#but i've spent an hour on just trying to get rid of errors

[dokyeomini]

every time i try to make progress with this assignment i run into 1000 new problems

[luna-writes-stuff]

Always, Dean Winchester

Song link

Fanfic, male! reader

Hurt/comfort, slight angst with hopeful ending

Word count: 3510

Tw: British Men of Letters (ew), swearing (big ol’ F-bomb), breakup angst with slight resolving. Mentions of being stood up on a date. Reader is going through some emotions.

Summary: Dean never wanted to leave you, but when the British Men of Letters threatened to come after you, he broke it off before they stood a chance. Now, weeks later, he still regrets that fateful evening. After an hour long drive, he stands in front of you motel room, trying to find some sort of closure.

Requested by @trannydean

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“This Romeo is bleeding But you can't see his blood. It's nothing but some feelings That this old dog kicked up.”

In the course of his life, Dean has made many stupid mistakes. Some mistakes more colossal than the others, but overall a big heap of stupid mistakes. But through all of the trial and error he was forced to go through, he has never regretted one more than losing you.

In all truth, it hadn’t even been a necessarily mistake. More often than not, it would be the lesser of two evils, but this was all together foolish on his side. He felt that on his side, he’d be extremely vulnerable with you around. Especially when the whole British Men of Letters debacle began to escalate.

You hadn’t been a hunter to begin with. You knew about Dean’s life and what he did - it was how you met him after all. But you never joined him and his brother with it. Occasionally, you’d help him dig up some lore, made sure motel places were safe, and had the honour to be the getaway driver every so often.

So, why did he really have to get rid of you?

“It's been raining since you left me, Now I'm drowning in the flood. You see I've always been a fighter But without you I give up.”

In the heat of the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. You weren’t heavily involved in the hunting life, so you wouldn’t be missed that much. Or at least, that is what he had told you - what he had told himself. In all truth, that would have been one big lie. Maybe you didn’t decapitate vampires or burned bodies, but you didn’t need to. Not for him.

You were his moment of peace after a long hunt; a place he could run to to calm down, to rant, to break down in the rare moments of the night. Every moment he spent around you felt like pure serotonin to him. Every time he fell into a hole and had trouble digging himself out, truly believing he had hit rock bottom, you were there with a rope to pull him out. And he never realised how much you had helped him until it was too late.

It was pure irony that made him hate that dreaded day where he did everything in his power to keep you safe. In order to get you somewhere safe, you had to be away from him. You would never do that willingly. So, he pulled the stupid boyfriend part.

He hated the person who came up with the line ‘you never know what you got until it’s gone’. He hated it, because it was true.

“Now I can't sing a love song Like the way it's meant to be. Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore. But, baby, that's just me.”

It was late at night when he called you from the motel. At least he had the dignity to meet up with you. He had to minimise the chances of you running to him in fear something was wrong. This was better done face to face.

And so, in the dead of night, you pulled up your car to the nearest tank station, already seeing Dean standing there. You had run up to him with a smile, anticipating a surprise, a gift, a secret getaway. But as you stepped closer to him, you could already see the silent remorse on his face. It made you halt where you stood.

Not even ten minutes later you were back in your car, your eyes brimmed with tears, cheeks red and a building headache. You couldn’t remember how long the drive home had been, but once you got there, everything in you had told you to fling yourself onto the couch and let all your emotions flow freely.

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always. I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

That was three months ago. And aside from the short demon visit from a while back, nothing extraordinary had happened - unlike you had expected. You figured that being separated from the Winchesters would put a massive target on your back, but the opposite was proven. It had been as if you had just completely disappeared from monster radar.

Some part of you was extremely grateful for it. You were able to get back into the loop of your old life, which was something you didn’t think would be possible after four years.

Dean hadn’t checked up on you since. Sam had tried to call several times, but it always went to voicemail. You’d send him a brief message to let him know you were alright, but you were in no mood to talk to him. Not out of hatred or embarrassment, but because he would always bring Dean up. And that had started to become one of your least favourite topics

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you always.”

“Still not answering?” Sam placed his phone on the table, giving Dean an accusing look. “He never answers.” “So, why bother calling?” “Dean,” Sam objected, throwing one hand up in frustration. “It’s called simple human interest. He’ll send me a message later.” Dean frowned at his brother, confusion written on his face. “Wait, you guys are texting?”

