#giving us time to grieve and heal and clown

[randomswedishgirl03]

Sooo is this a bad time to post chapter one of my Drarry fic? I feel like all of us will be hyperfocused on Lokius while bawling our eyes out for atleast the Next two weeks lol. So the timing might be bad

[thebawdybaldurian]

BG3FicFeb Day 24

A day late because I got some writer's block and then subjected myself to the terror that is the Iron Throne dungeon. This first drabble is one of the most pivotal in Tavstarion's tale and I'm sure I'll rewrite it a million times before it gets incorporated in Tale of the Tadpoles.

SFW: Tav and Astarion face the most important decision in their relationship, as Tav worries that her worst fear will come true as Astarion faces off with his former master.

NSFW: At Tav and Astarion's wedding feast, the cake proves a little too tempting for the guests, who find themselves with urgent desires. A variety of pairings and ships aside from the happily married couple.

SFW: Tav faces her worst fear

Content Warning: blood and violence

“Help me, please!” Astarion reached out his hand to her.

“I…I can’t,” Tav closed her eyes, tears spilling from them. “I love you more than anything, but I can’t help you do this.”

“I can’t do this alone!” He cried. “I’m doing this for both of us…for our future! That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be together after all this. I can make us immortal.”

“No, this isn’t what I want. I just want you to be free,” she cried, seeing more fear than avarice in his eyes.

“I will be free! Of everything and everyone. Nothing will be able to stop us. Please.”

“If this is truly what you want, I won’t stop you,” she held her hand over the wound at her side, the ghast’s claws having taken a significant chunk out of her. “This is your decision to make.”

“Don’t you want us to be safe…forever?”

“There won’t be an ‘us’ in that case. I’m sorry. You won’t be the man I thought you were.”

“Who am I then?” He yelled, stomping his foot down on Cazador’s back as the weakened vampire tried to crawl away. “Some fool who would willingly give up incalculable power? I could protect you from anything.”

“You would be the fool I fell in love with,” her tears burned down her cheeks, as she tried to talk him down and heal herself at the same time. “The man who laughs at my stupid jokes and has cried in my arms. Who is scared of clowns and loves to peck me like a goose. I don’t love you because you can protect me. I love you because you need me, as much as I need you.”

Cazador began to laugh, his voice ragged, but still cruel. “You would fall in love with someone as pathetic as yourself. You are both weak…insects deserving to be stomped out. You could not handle a fraction of the power you would dare to steal from me.”

“Shut up!” Astarion spat at him.

“Prattle all you like,” Cazador crawled to his side. “Kill me or don’t. Either way…you will never be free, even if you take my power. Let her watch as you accept your true nature.”

“You’re right,” Astarion gripped the dagger tighter. She thought for a second that she had lost him, that her greatest fear would manifest in front of her. “You will always be in here…somewhere. So thank you, for at least teaching me this,” he thrust the dagger into Cazador’s throat, blood spurting widely from it.

He raised the dagger again, plunging it into Cazaor’s chest, crying out and raising it again, over and over. Tav watched it all, unblinking, knowing this was two hundred years in the making. She watched Cazador’s cruel eyes fade to nothingness, feeling only the slightest sense of relief that he could never harm her beloved again, at least physically. Astarion collapsed, the dagger falling limply from his bloodied hand, and began to sob. She wanted to hold him, to rock him in her arms as she had after so many nightmares, but she allowed him to grieve. For the life Cazador had stolen from him, for the power and protection he’d just given up, for anything else he wished to grieve.

She instead knelt at his side, letting him know she was there for him, however he needed, uncaring that she sat in a pool of her tormentor’s blood. As his sobs began to quiet, he reached for her hand, his bloody fingers trembling as she held it. She didn’t know how long they sat for, closing her eyes to spare herself the blood that still made her slightly queasy. She finally felt him squeeze her hand, opening her eyes to find their companions and the other 6 spawn surrounding them. “Astarion,” one of the spawn asked, covering her breasts with her arm. “Is it over?”

“It is,” he nodded, looking over the mutilated corpse of his former master, nearly unrecognizable from his fury.

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know. You can have whatever life you want now. Become something better than prowling around in the dark for rats.”

“What about the other spawn? All those people?”

Astarion looked at Tav, who still held his hand tightly. She nodded at him, letting him know she would honor whatever he decided. He climbed to his feet, Tav helping him up and finally releasing his hand. He bent down to pick up Cazador’s staff, releasing the enchantment on the prison cells. “Lead them to the Underdark for now,” Astarion dropped the staff atop Cazador’s corpse. “They will be safe from the sun and have plenty to eat while they figure out their new lives.” He turned back to Tav, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Will you take me home now? To your cottage that overlooks the sea?”

“Our home,” she weaved a quick Prestidigitation spell around his face to clean the blood away. “It’s as much yours now as it is mine, my love.”

“Our home,” he managed a weary smile.

NSFW: Sex with aphrodisiacs

Background: Tav and Astarion have just been married in a private moonlit ceremony officiated by Dame Aylin. They are holding their post-wedding feast at The Topsy Tentacle, a small theater that they co-own with the previous owners of the now ruined Golden Sow. First introduction to a few of the OC's

Content and Warnings: Too many parings to count, PIV sex, oral sex, anal sex, group sex/threesome, public sex.

Tav and Astarion cut the cake together, using an ornate, long-bladed dagger that was a wedding gift from Lae’zel, who had been unable to attend due to the gith’s continuing fight against Vlaakith. The attached note said that Tav could use it against Astarion if he ever became too unruly. “I’m still not sure if she’s actually making a joke or she really wants you to kill me?” Astarion laughed as he carefully guided a finger-full of cake into Tav’s mouth.

It was a rich and sumptuous chocolate cake that had been made with a very special ingredient according to the baker. Tav couldn’t taste anything beyond the rich and creamy flavor. She fed Astarion his own special piece of ‘red velvet’ cake, a blend of several flavorful bloods, including Tav’s own. She had prepared that cake herself. They returned to their seats, allowing their guests to cut their own pieces and continued to feed each other.

The entire event had gone off without a hitch surprisingly, given how chaotic their life still was post-Netherbrain. Tale of the Tadpoles had just ended its final run, in the very same theater they were holding the feast. Astarion had vastly overspent on designing Tav’s wedding gown, so they needed a cheap place that they also happened to be co-owners of. The wedding party and honored guests sat on the raised stage, while friends and other acquaintances sat in the theater proper.

After finishing their cake, the happy couple began to circulate among their guests, arm in arm, stealing little kisses when they could. They’d nearly made the full circuit when Tav began to feel an all too familiar tingling sensation between her thighs. She shifted against Astarion, giving him a longing glance. They’d already had a quickie in the carriage on the way from their moonlit nuptials in the park, but Tav found herself suddenly in desperate need of her new husband again. “Can we cut the rest of the pleasantries a little short?” she whispered in his ear as they moved to the next table. “I desperately need you to fuck me.”

“Whatever you desire, my beautiful wife,” he purred, pulling her in for a kiss. His lips were like liquid sex to her, her mouth unable to pull away from his, her tongue pressing against his hungrily. They received a few whistles as they stood in the middle of the floor making out, finally pulling away when Tav needed to breathe.

“I need you now,” she blushed and grabbed his hand, making a beeline for Halsin, who was enjoying his third cake slice. “Come with us,” she grabbed his hand, not even allowing him to wipe frosting from his mouth.

She guided them backstage to one of the private dressing rooms, shutting and locking the door behind her. “Get this dress off and fuck me,” Tav trembled, her fingers too unsteady to start working on the pearl buttons that ran from her armpit to the bottom of her hip.

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Astarion grinned, carefully pulling at the buttons and kissing her low cut décolletage. “Besides me twice today already…”

“I guess it wasn’t enough,” she sighed hungrily as Halsin pulled at the delicate silk gloves that reached past her elbows, kissing a trail down her arm as he bared more flesh.

“I also feel a little more…hungry than usual,” he growled, helping Astarion pull down her dress now that it was unbuttoned. He was already bulging through his dark suit pants.

She carefully stepped out of her dress, her delicate lace lingerie underneath causing a visceral reaction in the druid. He quickly pulled her panties aside so he could access her engorged and dripping cunt. The force of his mouth nearly lifted her off her feet, pushing her back against the door with a loud thud. “What was in that cake?” Astarion grinned, as he hung up her delicate dress. Even in his ardor, he refused to leave such nice things on the floor.

“It could be succubus spittle for all I care,” Tav moaned, wrenching Halsin’s hungry mouth from her. “I need you both inside me right now.”

She pushed Astarion towards the small couch, pulling Halsin with her. She sunk to her knees between her husband’s legs and began pulling at the buttons of his trousers, his cock still only half-hard. “Here, my love,” he gasped as she pulled him free of his pants with lighting speed and set her mouth on him at once. He handed her a pillow for her to kneel on, Halsin helping guide it under her knees as he knelt behind her, eager cock in hand. He pulled her panties aside again, slicking his fingers around her honey and stroking it along his cock before quickly mounting her from behind.

“Yes!” She hissed as he filled her with his thick length, his thrusts already vigorous and eager.

“Definitely…hnnnn…something in that cake,” Astarion moaned as she deep throated him.

Back out in the theater proper, they weren’t the only ones feeling the effects of the cake’s special aphrodisiac ingredient. Karlach and Dammon, newly returned from the Hells and also engaged, had been making out at their table for several minutes before Karlach pulled him upstairs to one of the private theater boxes. They fell onto the floor, their mouths and tails tangled against one another. Dammon pulled down her leather suit pants, kissing every inch of her legs before pulling his own excited cock out to fuck her right away. They hid their moans between one another’s mouths, their theater box still open to the party below, that was quickly splitting apart to find their own private corners to fulfill their growing desires.

Shadowheart had been casually chatting with El, the tiefling Tav had been taking home the night she’d been kidnapped. They had been working at the Golden Sow until it had been destroyed during the Netherbrain fight and now worked in the theater as the box office manager. When they found their own desires becoming too overwhelming, they made their way to a dark corner of the theater to grope and kiss one another. Shadowheart was more than pleased to find a hard cock in El’s pants, along with a lovely pair of breasts that she sucked on hungrily.

Wyll and his new partner were chaste enough to make their way home before ravishing one another, passing Gale and Syma, who eyed the wedding carriage with a smile. They climbed inside, pulling their clothes aside so they could quickly make love. Gale gripped Syma’s horns tightly as she circled her tongue around his cock, one of his simulacrums perched under her thighs so she could ride its face. After the simulacrum had made her come, she found need of her actual lover, pulling her lips from his cock and straddling him with her skirts pulled around her hips.

Halsin had erupted inside Tav by now, helping her off her knees so she could mount her new husband. He stayed standing behind her, teasing his fingers inside her asshole and fondling her breasts as she rode Astarion. They smiled and laughed as they heard the rhythmic pounding of someone in the adjoining dressing room being fucked against the wall. It turned out to be their fellow co-owners, Favril and his husband, Llol, who was currently being fucked. Tav grinded hard on Astarion’s cock, one of the few not under the cake’s effects, but instead under the seductive spell of his new wife. She looked incredible in the lingerie she still had on and with Halsin’s thick hands manhandling her body as she writhed atop his cock.

He came inside her in a low, heavy grunt, his seed co-mingling with what remained of Halsin’s. She collapsed onto him, her own climax rippling against both their bodies. Halsin sunk onto the couch beside them with a happy sigh. He leaned over to kiss them both, overjoyed that they included him in their union. They shared a grin as they heard a loud groan echo from the other dressing room, the rhythmic pounding on the wall slowly ebbing. “Is it terrible that I want another slice of that cake?” Halsin laughed, looking both his lovers over, cuddled happily together.

“I might need to have a word with that baker,” Tav sighed quietly, nuzzling against Astarion.

“I should leave you two to enjoy one another,” Halsin leaned over to kiss them both again. “We will have plenty of time together after tonight.”

“Thank you for coming,” Tav beamed, helping him button his suit pants up. “In both ways.”

“It was a honor to share a part of this day with you…and our lives together,” he stroked both their faces gently before taking his leave of them.

He returned out to the theater, finding the party devolved into couples making out and groping at their tables and the sounds of quiet moans from various corners of the large hall. He grabbed one last slice of cake to satisfy his sweet tooth, planning to return to Tav’s cottage to enjoy the rest of his evening with some self-pleasure. He grinned widely as he passed the wedding carriage outside, rocking back and forth slowly. Gale had since pressed Syma to the floor of the carriage, circling his hips around her slowly, holding back his climax so they could end together in one explosive final act. “I’m so close, Gale,” she begged, moving her hips faster against him.

“Move in with me,” he fucked her a little faster, staring in her eyes.

“What?” She moaned, teasing the tip of her tail around his ear, pushing some hair out of his face.

“Move…unnff…in with me…so we can mmmm…do this every day. Come live with me in…uhhhhnnn…Waterdeep.” He punctuated the ‘deep,’ thrusting to her very depths.

“Yes!” She cried, both reaching her climax and answering his question. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Yes?!” He smiled happily, kissing the beautiful curve of her lip as her mouth hung open, crying his name. “Syma!” He joined her ecstasy, pressing down on top of her as he erupted inside her.

Shadowheart and El had made their way out of the theater as well, the half-elf braced against the wall of a dark alley as El took her from behind. She’d been seeing a few other people causally, content to remain alone in her little farm outside the city, but felt her interest in El growing as they fucked her. She enjoyed the non-binary nature of their gender, knowing she could never choose one or the other. She joined El’s hand against her clit, glancing back at the tiefling with a grin as she came in quiet moans. “Where has….mmmmphhh…Tav been hiding you, Shadowheart?” El moaned loudly as Shadowheart spun around and knelt in front of them, taking their cock in her mouth to finish them off. She took the fluid across her tongue with a smile, shaking her silver bangs out of her eyes.

“I live on a farm outside the city…and please, call me Jen,” she smiled, standing up to kiss them. “Do you like animals, El?”

“I love animals,” El smiled.

Back inside the theater, Karlach and Dammon lay panting in their private box, all the seats toppled around them as they’d rolled and changed positions during their vigorous lovemaking session. Their bodies and tails were intertwined, looking happily at one another. “Should we ask Tav where they got that cake so we can have it at our wedding?” Karlach grinned.

“I thought we were just having a buffet of ales?” Dammon joked, running his finger atop the infernal heart that was finally stable and completely his.

“That too,” she took his hand, pressing it completely against her chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my fiery beauty,” he leaned over to kiss her. “Should we head back to the forge and heat things up again?”

“Absolutely.”

Tav and Astarion rejoined what was left of their wedding feast, Tav having changed into a simple robe so she didn’t need to be buttoned back into her wedding dress. They’d left as more moans echoed out from the dressing room next door, as Llol received the generous mouth of his husband. A few guests who had already fulfilled their desires or were headed home to, inquired about the cake. Tav shared the details of the baker, wondering if she might ease a commission out for all the extra business. Astarion fed her one last piece, ready to enjoy a final joining with her before the dawn.

They left the theater to grabbed their carriage, opening the door to find a tangle of bodies nestled together on the floor. “I suppose we can walk,” Tav blushed and shut the door. Above them, the writhing and resplendent nude figures of Aylin and Isobel streaked through the night sky. “Gods, imagine if one of us had wings,” Astarion blushed heavily, trying not to stare at the celestial-like bodies enjoying one another at such heights.

“Perhaps we can convince Gale to cast a Fly spell on us one day, since he stole our wedding carriage,” Tav grinned, pulling him towards the inn where they’d booked a honeymoon suite for the night.

“How long does that last?” Astarion grinned.

“Ten minutes.”

“Plenty of time,” he nuzzled her cheek.

[wellthatjusthappend]

Reverse Robins where Jason still dies, Damian finding out Ras is gonna use the Lazerus to resurrect Jason.

Ouch, oh gosh yes.

****

“What is the meaning of this Mother?!” Damian was on his feet the moment the boy’s mask was removed. 

“Calm down, my son,” Talia said disapprovingly, “there has been no foul-play here; We found him wandering the streets of Gotham and took him in before he could be killed again.”

Jason’s eyes stared blankly ahead, seemingly not processing much of anything. Something twisted painfully in Damian’s chest at the sight of the boy who used to cling to him and curse like a sailor when Damian tossed him easily away, grinning bright and alive and-

Damain had not appreciated what he’d had back then. He promised himself when Dick had come along that he would do better. And now… perhaps he had a second chance? 

“You should had returned him to Father,” Damian scowled, the ‘and to me’ went unspoken, “He’s clearly still not well. We could have been helping him all this time.”

