumpster fire 🔥 but me and you baby di in real life behind the scenes 😭 we tore that set up baby. Everyone hated us cause prank after pranks y’all go to youtube right now and watch our videos they’re Gloriaous Estafan and all y’all swiftgrons had me to thank cause we all know Taylor is such shit at picking her own relationships our and i deserve credit for all her best ones, especially our pussy queen di 💪🏻 2. Sammy Superhero Evans who Ryan always paid dust and speaking of that bitch Ryan I’d you ever go behind my back again and ✍🏻 my favorite 🤩 characters again I’ll slice your goddamn throat and drive your car straight into a pole. No more just stealing your magically red pen and mind blocking Taylor jot to give you a stupid one ☝🏻 agains whose the color red anyway? 3.Anyway. I lost thre entire goddamn script Nevermind a plot. Let me just get it over with lmao 3.Queen bitch Quinn, Blaine, Seb and Hunter and some more warblales (but not often) I hardly played girls but Santana of course cause we love a bitch snitch and Puck ugh. Mark broke my heart cause y’all know he was my twin 🔥 sin. But as we all know he’s the real crook who got caught and Satan and me and all of us got a lot waiting for him in hello. I think that’s it for glee idk like I said I’ll post pictures of all my old accounts once I get to there in my timeline. 4. LITERALLY EVERYONE AJDKALDJSJ ELSE IDK. Mainly joe Kerry cause oops huge spoiler but here’s to all our cruel summers and tis the damn seasons and New Year’s Day and all our twisted tangled augusts and us dancing our hearts away cause we never heard anything like those 80’s songs baby and we never will again and when I say baby of course I mean my tay tay💕 but we had to write us some stranger characters before things could get rolling so here’s to looking at you my sweet babygirl Nat Don’tcha Know Legends Never Die Seven When You Drown Them in the Ocean 🌊 mixed in with a little maya angelo 😘 here and there throw in a side of Steve and hopper and we got ourselves an award winning shoe netflexes 👑 jfc I’m worse than my own goddamn lover with a sprinkle here a dash here a giant idiot sandwich in between with anjuicy red lipped 🍒 on top for added dramatic flare 💁🏿‍♀️😘😉 and yeppers. I also used dylan all the damn time, pll boys, teen 🐺, sense8, gregg sulkin, oh WAIT the CAST OF SKINS TOO THEY WERE MY EVERMORE 😢 love that fucking show and Naomi and Emily and speaking of Naomi like I said I hardly played girls but if I did it was usually Naomi and she was my weirdo baby and everyone loved my writing and I had so many bffs but never ever a gf cause she was gay as fuck and back then you stupid bird 🧠 🧪 bitches didn’t understand shit and hated on all use beautiful 🏳️‍⚧️ 🏳️‍🌈 peeps and other minorities unless you were Larry or the 5sos boys or Koop which I unfortunatelymissed cause I stopped rping but 👜 using them soon!

[monotonemanday]

Star Crossed Entertainers - Part 4

Y’all ready for some back story? Also ANGSTFEST. I wrote this part several different times, several different ways and hooooo boy, it was a trip. In order to set everything in place so we can get back to some gorgeous musical actors and hot ass business men, this part is pretty damn lengthy. Also Surprise. Someone else is joining this series. :)

TRIGGER WARNING: It honestly isn’t a whole lot but there is abusive language and mention of sexual assault and attempted rape. 

Soft sunlight was peaking into the lounge through the sheer black curtains as Samantha made her way to the entry way of the apartment where her and Kaeli piled their shoes that they wore the most. She was already showered and dressed. She was wearing full length black leggings that had a leather panel on the outer sides from the waist band to the ankle, a blush colored tank top and a black bomber jacket that had a salmon and cream colored floral pattern. She grabbed her boots and sat on the step that connected the entryway to the lounge. First the left, then the right. She slipped the black boots up to her knees and began to lace them up. A long process. Once she had the bows double knotted she stood up and decided she would open the curtains at the far window. On her way to the window she noticed that Kaeli had fallen asleep on the couch. She must have been worried last night and fell asleep without putting herself to bed. Samantha grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and went to lay it on Kaeli when she stopped and let out a sigh. Kaeli was using one of her t-shirts as a nightgown again. Butt head. Laying the blanket down on the sleeping beauty, Sam made her way to the kitchen where she sat on the cushions in the bay window. Her favorite spot. Her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles, she stared looking out the window, watching the sunrise out over the city, then looking back at her roommate. No. Her best friend. And she thought about everything that had led up to this very morning.

They had been friends since they were 5 years old. Best friends. On the very first day of school they were drawn to each other. None of the other kids were too keen on being with them because one was the size of a toddler and the other was the size of a 5th grader. There difference in size brought them together but it turns out they had the same sense of humor and outgoing personalities. Kismet. All of the other jerks kids hadn’t wanted to be their friends but once the two were together they became a dynamic duo. The two were the same but also couldn’t be more of polar opposites. They were both outgoing and well liked. They weren’t popular or wealthy but they knew everyone and everyone knew them. Kaeli wasn’t very studious but she was very active in the student body. Events, festivals, dances, she was apart of it all. Samantha was in every performing arts class there was. Marching band, jazz band. wind ensemble. She was involved in choir, musical theatre, and  drama with Kaeli as well. She played 5 different instruments. She never thought she would spend her school days like that but it was just so natural to her once she started. She was like an entertainment machine and also held perfect grades.

Kaeli reached her maximum height of 4 feet 11 inches her freshman year of high school. She was adorable and no one could resist her colorful laugh and big dimples when she smiled. Despite her being as cute as a button she was a huge flirt. It radiated from within her. It was like a disease. Usually she was unaware she was even flirting and it got her into trouble. By senior year she had won the titles of Homecoming Queen, Winterfest Queen, and Prom Queen. She didn’t necessarily dress overly feminine but she was always in pink, pastels, and soft patterns. Her family wasn’t necessarily wealthy but she lived very comfortably. It was just her parents, herself and a couple of dogs. She didn’t have any extended family. Her mother came from a family of wealth and power but her father did not. Neither sides of the two families were accepting of the other and disowned the couple, therefore denying Kaeli’s existence entirely when she was born. That’s why when her parents died in a plane crash senior year she was taken in by Samantha who had been on her own for awhile. Kaeli had a huge heart and she used it far more often than her brain. She was too trusting and opened up too easily. This led to her often being taken advantage of in friendships and even to some abusive relationships. But she always had Sammy.

Samantha was 6 feet tall by her junior year of high school and she still had growing pains. Slow down Shaq. She was intimidating but she had beautiful eyes and she was so expressive and goofy, people were drawn to her. Everyone knew her as outspoken and sarcastic but she also had an undeniable warmth that made people feel like they could open up to her about anything and everything. Gross. By senior year she had directed 4 plays, starred in 6 musicals and even put together a sketch comedy show that the school made apart of their homecoming celebration each year. She dressed in lots of muted colors. Olive, tan, navy, maroon, mustard. She had developed a very fashion forward style her sophomore year. Up until then she had dressed like an absolute tomboy. Usually skinny jeans, converse and a t-shirt, or overalls and baseball hats. She didn’t have much money and she worked at a bakery for income. Samantha didn’t have a family. She never knew her parents and she only had a sister who was 20 years older than her. When she was about 8 her sister had started a family and Sam felt like a burden so she had runaway. She was fending for herself until someone had taken her in. Someone not much older than her, but who had already mastered the art of living without a family. At 17 when she started working at the bakery the elderly couple who owned the business let her rent out an apartment upstairs and when Kaeli lost her parents the elderly couple gladly accommodated Sam getting a roommate. Samantha was loved by many and although she was never cold, she didn’t like people. She did not trust others and never let anyone in. That’s how she was raised. No one knew that she didn’t want people too close and she never held a relationship. She was constantly dumping guys for trying to get too close to her. The only person she ever let in was Kaeli.