An annoyed look passed Sam’s features as Dean’s curiosity grew. “Yes, Dean, I text with my friends.” “He doesn’t text me.” “Because you dumped him over your stupid ego.” A moment of silence passed as the older Winchester shook his head, a light scoff escaping his throat. “You want to know how the white fence life goes?” “He had a date last night.” Sam ignored the mocking tone in his brother’s voice. “I’m curious if it was a success.”

That shut Dean up really quick. He never meant to dump you - he just wanted to keep you safe. He had done his best telling Sam that the dumping was mutual and that the relationship had simply ‘run its course’. Sam, of course, was smarter than this, but hadn’t mentioned it. Be that as it may, Dean had started to not only feel, but become miserable as well. And as sad as it was in the beginning, it had begun to annoy Sam. He knew his brother and he could tell that he would be too stubborn to admit his own feelings, so the youngest had taken it upon himself to keep in touch and maybe arrange a meeting later. The news of a date, however, seemed to grasp Dean’s full attention. And though that wasn’t what Sam had intended to happen, he was slightly glad it did.

“Now your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life. Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry. One that made you have to say goodbye.”

“He’s only an hour from here now, I think.” Sam hinted subtly. “Some motel just outside of town, I believe.” “You want to discuss it over tea?” Dean interrupted, trying to act disinterested. “You’re impossible, Dean.” Sam objected, rising from his seat. “You’re miserable, you haven’t slept in days, and you tell yourself it’s okay, but it’s not!” “I’m not miserable.” Dean objected, shrugging his shoulders as he tried to let his brother’s anger wash over him.

“Face it, Dean. Ever since you broke up with him, you’ve been completely out of it. I’m not even sure if it was that mutual.” Now Dean’s head rose, giving Sam an accusing look, slightly angered by his last words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You broke up with him, because you were scared.” The youngest Winchester revealed, beyond convinced of his words. Dean’s frown intensified as he began to interrupt him. “Sam-” “You were scared.” Sam repeated frustrated. “Because you thought the British Men of Letters would run after him.” “Well, he’s safe now, isn’t he?” Dean roared, ending Sam’s words quickly, now shooting out of his seat as well.

“Yes,” Sam responded, now matching his brother’s volume. “But you’re not! I’ve never seen you so out of your loop since we lost dad. You’re not even focused on hunts anymore!” Seething silently, Dean simply stared ahead. His mind echoed a thousand thoughts as Sam’s words seemed to slip past him completely. “You fell down the stairs because a ghost spooked you. A ghost, Dean.”

“Whatever,” The oldest Winchester grunted, as stubborn as he had always been. Without sparing his brother a second look, he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him as his hands found the railings of the motel. His eyes observed the empty parking lot in front of him. Sam didn’t know what he was talking about.

He was in his car a handful of seconds later.

“What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair. To touch your lips, to hold you near. When you say your prayers, try to understand. I've made mistakes, I'm just a man.”

This was a terrible idea. It was an hour long drive. He could have turned around at any given moment. Nothing in him said that he should at least try. He knew it wouldn’t work. Why he let Sam get to him so much, he couldn’t tell.

But there he stood, in front of the motel Sam talked about. It was late - too late for anyone to randomly knock on doors, especially at motels. Creepy men or kidnappers could stand right on the other side. Or an ill-tempered Dean, in this case.

A deep sigh escaped him before his fist finally knocked on the door twice. The feeling drumming in his heart hadn’t been a strange one, he was more than familiar with it. Only now, it felt horrible. A bad kind of butterflies, instead of the light, comfortable feeling he had grown so accustomed to.

Yes, this was a terrible idea.

“When he holds you close, when he pulls you near. When he says the words you've been needing to hear. I'll wish I was him 'cause those words are mine. To say to you 'til the end of time.”

On the other side of the door, you had been going through the last jar of ice cream you had gotten that same morning. When you heard the knocking, your initial thought was to pretend as if you weren’t here, but you quickly abandoned that idea after realising that - whoever it was - they could see the light burning. Asking no sound would make them think you were asleep, and if it was a murderer, that would basically be an invitation.

So, hesitantly you walked up through the door, peering through the peephole.