“And what do you think we’ve been doing, my son?” said Talia sharply, “Both your Grandfather and I have spent much time a resources trying to coax him out of this state. We did not want to give your Father false hope if nothing could be done. He finally seems to be moving on and you know how emotional he can be.”

Damian did know. But he also knew how the whole family still grieved. Damian’s team avoided him these days, his temper grown black and hurtful in the wake of Robin’s death. Only Dick seemed to soften his edges anymore. 

The family needed Jason. 

At the same time, the Al Ghuls- his other family- were not one to present premature results, or really anything outside perfection, and Jason was definitely not better. 

“Why did you call me?” Damian cut to the point, “Why are you letting me know now?”

His Mother’s mouth twitched with pride that he’d already figured it out. 

“As I said, we’ve devoted much time to his healing since he’s come to us. He has recovered quite a few motor skills, and his retention for instructions is improving quite well given when given a physical task, however…” Talia smiled sadly, “Your Grandfather and I fear that this is about as far as we can hope for given the severity of the damage the Clown did.”

His mother passed him a file, and Damian’s heart sank as he flipped through the brain scans and the amount of damage shown there. He’d never known someone to heal from something like this. It was extraordinary that Jason could walk on his own at all. 

“There is another option…” Talia said slowly. 

Damian set the folder down. He knew what option that was.

“You want to put him in the Pit,” Damian closed his eyes. 

“Your Grandfather has his reservations of course,” Talia said, “The Lazarus Pit has been reserved for our family’s use exclusively for thousands of years. But he has indicated that he might reconsider if…”

“If…” Damian prompted warily, turning to face his mother fully for the first time since he’d laid eyes on Jason. 

“If perhaps you returned to the League and took responsibility for him yourself. Ra’s will try to keep the boy close if he does recover. There’s still much we don’t know about how he came back from the dead. But your Grandfather will still expect penitence for his generosity,” Talia said, almost gently.

Fury filled Damian for one blazing moment- just when he’d thought he was free of this place- but then he looked at Jason, just standing there, his eyes empty and unfocused. 

“The Pits effects… can be extreame at times,” Damian said at last, his shoulder slumping slightly. 

“You will get him though it.”

Damian said nothing.

“Habibi… Don’t let him stay like this. There is no life in his current exsistance. Either give him a fighting chance, or put him out of his misery,” Talia said softly, attempting to embrace him.

“Don’t-” Damian held up and hand sharply before letting out a breath, “I will speak to Grandfather about this.”

“That is all that I ask,” Talia said, ducking out of the room. 

Damian clenched his hands into fists and struck the wall, just to feel it crumble and crack under his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason flinch slightly. 

“No- Jay,” Damian moved to him, “You need not be afraid of me. I gave my word to you back then; you’ll never have to be afraid of me.”

Jason stared back at him without blinking. 

Damian felt his face twist and gave in, pulling the boy close to him, “I’m so sorry, Jay, I should have been there for you- I should have stopped-”

Damian buried his face in those unruly curls and ruthlessly worked to control his breathing as months and months of grief crashed over him all at once. 

“Da...mi?”

Damian held him closer.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I’ll Meet You There (Part 3)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n) 

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Talks about loss of spouse, loss of child, medical conditions/inaccuracies, grief/mourning, manipulation/brainwashing (subtext/implied, but we’ll get into it later *winkwink*)

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry, and now I’m just making stuff up as I go along

Summary(lite): You are Marcus’s wife, and you’re definitely not dead. No one is having a great time right now, but like hell if there's a force on this earth that’ll keep you apart forever. This is not a goodbye, its just a see you later. And the interim is going to be everyone else’s problem, you’ll make sure of it.

A/N: Hello dears, welcome back to my twisted mind story,,, guess who showed up like 2 weeks late with a smoothie! So things about this new chapter: I am a criminal with italics and someone needs to stop me, hello switching scenes and perspectives because I just want to fast forward to the good stuff but y’all don’t live in my head and don’t know all the stuff that happens to get us there so here we are taking the slow lane, and I keep brainstorming new and horrible things for my characters because I am A Lot, All The Time, and will not be stopped. Also hey, Marcus the Simp is here for you, so much. I hope this is acceptable to be a reader fic still, because I am giving you some serious personality traits... ehh, it is what it is. Tell me if you spot any of my various references, there’s a lot of ‘em. Thanks to everyone who has liked/reblogged/commented, y’all are gorgeous and I’m so grateful for the love <3 Drop me a message/ask if you want a secret about one of the characters (specify which one), I need an outlet for my endless b.t.s. plotting >;) Please enjoy p3!

AO3|Masterlist

[Previous Part]

---

There were more casseroles in his fridge that Marcus knew what to do with, and more sympathy and “thinking of you” cards stacked in piles around the house than he could count. He appreciated everyone’s gestures, but he could recognize the difference between people who were kind in the interest of helping others, and those who were kind only to help themselves. It was quite obvious which type were flooding his mailbox.

Hell, most of the people sending him cards, his fans, didn’t even know his wife, never spoke to her, didn’t feel the empty Her-shaped-space in their very souls. They just wanted the clout, the prestige, of being ‘involved’ and sympathetic to a grieving superhero. It was exhausting, but no one seemed to empathize with him on that.

The Heroics upper management, and the director specifically after his press conference and the publicity the attack had brought the organization, had insisted on Marcus taking an undetermined amount of leave from the team so he could “process and mourn his loss in the comfort of his own home.” Like he didn’t look around and see every piece of himself and his wife over the years; the Home they built for their family, filled with all the hopes and dreams of two starry eyed lovers ready to take on the world together. Like her absence wasn’t slowly killing him. 

And it wasn’t like she was gone gone.  

Dead.  

She wasn’t dead.

No way in Hell.  

Whether it was because she worked with superpowered people, her experience as a medical professional, or if she was just more paranoid than most, his wife was a planner, and she was prepared for this. “In the event of my death...," like she just knew it would be necessary.

Truthfully, she had schemes and contingencies and all manner of reactionary plans prepared for if (and when) the worst happened; terrified to be blindsided or caught unaware, unable to help those she would have been able to, if only if she had the time to think. Unpreparedness costs lives in both of their careers, and she refused to leave anything up to chance if possible. And so, she’d plan, and he’d listen.  

All throughout their relationship, from before they’d even gotten serious enough to discuss marriage, to when they heard their unborn child’s heartbeat for the first time, and just on random weekday afternoons when they would take Missy for walks around the neighbourhood to show her the beauty in their lives, his wife would paint her theories and ideas like artwork. She’d tell him a story, full of action and mystery, humour and theatrics, tragic romance and harrowing adventure; she could spin a tale like she had a silver tongue, but she never lost herself in her own narratives. In the end, they were messages, lessons, for him to remember when everything was going wrong.    

“It’s all about momentum, babe. Bleeding off energy and taking a bad hit instead of a fatal hit. You can’t just full stop; you’d absorb all the kinetic energy, and the resulting trauma will turn all your squishy internals into, like, body soup, which is just super unpleasant. And of course, head is always number one priority. Bracing for impact works better at giving you fewer serious injuries, especially for your neck and head. Muscles should absorb as much of the energy as possible, instead of letting it fall to your ligaments, discs, and nerves to take the force. So, tense up and roll in the case of a low air evacuation.”

Low air evac... she was concerned he was going to have to jump from an aircraft without a parachute at some point in his life. Which was probably accurate he’d admit, but still, he wasn’t hoping to actually need that plan.

Thankfully, it wasn’t always fire and brimstone with her, and she had many strange and terrible schemes to keep the common, everyday superhero family on their toes. Always carry at least two lip balms... never tell someone you don’t have plans for the evening... don’t smile in your mugshot... no clowns. Ever.

She was so weird, a total nerd, and so completely the girl of his dreams.  

He loved teasing her about her unending train of thought, the brain that never sleeps, how she’d go on tangents while on tangents but always circle back around; even nicknamed her (quite cheekily, and because it made them both laugh) Doctor Batman, which was usually saved for when she was being particularly dramatic and gloomy. Turn the supercomputer off for a second, Bats, come see what Missy’s doing!  

He was her anchor, always ready to pull her back to earth when she started drifting off too far from them, but he never asked and never wanted her to change. He adored her, silly or serious, or when she woke him up in the middle of the night to make him promise that he’d never get their kid(s) a pet owl (because they’re “scary”, and “our kids would be too powerful, Marcus. Promise me!”), or that in the event of them inviting a third to their bed, it would “absolutely never, ever, ever be Miracle. No way!”  

He thought it was quite entertaining most of the time, listening to her plan for zombies and old gods and what to do if everyone just started hating cheese one day, but if it was all so important to her: having him remember this or agree to that, he’d accede to her requests in a heartbeat. Most of it was cute, harmless stuff he didn’t think would even happen, but sometimes she would hit him with serious stuff. Entirely out of left field, she’d go for his heart, and ask him for things that would hurt him, destroy him inside, if he ever had to follow through with it.

“Marcus, if it’s a choice between my safety- my life, and Missy’s? I’m always going to choose her. Kids come first, okay?”  

She wasn’t superpowered, didn’t have a shred of anything other than pure, normal human in her, but she was easily the strongest person he knew. Fearless and brave, kinder than this world deserved, she’d do anything for the people she cared about. And she’d promised him, maybe as a way to repay him for all the things he’d agreed to over the years, that she’d move heavens and the earth to return to their family. That nothing in this world, or beyond, could keep her away. “Eventually,” she’d stared into his eyes, glossy with tears from how forcefully she believed, “I will find my way back to you. I swear it, so keep a weather eye on the horizon.” See? A whole-ass nerd, and he couldn’t have loved her more.

So, she wasn’t dead. Pure and simple. She was somewhere, somehow, and he was going to find her again.  

---

“Marcus, the grieving process is different for everyone, but it is always unpredictable and painful. You will have days where you will feel like you haven’t made any progress, or even lost the progress you’ve previously made, but please know that this is natural; it's something everyone experiences, and that it doesn’t mean you’ve failed in your objective. Healing takes time, and a major part of recovery is learning to forgive yourself when you slip up. No one expects you to be back to normal tomorrow, or next week, or next month. Healing from grief is not a race, so we will go at your own pace, and we will work together to accomplish your recovery goals. You aren’t alone in this journey, and you don’t need to handle everything by yourself.”

The grief specialist he was seeing was someone he would describe as an “old soul”. She exuded the patience and peace of someone who had watched empires rise and fall, seen the turning of the wheel of time and drifted along with the current. Her voice was deep, rich in emotion and empathy for those who needed guidance, calming and intriguing with a soft lilt on her vowels. Timeless and ancient all in one, and even if he wasn’t actually mourning the death of his wife, he did find himself deeply grieving being without her. They were two halves of a whole, and though his soul was at a loss without its partner here, he still had their greatest creation, their pride and joy, their baby girl to raise.  

He would do whatever he had to do to be the best parent he could for Missy. And so, if meeting with a physiatrist every week was something that would help, then he would be here, every week. He'd learn to live with his grief, his sadness and loneliness, with just the memory of his Everything, and he’d help their kid with all hers too.  

It’s what he promised to do, after all.

“If anything ever happens to me, you’ll just have to love her enough for the both of us.”  

---

There was nothing they could recover of the people closest to centre of the explosion. No remains, no blood, nothing. Like they hadn’t been there at all.  

Suspicious.

Upper Management had brought in a team of private investigators to handle the case, people who would keep the details quiet and the public appeased with what little information they’d choose to release.  

Marcus was a superhero, and sure, his job was to hit things until they weren’t a problem anymore, but he couldn’t understand why all the highly trained professionals didn’t question the sheer amount of evidence that just wasn’t adding up.  

He tried to bring up the inconsistencies once with the lead investigator, but they had just given the distraught, widowed husband, so lost in his own denial and grasping at straws, a sad smile and told him they would do everything they could to find the truth for him and the rest of the victims’ families.

Typical.

After being brushed off without a second thought, he decided to keep his ideas quiet, and since they’d proven their unwillingness to listen, he’d just have to solve the mass disappearance himself.  

“Have you ever thought about how to commit the perfect murder, mi amor? I have. First: If there’s no body, they can’t prove the person is dead. No evidence of death? No murder. Simple. But of course, completely vanishing a full human would be a challenge. Short of having the superpowers necessary to, like, erase someone from reality in their entirety, there would be a lot of chances to leave evidence. Ordering suspicious chemicals leaves a trail, driving out to a pig farm in the middle of the night is shady as hell and all neighbors are professional narcs, and fires? Hah! Do you have any idea how hot the fire needs to be to cremate human remains, and how long they would need to grill for? Huh, maybe the perfect murder isn’t a murder at all...  

Hey babe...  

Always doubt a body, but always doubt no body, more.”

---

You tended to lose time when there was no one else in your room. It was hard to tell when your eyes were open because you started dreaming about the only things you could see since you first woke up: drop-ceiling tiles, white walls, and pale blue curtain dividers. And it was easier that way, in the end. Your heart didn’t hurt when you only dreamt of the room. You couldn’t mourn the things and people only your soul could remember if you thought of the room. Drifting in and out of consciousness was how you were coping.  

---

You had been here, left in this room alone, for ages. You had agreed to help the man who had saved you from the explosion that killed your family, but apparently you couldn’t help him until you had recovered enough. You’d read your charts, grilled your nurses and doctors more and more the longer you were kept here. What were they all waiting for? There was nothing wrong with you except the mild post traumatic amnesia, and the whole not-remembering-much-(or anything, really)-about-your-personal-life-and-family-of-the-recent-few-years thing you had going on. It was nothing compared to when you first awoke and could remember nothing. It killed you to be without the memories of your husband and child, to know only of them instead of actually knowing them, but there was nothing you or the doctors here could do. The brain was a tricky thing, and you had to accept that your memory loss might be permanent.  

That just meant that you had to put all that you could remember to good use. You could help people here, and work towards getting justice for your family. Years and years of school, practical experience and training, you had gained it all back; re-read textbooks and studies, wrote papers on your re-emerging knowledge and jogged your memory about long nights and early mornings, surgeries and follow ups... it was all still in your head. It had returned to you easily, like diving into a cool pool on a hot summer day. It was like coming home and taking off your shoes; it felt good, freeing, as-it-should-be.  

But still they weren’t letting you leave. So: what were they waiting for?  

“Ah, Doctor, it’s lovely to see you, as always. How are we feeling today?” Okay, so the guy who “saved” you (read: paid the people who actually saved your life)  gave you the heebie-jeebies. He looked like a classic pompous asshole bigwig, like, oil tycoon or something. And he definitely had some sort of thing for you. Gross.

“I’m doing as well as can be expected, trapped in a room with nothing to do, you know, brain rotting, et cetera. Thanks for asking.” The sass was a choice, probably not a great choice, but your choice none-the-less. You really hadn’t had many opportunities to choose anything for yourself in a while.  

Well...

You were bored, and that was going to be everyone else’s problem.  

“Ah, well, good news then! You have been cleared from observation and you’ll be able to be discharged soon. Isn’t that just delightful!” Mister Craig (“Please, just Greg is fine”), was some sort of horrible group hallucination, you were convinced. No one was that cheery, that animated, unless they were on something, or you were on something. “I’ll have someone bring you your personal effects shortly, and then I can show you to your new apartment. The complex isn’t in the best neighbourhood unfortunately, but it's got some real charm, very vintage! You’ll love it!”

“I’ll look forward to seeing it then; sounds like it’ll be a real interesting place to stay. You can also explain what it is I’m going to be doing with your organization. Because you haven’t specified yet. And I expect a proper contract and wage agreement. Legally binding preferably, for your sake, of course, Mr. Craig.” Even if you weren’t the most physically intimidating person around, you knew how, and more so, when, to assert your dominance in a conversation. Especially with men like him. He was the type of guy who would pinch a nurse’s ass and then accuse them of not being able to take a joke.  

“You wound me, Doctor, I am a man of integrity! I promised you an opportunity to make a difference! To get justice for the loved ones so cruelly torn from you! You have nothing to worry about!”  

Sounds legit. Totally above board. Can’t wait.

---

Taglist (omg!! thanks love): @killtherandomness​

Drop me a line if you want to be added <3

[spn-safeandsound]

18. Ways to Grieve

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 2x02; Everybody Loves a Clown

Word Count: 11,378

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, grief, mentions of sexual activities

Author’s Note: Here’s Abby’s first hunt with Julia and the boys! I hope you like the chapter. Let me know what you think. Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Pinned Post!

Julia was tossed onto the bed by Dean—he was careful of her healing wrist—her semi-naked body bouncing a couple times. She gasped and lifted her head, watching with dazed eyes as Dean pulled his t-shirt off his body, throwing it in the corner of their temporary room at Bobby's house.

"Uh-uh," Julia clicked her tongue, eyeing his jeans.