Kaeli begin to stir in her sleep and Samantha looked her way. 

“Kay?” The small blonde shot up.

“...damn. My neck hurts. You’re up already? And you’re dressed?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go visit my old babysitter.” Both girls chuckle.

“You shouldn’t call him that Sammy. He basically made you who you are today. Plus, he actually is a babysitter now.” The blonde laughed even harder.

Samantha shot off a text message and stood up from her seat at the window. grabbing her keys off the kitchen island counter she glides over to the closet by the entry way and pulls out a sparkly silver helmet.

“Hey, no way! You’re not taking your bike! If I can’t ride one, you can’t drive one.”

Sam tucked the helmet under her left armpit and reached for the doorknob, looking behind her she met Kaeli’s yelling with a steady tone. “And you did ride one. So after this we’ll be even.”

“HOW DID YOU KNOW?!”

“Lee texted me when you left the theatre.” And with that she was out the door.

BBBZZZZTTT BBZZZZZTTT ~ 2 texts and now someone was calling but he couldn’t hear the phone over the vacuum. His ponytail rapidly swinging back and forth trying to keep up with how fast he was moving. Suddenly there was extremely loud banging on the door. He turned off the hoover and reached around to his back where his taser was tucked into his pants.

“OPEN THE DOOR DICKHEAD!”

The man looked through the doors peep hole and swung it open rapidly. 

“I swear one day I’m actually going to tase your obnoxious ass. Get in here. Geez...who raised you?”

“Uhhhmmm, that would be you.” The tall brass haired brat walked into the house and flopped down on the couch propping her feet up on the coffee table.

The man knocked her feet off with a swift slap.

“Get your dirty boots off my clean surfaces.”

“Easy Vanhelsing. There isn’t a spec of dust in this place.”

You could see the man growing more irritable. “I’m not a vampire. That’s not my name. And it’s not about mess, it’s about manners.”

Vanderwood. The man was a grade A bad ass with a passion for Fabreeze and Lysol wipes.

“If you came here just to be a brat, you could have waited until Christmas.”

Vanderwood waited for a snarky response from the woman but he was met with her looking defeated.

“Samantha, what is it.” His tone turned exponentially serious.

“I just came to ask you one thing. If Kaeli and I need to get out of here in the near future...would you be able to help me with that?”

Vanderwood. He joined the agency when he was 16. Tired of dealing with his family and no one recognizing he was superior to them in everyway, he signed a contract of employment with them. He was 2 years in. Now about 18 and progressing fast within the ranks of the agency. One day he was doing some recon on some local thugs when he heard a commotion in a near by alleyway. He saw 3 adult men, cornering a girl. The girl wasn’t small but she could only have been in elementary school. He figured he should intervene when he started to hear smacks, and punches. Cries of pain, but what the bloody hell? The screams were coming from the dudes. Who is this 8 year old and how is she kicking the asses of these GROWN men! With the dumbasses subdued he spoke to the girl. He learned that she was on her own and she was actually the one that picked a fight with them. He didn’t know why he did it and to this day he still doesn’t know what compelled him but he offered to take her under his wing. And for whatever reason, which he also didn’t understand, this little girl trusted him, and accepted. He became her guardian and he was honestly excited to have a "mini me”. He had bought her clothes and taught her the basics of living. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, cleaning, fighting, cleaning, manners, cleaning, studying, CLEANING. He didn’t know how a little girl was supposed to dress, he had never been one. So she usually went to school in overalls, sneakers, and a backwards baseball cap with her hair in two loose braids. She usually was covered in band aids and 90% of the time one was on her face. This girl was a fighter but she was clumsy as hell. She was constantly getting cuts and bruises due to her own carelessness but according to Vanderwood, pain didn’t exist. He was constantly telling her to ignore others because hurt feelings didn’t really matter, and not to trust anyone because you never know who could be after you. Falling down and being clumsy or getting hurt were no excuse to show weakness. Every time he helped her put a band aid on he would say things like “Never let boys see you bleed.” or “Never show someone how deep a cut is!” He didn’t know that all this strength and fight he was trying to implant in her was going to lead her into brandishing her own vigilante justice. She was constantly getting in fights outside of school. Trying to beat up bullies or even trying to go after muggers. He had to have a stern talk with her about what was morally right and wrong for a little girl and why her rules were different than his, being a trained assassin, big boy. He was glad she had Kaeli to balance her out and calm her down.

By the time the smart ass brat Samantha was a senior in high school she had gone from constantly trying to kick everyone’s ass on the streets, to simply just knowing how to defend herself and Vanderwood was actually glad that she was leading a pretty normal life. When she was 17 he let her fly away from his mama bird nest and get her own job and apartment. Good. It would keep her away from his line of work. That was until after she graduated. Kaeli was planning on moving away for a performing college program and Samantha came to Vanderwood with a request. She was planning on cutting all ties with Kaeli while she was gone and asked Vanderwood to get her training with the agency. No. He didn’t want that kind of life for this girl he had known to be so bright, and talented. Fun loving and carefree. Sure he had accidentally made it so that she didn’t trust people and didn’t form close relationships out of concern for others safety. And she was incredibly skilled and intelligent. The agency could really use someone like her but he just didn’t want that for her. A life of solitude. She was stubborn and determined so he agreed to get her training, but with two conditions. It would only be for a year and she would only take the training courses that he picked and she had to keep in contact with Kaeli. Her best friend.

Samantha had started her year of training before the official application process to get into the same agency that Vandy had joined when he was 16. Due to Vanderwoods terms of her training she was in contact with Kaeli while she was away for her college program. But Samantha still intended to disappear with the agency once the year was over. It’s not that she didn’t want to be around Kaeli anymore, it’s that she didn’t want Kaeli being around her. She believed that she was destined to be alone and not deserving of having normal relationships. Her parents never wanted her, her sister didn’t want her, and until she had met Kaeli and Vanderwood, people had only ever seen her as a threat. She was dangerous. But she didn’t realize it until a week before they graduated high school.

Reagan. He was popular, good looking, wealthy, obnoxious, a real douche. Samantha didn’t like his attitude or how he treated people. So she was extra irritated when Kaeli started dating him. It wasn’t long into their relationship that Samantha knew he wasn't a good person. He quickly became obsessed, possessive and controlling. Kaeli brushed it off. Classic Kaeli. She had let herself be treated like this before and it always took Samantha to snap her out of it, but this time she couldn’t be snapped. Samantha didn’t know it but Kaeli was afraid of Reagan. He had became abusive but she tried her hardest to hide it from Sam. She didn’t want to admit she was in over her head and she was afraid of what Sam might do. One day Kaeli was taking off her sweater and her shirt had lifted up. That’s when Samantha saw bruising all over her torso.

“He’s fucking dead.”

“Sammy please, no. Don’t do anything rash and get yourself in trouble. He’s coming over tonight and I’m going to break it off with him. That way I’ll have a clean break after we graduate and I can move with no strings attached.”

Samantha was seeing red, she didn’t have any words and knew that she wasn’t going to be able to have a rational conversation so she went downstairs to the bakery and started her shift. A couple hours past and as she was closing up the bakery Sam was greeted by Reagan. He looked at her and made no attempt to say hello. He went right upstairs to the apartment. Samantha went back to locking up. 5 minutes later she heard shouting and something had slammed onto the floor. Her mind went blank and her eyes dazed over, it was like she blacked out. Her body was possessed. She ran upstairs as fast as her legs would take her and threw open every door with excessive force. The shouting had stopped and she couldn’t see anyone in the immediate area. That’s when she heard crying. Soft sobbing from Kaelis room and then...grunting. She ran to the bedroom door and tried the handle but it was locked. Rapidly jiggling the handle she slapped the door with an open palm again and again.

“OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!”

“FUCK YOU!”

“SAM HELP ME!”

Smack. “Shut the fuck up.” The slap echoed throughout the entire apartment.

The adrenaline took over her whole body and Samantha stepped back and then lunged her right shoulder at the door, breaking the lock and pushing it open. Reagan was on top of Kaeli and his pants were around his ankles. Samantha grabbed him by his hair and threw him against the wall. His skull made a loud smacking noise and his eyes glazed over. He slid down the wall, and she grabbed his shirt in her fist and began beating his face with the outer part of her closed fist. Kaeli was crying and screaming. Sam didn’t stop until she realized blood was being splattered across her face. She would have could have killed him. She wiped her forehead, unintentionally smearing blood across it. She turned around. The fear in Kaeli’s eyes. It was because of Reagan but Samantha thought it was because of her. She wrapped a blanket around Kaeli and walked her downstairs. She called Vanderwood who came and cleaned up the mess and got medical attention for the boy. The next day they all acted like it never happened. And that is why she wanted away from Kaeli. What kind of a life was that? She was dangerous.

The year of training went by fast. Samantha had gone through all the courses Vanderwood specified she had to take. Tactical, physical training, espionage, seduction, driving, stealth, and combat. Part of training was doing recon and infiltration of low level crime rings. All candidates were informed that not only the agency but other employers would also be keeping an eye on them. She had made her way into several small mafia branches and mob conglomerates. They mainly used her for shake downs and collections. A lady thug for hire. Beating money and secrets out of desperate scumbags. It was also easy enough making deals without having to beat them to a pulp since a lot of the time the goons were too busy looking her up and down, licking there lips like they were about to scarf down a 3 course meal. At the end of her year she had gone back home and was planning on saying her goodbyes to Kaeli.

The night she planned to say goodbye to Kaeli and submit her official application to the agency they had gone to karaoke. It had been forever since they performed together. They ended up taking over the whole bar, it was no longer karaoke it was a two woman variety show and people were loving it. She was having a blast with her best friend but the entire time she couldn’t help but feel like eyes were on them. Eyes that she couldn’t see. Vanderwood? No these eyes were definitely menacing.

They left the bar and started walking. Trying to sober up a bit. They were laughing and it was just like their carefree days of high school. The sound of metal hit Samantha’s ears and before she could react someone had grabbed her pinning her arms to her back.

“KAELI RUN!”

“GRAB HER, ASSHOLES!”

That voice. It was fucking Reagan.

Samantha whipped her head back as fast as she could and made contact. Her arms were released and she quickly made her way to the two men that were holding on to Kaeli, ripping at her clothes. Sam’s fist flew through the air. Shit. Something had cracked. Her hand or his jaw, one of them was broken. Kaeli shook herself loose and began running to get help when a limo had pulled up and blocked them in. Samantha was throwing punches and dodging them at an incredible rate, she was roundhousing their asses and Kaeli couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. The limo door opened and Sam lost her focused and turned to see who was stepping out of it. That’s when Reagan landed a sold punch right into her stomach. Her body jolted and blood came out of her mouth, then a hand connected with her face. “Fucking freak. Stupid Bitch always in my FUCKING way.” Samantha was on her knees, blood pouring out of a cut above her brow. 

“That’s enough Reagan!” A round stocky woman had stepped out of the limo. “I asked you to retrieve the girls but you decided you were going to do whatever you wanted. I’m sure the boss would love hearing that you damaged his new merchandise” the air was silent and extremely bitter tasting. “Now, ladies, if you would.” The woman gestured to inside of the limo.

“NO WAY!” Kaeli screamed, incredibly defiant. “Do it, Kaeli.” Samantha’s voice was soft but it was firm. The two girls climbed in the limo. Sam knew who this woman was and who she was employed by. Stuff she had learned doing the undercover work for training.

The girls rode in silence and they were let out at a night club. The lights were blinding outside. They were following the round woman with her huge bodyguards on the outside of them. No words were being exchanged. 

“If you'll excuse me for a moment.” The woman broke the silence and walked away. One of the guards gestured for Kaeli to take a seat and the other gestured towards a door off to their left, a bathroom for Sam to clean up in. Splashing water onto her face and trying to scrub the blood off her hands she heard a bit of shouting outside. She turned off the water and wiped her hands with paper towels and opened the door. She looked around. They weren’t in the regular part of the club. They were in a members only VIP area. She didn’t see Kaeli. She panicked. She was running up to everyone asking them if they had seen a tiny blonde woman when finally one man pointed into a room in the back and told her that a couple of men had gone in the room with her. She pounced at the door like a cheetah and kicked it open. She didn’t care what was happening, She just started swinging. There was crashing and yelling, and guests were starting to get concerned. The round woman appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat. The body guards she was with pulled Sam off of the men in the room. “The employer would like to speak to you privately.” Kaeli and Sam both began to follow the woman when she raised her hand. “Just the amazon.” Rude.

“Fine, but she stays with your guards. And Reagan and his ugly ass two bit thugs leave. Now. Or I will kill them.��� Her eyes were like hot coals. Sam was serious.

Samantha sat in the lush leather chair and stared at the rich cherry wood desk in front of her. the man sitting at the desk had his tall chair turned around and didn’t even attempt to face her. Sam had her guard up and was on high alert but the man started speaking and got right to brass tax.

“Vanderwood raised a firecracker I see. Intelligent, talented, strong, and a body. All those curves and me with no brakes.” Are you serious right now? “I’ve gone ahead and submitted an application to the agency on your behalf. I also put in a submission for denial to the agency and a request that the application for consideration of employment go to me. So don’t think running to the agency will get you out of this. I was going to make you both my very special VIP package for our best clients. However you have come in here and caused a disturbance. Vandwerwood raised a fighter but he didn’t raise a lady. If you want to act like a brute than you will be one. You will now be my hired gun and your little pixie out there will be my most esteemed call girl. You will be rewarded with very sizable salaries and club privileges. Now get out.”

“No.” Samantha’s voice didn’t waver. Not even for a split second.

“No is not an option, you are now my employee and due to how close you are with that girl she will and already does know too much. So you both are indebted to me. You by contractual obligation and her by threat. If you try to leave , you will both be killed.”

“I’ll do both.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be your hired gun and a call girl. She stays away from any part of what goes on with the clients in this club.”