“Absolutely not.” You called through the door, immediately walking back to your ice cream. “Wait!” Dean called, but you ignored his command. “I don’t even want to know why you’re here.” You returned, laying down on the bed as you switched the lights off, opting to eat in silence and darkness. “Sweetheart, please-“ “Sweetheart?” You repeated incredulously. “Last time I checked, we broke up.”

“Can we talk?” You ignored his question. He seemed to await your answer before he knocked again. “Come on,” He mumbled. “I can do the talking, and you’ll just listen.” “You’re doing just fine from the other side of the door.” You countered, your annoyance building up over the whirlpool of emotions in your stomach.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.”

When he knocked for a third time, you shot up out of bed, frantically wiping tears from your face which had fallen for all kinds of different reasons. Angrily unlocking the door, you swung the door open, giving Dean a look that might have killed him on the spot if he had been anyone else. “I’m not here to beg for forgiveness or-“ “Good.” You interrupted him. “So, there better be a life threatening monster in town or you can go right back to the car.”

“No, it’s-” He trailed off halfway, now properly taking a look at you. “Baby, have you been crying?” You scoffed, a faux smile showing itself briefly. “Goodbye, Dean.” As you tried to slam the door shut, Dean’s hand shot out to grab the knob, keeping it locked in place. If you had pulled just a little bit harder, you could have easily won, but that stupid question seemed to trigger frustration all again, leaving you caught up in your emotions.

“Sweetheart-“ “I travelled two states for this guy,” You revealed, not even thinking about what you were saying. You just needed to tell someone about it - a place to rant about the dude. “I genuinely thought we had a connection.” A mocking laugh escaped you as you forced the tears back, not even looking at Dean.

“Did he stand you up?” “No,” You continued. “He was there, alright. Brought his girlfriend with him and everything.” A thin-lipped frown passed Dean’s face, unsure of what to say or what to do. You only resumed your rant. “When I tried to talk to him, he pretended he didn’t even know me. Proceeded to give this chick the best date of her life.” Then, you wiped a stray tear away, silently cursing yourself that you had allowed yourself to be so open to someone you hated just two seconds ago.

“Sweetheart-“ “No, stop that, asshole!” You yelled, anger and pain evident in your voice. “You broke up with me! You don’t get to call me names!”

“If you told me to cry for you, I could. If you told me to die for you, I would.”

Again, you turned around, your hands shaking slightly, fully aware that it would be useless to try to close the door once more. You knew that if you’d ask, he’d allow you to close it, but you didn’t quite know what you wanted him do or say. Yes, you were upset with him. Enraged, some nights. But no, you just wanted some company. Even if Dean was the worst choice.

“So, I had the worst date ever, and when I am most vulnerable, world’s greatest douchebag shows up at my fucking motel room.” You finalised, running a hand through your hair in frustration. A beat of silence washed over both of you before Dean spoke up again: “We were chased.” “We’re always chased, Dean.” You returned, not quite sure what he wanted to say. You weren’t in the mood for it.

“No, I mean…” He pondered over his words for a while, before letting the truth slip. “There is a group called the British Men of Letters. You do not want to mess with them.” Your mouth fell open in an ‘ah’. Not even surprised he managed to turn the conversation around so quickly. “Was Agents of the United Kingdom already taken?” You replied, a sharp edge to your tone. “Baby, I’m serious,” The Winchester protested. “They knew everything about us before we even met. They knew things I wouldn’t have told anyone. They knew about you. They were going to come for you if I hadn’t broken it off.”

So, that is what this had been about. He wasn’t here for some monster or lethal situation, he came here to fix what he had broken all those weeks back. You could have called him names where he stood, properly express your rage, sent him away. Instead, what came out was a pitiful: “I would’ve been fine.”

“We wouldn’t have stood a chance.” Dean sighed, empathy written on his face. “There’s not a day gone by that I haven't regretted that lie I told you. I did love you. I still do.” A harmful smile grew as you shook your head at him. “It’s a little late for that.” “I’m not expecting you to take me back,” The man tried to explain. “I’m just asking for understanding.”

“Take a look at my face, There's no price I won't pay. To say these words to you.”

Whether you believed him or not, you shrugged pathetically, still extremely conflicted. “You could have told me.” “You wouldn’t have let me go.” Dean revealed, something you - though adamantly - could agree on. Had you known, you wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Maybe you’d still be together. But he broke your heart all the same. This was no simple forgive-and-forget situation for you. And he seemed to notice: “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for everything, but I had to.”