Dean rolled his eyes and unbuckled his belt, sliding it from around his waist and letting it drop to the floor. "I was getting there."

"Sure."

"Keep talking," Dean stepped out his jeans and eagerly crawled onto the bed and over her. "I might have to punish you."

"Is that a promise?" she teased him; she reached up with her good arm and hooked around his neck. Pulling him only two inches away from her lips, she whispered, "Dean."

"Hmm?"

His green eyes were on her swollen lips, where his own had been only a moment before. She could feel his erection against her stomach and she hardly felt his bare chest against her.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. "Fuck me, Dean."

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and groaned, pressing an open mouth kiss against her sensitive flesh. She could feel his rough hands trailing from her ribs to her thighs, spreading them so he could fit between them. "With pleasure, shortcake."

Julia rolled her neck under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax her muscles. Last night had been another night of rough sex and while she enjoyed it just as much as all the sex she had with Dean, so many nights in a row were killing her body in the mornings before she could get it warmed up with yoga or a run.

This morning was one of those days; she had woken up at five o'clock and met with Sam so the two of them could take a run while the sun came up. Sam would talk about John, airing all the grief and regret he had about his dad and Julia would listen and comforted him when he needed it, just like a best friend should do.

It had been a week since John Winchester died and they'd been at Bobby's ever since so Dean could work on his car. Beth, Taylor, and Lizzie had stayed for a couple of days, too. They picked them—and John's body—up at the hospital and drove straight to Bobby's house, staying at one of the motels in town while Julia, Dean, and Sam stayed with Bobby. Sam was a wreck, though having Lizzie there for a couple of days distracted him from his grief, and Dean was worse.

It wasn't that he was having crying meltdowns—come on, it's Dean—but instead, he had stayed stone quiet at any mention of his dad. He didn't talk about John and he would walk away if anyone mentioned him—especially Sam.

Not that it matters, but that's what would lead to the rough sex Julia and Dean had been having. He took all of his frustrations out on her—being careful not to hurt her, of course—and Julia would let him. John had just died and if sex is what would make Dean feel better, she was all for it. Of course, she wished he would just open up but Dean wasn't that kind of guy. She stood by his side, though, doing whatever she could to help him process his grief.

When Julia and Sam were done with their jog at six, Dean was already up working in the junkyard. He had been getting up earlier than usual to fix up the Impala. It had been absolutely wrecked in the accident—and according to Bobby wasn't worth the time to fix it—but Dean was determined to fix Baby back up. Both of them muttered a good morning to Dean, but he just grumbled back, sliding under the car to fix whatever damage had happened there.

From there, Julia and Sam separated. Sam went up to the guest shower to wash off and after he was down, Julia would get a turn. While Sam was taking his time in the shower, she would make breakfast just as Bobby would wake up. It had been their schedule since they arrived a week earlier.

Hearing her stomach growl, Julia rinsed out of the rest of conditioner in her hair and turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower and dried off, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of bacon once again. She quickly dressed in some leggings and a long tank-top before heading downstairs.

Dean was still outside but Bobby and Sam were seated at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast with vigor.

"How's the breakfast?" she announced her presence as she walked into the kitchen, heading straight toward the cheddar and bacon quiche with a biscuit crust she had made.

"This is great, sweetheart," Bobby smiled at her as she served herself a piece and sat in her usual seat between Dean's chair—it was empty at the moment—and Bobby's chair. "Thank you."

Julia waved him off with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, thanks, J, it's good," Sam added.

"Thank you," she took a bite of her quiche and sighed, enjoying the flavor. "Did Dean eat?"

Bobby nodded. "He shoved a slice down his throat and went back outside. He told us to tell you thank you."

"Did he say anything else?" she prodded. "Maybe about John or how he's feeling?"

"No," Sam answered her this time. "But I found an old voicemail on Dad's phone and I think it's something we could check out. I'm gonna go talk to him after I finish eating."

Julia nodded. "Okay. What did the voicemail say?"

"It was a voicemail from Ellen," Bobby told her, giving her a pointed look.

"Ellen Harvelle? As in Jo Harvelle?"

Bobby nodded.

"So you know her, too?" Sam turned to Julia with curious eyes; Julia nodded. "How?"

"I've never met them personally but Abby talks about them all the time," she explained. "Abby hooks up with Ellen's daughter, Jo, from time to time, so—"

"Abby hooks up with the daughter?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know she was bisexual."

Julia shrugged, knowing that some people may judge her sister for her sexuality but she wasn't one of them. People could love the people that they loved; she wasn't bothered by it and she proclaimed herself a proud ally for her sister. "She doesn't hide it."

"Oh," Sam hummed before shrugging casually. "Anyway, do you know why Ellen would call my dad?"

"I have no idea," Julia's eyes flickered over to Bobby. "Don't they own that bar?"

"The Roadhouse, yeah," Bobby finished the rest of his food and stood up, taking the plate to the sink. "I'll get you the address."

"Thanks, Bobby," Sam gave the older man a grateful look as he left the room; he then turned back to Julia. "I'm going to talk to Dean. Want to come with?"

"No, it's okay," Julia insisted. She wanted the brothers to have a minute by themselves; usually they were together all the time and she knew that the Winchesters needed a break from her once in a while—the same went for her, too. "You go on."

Sam nodded and went outside to talk to Dean. Even from the kitchen, where she finished her meal and started the dishes, she could feel Sam and Dean's energies clashing together. Sam was sad for his father and annoyed with Dean while Dean was guilty and angry. Each boy had more than two emotions racing around in their auras but these were the two that she could feel the strongest.

Three hours later, they were on the road in one of Bobby's cars—a minivan that hardly drove past sixty miles per hour, which was a nightmare to Dean, and had no backseat so Julia had to sit on a sheet on the dirty floor.

-

For some reason, a five-hour trip turned into something much longer. They arrived at the Roadhouse a little before sunrise the next day and by the time they parked out in front of the run-down bar, Dean was severely annoyed with the van and so on edge that Julia and Sam felt like if they said one word, he'd blow up—it wasn't the best way to travel.

Dean turned off the van with a huff, got out of his seat and opened the sliding door so Julia could get out (the sliding door happened to not have a handle on the inside, which aggravated the crap out of her). "This is humiliating!" he slammed the sliding door shut once Julia was safely out of the way. "I feel like a fuckin' soccer mom!"

Julia exchanged a half-amused, half-annoyed look with Sam as she adjusted her Nike shorts. She didn't understand how Sam and Dean could wear multiple layers of clothing in the hot weather and not die of heat exhaustion.

Sam tried to placate his brother. "It's the only car Bobby had running."

Julia stuck next to Dean in the front of the building as Sam wandered to the side.

"Hello?" he called. "Anybody here?"

Dean rattled the doorknob and when it wouldn't budge, he turned to Julia. "Shortcake, do you have the—"

"Yup!" Julia exclaimed, digging her hand into her drawstring bag and pulling out one of their beloved lockpicks.

Dean gave her a grateful smile and a promising wink as he took them from her. Julia could practically feel the flush in her cheeks, though the hot air around her made her feel the same, temperature wise. Dean finished up picking the lock and handed the tools back to her as he cautiously opened the door.

Julia hadn't seen many bars at the side of the road but the Roadhouse met her expectation of what they would be like. It was an open room filled with dark, dusty wood—tables, chairs, the bar—a pool table, and a jukebox in the corner by the door. Somehow, it was still cute and homey.

Julia let the door close behind her and followed the Winchester brothers further into the large room, looking around at the bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar, the numerous tables, and...yeah, there was a guy passed out on the pool table.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam tried to wake him up as they all drew nearer; the man simply snored, unaware of the three people watching him. "Yeah, I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean scoffed under his breath. "No kidding."

Julia wandered off and Sam joined her while Dean stuck near the pool table. She had just walked off the mini platform that the table was on when she felt the head of a gun prod the small of her back.

"Dean," she squeaked. "Please tell me that it's you behind me and not a rifle."

There was a second of silence and then there was the cock of a gun behind her. Okay, shit, it was a rifle.

"Okay, we're not breaking in—I mean, we did break it but it's for a good reason—"

"Don't move," a woman's voice came from behind her.

"Yeah, okay, I won't move," she agreed quickly.

From his place next to the pool table, a knife pressed against his throat and a warm body against his back, Dean shook his head. He'd have to give her some more training on hostage situations. She was talking too much—as usual—and playing right into the kidnapper's hands.

He looked over to Sam, who was being held by another woman—this one older than the blonde that held her gun against Julia's back—and then back to Julia. "Jules!"

When she looked over at him, he silently tried to tell her to do the move he showed her a couple weeks ago, but he didn't need to. A familiar voice spoke behind him. "Jules, is that you? Can somebody turn on the damn lights?"

Julia recognize that voice anywhere. "Abby," Julia sighed as Abby let go of Dean; he sent her a glare and quickly took the knife from her hand, earning himself an apologetic look. "Thank God."

"Wait, this is your sister?" the older woman behind Sam asked. "Then the boys must be Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Yes, I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister, and that's Sam and Dean," Julia said quickly. "So, can you please put down your guns?"

The girl behind Julia dropped her rifle and walked to the nearest light switch, bathing the room with light. Julia first looked over at her sister—who was standing beside Dean wearing only a camisole and boy shorts—then at the blonde—who was only a couple inches taller than herself and wearing pajamas like Abby—and then at the older woman—who was lowering her gun from behind Sam's back.

"Son of a bitch," the older woman mumbled, putting the gun back on safety and setting it down on the board. Her mood lifted as she chuckled, introducing herself to Julia, Sam, and Dean. "Hey, I'm Ellen and this is my daughter, Jo."

Julia smiled at her in greeting and then turned to Jo. Jo was one of Abby's closest friends. They hooked up a bit and she had heard her sister gush over her all the time. By the way Jo was giving her an apologetic look, she assumed she had a good heart—and she was super pretty, too.

"I'm Julia, Abby's younger sister," she introduced herself, pulling Jo into a hug that made her stiffen in shock. "Sorry, most of my family are huggers," she let go, not wanting to make the blonde uncomfortable. Then she gestured to her sister, "Except that one."

"It's nice to meet you," Jo smiled softly. "Abby talks about you all the time."

"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you, too," Julia laughed and then turned to her sister, who was apologizing to Dean about something; then she saw the nick on Dean's throat. "Excuse me for a second," she told Jo before walking over to her boyfriend and sister. "Abby, what the hell?"

Abby put her hands in the air, defensive. "I didn't know who he was!"

"You've known Dean since you were born," Julia pointed out. "How do you not recognize him?"

"It was dark?" Abby's statement came out as a question. "Look, it was an accident."

Julia rolled her eyes at her sister—she was so much like Dean; shoot first ask questions later—and grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it tightly. He returned her action as she dragged him over to where Sam and Ellen were talking. "Hi, ma'am, I'm Julia. It's great to meet you."

"You, too, sweetheart," Ellen smiled down at her.

"Do you happen to have a first aid kit?" Julia wondered, gesturing to Dean, who was holding his hand against the small cut on his throat just above his collar bone.

"Of course."

Within minutes, Dean and Sam introduced themselves to Ellen and Jo, they had sat down at the bar, and Julia was cleaning up Dean's cut and sticking a bandage over it.

"So," Dean turned to Ellen for answers about the voicemail she left John. "You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen shrugged casually. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked, scoffing in annoyance; he didn't like to have his business out there so everyone could know. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

Julia spared at look at Abby, who smiled mischievously at her. Abby had always loved when Dean lost his temper for whatever reason. It just always brought a smile to her face; Dean absolutely hated when she did it and would just get angrier, which led to more amusement on her part. It was an endless routine that always had Julia annoyed. But, at that moment, Julia took Abby's smile to mean that she was the one who told Ellen what John and Luke were up to.

Julia shook her head at her.

"Hey, I just run a saloon," Ellen held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. "But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean snarked back at her. "How come he never mentioned you before?"

Julia elbowed his bicep, whispering sharply, "Dean!"

He didn't really relax like he usually did; he kept his sharp eyes on Ellen, watching as she shifted uncomfortably.

"You'd have to ask him that."

Dean fell quiet for a second, looking back at Julia with sad eyes. Julia softened the annoyed look on her face and gave him a sympathetic look; he was lashing out because his dad was gone and suddenly there was a lady out of nowhere that knew his dad without him knowing it.

Dean's lips quirked at her before he turned back to Ellen. "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors," Ellen sassed back. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if..." she trailed off in realization. "He didn't send you. He's all right, isn't he?"

It was quiet for a second before Sam spoke, "No, no he isn't," he told her while Julia took Dean's hand. "It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

Ellen frowned sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean told her gruffly as Julia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "We're all right."

"Really, I know how close you and your dad were," Ellen said somberly.

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean bristled, his voice hardening.

Ellen didn't seem to mind his attitude for the moment but that didn't mean that Julia or Sam wanted Dean to continue to make things hostile.

"So, look," Sam changed the topic of conversation. "if you can help, we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," Ellen glanced at Jo before looking back at Julia, Sam, and Dean. "but Ash will."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "Ash?"

Ellen nodded and raised her voice. "Ash!"

The man who was still passed out on the pool table jerked awake, shaking his head—his blonde mullet swishing with every move—before turning around to look at Ellen. "What?" he grunted loudly. "Closing time?"

Julia looked back at Jo, Ellen, and Abby. "That's Ash?"

"Mmhm," Jo nodded while Abby smirked. "he's a genius."

-

Sam dropped the thick file—the one full of information that John and Luke had gathered on the yellow-eyed demon within the past year—on the bar in front of Ash. Julia watched Ash as she sat in between Abby and Sam at the bar, examining his energy—it was full of light with a happy-go-lucky attitude. Meanwhile, Dean stood on the other side of Sam, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Ash.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean scowled. "This is guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash chuckled at Dean. "I like you."

"Thanks."

Julia rolled her eyes at Dean's flat tone while Jo moved from her place at the side of the bar, where she was filling up glasses of water, and brought them over to Sam and Julia.

"Just give him a chance," she advised Dean.

Dean hesitated and Julia caught him looking at her. She pointedly moved her eyes toward Ash and cocked her head only a little but Dean got the gist; he sighed and sat down next to Sam, facing Ash.

"All right," he pushed the file over to Ash. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our dad and Luke Alexander's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash didn't respond to Dean's challenging smirk. Instead, he opened up the file and quickly started sorting through the papers. "Come on," he shook his head. "This shit ain't real. There ain't nobody who can track a demon like this."

"They could," Abby assured Ash while Sam and Dean exchanged a proud look. Ash cocked his head thoughtfully. "My dad is an expert in demons. Runs in the family."

"These are nonparametrics, statistical overviews, cross-spectrum correlations. I mean...damn," Ash said in appreciation. "They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon."

"Like crop failures and electrical storms?" Julia hummed curiously.

Ash looked over at her and winked. "You ever been struck by lightning?" he asked her, a twinkled in his eyes. "It ain't fun."

Seeing the way his brother stiffened, Sam got Ash back on track. "Can you track it or not?"

Ash nodded. "Yeah, with this, I think so but it's gonna take time. Uh, give me..." he paused to think, one of his eyes closing. "uh, fifty-one hours."

Julia smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Ash."

"No problem, sweetheart," Ash stood from his stool and started heading to the back, where Abby told her the bedrooms were located.

"Hey, man," Dean called after him, voice tense, causing Ash to turn around to face him. Dean faltered, seeing that the man had no true intensions with Julia, "I, uh, dig the haircut."

"All business up front," Ash pointed to the short hair toward the front of his head before flicking the longer hair from his shoulders. "party in the back."

Julia giggled when the door closed behind him. "I like him."

"Ash is, like, a ditzy lab with amazing tech skills," Abby nodded in agreement.

Julia hummed and hopped off her stool. "I'm gonna check out the jukebox."

Abby waved her off and she wandered away from the bar and to the jukebox in the front. She flipped through the tiles, smiling and gasping excitedly when there were a couple of eighties love songs she liked, as a warm hand slid around her waist.

"Find anything good?" Dean asked as he looked down at the jukebox screen.

"A couple," Julia looked up at him with a sweet smile that he returned. "All Out of Love, Faithfully, Can't Fight This Feeling..."

Dean's smile slipped, turning into a small grimace when she listed some of the titles. He was fully aware that Julia liked the cheesy love songs from the previous couple of decades. They were all on her iPod and she played them once in a while when Dean allowed her to pick the music—he didn't like them but he sure did love the way her face light up when she listened to them. Her favorite of the songs was, of course, Hungry Eyes. The girl watched Dirty Dancing every week without fail.