The man was silent. Still facing away from Sam. “Madam, bring her something to type up her terms with.”

20 minutes later and Sam had signed a contract. And all her terms and stipulations were met.

Samantha and Kaeli would be trained in high society, upper class, and etiquette. They would both be available for dates , dinners, and events with the top tier of the elites. Sam would  be awarded business classes and Kaeli would learn Public relations. After a certain amount of time was put in with Kaeli working events and handling all PR and media for the club or scandles for the club and the employer, she wouldn’t have to go on dates anymore. Sam would be a lady goon, and a jazz singer/performer for the club and she would spend nights with clients. Normally most girls would have the choice on whether or not they wanted to sleep with clients but he had told Sam that there would be no exceptions with her. She would bring in top clients and top dollar. She would have opportunity to progress and climb up the ranks.

The madam was impressed with Sam’s sense of business and her courage to try and sacrifice all of her freedom for Kaeli to get away. The madam agreed to help Sam lie to the employer about her sleeping with clients.

Kaeli had worked off her debt and now only had to work PR and media for the club, and Sam had worked her way from all thug duties and had become the clubs “Sparkling Diamond” and a business partner. They made incredibly good money but they kept it to themselves. As far as everyone else was concerned, Kaeli and Samantha were just two strugglers. A struggling actor and a struggling screenwriter/stage manager. The only little slice of a normal life that they had.

“Sam, SAM!”

Vanderwood’s booming voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Sorry. Look, it’s nothing too serious right now I just, I got reckless and I may have messed up with he boss.”

“Don’t piss off your employer is one of the first rules I had ever taught you. What on earth would make you jeopardize what you have?”

“I don’t know Van! I was with the C&R director working a party being held in his honor and he is nothing like the chairman and I just thought maybe I could do things my own way. A way that works better and runs smoother and I just...”

“Oh, Sam...don’t tell me. You like the walking ATM.”

“No. I don’t.” She was extremely annoyed by Vanderwoods assumption. She knew better than that.

“No. I respect him as a business man and he has a very kind and insightful soul.”

Sam smirked she knew exactly how to mess with Van.

“And I mean I don’t know...I guess he’s just so...damn...seeexxxxyyy.”

“Stop.”

“I swear he makes my knees weak.”

“Gross.”

“He touched me and I swear my legs started to tremble, What I wouldn't’ give to see his big throb-”

“YOU DON’T TALK LIKE THAT IN FRONT OF ME.”

“Easy, Van. Holster your taser. Listen I just came over to make sure that if something does happen, you have my back.”

“Always.”

The two shared a quick side hug and Samantha made her leave. She had a lot to think about. Good think she took her bike. She was going to zip through the freeways at high speeds to clear her mind.

[mamaredd123]

Close Encounters part 4

WARNINGS: none really, maybe a little anxiousness, and some memory lapse

PAIRING: Dean x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2204

Shout out to @feelmyroarrrr  for this unusual tidbit. Sharing the link with y’all in case anyone is interested. Obviously, I may have twisted and changed some facts to make it work for my fic. http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2013/10/25/necropants-iceland-human-skin-trousers-rich-picture_n_4163741.html

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Un-beta’d so all errors are my own. Plus I have had a little to drink tonight so I will probably blush tomorrow when I re-read this but anyways, I hope y’all enjoy.

Please feel free to leave some feedback. I accept it all, the good and the negative. You love it, tell me you do. You hate it, please tell me that also.

The next several weeks flew by. They say that’s what happens when you first fall in love, something that I truly never thought would happen to me. Dean was such a joy to be around. Even Sam was more of a clown with us lately.

Dean and I had practically been inseparable since our “Prom Night”. There were exceptions when they had a case and had to leave though. Those were usually the worst nights for me. Dean would usually call me though, and stay on the phone with me until I fell asleep.

This week the boys were gone on a really weird cases and they had asked me to do some research for them. So, I was a little excited. This was the first case I would be able to help them with. Dean and Sam had called me yesterday evening to give me any info that they had been able to scrape up and this was definitely one for the books.

There was a family up in Plano, Texas, who was dealing with their grandfather’s property. The grandfather had recently passed away of old age and now the family was trying to sort through his belongings. One of the family members, who had known the brother’s dad back in the day, came across an extremely disturbing find in grandpa’s attic. It appeared to be a pair of men’s pants made entirely of flesh. So of course he called the people who he knew specialized in “weird”.

The “weird” was what looked to be a pair of pants actually made from human flesh. The brother had stumbled across them in an old box at the very back of the attic. The box was sealed with yellow ‘caution’ tape. After he opened it and saw the contents, it was quickly brought downstairs and left in the kitchen. The main reason the brother called Sam and Dean was because after the box was brought downstairs, two different family members at two different times had picked up the pants and now they had mysteriously vanished. No one could locate them anywhere.

Since yesterday I had been digging through all kinds of lore books and had found nothing to match so far. I was beginning to get frustrated. I didn’t want to have to tell Dean I couldn’t find anything when he called this evening. So, giving up on the books for a little while, I pulled out my laptop and started a search online for ‘flesh pants’. That search ended up with absolutely nothing useful.

My second search, ‘pants made of flesh’, was a tab bit more interesting. The very first thing to pop up in the results was an article titled Necropants, The Pants Made From Human Flesh.  (see link to article above the keep reading link)

I skimmed through the article and found myself shaking my head as I got to the end of it. Pants made of flesh to get a lot of money? People really had some crazy ass notions back when they didn’t know anything that was for sure. As I read the article, however, something tickled the back of my brain. I thought maybe I had found something about this after all in the lore books.

Leaving the computer up, I pushed back from the table and started going through some of the books again. About an hour later, I found it. In 1614, there was a man named Jón Einarsson who was supposedly burned alive for being a witch. From the recount that I found in one of the older books, his daughter had spotted him wearing a pair of pants made of flesh and had reported him to the authorities. After many days of interrogation, torture is probably more like it, he confessed and was consequently burned alive in front of the entire village. A week later, his wife, daughter and two sons all committed suicide in their humble home.

I was still making notes on that case when Dean called me. I answered excitedly and told him what I had found so far.

“So what do you think?” I asked him after I told him everything.

“Well that’s a good job on digging that up. Hold on let me get Sammy.”

I waited patiently as I heard them murmuring on the other end. I was sure Dean was relaying all the information I had just shared with him. Finally they both came back on the line.

“So this Einarsson, are there any mention of curses he may have said, threats, anything of that nature when they were burning him?” Sam asked.

“No, nothing like that in this book. It simply states he was burned.”

“Well, keep digging and see if you can find anything else on him in the books there. I’ll do some digging online from here and see if I can find anything too.” Sam informed me.

“Ok, no problem. Is there something in particular we are looking for?”

“From what we found in Jake’s grandfather personal diary, there appears to be some kind of curse associated with these pants. But from what you discovered, and finding out there is a museum in Iceland with a pair of these on display, I don’t know for sure if these belongs to your guy or not. Considering Jake’s grandpa’s history and the story of Einarsson though, I think they could be the same pair.”

“Ok Sam. I’ll stay on it.”

“Hey baby.”

“Hey love.”

“So other than pouring over books all day, how’s your day been?”

“Lonely.”

“Yea, I know. I miss you too.”

Dean stayed on the phone with me for the next hour. We only hung so we both could grab our showers. I was in his bed, surrounded by his smell, when he finally called back. We talked about all things not having to do with the case until I fell asleep. I awoke the next morning with my phone dead, again.

----------

It was after nine and I was really beginning to worry a little. I had not heard from Dean or his brother all day. Dean always called me by seven every night. Glancing up at the clock again, I noticed it had only been a minute since I last looked. I was torn between picking my phone up and blowing his up or even calling the cops down there to see if anything had happened. Deciding not to risk Dean’s wrath just in case he was super busy or something, I turned my back on my phone and continued pacing.

It was nearing midnight and still nothing from either brother. I was new to this whole way of life so I really wasn’t sure how to take this. I had given up my pacing about and hour earlier and was now curled up in Dean’s bed holding onto one of his pillows. My nerves were shot and all I could think about was every bad thing they had told me about other not so great hunts. I kept picturing Dean and Sam lying dead somewhere or hurt so badly they couldn’t get to help.

My sleep that night was plagued with bad dreams. All kinds of images went through my subconscious that night. I tossed and turned all night and awoke the next morning feeling like I had not slept at all. After a moment to toss the cobwebs from my brain, my first coherent thought was ‘Dean’! I snatched around the covers trying to find my phone and almost panicked. Luckily, I heard it hit the floor as I had grabbed one of the pillows out of the way.

Quickly, I picked it up and unlocked it. To my relief I saw I had twelve missed calls from Dean’s number. I hit the voicemail button and was happy to see he left ten messages. I played through each one of them, smiling to myself each time I heard him say ‘Baby, I am so sorry’. After I got through each and every voicemail, I couldn’t get his number dialed fast enough.

“Hey baby. I am so sorry I missed our call last night.”

“It’s ok now.”

“I hope you didn’t worry too much.”

“No, not really. I barely noticed that you didn’t call.”

It warmed my soul to hear him laugh at me even though I was pretty sure he knew better.

We talked for the next thirty minutes or so, touching briefly on the case. I was glad to hear that the reason he missed our call was because he had been out at the ‘client’s’ house digging through other old stuff in their attic and just didn’t have any signal. I guess because I was comforted by just hearing his voice, I didn’t pay any attention to the headache that had started while we were on the phone. By the time we hung up though, my head was pounding like someone was working a jackhammer on my brain.

The pain was so intense twenty minutes after hanging up with Dean, I stumbled back to his bed and tried to lay down. As I crawled back in his bed, I remembered a friend from school who used to suffer from migraines. I vaguely wondered if that was what was going on. I curled up in the bed, gripping one of Dean’s pillows again, and finally fell asleep.

--------

“Baby. Y/N!”

I pulled myself from sleep still believing I was dreaming about hearing Dean’s voice. When I opened my eyes, however, there he was, sitting on the edge of the bed. And Sam! Everything was kind of fuzzy but I kept my focus on Dean’s green eyes. How was he here? WHY was he here? I just hung up with him before I went to sleep. In a daze, I tried to voice these questions.

“Shhh baby. It’s ok,” Dean told me in a reassuring tone of voice.

“Dean, you are making me nervous. What is going on? Y’all were in Texas. What are you doing back here so quick?” I asked nervously.

“So quick?” Dean replied sounding confuse which only made me more confused. “Baby, you haven’t answered your phone in almost a week. Five days to be exact.”

“Oh whatever. I just talked to you a few hours ago.”

“No you didn’t Y/N,”  Sam interrupted. “It really has been five days since Dean talked to you.”

“Stop messing with me guys. Seriously, I hung up the phone with you Dean like a couple of hours ago. My head started hurting so I came in here and laid down.”

“Baby, are you one hundred percent positive that’s all you remember?”

“Yes. Without a doubt. Today is Tuesday. I talked to you a few hours ago and you were telling me about how you lost track of time because you were in old what’s his name’s attic with no cell signal. I hung up and my head was hurting so I came in here and laid down. Next thing I know, here you are, waking me up.”

“Y/N, today is Sunday. We drove all night to get here this morning,” Sam threw in.

“No, It’s Tuesday,” I replied shaking my head. I slept for five days straight? There was no way possible.

“It’s ok. We will figure it out,” Dean said.

I watched as he made a slight motion to Sam and then Sam left the room. I looked at Dean feeling like my world was slipping away. On a sudden notion, whether to check I was correct or that they were, I snatched up my phone. At first glance, I felt vindicated because the battery was at eighty percent. There was no way I had any battery life left after five days of not being charged. On second glance, I noticed the date on the phone and it matched what the guys said, it really was Tuesday. How in the hell did I miss five days?

I clicked the message button on my screen and there were no new messages. Seriously, what the fuck? Dean didn’t hear from me for five days and didn’t send the first message? Next I clicked on the voicemail icon. Once again, nothing. Not one single voicemail from anyone at all. My brain was trying to sort all these detail at once and was having no success. Dean hadn’t heard from me in all that time yet there were no messages, no voicemails, from him the entire time? It was obvious that checking my phone did nothing to help the situation, it just aggravated everything.

“Dean, I don’t know what to say. Everything is so confusing.”

“I’m sure it is. But baby, we will get to the bottom of it al. I promise you.”

“I don’t know Dean. You say you haven’t heard from me in five days. Five days? My phone says you are right but then there are no messages, no voicemails, from you the entire time. How can that be?”

“I don’t understand it either baby. I can show you, I’ve called you like a thousand times and your voicemail is full, all messages from me I’m sure.  But I swear we will get to the bottom of it. That’s what me and Sammy do. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, I do. One hundred percent.”

“Then come here. Let me hold you.”

I crawled across the bed and took solace in the feel of his arms around me. He had not been gone that long as far as MY memory recalled. But trying to include an extra five days? That I had no memory of? The one and only thing that made any sense was the fact that he was here now and that I could actually feel his arms around me, I could feel his breath on my neck. If that was what it was like to have migraines I can promise you, I truly didn't want anything to do with those!

Forever Peeps: @megansescape @madamelibrarian @jayankles @feelmyroarrrr @docharleythegeekqueen @crowleysdemonknight @motleymoose @sumara62 @mrstheorossix3 @evansrogerskitten @waywardjoy   @dwaynii @jensen-jarpad   @deathtonormalcy56 @ruprecht0420 @charliebradbury1104 @relmi-llorrac @wonderange @sandlee44 @tom-is-in-my-tardis @kmb99t @summer-binging-spn @posiemax @ohmychuckitssamanddean @thedevilinthedetails @bohowitch @tmccarney @dragon-tail @suli155 @mrsbatesmotel53 @petrovadixon @thewalkingmombie @mogaruke @spontaneousam @uniquewerewolfsuit @firstlady36 @goldenolaf25 @lunarsaturn88 @spn-hetalian-from-hogwarts @carribear31  @captainemwinchester’