You shook your head again, crossing your arms as your eyes fell on the flickering patio light above you. “You’re an asshole for dumping all of this on me now.” “I know.” He agreed. “I just wanted you to know that I didn’t break up with you because of something you did. Or something you said. You’re perfect. I just didn’t want to lose you.” However grateful you were to finally hear those words - that this was in no way your fault - you couldn't help but see the irony in it. “Well, that backfired, didn’t it?” “I’d rather have you safe and away from me, than dead on the floor.”

Your arms fell to your sides as you ran over his words. They were spoken truly, and you wanted to believe him so badly. Part of you already had. But the reasonable part of your bran had finally resurfaced. The silence was killing you. Dean was waiting for you to say something - to do something. You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. And you couldn’t suppress the sarcastic speech climbing out your throat.

“How romantic.”

“Well, there ain't no luck In these loaded dice. But, baby, if you give me just one more try. We can pack up our old dreams and our old lives. We'll find a place where the sun still shines.”

When he didn’t seem to respond to that, you sighed, nodding at him. “I understand, Dean.”

The amount of relief that swept through him upon those three words could not be described. To him, it felt as if a massive weight had just been lifted off his chest, and - though it was no forgiveness - he was grateful you knew that nothing had been wrong with you, despite what he might have said that night. “Thank you.” He nearly whispered. “But this isn’t going away like that.” You added, watching Dean’s face fall lightly. “I know.” He admitted, finally stepping away from your doorstep.

“Sam and I are at the Crescent motel an hour from here,” He tried to change the subject again, putting his hand in his coat pockets. “We just finished our case, figure we’ll be gone tomorrow at 9. Might do Sam some good to see your face again.” You understood his underlying notion, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not out of pettiness - out of self reservation. You needed some time for yourself. You were feeling enough as it is.

“He can call me.” You answered. “I’m going home first.” “Of course.” He nodded, the atmosphere now slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to sense it too, because he began to turn around.

“Bye, Dean.” You greeted, a sympathetic smile on your face, one of silent reassurance. He turned his head slightly, giving you a small smile. “Bye, sweetheart.”

As he made his way down the motel steps, you walked towards the railing, looking at him as he walked back to his car. “You know, it’s kind of hurtful you never once called me.” You called after him, watching him halt and look at you. His smile grew a tiny amount at the words, throwing that boyish look towards you: “Keep your eyes on the phone.”

“And I will love you, baby, always. And I'll be there forever and a day, always.” I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine. 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme.”

As he entered the car, you waited. It wasn’t until his car disappeared from view that you walked back to your room, locking the door behind you. The sadness had lightly disappeared, a lighter, more hopeful feeling now entering your stomach. It grew even more when your phone rang.

Walking up to the device, you were quick to notice the familiar name of the caller. Unable to suppress the genuine smile climbing onto your face, you picked it up, holding the device to your ear.

There was a moment of silence, before a light laugh was heard from the other side: “You answered.” Smiling brighter at the voice, you answered him. “You called.”

A hum of agreement was heard from the other side as the motor of a car was clearly heard in the background. “Goodbye, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice called through the phone.

“Drive safe.”

“And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind. And I'll love you, always.”

[eurobeatremix]

🐊How I made Kaiman's head🐊

OK so @all-my-friends-are-dead asked for a tutorial for my Kaiman cosplay, and so I decided to make this post. I've never made a tutorial before and I will be honest my process was a lot of trial and error, I made a lot of different drafts and 2 different practice helmets before I was satisfied with the result. Also I didn't take a lot of pictures so I will try to describe as best as I can! If anyone has questions or wants to talk about cosplay stuff my dms are open!

I will put it under a read more since it got very long T-T

So basically the head is made of 3 parts that are all attached together by a pin on each side. There's the "helmet" which is the back part, and then there's the upper and lower jaw.

To make the helmet part I mostly followed Evil Ted Smith's video on youtube "how to make a foam helmet" but I used very thin craft foam (like you can get at Michael's) that's about 3mm or so. Some of the steps he shows in the video like using a heat gun to shape the foam aren't really necessary if it's this thin, you can just use a hairdryer.