But it was kind of funny to him that she liked Hungry Eyes the most. It described the two of them and their relationship pretty closely. Whenever he looked at Julia, he got hungry eyes—whether it was sexual, loving, or emotional, it didn't matter. He always wanted Julia in every way.

"No Hungry Eyes?" he clicked his tongue, faking his disappointment.

"Nope," she didn't catch onto his acting. "Don't worry, though, I can just sing it. I've been meaning to tell you! I've got this feeling that won't subside—oof!"

Dean had put his hand to her mouth, cutting off any more lyrics that trembled in her not-so-amazing singing voice. He laughed when she giggled and pulled his hand off, kissing his palm before dropping it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of my singing, huh?"

"Not just your singing, shortcake. I'm not so hot at it, either," Dean reminded her; it was true and if she really got going, he wouldn't be able to resist joining in with her.

He hated to admit it but the song was kind of catchy.

Back at the bar, Sam and Abby—who moved over to Julia's seat—spoke quietly, were catching up. She had just been telling him about the picture Beth emailed her from the Fourth of July, when his gaze fell to the police radio behind the bar, a thin folder beside it. He quickly apologized to Abby for changing the subject and then caught Ellen's attention.

"Hey, Ellen, what is that?"

Ellen followed his gaze. "It's a police thing," she told him, continuing to fill up the containers of salt for the tables. "We keep tabs on things—"

"No, no," Sam interrupted politely, pointing to the file. "The folder."

Ellen hesitated for a second then walked over folder. "Uh, I was gonna give this to Abby..."

"He can take a look at it," Abby smirked, knowing that Sam was terrified of clowns. She took the folder from Ellen and slid it over to Sam. "Let me know what you make of it."

"Thanks," Sam opened the folder as Abby slipped away from the bar to where Jo was wiping off a table.

Sam went through the contents of the file, quickly skimming over each paper he picked up. When he finished, he called out for Dean and Julia, who were still by the jukebox, heads close together as they laughed. "Dean, J, come check this out!"

At the sound of her name, Julia pulled away from Dean and looked over at Sam, who was waving at them from the bar. She ignored Dean's sigh with a light smirk and linked their hands, pulling him over to see what Sam was looking at.

"Yeah?" Dean grumbled.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of," Sam informed them, showing them the research. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah," Dean raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, I told her we'd check it out—"

"And you're not going without me," Abby interjected, bounding toward her little sister and the Winchester brothers. "Let me pack my stuff and we can go."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah, let's not—" he grunted when Julia poked him in the ribs, glaring up at him; Abby sent him the same look. "We'll wait outside."

"Good. We'll take my car."

-

"A clown?" Julia clicked her tongue, taking the file that Sam handed back to her and opening it up. "A killer clown?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what I said, Jujube," Abby rolled her eyes from the driver's seat of her Ford Explorer before focusing back on the road. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to shreds."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?" Dean asked.

Julia's eyes flickered to the top of the printed article she was reading. "Cooper Carnivals."

"So, Gail, how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

Abby glared at him through the rearview mirror. "Don't call me that, Deanna."

"Hey, now!"

Julia rolled her eyes and though she couldn't see Sam, she knew he was, too. Abby and Dean were never best friends growing up like she and Sam were. They acted like siblings who couldn't stand one another. It came from love, sure, but it could be a little annoying sometimes.

"The cops have no viable leads, Dean," Sam sighed before they could really get going. "and all the employees were tearing down shop."

"Alibis for each of them."

Sam agreed with Julia while Abby added, "Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

Dean hummed. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam," he chuckled. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

"That's right!" Abby exclaimed, joining Dean in laughter. "Oh, my God, do you remember that time we went to Mickey D's and Ronald McDonald came out to visit the kid's play place and Sam peed his pants?"

Seeing the severely annoyed look on Sam's face, Julia had the sense to hold in her laughter. Her stomach hurt and her eyes stung but she did it. Dean, however, was howling with gut-bursting laughter. It was nice to see that bright smile on his face.

"After that, he'd burst out crying every time he saw a McDonald's commercial!"

"Oh, come on!" Sam protested weakly; when Julia couldn't help but join in, he shot back, "At least I'm not afraid of flying, or spiders," he pointed at Julia and then Abby. "or horses."

"Planes crash!"

"Spiders are poisonous!"

"Wait, wait," Dean caught up, shaking his head. He leaned forward and dipped to the side so he could see Abby's face from his spot next to Julia. "You're afraid of horses?"

Julia snickered while Abby scoffed. "We were talking about Sam's ridiculous clown phobia, remember?"

Julia shook her head and patted Sam's arm soothingly. "Don't worry, S, your phobia is valid. Apparently clowns do kill."

"Thank you, J," he gave Dean a pointed glare which had his brother chuckling again.

"All right," Dean calmed down. "So, these types of murders, have they ever happened before?"

"It's in the file," Abby told him, turning on the windshield wipers as they drove into some light rain. "Take it away, Julia."

"Yeah, the file says it happened in 1981," Julia hummed. "at the Bunker Brothers Circus. Same M.O. Three different times, three different places."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "That's weird, though. I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know? A house or a town."

"So, how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam wondered.

"Maybe it's a cursed object," Abby chewed on her lip. "A spirit attached itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great. It's a paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded his brother. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

Julia wrinkled her nose uncomfortably and faced her foggy window. She was all for the brothers sharing how they felt with each other but lately, Dean had been too irritable. He didn't like those kinds of chick-flick moments, anyway, but after his dad died, he'd been avoiding them more than ever. Especially because Sam kept pushing him about dealing with his grief.

Abby kept quiet as well, not wanting to intrude on the brothers' business.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think this job...it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean scoffed, looking at Sam in disbelief.

Oh, God, please don't let this turn into another fight, Julia pleaded mentally.

"Yeah, so?" Sam looked back at him, daring him to say something."

Dean shook his head and turned away from his brother. "Nothing."

-

Julia rubbed her nails over Dean's scalp, making sure that the shampoo she had applied for him was getting his hair nice and clean. They struggled in the small shower-bathtub combo and Dean had to get on his knees in order for her to even reach his hair in the first place, but they made it work.

"It's what Dad would have wanted," Dean repeated Sam's words with a scowl, holding onto her hips for balance. "He didn't give a fuck what Dad wanted a week ago."

Julia hummed to show that she was listening as she went toward the front of his head, rubbing the soap into his sideburns.

"He didn't even want to hunt," he went on. "He got out and he said he wanted to get out again! What, Dad dies and now he's wanting to carry on the family business all of a sudden?"

"I don't think that's it, babe. Here, lean your head back," she gestured toward the water; Dean did as he was told and rinsed his hair. "Sam's grieving just like you are. If hunting is what helps him deal with the fact that your dad's gone, then let him."

"I know," Dean grumbled, getting to his feet and switching places with Julia. "No, no, you need to stand—yeah, that's fine—I get it but it just bugs me."

Julia frowned sympathetically and rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. "I'm sorry that you're going through this, Bean."

The corner of Dean's lips quirked only a little. "It's not your fault, shortcake," he murmured, bowing his head to press a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. It wasn't sexual in nature, just loving. "You're helping me."

Her heart melting, Julia grinned when she saw that he had some excess soap on his nose. She stood on her tiptoes to wipe it off. "You're adorable."

"I'm not adorable," he pouted, making her giggle.

"I beg to differ, hotshot."

After Julia and Dean were dried off and dressed, they met up with Sam and Abby in the room next door before heading over to the local fairgrounds, where Cooper Carnivals was located for the week. Detectives were already on the scene when they arrived, forcing them to rethink their plan of faking police.

Dean went to talk to the detectives, so Julia, Sam, and Abby waited by the Tilt-a-Whirl that was being set up. A short woman dressed as a clown had walked by and she and Sam had the most awkward—and hilarious—showdown with their eyes . It lasted what felt like a whole two minutes, with Julia and Abby snickering at Sam, before the woman smirked at him and walked away.

Dean, who was walking back to them, had seen the whole thing. "Did you get her number?"

Sam scowled at him while Julia wheezed, her chest aching from lack of breath. Abby slapped her arm to get her to stop, a cheesy grin on her face, and addressed Dean, "Were there more murders?"

"Two more last night," Dean confirmed. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Who fingered a clown," Sam assumed.

Julia quirked an eyebrow and shared a look with Dean and Abby.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean told his brother. "anyway, the clown apparently vanished into thin air."

Abby hummed thoughtfully, biting her lip. "Looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"It's bound to give off EMF," Dean said distractedly, looking around nearest carnival trailers. "We'll just have to scan everything."

"That's nice and inconspicuous."

Dean didn't respond to Sam's sarcasm with any of his own. "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

-

"You boys picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr. Cooper, the owner and boss of Cooper's Carnival, led Sam and Dean into his trailer. It was a tiny little thing with half of it being living space and the other half office space. Mr. Cooper gestured to his desk, where two chairs were waiting on the other side. "Take a seat."

A grin started to stretch across Dean's face as he took in the chairs; one of them, the closest to the door, was decorated to look like a clown. He didn't bother looking at his brother and rushed to the normal chair, pushing Sam away as he attempted to avoid the clown chair.

Dean smirked at Sam as Mr. Cooper finished, "We've got all kinds of local trouble."

"What do you mean?" he turned his attention back to the older man.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first," Mr. Cooper said casually. "So, you two ever worked the circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir," Sam confirmed solemnly, disturbed by his chair. "Last year through Texas and Arkansas."

Dean gave Mr. Cooper a fake smile. "Yeah."

"Doing what?" Mr. Cooper asked skeptically. "Ride jockeys? Pull shoot? A-and-S men?"

Dean had absolutely no idea what any of those jobs were. He bet that Abby or Julia would know, though. The Petersen women were smart like that. Unfortunately, it wasn't very realistic for four people to apply for jobs together as a group so they had to stay on the sidelines at the moment—Abby wasn't very happy about that.

"Yeah," Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess."

Mr. Cooper cocked his head knowingly. "You two have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean didn't try to bullshit his way around this. "but we really need the work...oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

He chuckled to himself but quieted down when Sam gave him a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

"You see that picture?" Mr. Cooper pointed to a framed photo on the top of the filing cabinet next to his desk. "That's my daddy."

The guy in the photo looked exactly like Mr. Cooper. Too much like him, if you asked Dean.

Sam noticed the likeness, too. "You look just like him."

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow until they outlawed them in most places," Mr. Cooper informed them. "Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess."

Honestly, if Dean was born different like that, he wouldn't do either. Two negative choices on either end didn't sound like a good way of living. Choosing between being laughed at for money or rotting away in a hospital? No, thank you. He was good.

"You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts. Always has been for folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two?" Mr. Cooper leaned forward in his seat. "You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Have two-point-five kids. Live regular."

Their lives weren't normal and they would never be. Julia and Sam? They were the lucky spectrum of hunters who had a taste of a normal life. Most of them lived and breathed hunting and that included Dean. He didn't know how to do anything else.

He had a girl and Julia was one of the two most important people in his life. He was lucky to have her because most hunters aren't able to find a significant other who even understood the life, let alone someone who lived it. And kids? He still thought about the dream he had of Peter and Jonah but it was just that—a dream.

Even if he wanted that apple-pie life, it wouldn't happen. It wasn't in the cards for him.

He went to tell Mr. Cooper that but Sam beat him to it. "Sir, we don't want to go to school and we don't want regular. We want this."

Dean looked at Sam in complete shock. Sam had told him before their run-in with Yellow-Eyes and the death of their father that he intended to go back to Stanford when everything was over. Sam didn't want to hunt for the rest of his life, he made that clear. Now, all of a sudden, he didn't want to go back?

Dean stared at the gravel under his feet as he and Sam walked away from Mr. Cooper's trailer, contracts of employment in their pockets. "Huh."

"What?"

"That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing," Dean gestured to the trailer behind them. "Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?"

Sam hesitated.

"Sam."

"I don't know," Sam looked away from him, looking around at the rides that were now up and running for the day.

"You don't know?" Dean scoffed. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

Sam stopped walking only a few feet from the parking lot where Julia and Abby were waiting for them in the Explorer. "I'm having second thoughts."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I think Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

That made Dean pause. Sam had spent most of his life fighting with their dad and had taken off for almost four years, without any contact, and now he wanted to join the family business for good. Just because their dad died. It infuriated Dean that Sam was only now wanted to do what John had wanted him to do. It was too little, too late.

"Since when do you give a fuck what Dad wanted?" his voice hardened as he questioned his brother. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" Sam admitted. When Dean nodded knowingly; he must have had an irritated look on his face because Sam bristled. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nah," Dean lied. "I don't have a problem at all."

He continued walking without another word, heading straight to Abby's vehicle. Julia rolled down the passenger window as he approached and he leaned his arms on it as he greeted them.

"Did you get the job?" she asked him with happy eyes.

He wished that he could maintain a quarter of the happiness that Julia always had within her. Maybe he wouldn't be a dick most of the time. Maybe he'd handle his dad's death better. Maybe he'd be actually able to talk about how he felt instead of keeping it bundled inside of him until he blew up. He wasn't that person, though, and that was okay. Julia was his person and she could be happy enough for the both of them.

"With benefits," he forced a smirk onto his face. "We start at noon."

"Nice," Julia smiled and leaned toward him. "Hey, did you happen to see if they had funnel cakes?"

"What's a carnival without funnel cake, Junior?"

-

-

It was hard to walk around the crowded carnival with full hands and eat funnel cake at the same time but somehow, Julia managed. With a yellow balloon tied around her wrist, a blow-up baseball bat and a small stuffed lion in the crook of her arm, and her cell phone pinned between her ear and shoulder, she was able to stuff the sugary deliciousness into her mouth while keeping an eye out for any suspicious clown activity and keeping in contact with Abby.

Half of Sam and Dean's shift had already gone by and none of them found anything. Sam and Dean had the EMF readers out and going while they picked up trash from the carnival goers but, according to Dean, they had canvased half the fairground and there was zip to show for it.

There was only so much to do at a carnival and Julia had done it all. She rode all the rides, going for the Tilt-a-Whirl and spinning strawberries five or six times, played a bunch of games while only winning twice, and had eaten at three different booths. Don't get her wrong, carnivals were exciting and she loved them as much as the next person but she was by herself after she and Abby split up in the second hour and now, she was growing bored.

"I'm passing the frozen lemonade stand now," Julia informed her sister, who was looking to meet up with her, as she passed the crowded booth.

"The one next to the deep-fried twinkies, the chili dogs, or the turkey legs?"

"Turkey legs—wait, there's deep-fried twinkies?" she wanted one of those. "Where?"

"By the Ferris wheel," Abby told her. "I don't think you need one of those, Jules."

"Sure I do," Julia didn't understand why she didn't need one. She liked snack cakes and if it was deep-fried? All the better. "I'm headed toward the Ferris wheel."

Before she could even turn back the way she came from, a calloused hand grabbed her elbow. She jumped and whirled around, about to drop her prizes and funnel cake to beat the person's ass, but faltered when she saw that it was Dean. He looked so cute dressed in his red carnival jacket.

"Oh, Dean's here," she said to Abby. "I'll call you back."

"Ugh, fine."

Dean grabbed the phone from in between her shoulder and head with a small smile, ending the call for her. "You look like you've been busy," he shoved the phone in his jeans so he could take a piece of her funnel cake. "Having fun?"

"I'm getting bored," she confessed. "Oh, I got you something."

Dean smirked teasingly at her. "Look at that, my girl won me a prize," Julia laughed and handed him the little stuffed lion. "Oh..."

Julia wrinkled her nose as she studied the almost blank look on Dean's face as he held the stuffed lion. "You can put it on your dashboard or, uh..." she hesitated. "or I can take it back if you don't want it."

"Of course I want it," Dean grinned at her and stuffed the lion into his jacket pocket. "I love it."

"You do?"

"Yes," Dean was careful not to jostle her enough so that she could drop her funnel cake or inflatable bat while he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Julia gave him another kiss before he could pull away fully. "So, have you found anything yet?"

"I haven't but Sam has," Dean told her. "Apparently there's a human skeleton in the fun house."

Julia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Any EMF?"

"No, but I was on my way to check when I ran into you," Dean gestured behind him with his thumb before grabbing another piece of her funnel cake. "Wanna head there?"

"Sure," Julia agreed.

Before they could even start walking in the direction of the fun house, they were stopped by Papazian, the blind knife-thrower that had teared into Dean while he was asking for directions for Mr. Cooper's trailer earlier that morning.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

Dean and Julia shared an alarmed look.

"I'm...I was just, uh, sweeping and taking my break," Dean struggled to answer him.

"Bull," Papazian wasn't having Dean's nonsense. "And what were you two talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?"

Julia furrowed her eyebrows while Dean looked at him in surprise, "Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control."

"Hey, we're a tight-knit group, we don't like outsiders," Papazian proclaimed. "And we take care of our own problems."

Julia stiffened when she felt the man's aura pulse angrily and darken drastically. Something was off about him.

Dean sized him up, finding an issue of what Papazian did say, rather than what he didn't. "We got a problem?"

Another flare of anger.

"You tell me, you're the one talking about human bones."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What?"

"My brother, me, and our girlfriends—" Abby would get a kick out of that, Julia was sure. "—we're writing a book about them."

Papazian seemed to except that and went on his way. Julia stared after him, not liking his aura or the vibes he was giving off. He certainly didn't feel like a normal human being; he was dark and had a severe hunger.

Without noticing, she and Dean ended up at the funhouse, where Sam and Abby were waiting for them.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked Dean.

Dean grimaced. "Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!" a chirpy voice that could only belong to a little girl came from only a few feet away from them.

They all turned their attention to her, watching as the mom questioned where the clown was and when the little girl pointed to nothing, she hurried her daughter toward the parking lot. Once they were gone, Julia, Dean, Abby, and Sam exchanged knowing looks.

-

Julia finished typing her email to Beth, giving her a brief summary of how the boys were dealing with John's death and making sure to include video of her and Abby that told her, Taylor, Lizzie, and Maggie that they missed them. Once the email was sent, she started looking up supernatural creatures that dressed up as clowns.

She didn't think this was a spirit for two reasons. One, Sam and Dean had found no EMF, even on the skeleton from the fun house. And, two, something about Papazian gave her a bad feeling. Like worse than a common spirit usually did.

She shared her thoughts with Abby, who had stayed behind with her when Sam and Dean went to watch the little girl's house—in a totally not creepy way—and was currently cleaning her weapons on her and Sam's bed.

"All right, tell me again—"

"I told you, Abby," Julia rolled her eyes and looked away from her laptop. "I had a bad feeling about Papazian."

"So, what, you're Luke Skywalker now?" her older sister joked; Julia gave her an unamused look. "Okay, sorry. So, if you think that Papazian is behind this people-eating clown, what do you suppose it is?"

Julia grimaced. "Honestly, I was hoping you would know."

Abby shook her head with a laugh and climbed off her bed to settle next to Julia on hers. "Let me show you something."

Abby grabbed the computer from her pajama-clad lap and onto hers. She went to PSC's website and went to the employee section. That led them to another site where she maneuvered her way to a page where one of the links under IT tech brought them to a private website that they had to use a username and passcode to get in. It was that website that amazed Julia.

Similarly set up to PSC's website, this one had hunting items for sale like silver bullets and particular knives that a hunter might need and so on. There was a forum where hunters could post information that they've come across on hunts or if they needed a partner for a hunt, they could search there. And there was an online encyclopedia that was Julia's favorite, where each letter in the alphabet had sections that would list creatures under that letter and could lead you to more information.

She had no idea that the website had ever existed.

"How do I get in?" Julia asked. "Like, how do I get my own username and password?"

"I'll give Frank a call and have him add you, Dean, and Sam," Abby said casually. "He's the IT guy where you get the link."

"He works for us?" the picture of Frank made him seem like a very grumpy man who didn't play well with others.

"Kind of. He runs this site and he makes sure it's secure but he's pretty much a recluse," she hummed. "I think he knew Nana Rachel and Papa Isaac."

"Huh," Julia's maternal grandmother, Rachel, had died before she was born but her Papa Isaac was a great man. He was gone now, having died only a few years before her mother went.

Abby laughed lightly, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. "All right," she moved off of Julia's bed and went back to hers, starting up her own laptop. "Let's start narrowing down possibilities."

-

-

The sun had finally risen after two hours of hiding in a stolen car in the middle of nowhere, covered by a thicket of bushes so the police wouldn't be able to spot them. Their whole night blew; the mysterious apocalyptic clown had turned out not to be a spirit and it had definitely gotten away when the little girl screamed at their attack, alerting her parents to the fact that two strange men and a murderous clown were in their house.

They had run out quickly after that and had found a spot just out of town to stay hidden until dawn. Luckily, Dean wasn't left alone with Sam—well, he was but they were also on the phone with Julia and Abby in order to find out what this clown really was. All they knew so far was that the creature was corporeal, wasn't affected by salt, and could make itself invisible. So, thankfully, there was no talking of any kind about the death of John Winchester.

Unfortunately, now that Sam and Dean were beginning their trek heading back to the outskirts of town so that Julia and Abby could pick them up, they had plenty of time to talk. Unluckily enough for Dean, Sam did just that.

"Hey, uh, you think that Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

Dean was in no mood to talk about his dad—even if it wasn't about the subject of his death. It was hot out, the sun was searing the back of his neck, he was tired, and he was definitely hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was theorize about his father's flings.

"Nah."

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

That was something that John was actually consistent about; he always fell out with other hunters—Bobby wasn't the only one and if John was still alive, he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "You ever notice how Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded his head noncommittedly. There wasn't a need to answer. They both knew it was the truth and there wasn't a reason to hash out the fact that their father was a stubborn asshole who always thought that he was right.

Just thinking of John that way—even though he had those kinds of thoughts a lot while he was alive—made him nauseous. His dad was dead and here he was, thinking bad of him. This was why he didn't want to think about John. Because there was too much to think about. If he thought about how his dad treated him while he grew up, or how he didn't have a childhood because of him—or how he missed out on so much in life, the suspicion around his restored health just before his dad died, or about the last words John said to him—he would break down. And he couldn't. He wasn't that person.

He wouldn't be that person.

Sam noticed his melancholy mood. "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Dean shot him a look. "What do you mean?"

"I meant this strong-silent thing of yours. It's crap and I'm over it—"

"Oh, God," Dean expressed his irritation before Sam was finished speaking.

"This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad," Sam said, annoyed. "I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean snapped at him. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to—"

"No, no, no," Sam objected, cutting him off. "that's not what this about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

Dean clenched his jaw. "Dude, I'm okay!" he raised his voice. "I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me."

Sam stopped walking and turned to Dean with a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?"

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad," Dean shot straight, unable to hold back his opinion of Sam's change of heart. "It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, fuck, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him."

Sam grimaced and yeah, Dean felt a little guilty about his heated words but if Sam wanted him to share his feelings, he was going to do it.

"And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right?" he continued. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

Sam's hazel eyes sparkled with tears. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm dealing with Dad's death. Are you?"

Sam pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, obviously fighting back the anger he felt at Dean. Dean wished that he wouldn't; maybe he wanted to get Sam mad, wanted him to fight back. Maybe physical pain would take his attention away from all that he was feeling.

"I'm going to call Abby," Sam finally said.

It was only when Sam had slumped away from him that Dean started to feel guilty. This was his little brother; he was supposed to protect him, not make him feel worse.

Twenty minutes later, he and Sam were sliding into the backseat of Abby's car, relaxing as cool air surrounded them. Without a word, Julia—who was taking the opportunity to sit shotgun—had handed them each a breakfast sandwich and some hash browns. Of course, it was McDonalds; Dean wasn't a fan of them but Julia loved their breakfast, especially the sausage, egg, and cheese bagel. He wasn't surprised to see that she had her bagel sandwich in her lap.

He smiled at her in thanks and immediately took a bite of his own sandwich.

"All right, so, I'm pretty sure this thing is a rakshasa," Abby spoke up as she started driving back to town.

"What's that?" Dean asked around a mouthful of food.

"It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures," she told him and Sam. "They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So, they dress up like clowns and the children invite them in," Sam assumed.

Both Abby and Julia nodded in response.

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea," Abby sighed, answering Dean's question. "Maybe there's not enough meat on their bones."

"Abby," Julia gave her sister a disapproving look, her face paling a little.

Abby shrugged nonchalantly.

"So, what else did you find out?" Sam wondered.

"Apparently, rakshasas live in squalor," Julia answered this time, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "They sleep on a bed of dead insects. And they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years."

"That makes sense," Dean nodded. "I mean, the carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81."

Sam agreed, "Right, and probably more before that."

"All right," Dean clicked his tongue and looked toward the front of the car. "So, did the lore say how to kill this bastard?"

"A dagger made of pure brass," Abby smirked, tapping her fingers against her steering wheel, the red polish on her nails gleaming brightly in the sunlight. "Luckily, I have one in my collection."

"Good," Dean said decidedly. "Let's go gank the blind guy."

-

-

Julia didn't particularly like being in a bar full of other hunters. Something about it just made her stomach twist. Maybe it was because she hadn't worked with other hunters except Sam, Dean, Abby, John, and her father...or maybe it was because of the leering looks they gave Jo as she wandered around, giving them the pints of beer that they ordered. Honestly, she felt bad for the blonde; she had been on the receiving end of disgusting leers but never everyday all day. It had to be tiring.

Jo was a spitfire, though, and she could totally handle herself. That was what Julia liked the most about her, other than the fact that she was funny and easily kept up with Abby's banter. Abby wasn't the type to settle down with a boyfriend or girlfriend, but if she did, Jo had Julia's vote. The blonde was special and so was Ellen. They'd fit into the family great.

Ellen came over to her with a bottle of beer and a glass of soda in her hands just as the familiar weight of Dean's arm slid around her waist. He sat on the bar stool next to her and accepted the beer from Ellen with a grateful smile.

"You guys did one hell of a job," the older woman praised one half of their quartet.

Julia smiled at her and accepted her cola. "Thanks, Ellen."

Ellen backed off with a smile and went to dry some glasses. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face. "I think your sister is chatting up Sam."

"Oh?" Julia gave him an excited look, though it was more for his benefit. She didn't really know how to feel about Abby and Sam hooking up. It wasn't because she didn't think they wouldn't make a great pair but Abby was a player and she didn't want her sister to hurt Sam, who was more emotionally intense when it came to stuff like that.

Dean nodded excitedly. "And I don't think she's the only one."

Julia gave him a confused look and glanced over his shoulder; at the other side of the bar, Sam sat with Abby and Jo on either side of him, both wearing flirtatious smiles.

Oh.

Julia coughed uncomfortably and placed her attention back on Dean, who still had that shit-eating grin on his face. "It's very weird that you're so excited about Sam's possible hook-ups."

Dean shrugged. "It's good to see him get back on the horse—or horses—heh-heh."

"Please don't refer to Abby and Jo as horses, D."

"Sorry," Dean shrugged, his eyes locking on the door that led to the resident area of the bar. "Look, there's Ash."

Ash walked over to them and set his laptop on the bar next to them. "Jules, Dean," he nodded at them and waved Sam over; Sam excused himself from Abby and Jo. "Where have you guys been? I've been waiting for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Sam came to stand behind Julia. "Clowns."

Ash gave him a you-have-to-be-shitting-me look. "Clowns? What the fuck?"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked before he could go on a tangent.

Ash nodded and opened up his laptop, which was stripped down to wires, the hard drive, keypad, and screen. Julia guessed that he had built the computer himself because she was pretty sure you couldn't buy one of those. Jo did say he was a genius.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around," Ash answered gravely. "At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Julia quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig will go off," Ash explained and turned the laptop, showing them the screen; there was some type of radar and database pulled up. "Like a fire alarm."

Dean's eyes lit up as he looked over the computer; he reached for it and Ash stiffened, cocking his head. "Do you mind...?"

Ash clicked his tongue and the hand that Dean had almost put on the mouse slowly retreated.

"What's up, man?" Ash lifted his chin in a swift nod.

Julia grinned at Dean's pout while Sam asked, "Ash, where did you learn to do all of this?"

"MIT, before I got bounced for fighting," Ash answered casually.

Sam quietly scoffed in disbelief. "MIT?"

Ash nodded. "It's a school in Boston."

"I like you, Ash," Julia laughed as she reached for a high five from the genius blonde. "You're the best."

Ash returned the high-five sluggishly, though the crooked grin on his face gave away his friendliness. "You too, sweetcheeks."

"Okay," Dean said all too quickly. "give us a call as soon as you know something?"

"Si, si, compadre," Ash confirmed, taking Dean's bottle from in front of him and gulping down the rest.

The three of them got ready to leave. As Julia paid their tab, Ellen spoke up, "If you guys need somewhere to stay, we've got a couple of rooms in the back."

Dean exchanged looks with Julia and Sam before answering, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

Hours later, as the sun set, Dean was crouched down in front of the back-right tire of his baby, tightening the bolts of the new tire until they were just right. When he heard the gravel shift to his right, he didn't bother looking up. He knew it was Sam just from the gait of his steps.

Great, he grumbled to himself, another pep talk.

He finished with the tire and only then did he look up; Sam was standing behind the newly restored trunk, kind of huddled in on himself.

"You were right."

Dean stood up straight and walked around Sam in order to set his wrench back in the toolbox. "About what?"

"About me and Dad," Sam elaborated. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him."

Dean didn't respond; he had nothing to say.

"So, you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little, too late," Sam paused for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all...But neither are you, that much I know...I'll let you get back to work."

Sam left and headed back into Bobby's house. Dean turned around, a mess of emotions brewing at the bottom of his stomach. It built and it built until it rested in his chest. There was anger and hurt and resentment, and oh-so much grief...And all of it was because of his dad.

His dad, who treated him like a little soldier. His dad, who taught him how to shoot a gun when he was way too young. His dad, who left his baby brother in his care when he was only five years old. His dad, who made him grow up much too soon. His dad, who made him feel safe even when there were beings that came out of his nightmares living in the world around him. His dad, who loved him and Sam so much. His dad, who was dead.

His dad was dead.

He hastily picked up the crowbar next to his toolbox and whipped around, slamming it into the driver's window of an old car behind him. Glass shattered onto his lower torso, legs, and feet but he didn't care. It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to describe how he was feeling.

He smashed the crowbar into Baby's trunk; it bounced but didn't budge or break. He did it again and again, over and over, as his anger exploded from him like a bomb. At the moment, he didn't care that he was trashing his beloved car all over again; the Impala just reminded him too much of his dad.

His blood was pumping, he was sweating profusely, and tears had sparked in his eyes as he bashed Baby's trunk until there was a decently sized hole in the middle. Only then did he drop the crowbar, where it made it tinkling sound against the gravel. He turned in the direction of Bobby's house, as if Sam would be able to feel his angry glare from where he was standing, but he came face-to-face with Julia.

His beautiful Julia. Julia, who had been understanding throughout the week since John's death, letting him fuck his frustration out on her. Julia, who had been good about giving him space to deal with his grief. Julia, who was the sunshine in his dark and cloudy mind. Julia Ruth Petersen, who was too fucking good for him.

And there she stood, a small smile on her face that felt like home. There was love and understanding in her eyes as she waited for him to do something, anything, but it made his stomach turn. She was good and he wasn't. He would just bring her down.

He was poison; his dad dying had proved that.

So, even though Julia there, waiting to support him and love him, he walked away from her.

(Gif is not mine)

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

Notes on Supernatural 15x01

Stuff I Loved:

   The opening fight scene, Jack dead on the ground with at first just the noise of battle and “The Famous Final Scene” playing in the background. Sam and Dean knocking ghosts out of corpses fruitlessly, Castiel smiting out the ghosts, and then carrying Jack’s body as TFW flees ground exploded behind them. OOF.

   I did enjoy the introduction of “Belphegor” (if that’s even his real name) both how him using the body of Jack forces the members of TFW to face their emotions about Jack’s loss, AND the bit of needed comic relief (Alex C. making me laugh even when I want to hate Belphegor) AND the intrigue he brings because almost nothing Belphegor says holds up to the slightest bit of scrutiny.

   I do like the fact we are seeing Cas’s grief for Jack because I was afraid it would be glossed over, and hopefully if/when Jack returns it will be that much more cathartic. He lost his son let him grieve!

  Jensen's face journey in the scene with Dean and Belphegor alone in the car was priceless. The dark humor of being so socially inept you try to flirt with someone while possessing the corpse of their dead family member.

  The fact that the “we used to worship a rock that looked like a giant penis” line is not only priceless but also has to do with the actual mythology around the (ancient god/prince of hell) called Belphegor.

  Jared’s acting in the scene where he saves the little girl in the garage and Cas tries to save him is golden, it’s clear Sam is trying to suppress his own pain fear and worry in the midst of an impossible situation and in this scene Jared does a great job giving us a peek at what’s going on underneath.

  Sam being so gentle with the little girl and her mother.

Stuff I... Didn’t:

Under the cut in case you don’t want the negativity.

   Apparently, everyone is completely ignoring how it suddenly became night with ZERO explanation? Is this Bugs? Because that made as much sense as the 10 minute “night” in Bugs.

   How perfectly spaced out the extras where when the guys left the crypt. Like the zombies were all the perfect amount of space from one another to make snow angels...

   The whole scene with the 25-year-old teenage girls, The acting was terrible, the writing was comically formulaic and bad, Bloody Mary in the cellphone NOPE,  it should never be spoken of again.

  The woman in white’s “You took me home” line with Dean. ??? We literally had a flashback near the beginning of the episode. Sam took her home, not Dean.

   Castiel healing Sam’s FBI jacket... I... okay. Maybe it’s been done before but just... okay...

   Belphegor’s little “I punch a clock, I push a button” was way to close to Anael’s speech when she was introduced and any time you are reusing a line from a Buck-Lemming episode you know it’s a mistake.

   The “Crowley JR.” line. Like... they’ve known Crowley for years and while he wasn’t “trustworthy” he was a known element and Belphegor is a stranger. It feels insulting to Crowley’s memory

  Dean treatment of Cas, I get he’s angry but childishly not letting Cas grieve? That’s just...oof. Big Oof

   The scene where Cas tries to heal Sam’s shoulder wound was confusing, it was really unclear who was seeing what. Did Sam see the vision? did Cas? it’s implied that Castiel felt a very strange power but it wasn’t explained if he saw the vision or not... I think it was Sam... Again it wasn’t clearly framed...

   I don’t know why they decided to shoot everything in bright day time but aside from the occasional flicker none of the ghosts after the first scene felt remotely ghostly?

---------------

On that note, I didn’t really like the ghosts...

   They didn’t even really bother following any of Bloody Mary’s summoning rules or presentation and again I’m burning the scene with the girls from my memory.

   Neither Bloody Mary or The Woman in White looked or acted remotely like their previous actresses...  

   Bloody Mary’s wig, seriously did the production use all their money for the premiere on SFX’s and have to buy it at a party store? You couldn't have even just hired an actress with black hair? Because that thing was terrible...

   Why was Lizzie Borden there? Of all the iconic ghosts on the show and they picked a ghost the boys never fought? The monster in the Lizzie Borden episode was just a nanny who had her soul eaten by Amara.

   It feels like they only had the John Wayne Gacy clown ghost because they thought the costume was cool last season... Why have that ghost if you’re not going to have it behave remotely like the person/mythology of that ghost... Because the victim's families are still alive? Even more reason to go with someone else.

--------------

   How did the little girl get 200 feet away from everyone else before ANYONE including her mom who was holding her hand in the last shot noticed?

   Why would she do that in the first place, there’s no kind of insinuation shown to suggest she was lured there. And even though it feels like it’s implied she was hypnotized or something, she turns completely around at one point gives a blank face to the fight not reacting. The whole scene waits WAY too long for a resolution and it feels really off.

   It feels like they just wanted to add more action to the scene and make there be a reason for everyone to stand still (while keeping the mom and daughter out of the fight. ) but it feels not thought through?

[carolap53]

March 18, 2022

When You’re NOT Almost There JENNIFER DUKES LEE

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“No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.” Philippians 3:13-14 (NLT)

My lungs burned. I didn’t think I would make it. Each exhausting step made it clear that I hadn’t trained enough for my first ever half-marathon.

I was on mile 11 of 13.1. The spectators lining the streets could see my struggle. One person shouted, “You’re doing great! You’re almost there!” And then another and another. Each one told me the same thing: “You’re almost there!”

Except that I wasn’t almost there. I was 2 miles away. To me, finishing sounded about as easy as pole vaulting over the moon.

I realize how ungrateful this will make me sound, but every time someone told me I was “almost there,” my whiny self wanted to shout back, “No, I’m not!”

Just then, I saw a dude dressed up like a clown waving a sign that said, “You are NOT almost there!” Even though my lungs hurt, I laughed out loud. The clown ran onto the route, running alongside me until I got to the top of the hill. He encouraged me with every step.

Perhaps oddly, this was the precise motivation I needed — to know that the finish line was nowhere in sight. Turns out, that clown was a trained marathoner, and he knew what I needed to hear: that I was not, in fact, almost there but that finishing was possible if I kept moving forward.

Two miles later, my “not almost there” turned into a very relieved “I’m finally here!”

What’s true on a half-marathon course is true in life. We find ourselves trudging along wearily, and that’s when we “almost there” ourselves. The “finish line” seems a million miles away, and we wonder if we should be further along. Maybe for you, it’s looked like this: The healing hasn’t happened. The prayer hasn’t been answered. Your hard work hasn’t paid off.

When we’re barely able to take another step, we don’t need false assurances of “almost there.” More than anything, we need someone to remind us that almost everything in life … takes time.

That’s exactly what the Apostle Paul reminds us — without the clown costume, of course.

In Philippians 3:13-14, Paul says, “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.”

When Paul says “I have not achieved it,” he’s saying that becoming like Jesus is a lifelong journey, taken step by step. And the only way to finish is to “press on” in faith.

That’s true in nearly every area of life — our spirituality, relationships, businesses, even our healing and grieving. Most things take time.

In a way, that’s really good news for us all. Because when we are trudging up the hills of this life — when everything hurts and we want to quit — we’ll find Jesus right beside us. Even though we’re miles from the destination, Jesus gives us courage to press on.

And He won’t leave us alone but will take every step alongside us.

Dear Lord, when life gets hard and the finish line seems miles away, I want to know You’re here. I ask for Your strength to press on until the very end. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

[awed-frog]

catching up with s13

“This life - hunting, monsters - there's no joy in it. There's nothing but pain, horror, and death.”

So, okay. I finally got an afternoon free and forced myself to start S13. I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m happy I had to wait and I got to watch four episodes in one go, because Supernatural has this habit of improving a lot when you watch it as a true story happening somewhere and not one hour every week, but still - mixed feelings here. Although, I’m happy enough that I sort of guessed a few things and included them in my S13 fic - maybe they weren’t that hard to anticipate, but still - yay me.

(Just as a self-serving exercise, here is a list: Dean and Sam not being on the same page about Jack, Dean shooting Jack, the two of them wondering if Jack can fly in E01, Sam wanting Jack alive and hoping he can be good, Jack being a sort of mindless parrot in the beginning and mimicking Dean, Dean snapping at Sam for putting Jody in danger, Dean starting to sound like John and Sam calling him out on it, Dean and Jody alone together - and I want to hope they had some sort of Conversation, like they did in my fic, but I wouldn’t put money on it - and, finally, the word shedim, something I was using as an insult, like, two years ago and now it’s here and I really want those things to come out and do stuff ‘cause I’m evil like that.)

Otherwise, here’s what I learned so far.

1) Dean’s acceptance of himself was closely tied to Cas’ presence

We all know how hard Dean’s had to fight against the mold he’d found himself stuck into, and we basically spend our time tracking his attempts at breaking it down, so I won’t sit here and make lists or anything; however, what these episodes confirmed, for me, is how important Cas was in this process. 

And surely it’s a combination of things - that Cas knew Dean inside and out and just accepted him, that Dean feels awkward about sharing that side of himself with Sam (and let’s be honest, he’s not wrong in fearing Sam’s reaction), that as long as Cas was with them, Dean had a reason to hope his own future wouldn’t be so bleak, that it was worth it, in a way, to work on himself and become the man he wanted to be all along - and, of course, that Dean was in love with Cas, a being that wasn’t a man but looked like a man, and once Dean started to accept that (and he did), then what was the point about trying so hard to deny anything else? And now Cas is gone, all of that is also gone. Dean’s safety net burned to the ground, and so he reverts to being that person he hated and despised and never wanted to be again - the man’s man, the alcoholic, the drill sergeant, the one who thinks men should be men and women are something else, ‘cause there’s things a man wouldn’t do, like journaling (“Not since I was a little girl.”). And the tragedy is, of course, that a) this doesn’t work, because it doesn’t help Dean at all, it just makes him more miserable, and b) people can still see his real self - not Sam, because apparently he doesn’t care enough to look, but as for everyone else - yeah. Hence the angel mocking him, for instance, growling at him in a deep voice and smirking, So macho. 

(And, yeah, there are other people who love Dean, I’m not arguing otherwise, but also - these last four episodes did not exactly make them shine, now, did they? From Sam’s cold shoulder to Jody completely ignoring how utterly not alright Dean was and then dismissing his advice to Patience, all the way to how Missouri talked to him (“You don’t have to like it, you just have to do it,” and since she was a clear Mary parallel, I’m going to keep not liking Mary, thank you very much) - is it really surprising Dean finds it easier to be the drunk asshole when Cas is not around? Who is currently caring enough about him to break those walls down, exactly? No one, that’s who.)

2) Sam doesn’t get Dean and shows little interest in trying

As for Sam - look, I like Sam - he’s the character that sucked me inside this story, and I always try to give him something interesting to do in my fics, but Jesus - they’re making it very hard for me to like him at the moment. In fact, I think that Sam snapping at Dean in that therapist office and walking out of her office - that was the first time I’d seen the real Sam in years. Because after S5, Sam - stopped to exist as a character? He never has any interesting roles to play, and he’s mostly there to showcase and contrast Dean’s emotions and Dean’s tough choices. And at the beginning, it made sense Sam would be wary of himself (see the whole Ruby mess), but now this good guy act is getting old, because the thing is - to me, it doesn’t read like the show is even aware that Sam’s faking it. To them, it’s what’s actually happening. Dean is volatile and hot-headed, the script goes, and Sam more rational and wants to help people and do the right thing. Except - that’s not really how it is, is it? 

One of the problems is, of course, that they’re working so hard to stay away from all the gay subtext they themselves created (for no good reason, because either you do something with it or it’s queerbaiting, and we should do well to remember that) that Sam is growing into someone we have no incentive to like. Because on the one hand, Sam needs to not grieve for Cas at all so that Dean’s pain will shine through more clearly, and on the other, he needs not to bring up Lucifer at all because we know Lucifer abused him and had sex with him pretending to be Jess, and that’s another thick layer of gay (sub)text right there. So the result is that Sam comes off like a complete arse, and what frustrates me to no end is that I want to like him, and I know he’s not actually like that. Like - I’m sure I’m not the only one, come on - these first four episodes - Sam was an asshole to Dean, and an asshole in general. He completely disregarded both Cas’ death and Crowley’s death, never pushed Dean to discuss how he felt about it even though Dean spent more than a week sulking and drinking in his room and being completely miserable and isolating himself (when he drove out to meet Missouri, his hand had healed, so there’s where I get the time frame) - and that’s not only an asshole move - it’s out of character. Sam’s always been concerned about Dean drinking excessively, for instance, and we’ve seen as much n the show before. But now, suddenly, Sam’s not allowed to grieve for Cas because TPTB want us to see Dean grieving for Cas so that *wink wink, nudge nudge* we’ll guess there’s something different there. But what could that be? they want us to wonder, as if we’d be shocked and surprised by the answer, and every time I feel like -

- because that’s the other problem with this gay subtext bullshit - that it’s not worth it, because this is not the damn ‘40s anymore. It’s simply not such an interesting thing to bet your entire narrative on, and grow up, show.

And another thing: since they won’t let Sam deal with the Lucifer business, and they want to maintain the codependency because that’s apparently why half their audience is watching, Sam is stuck as the teenager to Dean’s adult. Because Dean is the one backing down and apologizing for his bad behaviour at the end of E04, and Sam - Sam just sits there and accepts the apology, without acknowledging he was kind of a dick too. Furthermore, Sam blames Dean for his own inability to bond with Mary, Sam tries to look after Jack because a) Jack reminds him of himself and b) Jack can help him (when Dean accuses him of wanting to use Jack, Sam never denies that), Sam suddenly sends other hunters to do the job because he’s otherwise occupied, and Sam - this really annoyed me - finally admits everything Dean did for him not by thanking him, or anything, but by insisting Dean should now do the same for someone else. That’s some low emotional blackmail and, again, very out of character. Because Sam must realize that being there for him basically ruined Dean’s life -

(We know that’s not true - we know that looking after baby Sam is what kept Dean soft and profoundly himself - but Sam doesn’t.) 

- and if he stops and thinks about it, which he hasn’t yet, he should realize as much - that Dean risked everything, gave up everything, renounced everything - for Sam. And to casually ask him to do the same for someone they don’t even know - someone who’s also directly responsible for Cas’ death - that was really something. Plus, Sam - the champion of free will - isn’t really interested in allowing others a free choice. Even leaving aside how he behaves with Dean, what he’s doing with Jack is appalling and not that different from what Asmodeus wanted with Jack. And yeah, so Asmodeus wanted Jack to free the Shedim, and Sam tried to have him move a pencil, but the essence is the same: it’s not about allowing Jack to grow up and discover who he wants to be, but about shaping him into an instrument that can be used.

(See also: Sam not giving a damn when it was Cas stuck in his room all day, watching TV and refusing to go out - but suddenly when Jack does it it’s cause for concern and ‘he needs fresh air, Dean’, and Sam’s ‘he’s messed up because of you’, which - Jesus Christ - and ‘if there’s one thing Dean respects it’s effort’ and mostly ‘you’re starting to sound like Dad - his drill sergeant act worked with you, but it didn't work with me’ - I hope I wasn’t the only one staring at that point, because what the actual fuck? And what annoys me the most here is that, as I said, the show is not doing this on purpose, working some secret angle - this, to them, is objective reality. What Sam is doing is coded as alright - as compassionated and Good. It’s Dean who apologizes, and it’s Dean who’s told to his face ‘You upset your brother so much he had to leave the room’ and ‘he’s terrified of you’. Honestly, this is their childhood and that clown place and the Striga all over again.)

3) There are plot holes that are impossible to fix, but that’s not new

Look, it’s not even worth it to go into this, but just - if God has no power in the Empty, how did he resurrect Cas the first whatever times? And if Jack is a mindless idiot, how could he manipulate Cas and Kelly from the womb? And what about that other Nephilim? Did no one notice her existence? And the Antichrist boy? Will we ever see him again? And how come it’s suddenly safe for Jack to go on hunts with them? Isn’t everyone and their cat looking for him? And how does Lucifer need Mary, exactly? He’s not human - he doesn’t need to make a hostage negotiation - he just has to find his way back and burn Sam and Dean into the damn floor.

4) Gay subtext ruins everything

I talked about this already, but just - as usual, there was a lot of Destiel subtext, enough to keep us happy - from angels seeing right through Dean and saying it’s ‘sweet’ how he thinks Jack can bring Cas back to Dean’s control slipping (“We lost everything and now you’re going to bring him back” - and, like, whoa) and that ‘moving on’ comment, not to mention the ‘I know who you love’ line in the Empty. But, again, the problem is that they’re not going anywhere with this (if they were, they’ve had about six years’ worth of openings), which means this is damaging the story more than it is helping it (narratively, of course; financially speaking, it’s a different matter). It’s turning Sam into a complete asshole, it’s stopping him from dealing with Lucifer, and it’s making Dean into this weird person who does things without rhyme or reason. For instance - the fact he decided to burn Kelly but not Cas, not until they could find Jack - how does that say good things about him? The implication is, he didn’t give a damn about Kelly. She could die the true death, because he wasn’t interested in the possibility Jack could bring her back, but Cas - for Cas, he had to wait. And that’s something which becomes understandable, even forgivable, if Dean is in love with Cas. But if they’re just random bros - Dean never reacted like that - not when Charlie died, not when Benny died, not even when Bobby died. It’s only after Cas dies that he becomes the worst version of himself - that he drinks too much and he snaps at people and he doesn’t care what happens, as long as they get to kill something. And if Cas is - whatever - just another guy, then Dean’s behaviour is really not okay. So, you know - people have been saying it for years, but just - either stop it or make it textual. Enough is enough.

Random thoughts

I liked that the Empty functions like the Hell in Greek religion - that you wake up when you’re called, and otherwise don’t exist at all. An elegant compromise. I’m still not clear what those ‘cosmic consequences’ were. And still not happy that Death died and that was - okay? Also, how careful are they around Crowley? Will we ever know what happened between Mark and Dabb? Buttshake kid was a good kid. ‘You have an angel watching over you’ - yeah, no. That’s doublespeak, and I can do without it.  Oh, and Buckleming only included an attempted rape and not an actual rape in their latest episode, so I guess there’s hope for everyone?

[rhoewrites]

a thought everyday since you left.

legends:  DAY N - grieving/moving on DAY N - getting better/trying to be better DAY N - moved on and/or healing

DAY 1

You told me you’ll never be like them, but you turned out to be just like everybody else. 

DAY 2

Did you let me go because you didn’t love me enough to stay?

DAY 3

I’d give anything to have you back and for you to love me like how you used to.

DAY 4

Are you coming back? Do I wait for you?

DAY 5

Too many thoughts and questions that I can’t put into words.

DAY 6

Do you cry yourself to sleep too?

DAY 7

I loved every single inch of your body and soul yet you still left.

DAY 8

Barely holding on to life because the one thing I’m looking forward to left.

DAY 9

What do I have to do to be enough for you?

 DAY 10

Realized that the next time I see you, you aren’t mine anymore. 

DAY 11

Why do you act like you still care about me in that way when you’re the one who left? 

DAY 12

You told me you’ll always pick me, every hour, every minute, and every second of every day, I was never informed it had a deadline.

DAY 13

I’ll miss the feeling of your lips in mine, with nothing in mind but love.

DAY 14

I miss you.

DAY 15

Your world only lost its colors, mine lost everything.

DAY 16

I hope you’re doing fine, but I also hope you’re as miserable as me.

 DAY 17

I wonder if you still love me. Maybe not. 

DAY 18

I’m tired of being sad but what can I do about it?

DAY 19

Sulking and sulking, while you’re getting better. Sucks to be me.

DAY 20

Everything hurts at this point and I really can’t do anything about it.

DAY 21

Please come back, I can’t take this anymore. Love me again, just like before.

DAY 23

I need distractions, I need you out of my head.

DAY 24

I keep dreaming of you and it sucks. You already left, can you leave my head and heart too?

DAY 25

I wrote a song about you, a song you’ll never hear, of course.

DAY 26

Am I even making progress?

DAY 27

I miss the way you look at me, full of love, full of admiration, will you ever look at me the same way?

DAY 28

I love you more than anything, that will never change.

DAY 29

I miss your random I love you’s, I really took them for granted, huh?

DAY 30

I need to be better, I need to move on too, like you already did.

DAY 31

I made a move, I gave myself the biggest distraction I could give myself, I hope it works out.

DAY 32

It’s been a month, huh? I wonder if you already moved on.

DAY 33

I don’t honestly if I’ll be able to move on, maybe soon enough, I will, but I think my love will continue even without you here now

DAY 34

You told me things you hate about me, you said you hate me. Even if you said it’s just the slightest, it really hurt me.

DAY 35

You’re really good at hurting me, maybe you can add it as a professional skill of yours.

DAY 36

I wish I could turn back time and make myself less of a bother back then, or maybe turn back to the time of not meeting you at all. 

DAY 37

It hurts so much, listening to Harry Styles reminds me of you and I hate it. You made the most beautiful of songs sound painful.

DAY 38

I hope you’re finally happy.

DAY 39

The moment I think I’m doing okay after some time of sulking you HAVE to show up again and make me lose my progress. AGAIN. Why won’t you let me recover?

DAY 40

You are confusing, do you care or you just don’t want to see me happy?

DAY 41

I hate that I can hate you in the morning but still love you wholeheartedly at the end of the day.

DAY 42

You’re just a friend now. You’re just a friend now. You’re just a friend now. Repeat until true.

DAY 43

We could’ve been 8 months now, but we didn’t make it.

DAY 44

I hope I can just quickly forget you like how fast you dropped me.

DAY 45

I hate that I’m still not over you, and you’re even pushing me to others now just clearly shows you’re over me.

DAY 46

I wonder how you’re doing, your mind, your heart, your emotions, are they okay?  Are you okay?

DAY 47

It’s been so hard today. When will this pain stop?

DAY 48

Every day’s the same. It’s so tiring, I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

DAY 49

Heard you’re already talking and getting attached to someone new, fuck you and fuck her. It’s so unfair.

DAY 50

I blocked you, please let me heal. Enough with the pain, I have to heal, I have to grow, I have to be okay. For my sake.

DAY 51

I’m trying to be better, trying to be more involved in creating stuff or writing, this works.

DAY 52

I was doing fine in the morning but it really hits hard at 4 am, I miss you, so bad. If only you knew.

DAY 53

Feeling a little better today, but I can’t deny that I miss you, and I know you don’t and it sucks.

DAY 54

You went private. I can’t stalk you anymore, maybe it really begins now.

DAY 55

I’m the biggest clown I know, I can’t believe I still love you after all.

DAY 56

Did you forget that I was even alive? Did you forget, everything we’ve ever had? Did you forget about me?

DAY 57

Sometimes I’m feeling better, sometimes I don’t, but it’s okay. It’s a progress, my progress. I’ll be fine too, one day.

DAY 58

I deleted most of our pictures on IG, you know how hard it is for a memory hoarder like me but I need to stop romanticizing the pain, I need to let you go.

DAY 59

I burned the roses, along with some of the love I still have with you. You already let me go, and I should too.

DAY 60

I tried to look back on our chats post break up, we did talk a lot, maybe that’s why it’s hard now, it’s just about to sink in real deep.

DAY 61

I feel a little bit better today, I hope it continues.

DAY 62

There are really some days that I just break down, this is one of those days.

DAY 63

I don’t feel the need of stalking you and her anymore, and honestly it feels great.

DAY 64

There are sad moments, but it doesn’t take a whole day for me now, and I think that’s progress.

DAY 65

I’ve deleted the videos on YouTube, it was a lot. I left 6 of them, for the sake of memories. For the sake of remembering the good times when I finally heal.

DAY 66

I keep burning pictures when I’m reminded of you, and let me tell you, shits therapeutic.

DAY 67

I’m proud to say that I’m doing better, I’m happy I’m learning to let go.

DAY 68

I love you and I miss you, but I also do not want you back.

 DAY 69

I’m outgrowing you, and honestly it feels good. I’m not mad at you anymore, you’re just a beautiful part of my history, my memory.

DAY 70

I tried adding and following you again, but it seems like you ignored me, I don’t really mind if you really want me out of your life now.

DAY 71

You appeared in my dreams though, like everything’s back to before, but I also know it will be just a dream.

DAY 72

Thursday, 11 days before I become an adult. It sure feels good to be better every day, without anybody’s help.

DAY 73

Letting go is hard, but once you’ve started it, it just gets better and better from there.

DAY 74

You still pop up in my mind before I drift to sleep and the moment I wake up, but looking back, I don’t feel as heavy as before.

DAY 75

You can really do something if you really set your mind to it, and telling myself to actually let go of you is hard, but it sure feels great.

DAY 76

Realizations hit you hard when you’re no longer in love, all the bad things I’ve done, all the bad things you’ve done, I guess we were really on the same page.

DAY 77

Something is still bothering me, I have to do something, I think that will really help me drop you off and get on with my own life.

DAY 78

I apologized to you, no hidden messages, no reading between the lines. Full transparency. I’ve kept my promise to be honest and true up to that last letter.

DAY 79

So that’s what’s keeping me in the pit, that’s what is pulling me down; my guilt. Now that I have apologized, I feel free. A prisoner in her own cell found the key and freed herself.

DAY 80

From a thought about you every day to listing out my progress, I think that’s growth.

DAY 81

Loving you was amazing, I’d tell you that, but loving me is marvelous.

DAY 82

I’ve never been this happy for a long time. It feels unbelievable. I thought I can never be happy without you but I forgot there’s a lot of people who love me, having myself and them is more than enough.

DAY 83

Less of those down days, I’m completely getting better, and I just love it.

DAY 84

I miss you, but not the person I once loved romantically, but the best friend that I had.

DAY 85

I missed being young, I miss not giving a fuck about anything because I’m just a kid, nobody can ever make me feel that way but One Direction.

DAY 86

I had flashbacks today. Folklore is just THAT album. It reminded me of you, of myself, in so many ways I can’t describe. I think I’m going to have a relapse.

DAY 87

I can’t stop listening to Folklore even if it hurts, but at the same time it’s also nostalgic to listen to. She fully described the emotions and thoughts of the person I was on day one.

DAY 88

You cross my mind sometimes, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.

DAY 89

Friendship breakups are hard, but if I got over you for leaving me, I’ll move on for losing my best friend too.

DAY 90

It feels surreal sometimes that I went through a lot for the past 90 days, but I’m really glad that I did. It just proves nothing really lasts forever, even your pain and sufferings.

DAY 91

I miss my old enthusiastic self, but I’ll get her back. I’ll find her again.

DAY 92

Did a list of to dos and don’ts, I’ll live up to it.

DAY 93

I’m loving myself, a little by little, every day.

DAY 94

Just realizing the things I wish I realized sooner, and maybe I could’ve saved both me and you some time.

DAY 95

Surprisingly, I’m content with being alone now.

DAY 96

You are still important to me, I’m not gonna lie, but I don’t love you that way anymore. You’re just a dear friend to me and a beautiful part of my past that I’ll surely never forget. Remembering you doesn’t bring me pain anymore.

DAY 97

Hearing news of you being not who you used to be, changing into a bad version of yourself. I know before I also bad mouthed you publicly, but that was because I was hurt, now that you’re doing it, is it because you’re in pain right now?

DAY 98

I can get mad at you for acting the way you are right now but I can never hate you. 

DAY 99

I’d fall in love over and over again to the version of you that I first met, but you’re a completely different person now, that’s not you anymore. I don’t love you anymore.

DAY 100

Hey, I made it. Just months ago I thought I wouldn’t but here I am, standing strong today.

DAY 101

I can’t deal with the news I keep hearing about you, I really want to help you but I can’t do that now, since I’m not a part of your life anymore. I’ll leave the job to experience, I guess.

DAY 102

I’m going to finally cut you off too, I hope you’ll realize things and grow out of your bad habits like I did. If this life would be kind and reconnect us some time in the future, that would be great, too. I hope you really find that inner peace now.

DAY 103

I blocked you everywhere. I don’t want to associate myself with you anymore, maybe not right now. See you when I see you, I guess.

DAY 104

You cross my mind every once in a while but I think that’s normal, because I once loved you more than anything and anyone else, and I never lied when I said you’ll always have a special place in my heart, and even I say I don’t, a part of me will still care about you. I hope you completely heal soon, I hope we both will.

DAY 105

Thank you for everything, for the smiles, the joyful days, even for the tears and the sorrowful days. Thank you for being a part of my growth. 

I’ve learned that someone could be the whole song for you but you're just a line on a song for them. 

 I’m ending it all here.

[kevins-meth-bag]

I finished the script, now to put this in a play

In early spring, three kids walk out of their pig shack and began picking corn out from their family farm. One of the three kids,willie hopped into the corn bushes to play hide in seek with his two siblings. The two other children though did not know willie was playing hide n' go seek so willie waited and waited hours, days, weeks, soon enough time started to lose meaning.Willie wandered through the corn bushes,and came across a very very very old man with giant hands named cameron. The boy since then has lost sanity ,he didn't know right from wrong, he hadn't had meat in such a long time, this is his time to attack, to feed, to grow, to destroy .Willie launched at cameron and bit into his flesh,the man screeched like goat, the man wasn't cameron cuntbell the man was a man named flof who has curly red hair who had noodle arms like no other. Flof and Willie died because 5 minutes before this a plane was flying in the sky not a huge one just a toy plane but it still was able to kill them because it smashed into some cattle, those cattle ran into a bolder, that bolder ran into a cactus farm and the cactus farm fling a cactus onto a hay bale that was stacked to high and made it fall onto them. Flof was dead and so was willie but there was a way to bring them back,their dream selves were still alive. But for them to come alive they would need to possess a body and and sacifice 100 children before their corpse rots and becomes unusable, if that were to happen the people they where possess will revert back to their original state of being and time would reset for everything except for the bodies, also the bodies can't be seen, felt, heard smelled, or any kind of sense to find them. A person from the heavens was sent to sacrifice the children with a secret cult-aid,as flof was a very important piece of the puzzle of life with his noodle arms. But for the fact that he was already dead the world, no the universe was falling apart and they had not time to waste, even if time were to reset it didn't matter because the universe is bigger than time. The angel was named fluf and looked very close to flof but with all white features,the angel went down near the dead body of a tree. The tree slowly healed like though a magic force feeding it energy, but as that was happening the angel was slowing losing its power as if something was eating it, the tree was not a tree but a demon was was cursed into that spot waiting for a force with enough energy and power to be able to free him, he was feeding of squirrels and birds before and no human would ever go near it, but now was the demons chance with its little power it stole and stole the angels power until the angels got drier and smaller, than the angles turned into grass, for angels can't die but be trapped to never escape, unless it turned to the dark side but if it were to do that it would also become such a demon and then demon would have won no matter what, The demon had a new chance, a new chance a revenge that his, he would go around and kill all the children he can a steal their souls because only children souls with their purity can give the demon enough power to escape this dieing universe and go into his own new universe with hookers and blackjack.

Reed:Oh boy i really miss willie

Timmy:It has been 5 years reed,get over it

Reed sighed and walked off into the corn bushes to get some corn for dinner.

Jim the pig: Oink Oink Oink

Reed: what is it boy

Jim starts running in circles

Timmy: Damn pigs I think it's time to put him down

Reed smacks Timmy in the back of the head

Timmy: What?! You know it’s true

Reed: Shut up you idiot and check your phone to see what's wrong

Timmy looks it up

Reed: So what does it say

Timmy: I can’t get any service

Reed: How? Where right next to it

Timmy: Maybe it's busted down or maybe my phone is just broken, it's a old phone

Reed: I’ll check the tv, their a chance, even if small, that it can explain what's going on

Reed goes to the tv and turns it on

Reed: That's weird

Timmy: What?

Reed: It's not working

Timmy: Damn it, that's just bad luck

Reed goes to the door to ask the neighbors, 1 miles from here if their internet works

Reed:The doors stuck

Timmy: Pull the door

Reed: I am

Timmy: Let me try then

Reed back away as Timmy tries to open the door, what the heck

A voice is sounded as the door got knocked on

???:Knock knock,children

It was the tree demon who came to life,the kids felt chills go down their spine as they were paralyzed in place.The tree demon hummed a little tune before opening the door

TD:“Ready or not here i come~”

The kids shook in fear as a sudden plant poked out of the ground

TD:“Ugh not again stupid angel”

The demon stomped up to the plant and kicked it over

TD: Just stop already angel, you already lost

Reed:Timmy quickly while he's looking away get the axe from the closest

Timmy: …

Reed: TIMMY QUICKLY!!!!

Timmy drops to the floor

The demon smirks

TD: come on, an axe won’t work on me, but it’s not like you're gonna get a chance to even try now

A axe hit the demon in the back and the demon falls over

TD: What?! How?!

Behind the demon was a random man with a slightly glowing axe, handle made out of mahogany, and the sharp part made out of steel with a hit of the angel plant from early

Random Guy: Brothers it’s so good to see you guys again

Reed: Do I know you?

Random Guy: It's me willie

Reed: How, we thought you died 5 years ago

Willie: No i was surviving on corn until recently were I tried to eat a old man, I must have gone a little crazy

Reed: But you don’t look at all like you used to

Willie: I had to possess some ones body to try to come back to life

Reed: Where did you go Willie

Willie: What do you mean? I was playing hide n’ go seek

Reed: By yourself

Willie: No with you guys

Reed: You have to tell use first, you can’t just hide without our knowledge

Willie: Now I feel like an idiot

The demon grabs Timmy by the leg and drains him from all of his lifeforce

TD: HaHaHaha…

The demon stops, it is dead, the demon had too much energy for his body to contain, not even the “immortal” demon can handle it

Willie grieves his losses and then walks out the door

While Willie is walking for the closest place with the most kids he thinks to himself

Willie: It said if I don’t kill them time will reset but i’ll die, but if I come back to life will time reset or will all these death be on my guilt. Why would I want to live after that, this guilt, this pain that i’ll go though I don’t think anything is worth that. Maybe I should stop.

Then a thought goes in his mind

Willie: But if time resets then the demon will be alive and that wound I give him won't weakened him and he might adapt to the power.

No matter the choice it is bad

I gotta kill the children

After that days have passed

Willie has been been pretending to be a clown and going to birthday parties, a lot harder job now that clowns are scary

But at night he set up a little club and put fliers everywhere so that they could join his club or I should say clubs since he set up all different kinds of clubs. Sadly people learn stuff from the internet nowadays so it's not that easy to kill children. And now pesky people are looking for him, trying to find the murder of all traits.

Over the next few days he's given up on trying to hide his murdering, even time he sees a lot of kids he murders them. Which has been working in his favor because the people there don’t know the difference of a homicide and a suicide.Time and time again until he reached the big 100. He reverted back to his body. He went back home and watched tv where the guy who he possessed was sentenced death right away.

Willie: this was not an easy task to do

Reed was not their nor was Jim

Willie was by himself

He lost himself while he wa in the corn field.

And life will never be the same

End

[itsmunkychoi]

Our Last Day (R.I.P)

I get a phone call last Friday night 07/14/17 and it’s your sister, Kiara, telling me that I have an appointment with her is 15 minutes. I look at the time. It’s almost nine o’ clock at night. “An appointment? Where?” I asked. “Here in my house!” She laughed. I had completely forgotten that you guys were celebrating her birthday that night. I mentioned something about Lester not coming home that night. Instead he was coming the next day, so I wasn’t going to be able to make it. Kiara suddenly got serious, “don’t tell me that!” She said in a stern voice, “ we have crabs and ribs set aside just for you guys.” Oh shit! I felt bad about forgetting so I promised her that I would make it there ad soon as the boys fell asleep. My brother and my cousin stayed home with my kids after I put them to bed. I quickly showered and threw on some clothes. I rushed to do my make up and hopped in an Uber. Once I got there I was welcomed by your family. When I walked into the diningroom you yelled, “you made it!” And everyine chimed in and laughed. My friend Jason was there, after all he is your sisters boyfriend. I was quickly introduced to some friends that were there including your girlfriend Maggie. You kept passing me crabs to eat. They were enormous. At one point a nagged you about only giving me crabs with no legs. Everyone laughed and you dug through the pile of crabs to look for one that had the claws still attached. “But none of these crabs have claws!” You said defending yourself. Kiara laughed and explained that Jason’s mom only liked the claws so your dad yanked them all off for her. We all laughed and I apologized for blaming you. Across the table from us there was a girl named Cendy. You decided to have some fun since my name is Cindy. You would yell out one of our names and when we both looked you would address one of us. “CENDY!” you yelled. We both looked in your direction. “Not you, her.” You said to me as you pointed at Cendy. Everyone laughed. I shook my head and muttered a soft “coño” and continued to break my crabs. A few seconds later I hear you ask, Cindy, do you want more crabs?“ I glanced over at you and saw that you were looking at Cendy. She politely started to decline but before she could finish her sentence you interrupted her, “not you, her” you said pointing at me. Everyone laughed. “Danny you’re such an idiot!” Jason said while he laughed. We watched Kiara open her presents and after she opened every gift you yelled, “you made it!” I thought you were such a clown. But you kept everybody laughing. You made plans with Kiara, Jason and some friends to go and watch the boxing match next month in Cendy and her boyfriend Joe’s house. Before we knew it, it was 1 am. You and your girlfriend were the first to go. You said good bye to everyone except for me and Cendy. Then right before you walked out of the door you turned around and yelled, “ BYE CINDIES!” This was Friday night. That Sunday morning I wake up and scroll through Facebook since my kids were still sleeping. R.I.P DANNY. I read……next to a picture of you. What? My eyes must be playing tricks on me. It was written on Kiara’s wall. I read it about five times before calling Kiara’s phone. It rang a few times before someone answered it. “Hello,” a male voice responded. I stayed silent and felt kind of stupid for calling. I thought that you had answered Kiara’s phone for some reason and that maybe I had read the post wrong. I guess the person on the other side of the phone read my thoughts because he quickly said, “it’s me Jason.” I could tell that he had been crying and that he had not slept. There was a brief moment of silence. “Am I reading this right?…..Danny?” I asked. Hoping that I was wrong and that he would have no idea what I was talking about. “Yes,” Jason sniffled. “When? How?” I asked. Still not believing it. “Last night. A motorcycle accident.” How could that be? I thought to myself. “We were just with him….” I whispered. Jason muttered, “yeah, I know. I still can’t believe it.” I asked how Kiara was doing and Jason said she was distraught. He asked if I wanted to speak to her and I said if she’s up for it then yes. He handed the phone over to Kiara. “It’s Cindy,” I heard him tell her. “Hello,” I heard Kiara’s voice. Faint and weak. “Kiara,” I managed to say before we both broke down and cried. “I’m so sorry, this is horrible,” I said in between tears. “Cindy they took a piece of my heart!” Kiara sobbed, “he left me with nothing, he just left me like this with nothing!” The hospital where your body was being kept called her and we had to hang up. I told Jason that I was on my way to Kiara’s house and Lester drove over there with me. When I walked into your mother’s house everyone was there crying. I hugged your mother and she looked like a zombie. She just kept saying that she still doesn’t belive it, she doesn’t understand why this was happening. Her baby boy was gone. I saw your girlfriend and I rushed over to her and hugged her. She broke down and cried on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry sweat heart!” She sobbed and I patted her back. I cupped her face in my hands and asked her how she was holding up. She nodded and wiped her tears. Jason and no I hugged and then he asked me if I wanted to see kiara. I nodded and we all walked out the door. Your girlfriend followed us. I held her as we walked over to your older brothers apartment downstairs. As soon as I walked in, I saw kiara on the phone looking overwhelmed. She had just hung up and looked up to see us walking in. Time sort of stopped and I saw Kiara’s face crumple. I could feel her pain penetrate my heart. I quickly embraced her and she began to sob uncontrollably. “What can I tell you?” I asked her, “what words can I tell you to make the pain go away?” She continued to sob. “My heart hurts,” she weakly stated. Lester came in and swooped her into his arms. “I’m so sorry kiara,” he said as he kissed your cheek. This is when Jason started to explain to me what had happened to you. You and your older brother were riding your motorcycles. You lost control and flew off of yours and got strewn under a car. That car’s muffler hit you in the chest which is what caused your death. You didn’t die instantly. You were alive in your brothers arms for a while. Blood was coming out of your nose, ears and mouth. But you were concious. Your older brother knew that the accident was bad. He held yiur hand and said, “bro, just pray. Tell God to forgive your sins and accept Jesus as your lord and saviour.” He wept over you and continued to tell you to pray and to ask God to welcome you into his kingdom if anything were to happen. You didn’t respond but you looked him in the eyes and squeezed his hand. In the hospital you were put on life support, but after half an hour of no brain activity they pronounced you dead. Your mother didn’t know until she arrived in the hospital that you had passed. She hasn’t been the same. I think she was in shock for three days after you passed. I went to your wake yesterday on Friday night (07/21/17) and the words that people spoke about you were so beautiful. Your father broke down while saying his few words. Your mother and Kiara were unconsolable. At one point your older brother asked your mother to stand up. He turned her around and said, "look mami, all these people are here for Danny. For your son. Look at how many people love him.” We all cried with your mother. I walked over to your casket and saw you laying there. I wept. I wept for the years of life that you didn’t get to live. I wept for your parents whom had to bury their child. No parent should go through that. I wept for the girlfriend that you left behind. I wept for your brothers and sister and family members. I saw your friends and saw how they showed up grieving. Grown men openly crying. Looking down into your casket not believing that their beloved friend is gone. Your pastor had difficulty reading the scriptures and saying saying his piece because because he too broke down and cried a few times. Your oldest brother said that he always asked God not to let him be there should should and accident ever happened with you and your motorcycle, but now he thanks God that he was there because he was able to make sure that you weren’t alone and that you prayed and asked God to forgive your sins. Today, Sunday morning (07/22/17), we laid you to rest. We all placed roses onto the sides of your casket. And threw flowers on top of your casket. Your older brother, kiara and your parents broke down. The wails and grieving cries were almost umbearable. My heart went out to your family. I wondered, could you see us? Could you see how many people loved you? Are you in a better place? I’m sure you are. It will take a long time for your friends and family members to heal but we all understand that God works in mysterious ways. For whatever reason, he needed you home. One day you will be reunited with everyone in the kingdom of heaven. R.I.P Danny Cornejo.

Your death even made it all over the news. Here’s one of the segments about you.

http://bronx.news12.com/story/35895874/police-bronx-man-dies-in-motorcycle-crash

[cassandrapentayaaaaas]

Male Trevelyan Compilation (with backstories)

*whips out the wallet which I keep specifically for pictures of my fictional children* good afternoon I have so much to say about my babies

(also- if y'all ever want to share your inquisitors with me like literally at any point ever my sub and ask boxes are always open for cute BioWare-rendered faces <3). These are characters we’ve poured time and effort into, and they are absolutely worth sharing.

Benjamin (Ben) Trevelyan: 30/Warrior/Non-Beliver/Bisexual/Pro-Templar (he’s the newest baby) 

Ben’s motto is “do it now, ask questions later.” Honestly, he’s a lot like Cassandra, minus the whole “devoted to the Maker” thing. He believes firmly in “right” and “wrong,” but he’s willing to learn. If he looks tired, it’s because he is. He didn’t want this job; he was at the Conclave to escort some of the mages who made up a distant part of his family, and now they’re all gone.

He’s built like a monster truck -Varric calls him “Muscles”- he can give Bull a run for his money where drinking is concerned, and really just wants to go home to Ostwick where his family, fiancée, and mabari are (there’s no way he’s uprooting them to bring them to Skyhold). He’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but his gut feelings are almost always right. He’s learned to go with it. He’s strikingly kind and loves very deeply. He’s a good man.

Friedrich (Fritz) Trevelyan: 38/Rogue/Questioning Belief/Gray-Asexual/Pro-Mage (I definitely have a crush on this hairy man)

Fritz used to be a Chantry scholar and historian (imagine Bram Kenric, but but less about the Inquisition and more about holy relics, texts, and figures). He’s also studied the history of magic. He was excellent at his job and he’s terribly intelligent, but he flaunts neither of those factors. He’s truly a very quiet man, until you come to him with a question or a topic to discuss. When you do, he’s wonderfully patient, attentive, and never condescending -three of the many factors that make him Dorian’s favorite pal. (He’s also my first inquisitor to personally drink from the Well of Sorrows ‘cause he’s a big ‘ole nerd that wants to know everything).

Varric calls him “Doc,” because of his former profession, and to be honest, he wasn’t much of a fighter until the world called on him to become its leader. In fact, he’d never even picked up an object with the intention of making it weapon until he was 24; someone broke into his rooms at the university to steal an artifact he was examining and they were ready to kill him for it. He fought back with a letter opener, and won. 

About 5 years after that incident, he fell in love with a very sweet chantry sister. She fell ill very suddenly, and the local mother opted for prayer over a healer. It didn’t end well for Fritz’s girl, and he felt utterly betrayed by the Maker. He lost his faith for quite a while afterwards, but Cassandra has done a good job of reminding him why he believed in the first place. 

Fritz’s sexuality is really hard to pin down, but he finds he’s most comfortable identifying as gray-a. He’s pretty head-over-heals for the Seeker. She’s really fond of him, too, but they haven’t quite gotten around to discussing where things are going. Their flirting is the shy, gentle, complementary type, and it makes my heart happy just thinking about it.

Dennon Trevelyan: 34/Rogue/Andrastian/Bisexual/Undecided

Dennon (or “Stubble,” if you’re Varric and can get away with it) is a hard man. He’s the middle Trevelyan boy (out of three), and he’s always had to fight for what he’s been given. He’s not an intentionally cruel person, he just genuinely doesn't think feelings are a thing that should be taken into consideration when conducting business, and his business is now the Inquisition. 

While his directness (or bluntness, if you prefer) has made him rather popular with Cassandra, Cullen, and Vivienne, it’s made keeping alliances a risky business. Josephine has spent many hours attempting to help him navigate the art of subtlety, and every time she winces at his sharper edges, it dulls him down a little more... and to be honest, he’s liking the results (and Josie) a lot.

Maddox Trevelyan: 28/Mage/Agnostic/Homosexual/Pro-Mage

Maddox is constantly on the move. This is his first time out of the Circle, and he’ll be damned before he’ll waste it on idleness. He knows what duty is -the number of responsibilities they heaped upon mages in the Circle taught him that- and the members of the Inquisition are constantly amazed at how he’s able to fulfill all of his duties to the utmost, with time left over to explore.

Honestly, Maddox is an adventurer. There’s nothing he likes better than the rush of seeing or doing something new. If he’s not scaling a mountain, he’s diving head-first into the Waking Sea, or considering joining an Avvar hold. Dorian has done wonders to keep him grounded, when need be; Maddox is a dreamer and his amatus, on the other hand, is a dreamy pragmatist. ;)

Maddox (or Blue Eyes, as Varric calls him) is entirely anti-circle, but he’s still somehow managed to win Vivienne over. In fact, there’s no one within the inner circle who isn’t utterly pleased when he’s around. He’s simply a contagious personality, and he is deeply loved.

Abelard (Abe) Trevelyan 42/Rogue/Andrastian/Heterosexual/Undecided (I’m almost as in love with him as I am with Cassandra)

Abe looks like the kind of guy who would beat the snot out of you for looking at him funny, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Varric has even nicknamed him “Grizzly” just for the irony of the implication. He’s wickedly intelligent and he’s the biggest, softest teddy bear this side of Lake Calenhad. He just doesn’t smile much, anymore.

He lost his wife and daughter about two years before the Inquisition began, and he’s still trying to work through it. He’d turned his back on the Trevelyan family’s money to marry a girl who was below his station. They needed cash, so he had to work. He became part of a crew that was sent to ransom and return captives and slaves taken from the Marches and Ferelden to Tevinter, mostly. While he was away on a mission, raiders sacked his tiny village and killed everyone who looked too weak to turn a profit in the slave market. That meant most of the populace, since two harvests in a row had failed and most people were malnourished.

He’s a quiet man, but his actions speak very loudly. He’ll do anything for anyone, so long as he knows them to be good, and it took the inquisition two extra weeks to get out of the Hinterlands because Abe couldn’t leave the refugees “like this.” He even helped to design and construct the area’s first school house, which now bears his family’s name -a fact he will no doubt blush at, if you mention it.

He really likes Cassandra, and she really likes him, but they’re both grieving (Regalyan’s loss is still fresh). For now, the find comfort in their friendship. Neither one wants to push while they’re unready. She is the one who gets him to smile the most often, though.

Peter Trevelyan 22/Mage/Questioning Belief/Pansexual/Pro-Templar

Peter is usually a little shit, and that’s why I love him. He’s always pulling someone’s leg, and Sera often comes to him for prank ideas –though he never lets her pull one off without him at her side. He’s terribly sweet, and his brand of humor permeates nearly every sentence he speaks. He may be a prankster and an utter clown, but he’s wonderfully fierce and has this innate need to protect everyone.

Before his magic manifested, he wanted to become a Templar. Once he discovered he was a mage, he had to battle a lot of self-loathing as well as some serious self doubt. He saw his magic as a flaw and a weakness, and he clung to his idols, the Templars, upon arrival at the Circle (he was only 12 and they just took him away from everything he knew and loved someone please give my poor baby a hug D,:). He sees the value of the Circle because that’s where he was trained to master the parts of himself he came to hate and fear most. It’s been a slow road to go, but in being around apostates and liberated mages like Dorian, Morrigan, and Solas, he’s learning to see mages (including himself) as people and not as wrong, ill-formed things.

He copes with his own insecurities through self-deprecation and near constant levity. He’s still consistently unsure of himself, and his opinion of his own worth is still relatively low, but his dedication to bettering himself and the world around him is admired by all. Honestly, he’s so good to everyone. I love this boy so much.

Michael Trevelyan 26/Mage/Passively Andrastian/Bisexual/Pro-Vivienne-Style-Mage(so... Pro-Templar?)

Right now, Michael is an asshole, but I love getting to know him. He’s the only son of Bann Trevelyan’s four children, and even though he’s a mage, he’ll inherit the better part of his parent’s estate. He’s been treated like a prince since he was born, and it’s made him horribly self-serving. He thinks he’s the cream of the crop, and advice is the one thing he never takes. But, underneath his haughty exterior lies a true idealist with an amazing work ethic.

His air of superiority often leads people to assume he’s lazy. In actuality, he’s amazing at spotting potential and talent in others, which makes him skilled in delegation. He also does his own work at breakneck speeds. Michael won’t tolerate being hindered in the process of achieving his goals by anyone or anything, and he always does whatever is necessary to see that his ends met.

He hasn’t made many friends in the Inquisition, so far, but he hasn’t even gotten out of Haven yet, so we’ll see. Honestly, he’s not currently someone I’d want to spend much time with, but he’s quite handsome, and I want to see his character develop.

Caleb Trevelyan 15/Warrior(Mage)/Questioning Belief/Heterosexual/Undecided

This is my favorite child, and the first Inquisitor who I actually spent time crafting a personality for. I don’t want to get too into his backstory, because he is a large part of a fic which I wILL DEFINITELY WRITE SOMEDAY WHEN I HAVE TALENT TO DO IT JUSTICE. But he is so incredibly driven. He has such a desire for justice, and he learns like it’s no one’s business.

Everyone loves this kid, but he’s got such a self-sacrificial nature that they all have to stay a little more on their guard with him than any normal warrior, because he will literally bury himself in enemies to keep his friends safe. He has so much potential, and everyone is happy to help him reach it in whatever way they can. Ugh. He’s such a little cutie.