Random Tags (just tagging a few of you who used to be on my Forever Tags): @babypieandwhiskey @impala-dreamer @frenchybell  @idreamofhazel @nichelle-my-belle @moonlitskinwalker @redlipstickandplaid @taste-of-dean @avasmommy224 @you-are-not-in-my-contacts-list  @p-b-and-cas @supernatural-jackles @treasurecastiel @calicat79 @beccafgs @mysteriouslyme81 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @sis-tafics @benjerry707 @impalaimagining @sdavid09 @meganlpie @whispersandwhiskerburn @authoressskr @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @beccatigger @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @buckysmetallicstump @breeannhausler @sazrahlovesbooks @unfortunately-a @clinicalkayla @maddieburcham1 @ilostmyshoe-79 @roxy-davenport @eve05glee @jensenacklesfuckmeyes @ladyxdezi @catackles16 @wi-deangirl77 @dang-meddling-winchesters   @donnaintx @jdhillons @tiffanycaruso @pureawesomeness001 @notateenbeachmovie @deanlovespiebabyandmeloljkiwish @omgspnfanfiction @leonepanda @grimes-ft-winchester @thatshellfiredean @deanandsamsbitch @straitsupernaturalmalefan @farewell--sanity @lauramerrell1 @trustnobodyshootfirst @doro7winchester @mariairwin666 @tankcupcakes @atc74  @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @iwantthedean @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @death2thevirgin @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @ellen-reincarnated1967 @just-another-busy-fangirl @waywardjoy @winchesterprincessbride

[amwritingmeta]

SNAPSHOT META: 1x01 - PILOT

I’m rewatching the entire series over the summer - not only because my memory bank is in dire need of refreshing, but because what else are we supposed to do during hellatus? Meet up with friends, go to the park, enjoy the sunshine? *snorts with derision* (okay I’ll be doing that too) (I’m not staying in all summer watching SPN and writing meta) (*shiftiest eyes*) I wanted to do this as part of this awesomeness and will attempt to catch up. If I can’t: *shrug* What can I say? Real Life and all that. Yes, friends in the park with sunshine. (be honest) I work. A lot. Of the hours.

But to make it up to you, I’ve planned THIS

No, I’m not going to dress up as Marilyn Monroe and come to your house and shower you with champagne. (or am I?)  No, don’t be silly - I can’t do that! Instead, I’m going to encourage you all to drink! By introducing the Spectacular and Penultimate and so very Necessary Drinking Game. (*SPNDG for short) For those who do not partake of the alcohol or for those of you who are underage there will be soda pops involved. (considering how much I curse I sincerely hope each and every one of you are of age)

You with me here? AWESOME! This will be us come end of summer:

Though possibly not quite so fishy... Either way, we’ll be ready for S13, peeps!

So, I had this ambition to do this Snapshot Commentary thing for each episode, getting through one or two a day. This post has taken me four days, the hours I’ve had to invest interspersed unevenly at best, and @margarittet was nice enough to do the maths - my ambition would take me over two years to fulfil at this pace. Yah. And as I lack a Time-Turner (god I wish I had one WHY JK ROWLING??) I may just have to watch the series as planned and write meta on the episodes that stand out as deeper narrative beats, both plot and character wise. Fuck. I already know there are so many of them. But I’m excited to get started! Writing this meta has been so much fun and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

I know I’m probably repeating stuff someone else has already said, but do you know what, I haven’t gotten to say it, so I’m saying it for myself now. Keep a lookout for them drinking prompts, because that means fun times up ahead, and don’t forget to drink responsibly. (remember nesnej) (oh god we’re all gonna get sloshed) (or very, very high on sugar)

Here we go!

Snapshot Commentary: 1x01 - PILOT

Mary and John are Good Parents

Sam is the cutest baby e.v.e.r

Young Dean worships his father already 

Flickering lights are always sinister

Baby monitors are always freaky

Guys standing ominously in shadow are super-disconcerting 

MARY, THAT WAS NOT JOHN!

Oh, the pain of that fiery death is just… no

And, of course, Dean is handed Sammy to look after and to save —- *ow*

“It’s okay, Sammy.” —- *ow*

Why did little baby Sammy have to see his mother burn on the ceiling?? —- *OW*

Jessica is a beautiful girl

Jessica needs to wear more clothes

I worry Jessica may catch cold 

Lightly Clad Female adulation: *Tequila Time

Sam is gorgeous

Sam doesn’t buy into Halloween

Sam is smart as all fuck

Sam isn’t close to his family

Jess is his family: she believes in him, encourages him, is proud of non-hunter him

The character intro of Dean fucking Winchester: an Intruder Cloaked in Shadow (friend or foe, we don’t know - remind you of anyone?) 

Them boys got them fighting skills down

*no. 1 - BEER

Jessica is a beautiful girl

Jessica needs to wear more clothes

I worry Jessica may catch cold

*no. 2 - Ladies Man Dean switching on the skeeze charm

There’s good reason to be afraid of the dark

Them boys hunt them things that there’s good reason to be afraid of

Them boys kill them things and save lives

Dean takes pride in this - Sam is trying to move on from it: root of brotherly conflict revealed and we are at minute 8:55, peeps

Dean: So what’re you gonna do? You just gonna live some normal, apple pie life, is that it?

Wait, what? Pie is synonymous with what?

*no. 3 - PIE

Sam: No. Not normal - safe.

Dean manipulates Sam reaches out because he does not want to do this alone, even though Sam more or less just told him that all he wants to be is safe from all of it: dick move, Dean - but then, without it, there’d be no story

Sam gives in — brodependency already in full swing

Baby <3

*no. 4 - Impala Weapons Stash

Sam is incredulous that Dean got to go on a hunting trip alone, which tells us John was always an Overbearing Parent, but…

Dean points out he’s twenty-six - an adult, meaning John trusts him to take care of himself

Conversely: in the original pilot script “Jack” (John’s original name was Jack) (yeah, I know, right?) makes a distinct, but brief, difference between his two sons: Baby Sam can have Dean’s room if baby Sam sleeps through the night. This may be an innocent promise, but it’s still telling of what John’s relationship with his boys was always meant to be. Sam is more important and Dean is left to fend for Sam, and to fend for himself.

Headcanon -> John was only overbearing for as long as Sam was still there. When Sam chose to leave, John started splitting up from Dean for longer and longer stints of time, leaving Dean to truly fend for himself. Dean is telling Sam the truth: he doesn’t want to do this alone anymore, he’s been completely alone from the day Sam left and Dean is a pack animal, someone for whom family is everything, it’s what’s been drilled into him since he was four years old and probably before then. Who is he if he’s not taking care of Sammy? For two years, no, for longer than that, he’s been trying to find out and he’s come up short. Bottom line? Dean Winchester is lonely and he misses his brother, misses the purpose he always gave him, craves that purpose like a drug. Without Sammy - Dean is lost, because all his life all he’s ever tried to be was John Winchester, so that he’d be strong enough to keep Sam safe, and keeping Sam safe meant that perhaps their dad would be proud of him, but without Sam, modelling himself on John loses its meaning, and if he’s not emulating John Winchester, then who is he supposed to be? He doesn’t know. And, quite possibly, the thought of finding out feels like a complete betrayal of everything his father ever taught him. Because you never give up on family, and that has always been a double-edged sword.

Minute 12:53

Jericho, California

I can never go home…… *chills*

Jessica is a beautiful girl

Jessica needs to wear more clothes

I worry Jessica may catch cold

Hottest Woman in White ever - them victims never stood a damn chance - maybe if you didn’t throw yourself at men with wives and girlfriends, Hotness, they wouldn’t be tempted to cheat *eye roll* (female representation too often sucks)

Friendly Reminder: Lightly Clad Female adulation means fucking *Tequila Time, y’all

Sidenote: as much as I love how this episode is resolved, I do find that there’s a big gaping logic hole in this antagonist’s motivation when the Woman in White is killing men because her husband was unfaithful, and yet she is clearly not averse to literally forcing her victims into a compromised position, in essence she’s raping them before killing them. She’s a vengeful spirit and she’s seeing red, meaning she can’t actually weigh the good and bad in her decisions, and I get that, but seriously? She’s killed ten men over twenty years. Why not more? Why not only target those that are up for it by their own volition then, if you’re going to be so damn picky? Meh. Whatever.

Minute 18:21

*No. 5 - Every time they say the word “agent” have a drink of water (I’m not a sadist) (well I am a little) (like Misha Collins) (so there’s a bit of goodness) (to my badness) (water is life) (and helps against massive hangovers) 

Dean doesn’t have a whole lotta respect for the lawmen 

(Jensen has the biggest, greenest eyes)

Sam is empathic - in touch with his emotions

Empathy makes Dean fidget - out of touch with his emotions or, you know, unwilling to touch them

Constance Welch - Hottest Woman in White Ever has a name, glory be!

Please hold for some Dialogue Deconstruction…

Here’s the Bridge Exchange between the brothers:

Sam: Dean, I told you, I’ve gotta get back by— Dean: Monday. Right. The interview. Sam: Yeah. Dean: You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? You think you’re just gonna become some lawyer? Marry a girl… Sam: Maybe. Why not? Dean: Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you’ve done? Sam: No, and she’s not ever going to know. Dean: Well, that’s healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later you’re going to have to face up to who you really are. Sam: And who’s that? Dean: You’re one of us. Sam: No. I’m not like you. This is not going to be my life. Dean: You have a responsibility. Sam: To dad? And his crusade? If it weren’t for pictures I wouldn’t even know what mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we were to find the thing that killed her, mom’s gone, and she’s not coming back. Dean: Don’t talk about her like that.

This exchange tells us so much about these two men, their past, their present frame of mind, stating the conflict in their different points of views. Oh, my Kripke. *salivating*

Dean

thinks a normal life is a pipe dream

which is confirmed as the truth by Sam finding it necessary to lie to Jessica

leading to Dean calling Sam out on the unhealthiness of denying who you really are (!!!)

Now for the underlying conflict this exchange highlights: Dean needs his brother back in the family business. His face when he tries to throw the responsibility barb at Sam and Sam shakes it off - Dean looks hurt, he was speaking for himself here, not John and as we’ll learn, Dean practically raised Sam, so for Sam to find it so easy to leave him behind, to not even take him into account, it must hurt like all hell

Dean is protective of Mary’s memory: whether it’s out of loyalty to her or loyalty to John is hard to tell at this point, right? Mary’s memory has shaped Dean’s life, and of course he has his own memories of her, but is he protective of her as his mother or as the motor behind his entire existence, which Sam is more or less calling bullshit on here? Maybe it’s both. Maybe they’re irrevocably the same at this point. 

Dean is a foot soldier: he’s had his reason for existing drilled into him from when he was old enough to have it drilled into him that this is who he is and this is all there is to him, there is no questioning orders, there is no breaking away from it, there is nothing else out there more important than family

Dean is loyal and duty bound, displaying a softly selfish streak as he pulls Sam back into the life, as well as giving us hints of that deep insecurity when it comes to his own identity, an insecurity that we’ll get to know so well over the seasons (remind you of anyone?)

Lets’ look at the exchange again, this time from Sam’s POV:

Sam

that “maybe” denotes a hint of uncertainty 

that turns into defensiveness

because deep down he’s afraid that Dean’s right and there’s no “normal” to be had for him

and, as with most things, a twofold: we’re heading into dark territory with Sam and this uncertainty is subtle foreshadowing of how he’s always felt different and out of place

but as we’ll come to learn about Sam, once he stops beating against the hunter side of himself, he’ll find his MoL side, his Leader side, and that journey starts right here as well, in this subtle show of uncertainty, because what Sam truly needs ain’t ever going to be “normal”

it’s funny when Sam tells Dean he’s nothing like him, because the truth is: Sam beat Dean in that first scuffle, Sam found the name of the Woman in White, Sam picked the lock at the motel, Sam concluded John’s in trouble by examining the room, Sam got Dean out of jail by placing a prank call and, of course, Sam’s going to resolve the episode by taking action

so obviously Sam is a hunter to the bone - and he’s better at it than Dean

it’s lovely that Sam immediately ties John’s hunt for Mary’s killer to Christianity by dubbing it a “crusade” - very subtle foreshadowing here

Sam is so over all of it: he is all about free will and his right to exorcise it, not buying into the crap John is selling, not seeing the point, if there ever was one - it won’t bring their mother back, she’s gone, they need to move on with their lives

as he says to Dean in their earlier exchange: Mary wouldn’t have wanted this for them, and of course we know Sam’s right in this assumption

but that said, Sam also has loyalty and a sense of duty, rooted in love for his family, and though he knows who he wants to be, there’s a clear insecurity about who he can be 

he’s just not ready to sacrifice his sense of self for someone else’s idea of what is the right thing to do with his life

It’s the classic Hero’s Journey setup for Sam, of course: without resistance there’s no possibility for growth. If the Hero begins in a place where he’s comfortable with the journey he’s about to be launched onto then the necessity for him making the journey disappears and there’s no hook into the narrative. (remind you of anyone?)

Minute 24:43

Jump up on the railing, boys. The railing. THE RAILING, BOYS, THE CAR CAN’T GET TO YOU IF YOU’RE… oh, forget it.

Even covered in mud you are one hot cookie, Dean Winchester

John Winchester is a pro

John Winchester is detail oriented (MoL)

John Winchester is clever

John Winchester is in trouble (stakes raised)

Sam apologises for what he said about John and Mary and Dean deflects the sentiment with a “Hey, no chick flick moments” — *awww*

*No. 6 - whenever Dean DEFLECTS SENTIMENT we toast each other with a RAWR

*No. 7 - whenever Sam tries to get Dean to talk we toast the TV with a JERK! BITCH!

On Dean Donning John’s Leather Jacket: I reblogged some gorgeous meta just the other day on this topic and couldn’t add my own thoughts because I simply didn’t have enough of an opinion. @dustydreamsanddirtyscars I still feel your meta was beautiful and that’s why I wanted it on my blog *head still bowed to you*, I also see how Dean is drowning in that jacket and all it symbolises, but I will agree with @elizabethrobertajones, who pointed out that the jacket is a visual metaphor for Dean shouldering responsibility for the family business, and I’d even like to delve a little deeper into what the jacket represents for me in this moment in time.

Firstly, I’d just like to point out how utterly downplayed this moment is in the pilot. If I hadn’t been aware of the jacket being John’s I wouldn’t even have registered how significant Dean sliding it on actually is, given how the episode plays out. We’re at minute 28:44 and the fact that there’s a ring of salt on the floor of John’s motel room has told the boys that John was worried, that he was trying to keep something out. The possibility of something truly bad having happened to their father is beginning to seem more and more likely to the brothers.

But, secondly, what is so interesting about Dean grabbing his father’s jacket is that he does it casually, without a second thought. It tells us John clearly wouldn’t mind Dean wearing his jacket, or Dean would have left it where it is. To me, this shows a bond. (As does the fact that John has given Dean his car, but that’s for later meta.) It shows a closeness between father and son because they’ve been united in their hunt for Mary’s killer and Dean has earned his father’s respect and trust, no matter how absent John is in Dean’s life. What Dean needs is his father’s love and acceptance and, of course, these he can’t ever have because Dean isn’t comfortable enough in himself to ever admit this is what he needs. And if he can’t admit it, then how can he ask for it?

So Dean dresses himself in his father’s clothes and steeps himself in his father’s image (down to driving his car and listening to his music) in order to connect with his father, because regular Dean has never been quite enough. And, furthermore, Dean emulates his father in order for Dean to do his duty, to be the responsible one, to look out for Sammy. It’s what he’s been doing for twenty-two years so donning his father’s jacket in this scene is casual because it’s what Dean does every day of his life, it’s who he already is - an extension of John Winchester.

It’s why the significance of this moment is downplayed, rather than acting as foreshadowing for what’s to happen to Jessica in ten minutes by underlining the fact that something bad must’ve happened to John - because this isn’t what this moment is there for, it’s simply an extremely subtle way of planting the visual information of how Dean is already a shadow of his father.

Note: they begin putting deeply emotional and key character moments entirely in visual subtext from day one. This is how they write this show and how they have always written this show. Because they are amazing writers and this is how amazing writers write shit down. A good screenplay needs to work on multiple levels and deliver on this type of thing in every scene, because each scene is meant to be a building block for the narrative and the foundation for the narrative is subtext.

Writing a good screenplay is not easy or straight forward, it takes a lot of consideration for what details actually matter to the narrative as a whole and that consideration is always based in knowledge of your character’s backstory and, preferably, at least some notion of their endgame. Though endgames change and aren’t an absolute necessity, I’d say it’s very difficult to steer a narrative without even a loose destination in mind.

And look at how the brother’s are set up in the pilot: this is the relationship we’re going to follow for the coming twelve years, and the core conflict is right there, in their first scene, enhanced in this exchange I’ve just briefly deconstructed. It is meticulously crafted writing. (I just cannot EVEN)

Minute 29:40

Dean gets bent over the hood of a car and yeah, he likes it - there is no reason for him to like it that much, except for this actually being one of those downplayed visual character moments that would give the casual viewer insight into Dean enjoying being bent over things by men in uniform, if it wasn’t so ambiguous (we know though) (we know) (the foreshadowing for Dean’s bisexuality, and him being privately ok with it, too - look at that smile - is starting right here, guys) (IN THE PILOT)

So Dean previously dissed the cops for not having a clue

Now he’s their only clue to solving the murder

This leads Dean to the biggest clue he’s found in his John Winchester investigation

John Winchester’s JOURNAL (god that’s a great visual) (you can hear the weight of this revelation as the journal hits that table like a brick) (I wish I had a GIF)

Thank you, @elizabethrobertajones!! 

(I wish I had a million dollars)

Now, Dean dissing the cops when he and Sam first arrive on the crime scene and actually  being proven wrong - because these cops clearly have eyes and ears on alert - is good, this tells us Dean’s not as slick as he thinks he is

Sam being the empath again - gently interrogating Constance Welch’s husband

until he switches on the badass - because Sam is not beyond pushing for the truth and pushing buttons to get to it: logic and gut instinct stemming from emotional intelligence, I would argue, because Sam has always been honest with himself and tried his hardest to follow his heart

the fact that Dean so easily slips out of the station WITH THE JOURNAL reaffirms the fact that Dean is good at what he does - granted with assistance from Sam: this instils in us the confidence that Dean knows what he’s doing, getting himself out of the jam he got himself into (possibly this was an unintentionally planted soundbite, but the Getting Themselves Out of Jams They’ve Unintentionally Created For Themselves still hits a note that will echo through the entire series)

John’s left Jericho and he didn’t take his journal (the plot thickens)

SHIT THERE’S A GHOST LADY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD SAMMY!!

And now she’s IN THE CAR WITH YOU SAMMY!! (stakes raised sky high) (she gonna kill you!) (don’t say oh hell yes!) 

Ok, good, there’s that cleverness I’ve come to know and love, Sam, good boy for telling her no, but of course, it’ll make no difference whatsoever because this ghost will violently murder you for getting excited by her cleavage and her grinding against your groin (but it really is ridiculous, though) (isn’t it?) (she’s afraid to go home, guys) (that’s her weak spot) (the only reason she switches on the seductress and Sam suddenly having no say in the matter is that they wanted Dean to fire that shotgun) (they wanted to show that there is more ways than one to beat back the supernatural on this show) (“I can’t ever go home” makes logical Sam understand her fear) (so Constance realising what he’s going to do - that he’s going to take her home - could’ve made her fight back) (in the way she took control of the car on the bridge) (which would take us to the need to use that shotgun) (there’s no damn reason for her to try and coerce Sam into being unfaithful) (it just negates her entire backstory - her believable and emotional motivation) (I like my Hottest Women in White evers to be well-rounded characters) (thank you very much)

(yes thank you) (this pilot has given insight) (with logic holes)

Again - I love this episode resolution: you go Sam! and then the water and, oh man —

— children in shadow at the top of stairs shot with a low angle are always creepy

Bye bye Constance (toilet flush noise) (hmm)

“--I’ll kill you” = Baby Love

Blackwater Ridge, Colorado

Oh, disappointment from Dean: Sam’s still not coming with him to meet up with John and make sure he’s ok

AC/DC singing “I’m on a Highway to Hell” as Dean pulls up to Sam’s door to drop him off - holy shit this show really does choose its music with care

Helluva team *chills*

Oh, cookies

Bookend to end all bookends

“We’ve got work to do.” *double-chills*

And what’s even more significant here is Sam’s character arc for this episode bookending as he’s spent the entire narrative beating against everything his father stands for to now - without hesitation, the love of his life having just died in the exact same way the love of his father’s life died - be stepping into the very shoes he’s always rejected, ready to walk that path of vengeance for Jessica’s sake.

Dean donned John’s jacket.

Sam, starting out stating how what he wants out of life is safety with/for the woman he loves, ends up picking up a shotgun.

Their fates and their choices are linked to and mirrored in John’s fate and his choices and the basis for all that’s to come is firmly in place by the end of this pilot episode. Isn’t it just marvellous?

Other Noteworthy Things:

Dean indulges in unhealthy food twice

Sam declines unhealthy food twice 

Dean says “house rules” about what goes on in the Impala and I have so many thoughts on what Baby symbolises, but “stability” and “home” are the foremost ones, so this brief line feels meaningful to me

A diner ->

A gas station ->

A motel ->

-> Settings we will become very familiar with

Cassette tapes (twelve years of cassette tapes)

Dean calls Sam out for being a control freak 

Let’s bask in the gorgeous irony Kripke establishes by making it clear that being a hunter means having to break the law and Sam’s ambition in life is to be a lawyer - it underscores the internal conflict so beautifully and underlines how Sam’s vision for his future truly is the absolute Opposite to how he’s been raised

Sam needing to distance himself from his family means he’s not welcome back

This was John’s decision

Headcanon: thinking how this most probably devastated Dean, but Sam figured Dean would stick by John without hesitation so he never bothered to contact Dean, while Dean, not hearing from Sam, figured Sam wouldn’t want him to bother him *slow tear*

And that is all from me on this gorgeous episode, peeps! Hope you found this informative!!

xx