For the helmet pattern I basically just measured my own head and made my own version of the pattern in the video (screenshot below) since I wanted a more exact fit. At first I tried using thicker EVA foam like he did but I ended up changing that because Kaiman's face looked too stretched out when I put the jaw pieces on. Adjusting the pattern to be smaller with the thinner foam made it so it didn't slide around on my head as much either.

The patterns for the upper and lower jaw went through a lot of adjustments before I found one that I liked, and I didnt base these off any exisiting patterns. This one I'm pretty sure was the final draft. (Or at least very close)

I used kaiman's character model from the anime and also pictures of lizard skulls to try to get an idea of what this should look like, and I also used slightly thicker foam (6mm) the upper and lower jaw except the neck part which was 3mm and the eyebrow ridges which were thicker EVA foam (1/2 inch).

To get the scaley look I did a couple practice runs on paper and then drew them with sharpie on to the foam. Then I used a wood burning tool to etch the the scales into the foam. I did this before any of the sealing, fixing the seams or painting.

The last thing I did before painting the pieces was to make the spikes and teeth. I cut out the teeth from the 6mm foam and used 2 pieces of glued together 6mm for the spikes. I used a dremel to make the spikes into a rounded cone shape.

After this was done I did some more sanding and dremeling to make sure the seams and edges looked clean. Then I used sealed the foam using a couple coats of modge podge and then spray painted with primer and then finally with bright green on all of it. Theres a good Evil Ted video that shows all the steps to get rid of seams on foam here, I pretty much followed that except for the plastic dip because I didnt want it that shiny (and i didnt want the scales to be filled in). After the spray paint dried I used acrylic to do the detail painting (spikes, teeth, eyes, and inside of mouth, ear hole)

Finally I pinned everything everything together using paper fasteners spray painted green

And that is pretty much it I think! Many hours were spent but ultimately im happy with the result so yeah! Here is a Kaiman old man selfie as congratulations for making it through all of that!

[nokingsonlyfooles]

"I've identified the murderer, Miss Holt!"

I've been getting back into Remington Steele from the Internet Archive, and I'm giving it a namecheck - because it's fun and you can watch it for free! - but also because Steele's only right about the murderer... Maybe 50% of the time. Last episode I watched, he was convinced it was a ghost.

He's not a real detective, you see. He's a conman. Laura Holt keeps him around because he makes her detective agency look plausible, and he's cute. Eventually, he learns enough to get a bit better at it.

Well, nor am I a real web designer, and I've identified a problem I've been fighting most of the week. I won't keep you in suspense, it's Jetpack. Jetpack is WordPress's in-house website management software. If you build a free site with them, it's the only plugin you get! So, of course, it's horrible. This is like saying "the butler did it."

*sigh* I knew it wasn't playing well with the comment plugin I was using, but that plugin stopped releasing compatible updates and I had to get rid of it. (Thus, I have an Ask Blog now.) Jetpack periodically pops up an ad, if you've uninstalled it, and asks you to reinstall it. You need it! It's lite! It's better now! And a couple weeks back, I bit. It didn't hurt anything at the time, so I left it alone. But then, the updates. The updates with the "global colours" that made everything screwy. I remapped the colours as well as the theme would let me (I still have a few I can't get at, and some remain unmapped, because if I map them, they get flagged "invalid value.") but that wasn't the end of the errors.

I spent about two hours yesterday trying to figure a workaround for buttons, which were no longer customizable. They were using the defaults, even if they were illegible or hideous. They'd display fine in the editor and refuse to work on the front end. I thought something about WP was causing my themes to turn into default despots, because I'd tried switching themes and some problems persisted. I thought I'd have to roll with it until another update.

Nope!

I re-did my New Readers page, to account for the new Ask Blog, and I read myself warning everyone I can't code for shit. "Jetpack and I are not friends. Tech support and I are." And, much like poor Mr. Steele, I got a clue. I disabled Jetpack and made a custom button. Now they display on the front end just fine!

I have no idea if that was causing every problem. I mean, it certainly didn't screw up the colours all by itself. I can probably put some things back that I had to disable, and of course I can make buttons again. But I've wasted a lot of time bashing my head on the site and I want to finish the illustrations. I'll get back to it over the next few weeks, and I'll try to keep my tinkering to the small hours (PDT). It's a bit of a mess, but you should be able to find and read the next instalment on next Tuesday.

...Unless I'm wrong about the ghost, Miss Holt, but I don't think I am. Just like The Uninvited! 1944! Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey!