#i fear jersey would not need the death note

[boxwinebaddie]

i'm sorry, this has nothing to do with sp or my fics, but i just need y'all to know that i accidentally liked too many posts about death note on here bc i was rewatching it and now my tumblr dash is all fucked up

[goodbuckcharlie]

The lake’s embrace | Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack’s neighbor and first friend in New Jersey outside of the team, has finally ran out of excuses to avoid going to the lake house. She has avoided going in the past for two reasons. 1) after a traumatic experience she has been afraid of deep water 2) she doesn’t get along with the youngest Hughes. But when shit hits the fan it’s Luke who saves her life.

Warning: near death experience, fear of water, childhood trauma/abuse, mentions of death.

Notes: This story means a lot to me as it hits close to home, also it’s the first story that made me actually sob while writing it, for that reason I have decided to do minimal editing.

The young florist is coming home from her normal 9 to 5 shift from her mother’s flower shop. She wouldn’t trade this job for the world. She loves listening to the stories her customers always carry in. From young men asking out their crush to the old woman buying flowers for her lover’s grave. Sometimes she grows green with envy as she struggles from a lack of romance in her life. She sighs to herself as she reaches for her keys in her purse.

“Max!” The girl knew what her neighbor wanted before he even made it to her door. She quickly remembers the excuse she had came up with in her room the other day in anticipation of this conversation. She regathers herself before turning in the direction of her neighbor. While she was just expecting to see Jack, she is surprised to see Luke there as well.

“Jack shouldn’t you be in bed resting?” Completely ignoring Luke who just rolls his eyes.

“No surgery can hold me down.” Jack flexes causing Max stare at him in disbelief. “Anyways you know what I’m here for, I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

“I’m not sure I can go, I can’t just leave my mom empty handed at the shop.” She knows her mom can handle to shop with the help of her husband but as far as she knows, Jack doesn’t know that, or does he.

“Funny you say that,” Jack replied holding a smile that would rival a Cheshire Cat. This causes Max to quirk her head in confusion, “I went to the shop after you went home yesterday and asked your mom and she said that she will be fine and that you need time to relax.”

“I don’t know why you went through all of that when you know she’s just going to find another excuse not to go.” Luke pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at Max, “Look if you don’t want to go just say that so he shuts up.”

“Glad to see you’re still as pleasant as a melted popsicle Luke.”Max doesn’t know what came over her but as Luke rolls his eyes again she felt something snapped, “You know what, I’ll go. My mom is right I deserve to rest.”

Jack nearly leaps with joy. He quickly tells her all the details she needs to get ready for the trip before the brothers leave to their place.Max quickly lets herself into her place .

The time flies and the next thing Max knows, she on the pier of the Hughes Family lake house. She’s met a few….. characters as she would describe them. From Jack’s flirty friend Trevor to one of Luke’s old college team mates that for the record are way nicer than Luke. So far she has avoided going into the water either by staying inside with Ellen or claiming to be sunbathing. But much like her excuses to avoid coming to the lake house in the first place, her excuses on avoiding the water would run out sooner or later.

“Come on Maxie as much as we love looking at your pretty face from over here it would be better in the water,” Jack calls out from the water. Now Max was use to Jack’s flirtatious remarks so she simply ignores him and continues to read her book.

“Leave her alone Jack if she doesn’t want to get into the water then she doesn’t have to.” Both Jack and Max are surprise to hear Luke stand up for her.

“Awe Lukey finally got a soft spot for Maxie?” The eldest Hughes who met Max a few times before, teases Luke who is standing next to him by the grill.

“Fuck no she’s still annoying, I’m just tired of hearing Jack bitch and moan.” And just as fast as he arrived ,nice Luke was gone and was replaced with the normal hater Luke.

“Oh fight me you White crayon ass bitch,” Max flips Luke off while going back to her book. But she doesn’t miss the roar of laughter the plague the area in response to her comeback.

“I promise Maxie by the end of this week I will get you in the water.” Max ignores Jack’s seemingly harmless threat in order to keep her mind at peace but in reality her heart is racing at the thought of going in the water.

Max avoids the water for the next few days but of course fate wasn’t on her side.

It was the second to last day at the lake house before Max had to go back to Newark. She is back on the pier this time she is just talking to Jack who is telling her some childhood stories. Max had no suspicions of Jack’s plan until she feels herself being picked up from behind.

She looks at the culprit and sees a smiling Trevor who was looped into Jack’s plan.

“Trevor for the love of God I’m begging you, don’t throw me in that lake,” Panic fills Max as she tries pleading with Trevor. But the stupid boy doesn’t see the panic and laughs off her pleads.

“Sorry Maxie no can do.” Trevor runs to the end of the pier and before she knew it she was in the air falling down to her watery grave.

As Max hit the water, she was quickly thrown back into the memory of one of the worst days of her life.

Max loved water as a kid, growing up in Southern California, she was a classic mermaid loving girl. She actually dreamed of being a marine biologist. But one faithful day changed all of that.

Her father was rarely around in her childhood and for good reasons. He was an alcoholic with anger issues. So imagine her mother’s surprise to hear that Max and her little brother had been picked up early from school by their father.

The then 8 year old Max had no clue what was going on, but she was just happy to see her dad. What she didn’t know was the evil plan her father had. Now a lot of the small details are a blur to her , but she vividly remembers her father driving his car into the lake with her and her brother in the back seat.

Now she tried her best to pull her brother out of the water, but she was fighting against the raging current that kept pulling her back down into the water. The raging water and the strength she needed to save her brother was too much for her frail body and she ended up passing out from exhaustion before she could get out of the water.

When she woke up, she found out she was the only one to survive the crash.

Everyone head turns when they hear Max’s scream. It wasn’t a normal scream, it was one of pure fear. Everyone looks at the situation with confusion. Well everyone but Luke who run into action and runs to the end of the pier and dives in after Max.

Without thinking he grabs Max and pulls her to land.

“CPR she needs CPR.” Luke shouts panicking. Jack’s girlfriend, Sam, runs over to where Luke lays Max down at. Luckily Sam use to be a lifeguard and she has kept up to date on her cpr certification.

Luke leaves Max in Sam’s care before going over to his panicked brother. Luke shoves Jack.

“You should have fucking listened to her when she said fucking no Jack.” Luke shoves Jack even harder. “She can’t swim dumbass.”

“Hey it’s not his fault, she should have told him she couldn’t swim.” Trevor stands in between the brothers.

“No mean fucking no Trevor, she doesn’t have to tell us shit beyond no.” Luke now pushes Trevor, “You nearly killed her for what? Shits and giggles?”

Before anyone could say anything else, they hear violent coughing. Luke glares at Jack and Trevor once more before rushing to Max’s side.

“Luke? You saved me?” Max asks with a raspy voice. Luke simply gestures to Quinn who is holding a water bottle. Quinn understands and hands Luke the water. He helps Max drink. “How did you know?”

“About a month ago, I found you drunk in the hall,” Luke recalls.

Like had just came home from his late night gym session, when he sees a female figure sitting outside of his and Jack’s apartment door. He assumes it’s one of Jack’s weird stalker fans. But as he got closer he realized it was Max.

Now Luke has a crush on Max but the poor boy is a hopeless romantic. His failed attempts of flirting through teasing had came out ruder than he intended creating a bad impression towards Max. So when he sees the girl he likes, drunk at his door step he can’t help but be concerned.

“Max?” Luke puts down his gym bag when he hears the sobs coming from Max, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lukey’s birthday.” This statement confuses Luke since his birthday wasn’t til September and it was currently April.

“No my birthday is in September.” He sits next to Max and she automatically puts her head on his shoulder.

“Noooo my brother Lukas.” She slurs her words, “I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t save my little brother.”

She tells Luke the story. Luke feels a mix of anger towards Max’s father as well as sympathy towards Max and her loss.

“I am such a bad person,” Max cries even louder, “If only I was stronger, my brother would have lived to turn 16.”

“Maxie it wasn’t your fault, you were 8,” Luke does his best to comfort the drunk girl, but he knows she probably can’t even hear him in her drunken state.

So he just holds her as she cries in the hallways until she passes out. He grabs her keys that were fortunately in her hands, and he carefully tucked her into her bed.

“God I thought that was a dream,” in that moment, Max think she would have preferred going back into the water than dealing with the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Awe you dream about me?” Max turns red and she quickly turns away from Luke, “Don’t worry I dream about you too, quite often actually.”

She snaps her head back at Luke in shock, “You do? But I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” He says while running his hand in her wet hair, “I am just horrible at flirting.”

“Flirting? Why would you flirt with me,” She looks at Luke for a second before putting one and one together. “OHHHH, really?”

“Yeah unfortunately,” she shoves Luke with the little strength she has, “but we can talk about this later, let’s get you inside and warm.”

Luke picks Max up as the two ignore everyone else.

“Wait what the fuck you mean unfortunately? You fucking uncooked spaghetti noodle.”

[vpalmersfootballgloves]

yellowjackets 205 thoughts

unlike javi, i dont know how to keep my thoughts to myself. spoilers below

first and foremost, HAPPY LESBIAN INDEPENDENCE DAY.

THE GAY ASS VHS STORE, THE DOUGHNUT SPRINKLES ALL OVER THE COUNTER, THE SKATEBOARD, THE IGNORED DUES, VAN BEING OFFICIAL GAY MENTOR OF OHIO. adult van cold open, i used to pray for you.

HAPPY WIFE HAPPY LIFE. taivan lives for another day!!!!! when they interlocked their fingers together, i whooped so loud my building collapsed

tai forever down bad and fucking whipped for van? just like me fr

the boob pen backstory?? TAIVAN SHENANIGANS AT SHAUNA'S WEDDING??? IM SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING FINANCIALLY BACKING AO3 USERS TO WRITE THIS PLOT RN....

tai being concerned over van's health..... tai admitting she's afraid she'll hurt van... van visibly hurting from tai admitting she loves her and moving past the hurt to be unbiasedly present for someone she cares so deeply for

tai in van's clothes !!!! tai sleeping on van's couch!!!! tai watching tv with van!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"maybe you don't have to be dying to have regrets" on god taissa, you have a dead dog, a sleeping problem, a wife in the icu and a child probably in child protection services. like i understand you its van but on god bestie you need help.

van cute as HELL for arguing with POP CULTURE REFERENCES.

fugue tai kissing van and van not backing off - she's down horrendous too i fear

side note jasmin looked so fucking good in this episode. god. like GOD.

and now the rest of the episode

never gonna get the mari hate, she's on a mission to be a Bitch to Everyone and it's funny as fuck TO ME!!!

akilah's determination to live and all the ways she's trying to preserve her humanity (caring for a mouse, studying for the SATs) is going to make her death hurt so much.

randy goofy as hell trying to pass off hand lotion as semen. shauna goofier than him for not checking. MUST MISTY BE THE ONLY INSANE OVERTHINKER AROUND TO COVER UP EVERYONES CRIMES IN NEW JERSEY????

pedo cop broke the weirdo-meter when he breached every law of the land and law of decency when he entered without a warrant and sniffed someone's potentially used condom

once again, i hope the milf avengers (or at least shauna) kill pedo cop. like hands shaking, skin peeling and everything.

jeff showing clear displeasure over the inappropriateness of his teen daughter being manipulated by a Grown Adult in a Position of Power rather than the risk of shauna being caught.... dad of the Fucking Year. this is a jeff sadecki defense household.

also shauna only asking callie about the cop's age after jeff's display of concern is actually very concerning...

callie being so happy she pleased shauna... can everyone with mommy issues please stand up?

fuck travis. nobody treats nat like that

javi only speaking to coach ben because he didnt participate in the jackie fruit festival... the gay ally i didnt expect

personally, i believe that fugue tai is a prominent candidate for antler queen and unless jackie can summon both snowstorms and physical form, fugue tai is javi's friend.

RIP KRISTEN YOU WOULD'VE LOVED HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL. IM SO SORRY YOU DIED IN A CESSPOOL OF EVERYONE'S SHIT.

the lottiemistynat love triangle continues. natalie fucking ace for bagging two women who would do anything for her.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Poison: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

"What is food to one is to others bitter poison." - Lucretius

Cases involving children are never your strong suit. The last one with Billie Copeland was just so hard, you’re not sure if you can be involved in another one--that is until you learned what this case is really all about. Yes, there is a child involved, but the bigger picture has a much larger scale than children.

You have to remind yourself that you need to focus on the case and not on Spencer. It shouldn’t even be a hard thing to do, but something happened between you two when you took him to the bookstore right next to your apartment. After checking out a couple of books, and after Spencer had read virtually all of them, you decided it was kind of late and that you needed to get home. The store was closing very soon anyway, so Spencer opted to walk you home.

When you got to your door, he decided to give you a kiss on your cheek, but you moved your head at the last minute. He accidentally got the corner of your mouth, and that messed up his whole thing. Based on his reaction to your mouths almost touching, you know he can’t be that interested in you. If he were, then he would have just kissed you right there and then. Instead, he stuttered a goodbye and left.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since. Does he like you? If so, then why won’t he just kiss you? If he doesn’t, then why does he agree to go on these dates with you. Whenever you two go out, you clearly state that this is a date, and he doesn’t say anything that dismisses that idea. Sometimes, you just wish you knew what was going on inside that big brain of his so you can dejumble it and tell him what the fuck is going on. You’d do it now, but you have a case that needs your full attention.

Apparently, a man and his son were driving down the road one night when the father pulled to the side of the road and got out. He walked into the woods, the son followed after him, and the father beat him almost to death. The son is in the hospital undergoing critical care while the father is in the psych ward. You’re not sure how it happened or why, but you know that it did. Hotch and Gideon got hold of the interrogation video sent over by the New Jersey Police Department.

Detective Hanover is the person who is going to be in charge and is also the person who you will be working with the entire time you’re in Jersey.

“State trooper took this before the paramedics showed up,” the detective says and shows Jack Fisher, the father of Eric Fisher, a picture of his unconscious body. “He's unconscious and has four broken bones. He's gonna be in the hospital for a month.”

“I didn't hurt my son,” Jack sighs.

“Do you remember removing the tire iron from the trunk?”

What, he used a tire iron? You gasp softly and put your hand to your mouth as you continue to watch.

“No! No!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“I picked Eric up from school on Friday, for the weekend. Who would do this?” he cries softly.

Hotch ends the video there and addresses the entire briefing room.

“This happened two days ago in Beechwood, New Jersey. Mr. Fisher had ingested LSD one afternoon and didn't come down until eighteen hours later.”

“The hospital reported six other patients who ingested LSD in the last twenty-four hours. The hospital called the CDC, then the CDC called us,” JJ finishes.

“So, a bunch of people got spiked. What makes it a BAU case?” Derek wonders.

“They each received ten to twenty times the normal dose.”

“That’s enough to kill a small child,” Spencer informs.

“Or cause a grown man to try and kill him with a tire iron apparently,” you sigh.

“Of the seven victims, there was one death and one coma. This is from the hospital's security footage the same night Fisher lost it,” JJ explains and uses the remote to put a different video on the screen.

It’s of the hospital that is in complete chaos. People are shouting, pushing, yelling, and apparently, having seizures. One man is on a stretcher, and he’s clearly on something. The doctors around him try to push past the madness of people to get him to a room while the nurses have their hands full of scared and angry patients. This wasn’t a spike or an overdose…

“These people didn’t get spiked. They were poisoned,” you reveal.

“Of the seven victims, Gail Norman was the only death. She was seventy-eight. She ran out into the middle of the road, and she was hit by a car. She was DOA,” JJ reveals on the plane ride over to New Jersey.

You’re sitting next to Spencer in one of the seats that are super cramped so that they can fit four of them in on either side of a small table. You’re sitting by the window, so essentially, Spencer is blocking you in. He’s not a big person, but because you have romantic feelings for him, it feels like a fucking trap.

“The other potentially fatal case is nine-year-old Brittany Canon. She fell out of a treehouse and fractured her skull. She's in a coma, but the doctors don't know if she's going to come out of it,” Hotch says.

“How do you wanna handle the press?” Gideon asks the liaison.

“We still don't know how these people even got dosed. I think it would be irresponsible to issue a warning without specifics. It'll just cause panic. I did notify the local PD, though, to be discreet.”

“How is it possible that none of these people knew how they got poisoned?” Derek wonders.

“None of them remembers anything about the day it happened,” you say and gesture, but your hand brushes up against Spencer’s leg.

You blush and mutter an apology, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He looks at you and blushes as well, but he is better at hiding it than you are.

“These people were so messed up; it's made it difficult for local PD to retrace the victim's steps.”

“So, we need to go on precedent. We know there are four types of poisoners who target multiple victims,” Gideon starts.

“There's the true believer--the political terrorist/religious cult. There's the extortionist--the product tamperer that holds the business hostage in exchange for money. The prankster--it’s usually a younger offender who doesn't mean any harm, and it's basically just a big practical joke to them. Then we have the avenger--someone with a personal vendetta who chooses poison as their weapon,” you explain the different types of offenders.

“We need to find out as quickly as possible which type he is. Because with the exception of the prankster, all these types commonly test their poison on a small scale before appearing at a larger attack.”

“Then, let's hope this one was just a prank,” Derek scoffs.

"I suggest we split up the victims and see if there's a pattern to the victimology,” Gideon suggests.

“Most of them are still in the hospital. I'll call local PD to meet us there,” Hotch confirms.

“I'll check the lab reports. Maybe there's a clue to the unsub's motive in the specific nature of the poison he used,” Spencer calls dibs.

“I can't imagine anybody could want this to happen.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll head to the hospital with you. The kid may not be able to tell the doctor anything, but I certainly can. I’ll be able to see what really happened if his mother allows it.”

“Good,” Gideon nods once. “We need all the answers we can get.”

The hospital is buzzing with panic, fear, sadness, and grief. Many people are dying in this hospital, and to someone like you, you’re not sure you can be here for much longer. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team don’t really understand how this all affects you. Normal people like the ones on your team see this hospital for what it is. They see people grieving and people crying, but they allow themselves to be separated from their emotions. They can walk into a loud crowd and tune out all the conversations and emotions without even thinking about it.

Not you. You’re completely different.

You walk into a crowd, and you’re overwhelmed by not only the physical sensation of people all around you, but your mind is also crowded. Your mind goes into overdrive as it inspects each person to make sure they are not a threat. To make sure that they are who they say they are. A normal person can see a kid walking down the street and not know they are kidnapped while you are able to determine that.

You walk into this hospital, and every single emotion of every single nurse, doctor, patient, and family member immediately go to your shoulders. Someone can be dying on the very top floor, and you’d feel how sad their family members are as they watch their beloved ones slip away. There could be someone in the next room receiving bad news, and it’ll be like you’re receiving the same news. It’s not fun living with your abilities, and you’ve caught yourself wishing it would all just end. However, you think about everyone you’ve saved, and it somehow all makes it okay.

“Detective Hanover, Beechwood PD,” the detective that was on the surveillance tape introduces himself to you, Gideon, and Hotch.

“Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Gideon and Agent Y/L/N.”

“Thanks for coming down on such short notice. The doctor said he may have permanent brain damage. I've never seen anything like this,” he sighs and looks at Eric, the little boy who was beaten by his own father.

“Well, let's hope we can help him.”

“Have you had a chance to review the victim's files?”

“We're especially interested in talking to the boy's father,” Gideon says.

“We'd like to get a sense of why he turned violent while the lab analyzes the specific nature of the LSD he was dosed with. we'd like to get our own sense: was it the drug itself or was there something else going on? Hopefully, that can give us a little bit of a window into the motive of the offender,” Hotch explains.

“He's in the psych ward.”

“Well, we'll keep it short,” Gideon replies.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet up with you two. I’m going to talk to the mother,” you offer, and Hotch just nods.

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[spuffybot]

Walk Me to the Graveyard

Summary: Buffy walks through the graveyard alone at night, contemplating the past few months following the fall of Sunnydale. She reflects on her relationship with Spike, her friendships, and her future before receiving a shocking phone call.

Characters: Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Spike (mentions of Giles, Xander, Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Wood, Angel, and Fred)

Warnings: Some adult language

Word Count: 4515

Author’s notes: If you read this, thank you. I’ve been chipping away at it for the past few weeks and I’m just glad I was able to finish something I started. “Ghostface” is a reference to the Scream movies, which Sarah Michelle Gellar had a cameo in. The high tea spot with the egg shaped bathrooms is Sketch, a place I didn’t get to visit this year due to the pandemic. I hope you all have a safe holiday season and new year. Hopefully I’ll finish the second part of this story in 2021.

Walk Me to the Graveyard (part 1)

Buffy’s joints creaked as she stood up from her crouched position. She’d been staking out this grave (no pun intended) for hours and dawn was slowly approaching. In the last few minutes the air had started to change, and she could hear the telltale rustling of birds in the trees. If this vampire was going to rise, it wouldn’t be tonight.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she rolled out her stiff shoulders, feeling strangely relieved by the lack of action.

Buffy had been coming to this cemetery every couple of nights for weeks, sniffing out even the barest hint of vampire activity. Technically she could have assigned graveyard duty to any of the Potentials, but she craved the silence and the normalcy of the activity.

She chuckled to herself. How far she’d come that she could relish a few hours of graveyard haunting and call it normal. If only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.

The truth was she was tired. After the fall of Sunnydale, she’d been fueled by an insatiable need to just keep moving. Giles had suggested they hole up in LA and take refuge with Angel Investigations, but Buffy refused. She wanted to get started on rebuilding as soon as possible. They couldn’t afford to waste time in LA, on Angel’s turf, killing time as his sidekicks while thousands of girls woke up with powers they couldn’t explain. So instead the Scoobies had moved to London, taking on the role of de-facto Watchers Council. They’d rounded up the few surviving members of the former Council and had started reaching out to as many activated Potentials as possible.

They recruited the ones they could and provided support (emotional and financial) to the ones they couldn’t. It was rewarding and it kept her mind off things.

Things like telling a man she loved him only to have him choose death over a future with her.

Buffy kicked a crumbling headstone, cursing when she stubbed her toe.

She knew that wasn’t fair. Spike died saving the world. It was a sacrifice she’d made more than once, and she knew how much she resented the people she left behind for not understanding the weight of that choice. She didn’t want to sully the memory of his heroics with her bitterness. She just couldn’t help it. Besides, focusing on missing Spike was easier than accepting she didn’t know how to function now that she wasn’t the “one girl in all the world.” The irony of having an identity crisis over getting the one thing she’d always thought she wanted was not lost on her. She should be grateful that she wasn’t the only Slayer. Grateful that her future was finally hers to shape. Instead she just felt lost.

It didn’t help that everyone around her was adjusting to this new life and mission like they were born to it. Dawn was training to be a Watcher, and frankly, they needed as many as they could get. The Slayer to Watcher ratio had been drastically tipped and it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

Faith and Wood had stayed behind in America, taking up shop at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. It was weird to think of Faith as the reigning defender of the Hellmouth, but it felt right. With Wood by her side she would stay grounded and on track. He understood the mission better than most.

Giles was in his glory. He’d vetted the surviving Watchers, firing some gleefully and taking others under his wing. Between them they’d established a kind of Watchers Hogwarts, training Watchers by day and guiding Potential Slayers on field missions by night. He was happy, which was something she’d never really seen him be before. Their relationship had taken a hit in the last few years and while she wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything, she didn’t begrudge him his success. Her Watcher had floundered ever since he was fired, unable to find purpose while she and her friends had grown up around him. Seeing as she suddenly found herself in a similar position it was hard not to understand how he’d gone off track. Besides, she’d lost enough people to know she wasn’t going to lose anymore. She’d fix things with Giles, eventually. For now, she’d just settle for on the same continent and on polite speaking terms. 

Xander and Andrew led the Potential Identification and Retrieval Taskforce. They came up with the name. Obviously. They spent their days traveling the world, chasing down leads and giving their best “join team save the world” sales pitch to scared and angry girls.

Buffy smiled thinking about them. The last time they’d video chatted, Xander had looked better than she’d seen him in years. He’d lost the chip on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since they graduated high school. For the first time in his life he was the best person for the job, and he knew it. Trustworthiness and warmth radiated from him and his knowledge of tactics and the cost of the fight lent him an authenticity the girls were drawn to. He never bullshitted or misled them, but he did inspire them. Like he’d inspired all of the Scoobies over the years to keep on fighting.

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and a misty fog enveloped the graveyard. She knew she was dawdling but she couldn’t bring herself to rush home. The alarms would be ringing any second now, Potentials and Watchers scrambling to the mess hall for breakfast before a day of study and training.

Technically she didn’t have any classes to teach until the afternoon, but Giles liked the staff to be present in the morning. He said it communicated solidarity and responsibility. Personally, she thought Dawn had just made him watch the Harry Potter movies one too many times.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. It was either Willow calling to say she had another hit on the Potential alert locator spell or Giles calling to ask where she was.

Either way it could wait.

She just wanted to be in the quiet for a little bit longer.

That’s what she missed the most about Spike. Having someone she could be in the quiet with. He had always seemed to know what she needed, anticipating her every mood and desire.

She’d never met anyone she could just be alone with before him. He never expected anything of her other than to just be. In this chaotic mess of a life she now led she craved his company and his silence. Since she couldn’t have that she came to the cemetery. The dead kept her company in a way the living never could. The occasional scuffle with a vampire didn’t hurt either. The familiar comfort of a stake in her pocket, grave dust on her shoes, her breath quickening for the thrill of the kill, reminding her that even though everything had changed, some things never would.

Her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, wondering why she couldn’t even get a few hours of peace before the sun was fully risen.

Flipping it open she saw two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognize. No voicemail.

It was probably someone trying to sell her something.

Technically her phone was spelled against telemarketers, but magic was fickle. If someone really needed to reach her, they would call the office and leave a message with her secretary.

God. How had she ended up here?

When they’d first arrived in London she’d panicked. Back in California it had seemed so clear. Get to London, find the Watchers, find the Potentials, save the world. Simple.

Except once they arrived there had been bureaucracy and red tape to get through. The surviving Watchers had needed convincing and playing nice with morons wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. After one particularly eventful meeting that ended with some snide British dude’s head slamming into a wall Giles and Willow had pushed her to take a back seat on the negotiations. Much to everyone’s shock, she listened.

As soon as she stopped leading she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Without meetings and planning sessions to fill her days she’d found herself wandering the streets of London with Dawn, playing tourist.

They were having high tea at this ridiculous spot with baby pink furniture and weird egg-shaped toilets when it hit her. She could walk away. The Hellmouth was gone, and there were more than enough Slayers to pick up the slack. Her friends would be disappointed but eventually they would understand. As she sat there watching Dawn sample pastries, no fear of imminent death getting in the way of her fun, Buffy couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. This could be their every day.

They could finish out the summer backpacking through Europe then head home to America to finish school and settle down. She was pretty sure she’d heard somewhere that there were hardly any vampires in New Jersey.

She was so wrapped up in the fantasy that she almost missed what Dawn said as they were walking home to their flat.

“Sorry, what with the what now?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I said, it’s crazy how there’s this whole world out here and no one was helping keep it safe before.”

“Ummm excuse me, Slayer here, has saved the world, a lot. Even got a nice shiny headstone for my troubles.”

“Obviously but...you were always in Sunnydale. And sure, most of the big bad world endy guys ended up there too but...what about all the other regular level baddies hurting everyday people? I mean, look at them all.”

Dawn stopped and looked around, forcing Buffy to take it all in. The couples strolling along, groups of friends, kids in strollers. The street was flooded with people going about their day. As soon as that sun went down, they’d be joined by all the things that went bump in the night.

“I just think it’s kind of amazing what we’re about to do. For the first time we’ll be able to protect people all over the world. These people will have a chance like they’ve never had before. Like everyone in Sunnydale got because you were around. We can give that to them. I’m just...glad.”

Buffy’s heart warmed even as dreams of running away slipped from her grasp. Dawn was right. This was her calling. She’d find a way to live with it. Normalcy would never be available to her and the sooner she embraced that, the sooner she could start working towards happiness.

At least that’s what Willow was always saying.

Willow who saw a therapist three times a week and a substance abuse counselor twice a week.

After the battle she and Kennedy had parted ways. Their relationship had run its course and Kennedy wasn’t interested in staying on Team Scooby. Instead she took her slaying act on the road, traveling town to town looking for monsters to hunt and people to save. Occasionally she’d run into a Potential and send a heads up their way. She seemed happy. Everyone seemed happy. Buffy just couldn’t seem to find her groove.

Ironically, Willow was the only one to notice how out of sorts Buffy was. Maybe it was all the therapy or maybe it was just that she was more herself than she’d been in a long time, but Willow had become Buffy’s sole confidant these past few months. If she thought about it too much she knew she’d cry. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her best friend until she got her back.

At first when Willow tried to reach out, Buffy had been cold and distant. Willow understood, even writing Buffy a letter to explain that she respected her need for distance after the way she had torched their friendship and Buffy’s trust. The letter had melted something in Buffy’s heart. It was the first time Willow had really acknowledged the fact that their sisterhood had been a casualty of Willow’s addiction.

The first time they sat down for coffee together felt like coming home. Willow seemed lighter, more like the girl Buffy had met her sophomore year of high school than the all-powerful Wicca she had come to know lately. She seemed shy, hesitant to take too much from Buffy, a reticence that allowed her to give more than she had intended to when she agreed to meet.

By their third coffee date it was clear that they were going to push through this. When a third turned into a fourth and fifth they decided to just make it a standing girl’s night. Every Tuesday for the rest of their lives.

Last Tuesday they’d finally broached the subject of Spike. Buffy had been dreading this, afraid to pick at the scab only to be met with judgment and condemnation. She wasn’t sure their renewed friendship could handle it. As much as she loved having Will back, Spike was a sensitive spot and she was afraid of how she’d react if Willow said something she didn’t like.

“Buffy, I tried to end the world. What’s a little bumpin of the uglies between former enemies compared to that? I am judgement free Willow of the no judgies zone.”

Willows face scrunched up like it did sometimes when she was trying to find the right words, her nose crinkling and her eyes rolling skyward.

“I just want you to be ok. And if that means loads of tasty mochas and squishy details about Spike sex, I am all ears. I’ve even got marshmallows.”

Buffy saw the sincerity on her friends face and felt something crack deep inside her. She’d been prepared for judgment at worst and stoic acceptance at best. Being met with such openness and warmth took her by surprise and she found she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes welled up and before she could reign it in and full body sobs shook her.

As she cried, Willow rubbed her back and let her get it all out, careful to avoid pushing her to talk. It was exactly what she’d needed to be able to open up.

And open up she did. It was like the levies broke and all the confusion and hurt came pouring out. She told Willow about what happened in the Hellmouth. About her last days with Spike, how he supported her and strengthened her when no one else could, or would. This last part she said without any venom, all her anger and resentment at Willow long gone.

She even spoke about their last night together. How they’d made love in the basement, on that shitty cot. The first and only time they’d ever been truly intimate, Buffy’s walls fully down, her heart totally exposed.

“I know having sex with someone isn’t like, a big deal or anything. Especially when you’ve had sex as many times as we did.”

Buffy cringed as the words left her mouth. The familiar guilt over her physical affair with Spike flaring up.

“No!” Willow exclaimed.

“Buffy no. It is a big deal. It’s like, the biggest of deals. You and sex haven’t exactly had the most copacetic relationship, no offense.”

She smiled apologetically, eliciting a soft laugh from Buffy despite the anxiety that was clenching her gut.

“If you let yourself feel something good with Spike, even just that one time, it’s important. Special. You shouldn’t downplay that. He loved you and you let him show it to you. It’s romantic.”

At that Buffy really laughed.

“God Will. Spike. Romantic.”

Willow laughed too.

“You know...it’s not that weird. Remember when he kidnapped me and Xander? He wanted me to do a love spell for Drusilla. I think he’s always had a romantic streak. In a weird, murdery, vampire kinda way”

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

“Did I ever tell you Spike was a poet when he was human?”

Willows eye widened, and her hands flew to cover her cackling laugh.

“A poet? Oh my gosh. That’s...that’s too good.”

Buffy took a sip of her mocha, relishing the warm caffeinated goodness before adding, “he would kill me for telling you this but, the best part is the whole “William the Bloody” thing? That’s because he had a reputation for being such a terrible poet.”

At that Willow dissolved into full on giggles, hands clutching her stomach

“Ugggggh ok ok, I’m done laughing. Promise. Also why is that so cute? That’s so cute. Little Spike the poet.”

Buffy sighed. “The thing is Spike has this immense capacity for love. Even as a violent serial killer he was still driven by love. It scared me. That he was so willing to throw himself headfirst into love without a shadow of doubt. I’ve never...I’ve never been like that.”

She looked up at Willow, trying to read her reaction. The witch just nodded encouragingly for her to go on.

“I just...I told Giles once that I didn’t know if I could love. I was worried I was broken, like all the slaying made me cold and loveless or something.”

“Buffy, no,” Willow cut in, but Buffy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know it’s not true. I died to save Dawn, to save all of you, weeks after I said that.” Buffy’s eyes filled up again but this time she swallowed it down and wiped them clean.

“He really loved me Will. And I don’t know that I was in love with him but that last night we spent together...I kind of thought that I could be, someday. You know? I wanted him to know that. To know that there was a chance for us. I figured we’d have all the time in the world after...”

Buffy trailed off, suddenly tired. She didn’t need to explain the rest. How Spike had died, believing she’d never love him. How all the time she thought she’d have to figure out if she could evaporated in a burst of fire and ash.

—————————

She’d reached the cemetery gates just as the sun broke through the horizon. Her car was covered in dew, glistening in the hazy morning light.

She still couldn’t believe she had learned how to drive. And on the wrong side of the road! Her mom would die of shock if she were still around.

The thought of Joyce made her wistful. If only her mom could see her now. In her heart Buffy new her mom would be proud of the choices she’d made. She’d encourage her to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d be overjoyed to know that Buffy had a future now. Sure, it still involved a massive amount of slayage but for the first time in a long time, the fate of the world didn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Her mom would tell her to embrace that and to live this new life to the fullest.

I’m trying mom.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Buffy yanked it out in annoyance and flipped it open.

“What do you want?”

The silence on the other end only ticked her off more. If it was so important for someone to call her three times before she’d even had a cup of tea they could freaking respond when she finally picked up.

“Hello? I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get all un-ghostface on me and just tell me what you want.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Her annoyance bled to curiosity and she willed herself to be patient.

Infusing her voice with a level of calm she didn’t feel, she asked “Do you need help or something? I don’t know how you got this line if you’re not part of Scooby Central but…you got me.”

The silence eked on for seconds that felt like minutes before the caller sighed. Buffy’s pulse shot up, anticipation making her antsy. She shuffled from foot to foot, fighting her instinct to hang up. If this was a Potential calling for help she needed to wait it out.

Finally, a voice broke through the silence.

“Slayer?”

Buffy dropped the phone on the ground, her fingers losing the ability to function along with her brain, which had gone fuzzy and staticky at the sound of the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line.

She stared down at her phone, the call still connected, wondering if she had fallen asleep somehow.

A muffled “bloody hell” came out of the fallen phone, causing Buffy to gasp and jump back. She crouched down low, getting as close to the phone as she could without actually picking it back up.

“Shit. SHIT. Spike?”

The muttering and cursing stopped.

“Slayer…yea. It’s a long story. But yea.”

Buffy felt her limbs turn to jelly and she sat down on the cold gravel, her head falling into her hands. A sob bubbled up from her chest, turning into a laugh that she couldn’t control. She giggled for a solid minute before gingerly picking her phone up and pressing it to her ear.

“How? You better explain yourself right now.” Her voice was edged with steel, anxiety and adrenaline giving way to nervous anger. If this was someone’s idea of a sick joke she was going to get murdery.

She could almost hear Spike roll his eyes.

“Good god woman, can’t I come back to life without brassing you off?”

She bit her lip to stop a smile, not willing to let hope overrule a protective layer of skepticism.

Rocking back on her heels Buffy gulped down the crisp morning air, willing her body to calm down so she could take stock of the situation. Her dead ex sort of boyfriend was calling her…she looked at the phone number quickly…from LA. Ok. She could handle this. She was the Slayer, queen of things that go bump in the night and let’s face it, this wasn’t her first ex to come back from the great beyond. If Angel could do it…Angel.

“Spike, why are you calling me from LA?”

He sighed again and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a grimace on his face as he debated the best way to tell her what was going on.

Despite the rush of anger, her heart warmed at the thought.

“Eh look, I said it was complicated. I just thought it was right. Telling you I was alive. Thought you should know is all.”

Whatever ice had melted in her heart immediately froze back up. No way was Spike going to call her from beyond the grave and then immediately get shady and secretive.

“So, is that your weird dodgy British way of saying you’re not going to tell me why you’re calling me from LA? Where Angel lives? Are you with Angel?”

She heard Spike mutter something to himself that sounded an awful lot like “bloody bint”. She rolled her eyes and stood up, pacing the lot in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“Yea. Alright yea.”

His voice had changed, his accent becoming sharper, and she knew he was starting to get worked up.

“I’m in LA and I’m with Angel. If you want to talk to him you can damn well call him yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloke comes back as a sodding ghost, gets himself corporealized by a nice scientist bird and calls his girl up and she wants to know about Angel. Figures.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not even bothering to interrupt his tirade. She knew he’d run out of steam eventually.

“Are you finished?”

Spike sighed again and Buffy felt the fight go out of her. She sat down on the hood of her car, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within.

“Yea Slayer. I’m finished.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she laid back, gazing up at the sky. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“How?”

“That’s the million-dollar question love. Seems no one can answer it.”

“Wait.” Buffy sat up; brow furrowed in concentration as she started to put together the various odd things Spike had said so far.

“You were a ghost?”

She tried to picture that. Spike all floaty and haunty. The image made her chuckle, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“Yea, yea, yea, laugh it up. I don’t know if I was a ghost. I was a something. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. Just trapped at bloody Wolfram & Hart with your beloved Prince of Brooding.”

“Wolf ram and what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Done what I set to do. You know. Guess I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Buffy felt white hot anger burning in her chest. Did he really think he was going to call her up, say hey, and then leave? Maybe forever? Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” she spat out.

“Fine,” came Spike’s huffy reply.

They’d reached a stalemate and Buffy did the only thing she could think of doing.

She hung up.

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, unlocking the car door and sliding into the front seat. She stared out the frosted windshield for a moment before screaming at the top of her lungs. When that didn’t calm the storm she felt brewing inside she slammed her hands repeatedly into the steering wheel. The metal and leather began to crunch and warp under the weight of her blows but she didn’t care. She felt like someone had set her insides on fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry, couldn’t do anything but scream and rage into the void.

Eventually she ran out of steam. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but her throat was raw. Rubbing her face she switched into Slayer mode. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Cagey Spike and his caginess be damned.

She forwarded the number he’d called her from to Willow and Andrew. Between the two of them they’d be able to trace it and dig up some dirt on where Spike was. As for how he got there, she was going to need boots on the ground. Luckily Kennedy had last checked in from Arizona a couple of days ago. She couldn’t be far from there and she owed Buffy more than one favor. She might not be Spike’s biggest fan, but she would do some recon and get Buffy the answers she needed. Once she knew what was going on, she could show up in LA and punch Spike and Angel in the face herself.

Buffy felt calmer. She had a plan. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

She’d let Spike get away once before. This time would be different. She didn’t know why or how but it seemed the Powers That Be had given her a second chance.

She wouldn’t waste it.

—end—

[luxshine]

The Great Supernatural Rewatch Project - Salvation

I started writting this in the middle of season 13 but RL and work and some mental health issues made me take a step back from fandom in general and well, I was also fearing this would be an unending job since the series JUST.KEPT. GOING.

However, now that the series is done (And omg, what a clusterfuck that was. My tallies are going to go insane if I get there) and thus there’s an ending in sight, I will do my best to finish season 1, and try and get the rest of the seasons in a more timely manner. Say, before they do the inevitable reunion and ignore the last episode completely.

(I’m going to be honest, part of the problem was that Supernatural used to be SO good back then, and when I see the new episodes I weep a bit inside. I can’t believe they were so much better at creating story arcs when they weren’t TRYING to create story arcs)

Of course, now we all know that Dean’s plots in general will not have a happy ending no matter what, and that makes that particular tally bittersweet. But there are STILL people who claim that nope, Dean was never mistreated by the writers and well, Jack damn it, I am not going to let that claim go without bringing numbers to the table. Hopefully, it won’t take me 15 years to finish (Because by then, I would be the only one caring I guess)

In any case, last lap for Season 1 and we begin with Salvation.

General stuff

A specific reason for me having rage quitted this episode in particular for so long: For some stupid copyright thing with Netflix, they don’t have Carry On My Wayward Son as the song for the final recap –at least in Netflix Latam. And Supernatural without Carry On My Wayward Son is no Supernatural. So I had to hunt my DVDs. Then my computer DVD player died. Then I decided to make 5 webcomics at the same time. THEN I decided to start doing illustration works, and three other projects and let’s just say I am a bit of a workaholic and leave it like that as the rest is not SPN-related.

Ahem.

Funny thing about the Road so Far –you know, besides being a LOT shorter than the ones we’re getting now- is that it focuses a lot more on DEAN at the beginning, while if you watch the show, well, we know most of those Dean scenes come from MoW episodes and not the actual mytharc. Another interesting thing is that if one believes those things to be chronological, it makes it as if the Colt had been with the brothers for a lot longer than half an episode, and that Sam’s issue with the visions is not that recent. Edition Magic everyone! Also, omg, they were babies when the series started, and how WEIRD is to see John looking at them with pride and smiling at Dean at some points.

Anyway, the recap and the epicness that is Carry On my Wayward Son ends and we start the actual plot.

Hello Pastor Jim. Goodbye Pastor Jim. And here Supernatural begins the long, long tradition of killing characters who could’ve been useful later on, and more importantly, that could’ve been the boys’s support system later on. While here it’s understandable since we need to show how dangerous and vicious Meg is –ah, irony that in about 8 seasons people will be rooting for her Redemption- it also makes the Hunters kind of useless. I mean, he has all that weaponry and only uses a knife? Sigh. Really, a waste. Pastor Jim as a concept was really intriguing –and I don’t think we’ve heard of any other hunter who was also a priest. Funny, when we have so many demons free now. There’s also the fact that when Pastor Jim claims that she can’t be in the church because it’s hallowed ground, she replies that “That might work with the minor leagues, but not with her” and I wonder… did we ever got a demon that couldn’t enter a church? Because right now out of the top of my head I can’t remember, and yet Pastor Jim was surprised but later no one seems to think it weird there were signs of demonic activity around his body. Another sign that, as engaging as the series was, once we start digging the world building, things fall apart very quickly.

Actually, if I may digress for a bit, here we have the very first look at Supernatural´s second biggest problem: killing support characters that may have been useful lately. Here it is because Kirkpe had this weird idea that Hunting would never be glamorized by the show/fandom and it would be a completely miserable and lonely existence. He also didn’t think that the series would survive past season 2. So, ok, killing the guy we only knew by throw away lines didn’t seem so bad. By season 13 every single recurring character had died at least once –and there were petitions to bring back I think every one of those who haven’t come back- it’s a big problem.

As I restarted writing, I also realized that the mere existence of Pastor Jim and his room of awesome research and weapons creates a problem in the future about the Men of Letters because… ok, so ONE member of the clerigy knew enough about demons and stuff to be a hunter and have THE Hunter as his main contact (John Winchester was sort of a legend back then. And he had also fell out of contact with many others so the fact that he and Pastor Jim were still friendly? Kind of interesting), but what about the rest? Did the Vatican have any contact with the British men of Letters or the American ones? And if so, what the hell did they think when suddenly ALL the Men of Letters disappeared? Ok, so that’s a lot of stuff that doesn’t matter right now as it won’t actually exist until much, much, MUCH latter, but see what I mean when I say that they didn’t plan anything and the lack of a series bible hurts the show more than it helped it thrive? I am realizing right now I could write a whole treaty on the Men of Letters and their non-relationship with hunters ONLY using this cold beginning and the Henry Winchester episode.

But this is not the time for that, so we get our title card and a very, VERY young Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

We move to John who is explaining off camera everything he knows about Yellow Eye´s plan. We can tell it´s not much as he thinks it came out of hibernation and that the whole attacking families is part of a cycle, but back then it was impressive how much he had managed to find out about this demon. We also know that it attacks exactly when the baby in the house is six months old, which brings us to this little jewel:

JOHN It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.

SAM Families with infants?

JOHN Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday. 

SAM I was six months old that night?

JOHN Exactly six months.

SAM So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?

DEAN We don't know that Sam.

SAM Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure Dean.

DEAN For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault. 

SAM Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem.

DEAN No it's not your problem it's our problem!

 Now, in the following seasons we will know that yes, it was ALL about Sam. But right now, the characters and the viewers don´t know that. We know that a lot of families were killed by the demon (That at this point was still “The demon” and wouldn´t become Azazael until later), and that he doesn´t take the children. So… how did Sam leap from “this demon attacks families with 6 month old children” to “It´s all about ME!”? He even ignores that Dean and John lost Mary for his last line, when he decides it´s his problem and not their problem. Also, and this is important for the “Dean is the most awful person to Sam” crowd… Dean immediately tells Sam that no, it´s not his fault. While he could harbor some ill feelings against Sam –and demon Dean, 8 seasons later, will voice them- at this point he is 100% on Sam´s side. There’s also a sideway glance from John to DEAN when Sam claims that everything is about him, and then I wonder exactly why, if John knew all about the fact that the demon chased six month old children specifically, he never resented Sam over it. One would think that given John’s love for Mary and deep desire to revenge, Sam would really be the outcast and the one only treated like a soldier (as he claims he was, but not really as we’ve seen), instead of Dean who was completely blameless in the whole thing.

(Also, this is the first time we see that Azazael´s plan didn´t make much sense IF we believed that Kirkpe had everything planned. But that´s a discussion for another time)

Anyway, John interrupts the argument to explain that while he has no idea what the demon is after (Another thing that later would be contradicted as he knew Sam had powers), but that he has managed to figure out his pattern of attack to the point that it even repeated it for Jessica’s killing (Even if much, much later, we’ll learn that it wasn’t Azazael the one who killed her, and Demons would completely forego the signs when attacking. Have I mentioned I miss the times when the myths made sense?) and the three of them pack up for their first real hunt together as they decide they will save the next baby on the demon’s list, in a town named Salvation.

Important thing to note: when John recites the demon signs, Dean immediately replies “that happened in Lawerence”. He remembers, quite clearly, what happened a week before his mother died even if logistically, at his age? He wouldn’t care nor notice. Sure, he remembers his mom’s death because that was traumatic. But random cow deaths before that? Weird show.

If Sam noticed or not the signs before Jessica died, we don’t know. John is the one who points out they happened.

After two gorgeous road shots where we see John’s truck being followed by Baby (yet another thing we lost, John’s truck. I know we needed to have the guys together all the time, but man, if Sam had inherited it, they would’ve been able to cover more terrain at times, have double the arsenal and maybe not being identified by everyone and their leviathan in season 7, but I digress), and just entering Salvation John stops, obviously spooked by something. As Dean stops behind him, they find out that Pastor Jim is dead, and John got a call from another hunter named Caleb to tell him. They assume it may be the demon they’re chasing, or maybe another demon that was looking for Pastor Jim specifically but that last theory is not very probable.

Here I have to pause to applaud Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s acting, as you can practically FEEL John’s despair at knowing an old friend of him died, and that HE was probably the cause for that death. A Winchester trait, of course, blaming themselves for everything bad that happens in their world, but unlike Sam’s early outburst, here it seems far more desperate. Of course, JDM had a lot more experience than Jared at that point, but I really wanted to make a note of it because we lost a LOT of that characterization for John, where he actually WORRIED about people and not just the hunt. Even as he decides the plan for finding out what baby the demon will take in a week, we can see him broken and confused. So much that while Sam calls him “sir” when receiving orders, Dean continues the conversation by calling him “Dad”.

John then declares that this ends now, obviously feeling responsible for what happened to his friend. A long shot from the flanderized man we’d hear about in future seasons who was infamous for letting his hunting partners die without so much as a second glance.

Also, and not to be mean to the writers, but in their endless accidentally making Sam unsympathetic, they made him say that there were too many children in the county that could be a victim and that it would take forever to check all of them. While I KNOW the intent was to make clear that they had a deadline of one week, it comes out weirdly as “I don’t want to do the footwork.” Seriously, writers should be careful with that.

Actually, let’s dissect that. Because I just thought of two ways they could’ve fixed it AND give us more info.

JOHN Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health centre in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week.

SAM Dad that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?

JOHN We check em all that's how. You got any better ideas?

SAM No sir.

So, first way to make Sam not look that bad: Give the line to Dean. I wouldn’t like it specially, but hey, he’s the sidekick, not the hero, and so far he has only wanted to bail on ONE hunt because he wasn’t sure it was a supernatural hunt so he’d be better standing than Sam in that regard.

Second way: Make Sam say that YES, he has a better idea. Because the brothers ALREADY faced Max, so he could say they could look for a baby that was a bit “strange”, like, with poltergeist stuff going around. John could not believe him, but at least Sam would be being proactive.

In any case, they separate as John planned and we see each of them get into the hospital records. We get a glimpse of John’s collection of fake IDs, that include one for a Morgue forensic doctor, then Sam getting a homely nurse giving him files and him taking notes, and Dean… getting flirty with a very hot nurse.

And I make a point of the “Oh, look, Dean is an irresponsible womanizer” trope because once again the writers shoot themselves in the foot by showing the opposite of what they were telling (And no, this time I can’t blame it on Jensen’s acting and refusal to look at his female co-stars without respect).

WOMAN Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?

DEAN (smiling) Oh God yes.

She smiles and looks down.

DEAN (Holding up his ID) Only I'm uh....working right now, so...

The writers here make us remember that a) Dean is AMAZINGLY charismatic, as the woman IS flattered and seems interested, and b) That he will NOT dump his work for a quickie. We don’t even get a “maybe later” that could make him look as if he was really into her. It’s just that he flirts naturally, or at least, this is what we can infer now, as so far he hasn’t had any one night stand fling. The one time we saw him have a sexual encounter in the middle of a hunt was with an ex-girlfriend.

And again I have to wonder what was Sera Gamble’s intention with those scenes as yes, this was written by the same team as Faith, another episode where Sam’s good intentions tend to have a darker side, and gave Dean some amazingly cool scenes.

We don’t know what Dean says to the woman, as we cut back to Sam, coming out of the hospital just in time to have a very convenient vision of a woman, a nursery and a fire. Thankfully, the vision also comes with the useful audio hint of a train passing by, so Sam gets out his map and starts checking where that could be, which leads him to the house in his vision.

And by this point, we know we’re in the right track and this is an important Myth Arc episode, because Sam only has multiple visions in Myth Arc episodes, and he has one the moment he steps in front of the house in said vision. The gods of convenience smile upon him as right then and there a woman pushing a pram comes by, and he manages to talk to her, all friendly like by pretending to having just moved. Then Sam learns the woman’s name is Monica, her baby is Rosie, and Rosie is just six months old, exactly to the day.

Also, that she’s a very quiet baby and that it sometimes seems as if she was reading your mind. Oh, and that Monica really is blind to suspicious men asking her about her family with a face that reads “Oh shit, this is bad”.

Now, HERE is where the whole “five year myth arc” story falls completely. I mean, we already knew it was pretty unlikely it was real, given Kirkpe’s original interviews, but the mere existence of Rosie contradicts every single future story beat. Because if SHE has powers before Azazael goes into her house, then it means that the babies he was hunting didn’t get powers because of him, just that his blood either connected them (hence Sam’s very specific visions), made said powers far more powerful (quite likely), or made them a little bit more prone to violence/prideful behavior. All of those possibilities match with the plan of “raising” a new King or Queen of Hell, that would be faithful to Azazael, but are a bit iffy on the “finding Lucifer’s vessel” thing. Especially since we later learn that the Angels were also helping, and all Hell knew that Lucifer’s vessel HAD to come from the Winchester/Campbell bloodline due to Cain and Abel being the roots of said bloodline, and later pretty much everyone knew Sam was Lucifer’s vessel so the whole targeting a ton of kids, in particular after Mary’s death, is kinda weird.

Oh, Lux, you will say, it is because he wanted to hide his true intentions! No one knew that Sam had been feed demon blood!

Except that the important parties, namely Heaven and Hell, did. Michael had Heaven convinced of his orders, so even if a rogue angel found out that they were speed running the Apocalypse, said angel could be killed. And any demon who was against getting Lucifer back on top would be smart enough to keep quiet so, why the secrecy?

And again, ok, I buy the original demon blood kids being important to “hide” Lucifer’s vessel but… Rosie? What good would it do to Azazael’s plan to have a psychic 4 year old when Lucifer rose? Was “little four year old girl” a good match against a grown up hunter? What was Azazel thinking, if that was the plan all the time?

Now, I want to make clear this doesn’t make THIS episode or the Season-myth arc bad. This original “Boy King of Hell” storyline WAS good. It had a lot of potential, made sense for Sam and since it was before the days of the eternal “What is wrong with Sam?” seasons, there was no boredom of a repeat. It also set a very good question of what made a monster a monster, which would be explored a bit more in Season 2. And it was long before we realized Dean having a myth arc was a pipe dream, so there was no issue there either. It made sense.

But the fact that the writers kind of forgot about everything I just pointed out with Rosie’s scene to try and weld this to the “Heaven vs. Hell” storyline in season 4, and then just promptly forgot because Sam’s powers were then firmly connected to Azazael’s blood so they never came up again and even worse, we never find another psychic kid that could’ve been feed blood by Azazael THIS year that John was chasing him? (Since we know there were no other survivors from Sam’s generation, and later we have a scene that proves that there were no previous generations to Sam’s), it's kind of weird. Personally, I dunno about you, but maybe a return to this storyline in season 6 would’ve been a lot better than we got. Maybe.

By the way, I am not counting the Boy King of Hell story arc as a dropped plot for Sam yet, as we’re going to keep with this at least until season 3. Yes, now we know it didn’t go anywhere, but at the time, and for these episodes in particular, it was THE myth arc of Supernatural. So it can’t be counted as dropped plot yet.

In any case, Sam goes and tells John and Dean about his vision and… oh, boy do we have to move John’s reaction to Emotional Violence.

It’s not good.

But before he can do more damage to Dean’s psyche, Sam gets a call from our favorite demon, Meg. Even if he doesn’t recognize her voice immediately which is weird because a) he did throw her off a window and one would think that makes a girl memorable, and b) it’s not as he knows that many girls who would call him, despite Dean’s best efforts to get him a new girl.

Meg dismisses Sam and asks for John. She makes clear that she is not playing, that she knows he has the Colt and that he will kill every single person who has ever helped John unless he gives it to her that same day at midnight. And to the brothers’ surprise, John accepts those terms (Unfortunately not before we loss Caleb too. I have a lot less interest in Caleb as a character given that he has exactly half a line in the whole show, but it’s still it’s sad to see a guy so defiant even in the face of death go so soon).

Meg also points out that John having the Colt is a “declaration of war” which is interesting as it sort of implies that if he hadn’t gotten it, then the demons would leave him and the brothers alone. And I find that incredibly funny since… no they won’t. And Azazael would’ve been ok if Sam kept the gun anyway, given why they really wanted and once again I am putting holes on the idea that this was planned from the start, aren’t I?

In any case, John declares that Meg is a demon “or is possessed by one” which… ok? First and only time we get the possibility of a demon not using a meat suit. I don’t think this is a mistake, because after all, this is back before the guys faced demons in a normal basis so they could believe that they had their own bodies besides the ones they possessed (And, more importantly, before there was a retcon that made the brothers face and know about demons since pretty much ever). To be completely fair, as much as I love Jimmy and the whole Lucifer arc once it started to make sense… I would’ve been ok if vessels weren’t needed. It added a lot of complications and ended up making the brothers actual serial killers.

Ahem.

After that little gem of wisdom that will be ignored forever, John declares that he will be taking the gun to Meg to avoid more killing and we get another questionable line for Sam. And I am curious as to how to tally it as it’s the opposite of him wanting to leave the hunt, but it’s not that nice either:

DEAN What do we do?

JOHN I'm going to Lincoln. DEAN What? JOHN It doesn't look lilke we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die, our friends die.

SAM Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over.

I mean, yes, it is true that the demon is coming for Monica (Well, actually, he’s coming for Rosie, the baby, but I will let that slip pass. Sam is not interested in married ladies), and that with the gun they can kill the demon but it’s not all they’ve got. By this time, Sam has already had his big hero moment when he exorcised a plane in free fall so they could do that, then chase the demon again and then kill it.

But what is jarring is how he hears “a lot of people die, OUR FRIENDS die” and he goes “yeah, whatever, we have a mission to fulfill”.

Which is precisely what later episodes will tell us John used to do, and was the reason why John was not exactly liked by the general hunter population. And at the same time, it’s an eerie reminder of Wendigo, where Sam is willing to let innocents die (his family friends, in this particular case, just as he heard Caleb choke on his own blood) in order to get his way (revenge on the demon that killed Jess. NOT revenge on the demon that killed his mom, since at this point, Sam is still on the “I never knew that woman” train of thought).

Sure, his mind is in the hunt, and that’s commendable because yes, in the long run, killing Azazael would save more innocents (And probably stop the Apocalypse, not that Sam or the writers at that time know it), but it is still strange to see our nominal hero simply not care for his friends’ lives. I mean, at this point WE don’t know about Bobby, so the closest to a parental figure that is not John that Sam had was Pastor Jim and he just DIED.

Worst part is, this could be solved really easy: Just have DEAN be the one who voices the complaint, and have “empathic” Sam mumble that there has to be a way to save everyone (Which, of course, John will mention in a second). It would make Dean look bad, sure, but we’ve been told once and again that Dean never, EVER goes against John plans. Which… not true, ut we will talk about that later. The scene continues, and John declares that he will go to Meg alone, with a fake Colt and while Dean thinks that that won’t work, Sam has a different complaint:

DEAN Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?

JOHN I just...I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.

SAM You mean for Dean and me. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?

JOHN No Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.

And oh, boy. Do this four lines again hold so much weight.

First, once again, Dean seems to be worried for John (logically, he’s their dad), while Sam is making the weirdest line in the universe sort of work because he’s complaining that John is trusting them to kill the demon, something HE wants to do and not four seconds ago was saying they had to do, as if it was John shifting HIS job to Sam. Seriously, I don’t want to think the worst of Sam but when you take out Jared’s acting, the text doesn’t do the younger Winchester’s any favors.

And finally… John’s lines that encompass pretty much Dean’s philosophy in the following seasons. “I want to stop losing people we love” is pretty telling, but what comes next? He actually WANTS Sam to go back to college and not worry about the Supernatural. He actively agrees that Dean doesn’t have a home, and WANTS Dean to have one. It’s as close as love as we’ll see from John to Dean in Season 1, and it hurts. It hurts because we can tell he knows he won’t be there to see it… and now, in hindsight with the finale having aired, we also know Dean didn’t get that. (And to be fair, this is the John who did deserve Heaven. Not the flanderized version we’d get in the future)

Although, ironically, Mary got to be alive again, so… One out of three?

(No, seriously, it’s obvious the writers didn’t even remember this speech when Season 12 hit, much less Season 15)

Ahem.

Dean is sent to get a fake Colt, while Sam and John wait for him. If they talked about anything, we don’t know, but when they exchange guns, Dean voices what we all know is true:

DEAN You know this is a trap don't you. That's why Meg wants you to come alone?

JOHN I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water, Mandaic, amulets...

DEAN Dad... JOHN What? DEAN Promise me something. JOHN What's that. DEAN This thing goes south just...get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed all right, you're no good to us dead. JOHN Same goes for you. (There is a long pause) All right listen to me. They made the bullets special for this colt. There's only four of them left. Without them this gun is useless. You make every shot count.

SAM Yes sir.

JOHN Been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you boys now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?

 Again, I wish they remembered all they had to get rid of demons before, you know, killing everyone willy-nilly. I mean, I don’t even think I know what Mandalac IS but hey, John says it works, it works. And once more, Dean gets a line that makes clear he is the empathic, loving brother, when it wouldn’t have hurt Sam to say it. In fact, it would make clear that no matter what, he doesn’t hate John. But nope, Sam only acts like the soldier we’re TOLD Dean is, while Dean makes clear that for him, family is more important than revenge (And boy will that come to bite him in the ass later, not in the series, but in this same episode).

Also, I have to admit. When I started this rewatch, John’s final line was just a good moment for John to start letting go of his anger. Now? After that horrid finale? It hurts so, so much. But it hurts more because I KNOW that there’s no way it was intentional. Obviously, Kirkpe didn’t know the series would last 15 years, and I highly doubt Dabb remembered this scene when writing 15x20. But even so, it ends up being Dean’s epitaph. OUCH.

In any case, the Winchester separate again, and we go into act three. Get ready for the feels.

John Winchester hunting alone is a thing of beauty. Seeing him scope the place, check the water tank and immediately think of a plan? Makes me wish Jeffrey Dean Morgan had stayed longer on the show. Sure, John became an asshole, but in this episode he’s still not that bad, we still have no episodes that make clear he didn’t care for Dean, and wasn’t textually abusive. And I am willing to bet that if JDM had stayed, John would’ve evolved more to be a Bobby-like character. But well, What ifs is not why you came to this meta for.

As John is hunting, the brothers are staking out the house were they know Azazael will attack. And while they talk and decide that they have no way to get the family out (In a nice callback to how none of their excuses ever work) we get to this little gem of an exchange:

SAM I wonder how Dad's doing.

DEAN I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up.

SAM I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.

Where once again we see where the brother’s priorities lie, and I wonder why the hell the writers ever thought they were writing Sam as an empathic character.

Because yes, Dean is wishing he could be out there helping his Dad, proving that for him, it has always been about the family. Not the hunting, but the protecting. But Sam doesn’t want to protect John. He wants John protecting Them. And helping them in the revenge hunt, not trying to save others.

Sure, we know the brothers are there to save an innocent mother, but John is also saving a ton of hunters and people who, in the past, were nice and open to the family. And it would’ve been so much easier to make Sam look better if he instead had said “I’d feel a lot better if we hadn’t had to separate” or something like that, that proved he saw BOTH missions were important.

Seriously, I do wonder why the writers made these choices, and I wish someone had asked this at cons.

We go back to John, who, really, Is an amazing hunter even if he is a horrible father. Also, I wonder if he got ordained at a web church, in order to be able to sanctify water. That would be such a John Winchester thing to do, and I do wonder why the boys never did it too. ANYWAY, he hands the gun to Meg, and to her ally that came so that we could have a scene to prove the Colt is fake as the ally shoots Meg.

As John says, Meg was lucky the gun was fake. And once again, I do wonder what the plan was if it WAS the Colt. I mean, Meg was Azazael’s second in command. Why would nameless demon risk killing her? Or did he kinow the gun was fake?

In any case, this makes the moment where we can be 100% sure that Meg’s meat suit 1.0 was dead. I mean, she could’ve survived the fall in Shadow, but a bullet to the chest? No way.

We go back to the brothers, and Sam breaks every single law of a procedural show by giving this great speech about how thankful he is to Dean for everything, and how he needs to say that “in case” something happened.

Dean is definitely not impressed and reminds him that the only one dying today is Azazael.

As we see John temporarily escape from Meg and her muscle boy, we go back to the brothers who see the demon omens start up so they get ready for the final fight.

The brothers manage to save Monica and her baby, despite the very understandable interference from Hubbard, the husband (I mean, you would not react nicely to two strangers intruding in your house and yelling to your wife to not go into the nursery room), however, before Sam can shoot Azazel, he disappears into smoke (A really interesting question here is, WHY did Sam wait to shoot and then wasted a bullet, but I digress).

Going completely against M.O, Azazael makes the CRIB burst into flames, but fortunately Dean has already gotten Rosie out of it so the brothers escape the flaming house. While Monica cries her thanks, Sam notices that Azazael is still inside, and tries to go after him, but Dean stops him because he is not going to lose his brother to the fire. By the way, I am not counting “Dean stopping Sam from going into a burning building” as “Dean forcing Sam to do something” since, uh, he was saving Sam’s life and it’s something anyone in Dean’s place would’ve done.

At the same time, we see John getting captured by Meg and her muscle boy because he didn’t think about getting a third escape route (But honestly? That was pretty much a plot necessity. John was HEAVILY prepared for that fight)

Back in the hotel, Dean is worried that John is not answering his calls, while Sam is furious that Dean didn’t let him kill himself by running into a burning house. They have a nasty fight that mirrors the one they had back in the pilot, but since it IS a fight between the brothers, you know the drill. We’re examining it under Violence.

Once Sam calms down, he tells Dean to try calling John again. Unfortunately, it’s Meg who answers and she tells Dean that they’re never seeing their dad again.

And we get the first “To be continued” for the series (Which to be honest, despite all the little continuity mistakes I mentioned here? Is still pretty epic)

Violence

Well, we had to run out of episodes where the brothers don’t fight each other at some point, didn’t we?

This fight, over Sam wanting to kill himself in his search for revenge, is a very neat parallel to the fight they had back in the Pilot, over Sam NOT wanting to even involve himself in the family’s search for revenge. Which I know it’s supposed to be ironic and a show of character growth since now Dean is the one saying that revenge is not worth their lives but… it falls a little bit flat because the reason why Sam is so gung-ho in killing Azazael is, once again, a very selfish one and the way in he expresses it makes it quite clear. (Again, I do wonder if the writers stopped to think about the implications of Sam only getting really into hunting when it was about him or his losses?)

But let’s start at the beginning:

SAM If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.

DEAN Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life.

SAM You don't know that.

DEAN So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?

SAM Yeah. Yeah you're damn right I am.

DEAN Well that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around.

This right here? Is a nice summary of the relationship of the brothers for the whole series. Sam wants to do something stupid, like, say, running into a burning building, Dean is there to stop him before he hurts himself.

Also, let’s make clear the use of first person by Sam. It’s not “We coulda ended this”, as in the family ending the hunt, but “I coulda ended this”. Again, at this point, not something that is a problem, but considering hindsight, we can see how the writers are completely invested in SAM as a sole main character, and write him as such, while Dean is more of the sidekick.

In any case, the argument continues, still not escalating to violence.

SAM What the hell are you talking about Dean, we've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.

DEAN Sam I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over.

SAM What?

DEAN I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed then I hope we never find the damn thing.

Important thing how Sam apparently forgot he left for four (two) years and wanted out of the family business, now that he is angry and into the revenge thing. It’s not “You’ve been searching for this demon your whole life”, which would’ve been correct AND a logical counterargument against Dean. Before this episode, Sam was supposedly the brother who understood that revenge was a way of living, while Dean is the one who was Daddy’s little soldier. But here, when it actually would matter to the narrative, it is as if Sam’s wishes for a normal life are completely forgotten and it’s Dean the one who understands that there’s more to living than revenge (Which, btw, is consistent through the season despite everyone claiming that Dean needs Sam to keep hunting. All season, Dean has been giving Sam outs, telling him it’s ok to quit)

And of course, Dean here proves that Sam is more important to him than revenge for his mother, as he is willing to never get to kill the demon as long as his family, his brother in particular, survives.

Poor Dean.

SAM That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom.

DEAN You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.

SAM Don't you say that, not you! Not after all this don't you say that.

DEAN Sam look. The three of us...that's all we have...and it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together man...and without you or Dad....

Unfortunately, script doesn’t quiet convey the scene as there’s a LONG pause between “That thing killed Jess” and “That thing killed Mom”. Enough so that we can believe that Sam is using that second phrase not because he cares (in the Pilot he made clear he didn’t), but to make Dean get on board with the whole “I can kill myself if it means getting revenge” plan. In other words, once again, Sam is weaponizing Mary against Dean, and that is a really nasty habit the younger Winchester never quite shakes out of. Instead, Dean shows how he LISTENED to Sam back in the Pilot and repeats Sam’s words to him on the bridge.

Which is when Sam loses it and pushes Dean against a wall, Dean not defending himself at all, and yells that Dean has no right to say what Sam told Dean the very first hunt they had together after years of separation.

And of course, once Dean mentions their father, Sam starts calming down. NOT when Dean says that he’s barely holding it together, or that he only has them.   Just when he mentions their father who is, in Sam’s mind, the one who can help him get revenge.

The fight ends, but Sam never once apologizes for what he said to Dean, nor for the fight. Which, by the way, contradicts his claim that Dean “always has his back”.

Emotional Violence

Whenever we have John on an episode, we’re going to have to talk about emotional violence and I kind of hate that because on one hand, I get how John could’ve been a very tragic figure that loved his sons but still wanted to avenge his wife, and not being the abusive bastard we know and don’t love that much.

When Sam and Dean explain about Sam’s visions, and how they started as nightmares but have grown in intensity, his reaction is quite subdued, but clear. He is not happy, but the problem isn’t the visions –for a man obsessed with the supernatural, his outward reaction to his younger son being a psychic is quite calm- but that they didn’t inform him of what was going on:

JOHN All right. When were you going to tell me about this?

DEAN We didn't know what it meant.

JOHN All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me.

DEAN dumps the coffee jug and cup back on the counter and strides toward JOHN.

DEAN Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad I called you from Lawrence all right? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery.

JOHN You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry.

And let’s be clear, John’s anger is not directed at Sam, it’s directed at Dean. “Something like this starts happening to your brother” is not “Something like this starts happening to either of you”. Which is also a show of how good an actor JOHN is in universe because WE know that he knew. Missouri TOLD him point blank that Sam was powerful and that he could have known that John was around during the Home episode. But here, he acts as if this was news to him when he could ALSO have told them what to expect if that happened. (Mind you, I am assuming that Sera Gamble knew or remembered about Home’s script when writing this and didn’t just forget or was unaware that John was supposed to know)

Now, all season, Sam has been complaining and yelling about how John doesn’t answer their calls, doesn’t seem to care what’s going on with them. So it’d be logical and in character for Sam to say something here. But instead is DEAN, Dad’s little soldier, the one we’ve SEEN obeying John without question finally have enough and talk back to his father with some truths. And it’s VERY interesting that his first complain is not that John didn’t care that Dean almost died, but that he didn’t reply when Dean called from Lawrence. One could almost infer that Dean expected John not to care if Dean died, but was honestly hurt that he didn’t care about a case that could’ve involved MARY.

John, surprisingly, sort of agrees. He does say “I’m sorry”, which makes him the Winchester who is quicker to say those words… but he still manages to make a threat against Dean “I am not too crazy about this NEW tone of yours”.

Making it clear that before? Dean never talked back. And John doesn’t like it when his soldiers talk back.

It makes it hard to believe John ever thought of Dean as his son and makes it very clear why Dean never understood Sam’s confidence that Dean was the favored one.

Speeches and Apologies

I considered not including this particular speech, but then I remembered that Supernatural is ALSO famous for their big emotional speeches, and this is Sam’s first, and also, Dean’s first time listening to someone he cares about give him the “I am saying goodbye because I am going kamikaze” speech and after all the drama in season 15, I guess it’s necessary to do some dissection.

It is important that despite all the things that Sam has done to Dean, the words “I’m sorry” are never uttered here.

SAM Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. DEAN For what? SAM For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And ah...I don't know I just wanted to let you know, Just in case DEAN Whoa whoa whoa, are you kidding me? SAM What? DEAN Don't say just in case something happens to you. I don't wanna hear that freaking speech man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?

 This is not a bad “freaking speech”. I understand why Dean didn’t want to hear it, because it is like jinxing the mission (And, let’s be honest, it did), but it’s not a bad speech.

Except that, reading it again, it lacks one important part. Sure, Sam thanks Dean for always being there (Forgetting that, at least three times this season alone, he has accused Dean of not having his back and being unreliable. Which will ALSO be a constant theme in the series’s long run), but he never mentions the times HE did things that would be hard to back up. Which, again, I am not counting as a bad thing against him in this precise moment in time, since he is young, in his roaring roadtrip of revenge, and we’ve only know the brothers for a year, but it is the beginning of a series’ long crutch to make us forgive all of Sam’s sins without him actually doing the work to be forgiven.

On the other hand, it all goes to waste a bit later when Sam starts hitting Dean for the horrible sin of not letting him run into a burning building and kill himself so… it’s not really a “thank you for having my back” speech but a “You better remember, you never fight me and my choices are the best” speech in hindsight. Which… not good on Sam, no.

Double narrative standards

This episode is kind of balanced, except for that little moment where we’re supposed to think Dean is wrong for telling Sam that revenge is not worth their lives. So there’s not much to write in this particular segment.

Final Tally

Ok, back in the saddle. And after all that, I decided not to tally Sam’s little slip about not caring if their loved ones die as long as he gets to kill Azazael. Let me know if you disagree.

The count is still not good on Sam’s side, but as always, you are free to disagree with me, and dm me if you think I missed a tally or I should change one. If your argument is solid and canon based, I will listen to it and may change the numbers.

Numbers (or the TL;DR summary)

(Episode/Total so far)

Times Dean has lied to Sam or to a loved one: 0 / 0

Times Sam has lied to Dean or to a loved one: 0 / 3

Times Dean has been caught in a lie: 0 / 0

Times Sam has been caught in a lie: 0 / 1

Times Dean has hit Sam in anger: 0 / 1

Times Sam has hit Dean in anger: 1 / 4

Times Dean's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 0

Times Sam's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 1

Times Dean has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 0

Times Sam has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 7

Times Dean forced Sam to do something: 0 / 0

Times Sam forced Dean to do something: 0 / 7

Secrets kept by Dean: 0 / 1

Secrets kept by Sam: 0 / 2

Times Dean has blamed Sam for something: 0 / 0

Times Sam has blamed Dean for something: 1 / 4

Times Dean has apologized with words to Sam: 0 / 3

Times Sam has apologized with words to Dean: 0 / 2

Times Dean has respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 7

Times Sam has respected Dean's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Dean hasn't respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Sam hasn't respected Dean's boundaries and / or rules: 0 / 13

Times Dean has made fun of something Sam does or has: 0 / 6

Times Sam has made fun of something Dean does or has: 0 / 31

Times we focus on Dean's needs: 0 / 1

Times we focus on Sam's needs: 1 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Sam: 1 / 7

Filler episodes dedicated to Sam: 0 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 0

Filler episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 4

Arc episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 0 / 2

Filler episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 0 / 2

Dean's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 1

Sam's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 2

[randomoranges]

so this is the 3rd lyric from the song, but i’m trying to keep up with the fic-thing-whatever and ill get to the other parts later. the momentum is going and im trying to match it and such

lamao this reminds me of 2010 and when i wrote a chapter of a fic to match all of canadas medals. good times. that was - hard and a rush

also i made this into snippets of moments in the same day. to - make it shorter. even though it turned into an 8 page tiny monster lamao. 

ANYWAYS

DO YOU LIKE SPORTS. DO YOU LIKE FEELS. DO YOU LIKE NEUROTIC SPORTS SUPERSTITIONS

well, you will be served

Rouge comme le sang qui nous coule à travers

 July 5th 2021

 When Edward woke up that morning, he expected to find Étienne curled up by his side and to splurge and indulge in some good morning cuddles. Instead, the spot besides him was empty and cold. He sighed to himself and after waiting for a bit, in case his boyfriend made a reappearance, he shuffled his way to the kitchen, where he might find him.

 Truth to form, Étienne was there, already more or less dressed, drinking what couldn’t possibly be his first cup of coffee in the morning out of one of many Habs cups Edward had spotted in the last twenty or so hours.

 “Morning!” Étienne sounded a tad too cheerful, but Edward ignored it and made his way to his boyfriend where he could properly snuggle and feel that blessed beard against his skin for a moment. Thankfully, Étienne was never one to deny any sort of physical touch and wrapped his arms around him, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 There was a reason as to why Edward had chosen this particular time to visit. For starters, he absolutely did not want to miss out on the beard and with the playoffs wrapping up shortly, he knew that his time was counted. On top of that, Edward knew how the people of Montréal took to the Habs losing this far into the playoff run and the down Étienne would feel if that happened.

 It wasn’t that Étienne’s mood solely depended and fluctuated because of the hockey, but with so many people being emotionally vested in the team, their winning or losing would ultimately have an impact on Étienne. Now if they won, well, Edward wanted to live vicariously through it. Plus, there was something quite wonderful in an Étienne who was that jubilant and ecstatic. However, if the Habs lost, Edward wanted to be there for emotional support and also to make sure that the slump wouldn’t eventually tie in with one of Étienne’s own spectacular, unrelated to hockey, depressive episodes.

 “Plans for the day?” He asked, perfectly comfortable in the crook of Étienne’s neck.

 “Well, funny you should ask,” Étienne started and Edward had visions of intense biking up the mountain in the oppressive humidity or something as ridiculously insane, “I – have an errand to run, but I don’t want to impose on you.” For some reason, Étienne sounded a little nervous about this errand and Edward didn’t understand why.

 “So? Go run your errand. I can come with you if you need help.” So long as it didn’t involve standing in the scorching heat, he was fine.

 “No, no it’s fine! I appreciate you wanting to help – but, I don’t want to bother you, really.”

 Edward stepped back and took a good look at his boyfriend’s face. Something was up.

 It took him a moment, but then it clicked.

 It had to be one of his ridiculous pre-game rituals he had completely forgotten about. He almost groaned. Étienne was anal about his rituals to bring the Habs good luck. Downright neurotic, really and Edward had been victim to many séances of Étienne doing the most ridiculous of things that he swore would help his team win. (To be honest, Edward did wonder, deep down, if maybe Étienne wasn’t on to something, considering the fact that the Habs had won 24 cups in their history, but he wasn’t about to say any of that out loud.)

 “Do I want to know what crazy task you’re going to do?” He asked.

 Étienne gave him another nervous smile and tugged on his beard, “It’s not that crazy, really...” He murmured and Edward feared for the worst.

 “What is it this time? Putting your left sock on before you’re right one? Talking to your posters? Building a puck pyramid? Prepare a specific meal?”

 “Please, that was last night and this morning. I need to go to the Oratory.”

 Edward’s face blanched. Of course Étienne would go to the Oratory. He had forgotten all about it.

 “You’re kidding.”

 Étienne scoffed, “I am not kidding, Édouard. This is very serious. I need to make my pilgrimage to the Oratory, climb the steps on my knees and then light up a candle for the Habs’ victory tonight.”

 Edward remained silent. He knew better than to argue or say anything about it. Étienne took his rituals very seriously.

 “My issue is that you flew all the way to spend time with me and I don’t want you to think I’m just abandoning you.”

 “Don’t worry about me,” Edward said with a chuckle, as he finally decided to grab a mug that didn’t have a Habs banner, a players number or Youppi’s face on it, and poured himself some coffee, “You go do whatever it is you need to do and I’ll acquaint myself with your glorious pool.”

 “Are you sure?” Étienne twirled the hem of his shirt around his thumb and followed after Edward when he headed for the table.

 “More than sure. I don’t want to be held responsible for your team losing if you don’t complete your set of rituals. Plus, I’ll be fine here and I can spend more time with Mercury.”

 “Sure?” Étienne asked again.

 “Yes. I promise.” It wasn’t as if Étienne would be out for the entire day anyways.

 “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” Étienne was careful not to topple the coffee out of his hands, but still wrapped Edward in a tight hug.

 --

 In all honesty, Edward was a little overwhelmed to be sitting in the Bell Centre. There were so many people and so many lights that it was quite dizzying. After over a year of leading a quiet life at home, this felt like too much too soon, but at the same time, the energy was electrifying.

 “Can you believe that the last time I was here for a final, you were also here?” Étienne said excitedly as they settled into their seats. It was crazy to think that Étienne looked tame in comparison to some other fans in the arena, even if he was wearing one of his many Habs jerseys, his Habs pants, his Habs shoes and most likely other articles of clothing he couldn’t see.

 “Really?” Edward thought about it for a moment, “Shit, you’re right – so does that make me a lucky charm?” He joked, “Do you need to rub my head for good luck?” He laughed, but then when he saw the serious look on his boyfriend’s face he stopped. Étienne looked at him and seemed to be debating this for a moment. He had definitely shot himself in the foot with that idea.

 “Better off not taking any chances,” Étienne said as he rubbed Edward’s head for good measure, much to Edward’s chagrin.

 “Are you happy now?” He asked, when Étienne was done.

 “Maybe. I would’ve been happier if you would have let me dress you for the occasion. You’ve got to be the only person here who’s not wearing something Habs on them.” He pouted.

 Étienne had offered to lend him anything from a tank top to a signed jersey, with everything in between, but Edward had refused. For as much as he enjoyed being at the arena, there were still team loyalties he had to respect and that would be going too far.

 “No I’m not, look, there’s a few people wearing Tampa jerseys.” He pointed out.

 Étienne didn’t seem to think he was very funny, “That’s not the point, Édouard!”

 “Fine, but look, I wore a white shirt – this is as far as I’ll go.” It was a neutral colour and – well, both of their teams had white somewhere in their jerseys.

 “Tampa is playing in white.”

 There was no winning this one.

 “My jeans are blue and my blood is red?” He tried and he only got a death glare in response.

 --

 The one thing Edward had always loved about watching a game with Étienne, regardless of whether it was a season or playoff game, was that Étienne knew a lot about hockey – more precisely the Habs and he loved to share his knowledge – especially when he was stressed. (Not that Étienne ever admitted to being stressed about a game.) It was endearing the way he would blabber on and all Edward had to do was listen.

 “This has been such a crazy playoff run,” He started, “Like – no one expected them to come this far and it’s been such a boost to the morale of the city. For as much as hockey has its issues, it also brings people together, and I wish there was more of that. Walking around the city these past few weeks has been something else. You meet people and hear their stories – about how they got into the game – where they’re coming from, who they’re here with. It’s beautiful. Kids who are living their first real playoff run. Older people who remember 93, 86 and the runs in the 60s and 70s. It’s been surreal! I’m just – I love these people – my people and the way they’ve just run with this as well. Hoisting orange cones as Cups and living the magic.”

 “I know it might end tonight, but whatever happens – it’s been such a great run. I mean, obviously, it would be really great not to get swept. That would just – no. Do you know that the last time the Habs were swept in the final was in 1952? I don’t think the people would be able to handle that. You don’t make it to the final to get swept. Tampa can go and win at home, but to be swept?! No thanks.”

 Edward knew all too well about being swept. At least the Habs had – avenged the Oilers. He supposed.

 “And, also, on that note, do you know that the Habs only ever lost the cup once at home?”

 “Did they now?” Out of their twenty-four that was quite the feat, really.

 “Yes! And you’ll never believe what team did it!”

 For some reason, Edward felt like he did know, yet the answer escaped him at the moment.

 “The friggin Flames! I had to sit and watch Calvin’s stupid face light up like a goddamned Christmas tree when they won. I never thought I was going to live that one down!”

 Now he remembered.

 To be honest, he’d tried to forget.

 It had been the most awkward of times, really.

 For starters, Étienne had invited him to come watch the game with him. He’d agreed. If it meant spending more time with Étienne, he would’ve gone anywhere. Had gone to many places.

 He’d just – forgotten one minor detail.

 Calvin.

 This was the second time, really, that the Habs and the Flames had met for the final. The first time had been awkward as well. In its own way. It wasn’t even with the fact that he was – involved with Étienne and Calvin was his friend and could not know about his involvement with Étienne.

 It had – more to do with the fact that – the Flames had – impeded Gretzky and the Oilers from getting their third cup. He’d been – resentful to say the least.

 Yet, Étienne had hesitated going out to Calgary to see them team, but then Calvin had asked him to convince Étienne to go. As a power move? To show off? He’d never bothered finding out. But, Edward had spun the idea to Étienne, telling him that wouldn’t it be nice to see the Habs extinguish the insufferable Flames at home?

 Étienne had agreed.

 They’d gone.

 The Habs had won.

 And Calvin – hadn’t even really cared.

 His victory had been in beating the Oilers.

 The bastard.

 1989, however...

 Shortly after Étienne had invited him, Calvin had reached out, saying that wouldn’t it be nice to go out and watch the game in Montreal. He had seats with the execs in their special section and they could make a whole trip out of it! Heck, the Flames might even win the cup! And – wouldn’t that be something! The Cup back in Alberta!

 It had been very hard for Edward to tell Calvin that he already had Other Plans. Yet, without missing a beat, Calvin had told him that he should totally tell Étienne to come watch with them and that Edward didn’t need to worry about lodging, as they could share the hotel suite together.

 He forgot exactly what he’d ended up telling both Calvin and Étienne, but somehow or other, the three of them had found themselves sitting in Calvin’s section, while Étienne had grumbled all along about having better seats than whatever this garbage was.

 It only went from bad to worse as the Flames won and Calvin all but gloated, while Étienne threatened to set the city on fire. It wasn’t that Étienne had accused him of throwing him off, but Étienne had reminded him, more than once, that clearly, because he hadn’t been able to sit at his usual seat, the Habs had lost.

 (Again, Étienne was anal about his superstitions and rituals.)

 “Well, here’s hoping they don’t lose at home and get swept. Good vibes only,” Edward told his boyfriend before Étienne could get in a tizzy.

 “Yes, you’re right. Anyways, it’s sort of thanks to the before last game against the Oilers we’re here anyways. Habs needed one point to assure their spot and that tie brought them to the playoffs, even if they lost in overtime. It made sure the Flames couldn’t sneak in, so, thanks? I guess?”

 Edward chuckled remembering that particular video call.

 “See, I told you, good luck charm.”

 For good measure, Étienne rubbed his head again.

 --

 It was hard not to get wrapped up in the game, regardless of who was playing, even if it wasn’t his team. This was a playoff final game and both teams were trying their best to win. Even though the first ten minutes or so made it seem as though Tampa was going to finish this off without mercy, the Habs, somehow, managed to take the lead twice. Étienne kept on saying that some of the ghosts had clearly finally arrived and that some miracle had been cast on them by the three legends watching from the box.

 Regardless of what it was that had brought the score to 2-2 with few minutes left, Étienne was clutching his arm like a lifeline and Edward was convinced there would be marks there when his boyfriend would let go.

 “Please, please, please, please, PLEASE,” He chanted as the puck went one way and then the other. He clutched Edward’s arm even tighter whenever Tampa got close to scoring and whenever the Habs missed a shot.

 It finally seemed as though the Cinderella run would come to the end with that last double penalty, which continued in over-time, yet somehow or other, the Habs managed to kill it and then, by another miracle, or maybe a clever game of pass-the-puck, managed to score in over-time.

 Considering the fact that there were only three-thousand-five-hundred people in the Bell Centre, the resulting collective scream made it feel as though the place was packed to the brims.

 Edward got swept up in the momentum of it all and found himself standing with all the other Habs fanatics, yelling and screaming.

 When he turned to look at Étienne, his boyfriend looked jubilant and ecstatic. It was such a good look on him and it made Edward’s insides warm at the sight. Étienne deserved to feel this happy all the time, really. If there were a few tears at the corner of Étienne’s eyes, it only made him look lovelier and Edward did his best to school his face in the most platonic of smiles.

 “They live!” Étienne yelled over the continued shouting, “They did it!” He said, even giddier as he kept on jumping up and down, waving his playoff flag with all the other people in the Bell Centre.

 It was magical, really – living a playoff run like this one. He was glad he could be part of it – somehow, even if it was only for the last stretch of it.

 --

 “You know, no matter what happens next, I’m at peace. They fought and they’ve kept fighting from day one and – of course I want them to win. God, I want it so bad, but I’m just – really glad they brought it to game 5. And – I like to believe that – that they’ll be back. For game six. I’m just – I’m happy.” Étienne said, voice thick with emotions as they finally managed to step out of the Bell Centre. Some of the earlier euphoria and adrenaline had tempered down and Étienne was a little calmer by now.

 “If any team can do it at this point, it’s certainly yours.”

 Étienne beamed at him as they walked down the street, away from the crowds still chanting and yelling and celebrating, off the beaten path for a longer way home, if only for some fresh air and a quieter moment to re-center themselves.

 “Yeah – you’re right,” He trailed off with a small smile. Étienne made to grab his hand, but knowing that there were still so many people out, he let their fingers brush against each other instead. “Everyone’s so happy – so proud of the city... I hope the feeling lasts.”

 Edward made a quick grab for his hand and gave it a squeeze, before letting go. He wanted to tell him that the hockey didn’t matter. That this city was more than just a glorious hockey history. That he was proud of him. Of what he’d done. Everything he’d worked for outside of hockey. For himself. For the city as well. And that he had more worth than he realised. To him. To others. But – that was a talk for later. Right now, it was time to enjoy the moment – bask in it. Celebrate the victory.

 “Let’s go home, yeah? I want to celebrate with you.”

 Edward nodded and kept step with him as they made their way back to Étienne’s place, where once safely behind closed doors, they could properly celebrate together.

 FIN

[particularemu]

Since You’ve Been Gone | A Hwang Hyunjin Scenario

Word Count: 1490

Type: Angst

Warnings: death, grieving, self-harm, slightly suggestive at the end

Author’s Note: I added something at the end because this mediocre angst was kicking my ass. 

Hyunjin sighed as he regained consciousness, eyes clenching shut to avoid the piercing light streaming through the open window. He usually woke up well before the sun rose, so he couldn’t help but wonder why the room was so bright. The small little window in his bedroom didn’t normally let this much light in. 

Was it normally this bright in the morning?

Hyunjin rubbed his tired eyes as he attempted to curl into your embrace so he could ignore his responsibilities like a true adult. Sleep felt more important at that very moment. The aching in his body became more evident when he tried to move. He felt so stiff — as if his body was made of cement. If he tried to crawl out of bed now, he’d probably fall flat on his face, earning him a laugh from you. 

Speaking of which, where were you? 

Hyunjin decided to ignore the aches and pains as he rolled over, hoping to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. Instead he bashed his hand — quite hard — into a metal pole. When the hell did that get there?

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s head started to pound, as if he was being beaten over the head with a blunt object. Confusion flooded his mind as he started to panic. 

Oh yeah… He was in a car accident. 

From what Hyunjin could piece together, there were two cars involved. One belonged to a drunk stranger looking to head home after drinking his sorrows away. The other belonged to his buddy, Chan — a straight A student who was driving a group of twenty-somethings to a parentless house filled with alcohol and loud music. Like most young adults, Hyunjin never imagined something like this would happen to them. 

Usually, bad car accidents happen to kids driving drunk on the way home from the bar. They don’t typically happen to responsible young adults looking to party with a group of friends. 

Hyunjin could remember the car accident as if it were yesterday. 

You and Hyunjin were giggling in the backseat at some stupid joke Felix told. The light mood was replaced by panic and fear when Chan gasped, turning the wheel dramatically to avoid an oncoming car. You screamed and grasped Hyunjin’s arm as the truck hit the back end of Chan’s car. Chan lost control of the car, cursing as he attempted to veer away from the telephone pole, but it was too late. 

The car hit the telephone pole, skidding the car around 75 feet until it hit a tree. The pure force of the car hitting the tree bent the metal frame inward. 

Hyunjin couldn’t remember much after the car stopped moving. He could remember the truck hitting Chan’s car once more as the man finally wrecked. He could see the truck full of young college kids dressed in football jerseys. He could remember the blood smeared along the hood of the truck. One of the college kids must have gone through the windshield. 

Hyunjin could recall hearing the sirens. He remembered watching the paramedics pull dead bodies from the truck beside them. He remembered the exact moment your hand fell limp against his body. 

“Hyunjin?” A soft voice pulled Hyunjin out of his memories.

Hyunjin’s head snapped towards the voice, smiling sadly when Minho walked into the room. The older boy looked like a mess. Hyunjin couldn’t blame him. 

Minho was the only one who hadn’t gone out with you guys last night. He couldn’t because he had a term paper due the next day and — like the responsible adult he is — Minho put it off until the last minute. 

“How are you doing?” Minho sat in the chair beside the hospital bed, trembling as he rested his hand on Hyunjin’s arm. “You’ve been out cold for three days. You scared me.” 

“I’ll live.” Hyunjin chuckled, wincing as he felt a piercing pain in his ribs. 

Hyunjin didn’t want to ask. He knew the answer… but he felt like he had to hear the words from Minho. “Did everyone make it out okay?”

Minho paled, eyes glassing over as he took Hyunjin’s hand in his. “No… Everyone had pretty serious injuries.” 

“Who?”

“Felix broke a few ribs. One of the ribs punctured something, I’m not sure what, but he came out of surgery and he’s doing fine.” Minho paused, sighing before continuing. “Chan is okay. He broke his nose and his right arm. Seungmin is recovering from a herniated disc and a broken leg. Jisung broke his neck, but he’s okay.” 

Fuck… That car accident really messed you all up. “What’s my damage?”

“You have broken ribs, whiplash, and a severe concussion.” Minho sighed.

“And Y/N?” 

There was a pause — too long of a pause. 

“Minho? Where is she?” Hyunjin sat up, pushing past the searing pain in his body. 

“Woah Hyunjin lay down, you need to rest.” 

“Tell me what happened!” Hyunjin yelled, startling the older boy a bit. 

Minho looked away, avoiding Hyunjin’s glassy eyes as he told the boy what happened. “Hyunjin… She’s gone.”

“No, she was right next to me. She was by my side.” Hyunjin sobbed. “How did I make it out alive instead of her?” 

“Hyunjin…” Minho rubbed Hyunjin’s shoulder, trying to console the boy. “One of the branches broke the window. She was too far forward.” Tears streamed down Minho’s cheeks. “It was quick Hyunjin. She didn’t feel a thing.” 

“Oh god.” Hyunjin laid back in the bed, curling into the fetal position as he sobbed. You were everything to him — the light of his life and you were gone. 

Hyunjin’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging on the strands as if the burning on his scalp would help bring him back to reality. He could practically hear you yelling, “Hyunjin stop. Baby don’t hurt yourself.” 

But you weren’t alive. How could he hear you?

Minho pulled Hyunjin’s hands off his scalp, holding them in his own so Hyunjin couldn’t hurt himself anymore.

“Hyunjin, you have to calm down,” Minho said. “It’s going to be alright.” 

How could things be alright? You were dead. He was supposed to spend the rest of his life with you. He was supposed to marry you. You two were supposed to raise a cute little boy or girl together. You two were supposed to be together forever. 

And now you were gone…

Minho rubbed soothing circles on Hyunjin’s back. “Hey, it’s going to be alright.” 

“Can you stop telling me it’s going to be alright?” Hyunjin snapped. “Please just leave.” All he wanted was to be alone to process his feelings. 

“Hyunjin, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Just go,”  Hyunjin yelled, his emotions getting the best of him, all he wanted — no… all he needed was you and you were no longer there.

Minho smiled sadly, wiping the tears off his cheeks before turning to leave, “I’ll be back in a little bit.” He paused at the door to say, “We’ll help you through this Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t control his emotions. His entire world came crashing down as memories of you flooded his brain. He could remember your first date, your first kiss, the first “I love you.” He remembered everything. Hyunjin looked down at his scraped hands, finger tracing over the ring you bought him. 

His heart was completely shattered. You took a piece of him with you. Leaving him an empty shell — a ghost of the man he once was. 

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

“Baby wake up.” 

Hyunjin shot up in bed, eyes darting around the room as his brain tried to process what he just saw. All of it was a dream? No one was hurt. You were safe. Hyunjin smiled brightly through his tears, holding his arms out for you. “You’re back!” 

“Yes, baby.” You ran into his arms, plopping onto his chest as you snuggled into his embrace. “My flight came in at two this morning.” You held the boy close, brows creasing as you wondered what he was dreaming about. “Have you been having bad dreams the whole time I was away?”

Hyunjin pressed a sloppy kiss on your forehead. “I missed you.” 

“Don’t dodge the question, Hwang.” You looked up at the boy, brows creasing when you saw his dark eye circles. “You haven’t been sleeping well have you?”

Hyunjin sighed. “No, not at all. I’ve been having bad dreams since you left.” 

“Why didn’t you call?” You sat up, straddling his hips so you could press soft kisses along his jaw. 

“You were visiting your parents. I didn’t want to worry you. I’m fine.” Hyunjin gasped when you bit harshly on his neck. 

“You should have called.” You ran your hands along his chest, smiling when the boy’s lips parted slightly. “I missed you so much.” 

Hyunjin chuckled. “I bet I missed you more.” 

You ground your hips into his, making the boy gasp, hands darting to your hips to pause your movements.

“Then show me.” 

[usamizuki]

lucky bastard

happy birthday to the one and only iwaizumi hajime!! a day late, but oh well. here’s a little iwa/f!reader! posted on ao3 as well!

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzzzzzzzt.

Iwaizumi wriggled in the comfort of his bed, not wanting to face the fact that there’d be morning practice to wake up to. The alarm from his phone kept buzzing in his ear, and reached over and slammed the “snooze” button with the grace of an elephant. Normally, Iwaizumi would have no trouble getting up. He was used to the routine of wake up, practice, school, practice, pass out, but he tossed and turned all night for fear of what’d be waiting for him at the school.

It was his birthday, meaning Oikawa would be a tremendous pain in his ass.

Oikawa always made a huge deal for Iwaizumi’s birthday, ever since they’d been kids. Iwaizumi recalls the time in middle school where Oikawa woke up an hour earlier to drape Iwaizumi’s desk in a mess of tacky streamers and a crudely drawn poster that bore the words: “Happy birthday, Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi’s shoe locker was filled with little notes saying things like “Happy birthday! Maybe this year you’ll get a girlfriend?” or “woah, fourteen already? You look like an old man.” Iwaizumi’s greatest gift that day, in his opinion, was taking his sweet time in beating his best friend’s ass.

All I want is a peaceful day with my girl, Iwaizumi thought to himself as he rose from the bed, shrugging off the sheets and turning towards the bathroom. Is that too much to ask?

The sun was barely hanging in the sky yet, yet Iwaizumi was eyeing his phone nervously for a happy birthday text from you. He knew that you would still be peacefully asleep and he couldn’t stop himself from envisioning you with messy, tousled hair and cute little snores: evidently, Iwaizumi couldn’t wait to see you. Despite him checking his phone every five seconds, he knew that a birthday text was probably out of the question. Iwaizumi had held off on telling you that his birthday was tomorrow. The two of you became a couple fairly recently, after you had mustered up the courage to ask him out after his evening volleyball practice. He didn’t want to pressure you with getting him a gift or anything so soon, but Iwaizumi couldn’t lie to himself. The best present would be you, and only you. Iwaizumi would be over the moon if he’d just have one entire day to spend with you without having to worry about Oikawa’s antics.

Of course, his phone didn’t ping with any new notifications. But what was I expecting, Iwaizumi huffed, and went back to brushing his teeth. I didn’t tell her about it, anyways.

“In conclusion, he doesn’t know that you know.” Oikawa’s eyes twinkled with mischief, and you suddenly felt your stomach drop. M-maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ask Oikawa for help…

“Now, now, (y/n)-chan! Don’t look like that!” Is he a mind reader? “I’ll have you know that I’ve been the sole person in charge of making Iwa-chan’s birthday the best day ever for seven consecutive years!” Oikawa threw his fingers up in a piece sign and grinned at you. You just sighed in response, but gave him a little smile in return.

“It’ll just be a little prank, right?” You tried to convince yourself as Oikawa decorated his best friend’s shoe locker with flimsy neon papers. He had sneaked out of morning practice early to come help you with Iwaizumi’s birthday, which he almost never does. You were surprised at first, but then came to realize that Oikawa was a best friend who would pull out all the stops for the brunette. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate a little surprise…” Your voice faltered, losing confidence in the little plan that you and Oikawa had devised.

“Exactly!” The little hearts that Oikawa had taped onto the locker started to peel off. “You just have to ignore him for the most of the day, and then bam! Plant a good one on him during practice.” You immediately reddened, hiding your flushed cheeks behind your hands. “And as an added bonus, I’m giving him the day off. He’ll have you all to himself, the lucky bastard.”

You giggled and punched Oikawa in the arm playfully, earning a dramatic “Ow!” from him and attracting stares from the rest of the students around them. It was nearing the start of the first class, so more and more people were starting to fill in the halls. Oikawa spotted Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye and quickly pushed you to the other side of the wall. “Go, now, before he sees you!”

Tripping a little bit over yourself, you managed to hide behind another set of lockers. Seeing as you had time to kill before your first class, you decided to stick around and eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Haaaaaaaaappy birthday to y—”

Iwaizumi slapped a hand over Oikawa’s mouth, which reduced his singing to a muffled “mmph.”

He moved to bite Iwaizumi’s hand, and he flinched away before his best friend could even get a nibble. “You’re crazy,” Iwaizumi chuckled, looking at the arts and crafts shitstorm that was his locker. “always picking up after you, even on my birthday.”

Oikawa puffed his cheeks out, turning away from the brunette. “I got here early especially for you, and you repay me by grumbling? And all I wanted to do was do something nice for my best friend on his special day.”

“You call this something nice?” Iwaizumi bent over and picked up the heart cutouts that fell to the floor. “More like a pain.”

“Hmm! Whatever, I have more in store for you anyways.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. By the way, have you seen (y/n) around?”

You perked up at the mention of your name. Did he figure out the plan that quickly?

“Well, you just missed her. I said hi to her, but it seemed like she was in a hurry to get somewhere. Class duties, maybe?” Oikawa’s eyes landed on yours for a second, which was a signal for you to get your ass out of there.

“Ah, okay.” Iwaizumi let out a little sigh, which chipped at your heart a little bit. It was going to be worth it in the end, right? “I’ll catch her later, then.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed in frustration. He was bending the pen that he was holding, which was dangerously close to breaking. Halfway through the school day, and all he could think about was you! Normally, you would join him and Oikawa for lunch along Mattsun and Makki, but you apparently had to run errands for a teacher that time. Iwaizumi was looking forward to perhaps getting a bite of your home-cooked bento, or perhaps you’d buy him a cream bun from the cafeteria for his birthday…?

No. It’s useless, I haven’t told her about my birthday. The pen snapped in his hand. I don’t even have any right to mope about it.

“Woah there, Iwa-chan, no need to show off your strength. This is a classroom, after all.”

“Will you shut it?” Iwaizumi barked at Oikawa, just to get a tongue sticking out at him in return. “If I hear one more ‘happy birthday’ from you again, I swear, I will beat your ass at practice.”

“Ah, and this is the price of being Iwa-chan’s one (and only) friend.” Oikawa sighed, flopping arms onto his desk. “I shower him with endless presents, and only get paid dust. But it’s fine, since I'm such a selfless and giving bestie.”

“Can’t imagine ‘selfless’ and ‘you’ in the same sentence.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re just grumpy because (y/n)-chan’s a little busy today.”

Hit the nail right on the head, huh, Shittykawa? I guess you can pick up on some things, even if that head of yours is filled with air.

“I guess so. But who wouldn’t be? I haven’t seen her at all today.” Iwaizumi’s lips tugged downwards into a pout. Oikawa is having a field day with this.

“Aw, is Iwa-chan lonely? Come on, I’ll buy you a bun from the vending machine. It is your birthday, after all.”

“I don’t need pity food.”

The preparations were almost in place. Thanks to Oikawa and your planning, the volleyball team was hard at work decorating the gym. Practice was still going on, but the coach had allowed a few party favors. Makki was struggling to put a small party hat on Kindaichi, chasing him around the gym. You laughed as you laid out an assortment of cupcakes and cookies on the table, to which the team members drooled at.

“(y/n)-chan, you’re quite the baker! Homemade too...” Oikawa said in approval, reaching to snatch a chocolate chip cookie. You smacked his hand lightly and made a disapproving noise.

“Not yet, Oikawa.” You eyed the door nervously, looking for any sign of Iwaizumi’s signature spiked hair. “At least wait until Iwaizumi gets here.”

He turned away from you to face the door as well. “Don’t worry about a thing! I have Mattsun on guard, and he’ll let us know when Iwa-chan’s coming!”

At the mention of Iwaizumi’s name, Mattsun came running in. “He’s coming, he’s coming,” He panted, waving his arms. “Turn off the lights!”

You quickly hid behind the wall, a handful of confetti in one hand. Holding your breath, you watched as Iwaizumi came in through the door. He was sporting the Aoba Johsai jersey, and his face was all twisted in confusion. “Huh, and I thought I was running late…”

As soon as Iwaizumi flipped the switch, a resounding “Happy birthday!” echoed throughout the gym. Confetti was thrown in the air, and the majority of the team barreled towards Iwaizumi, tackling him in a tight group hug.

“Y-you guys…” Iwaizumi was knocked to the ground, and the weight of the boys on him was crushing his lungs. “can let go now.”

The boys finally released him from their death grip and smiled at him, slapping his shoulders playfully. “Happy birthday, you lucky bastard.”

Iwaizumi dusted himself off and took a moment to actually appreciate the sight before him. The gym, which he considered a second home, was now decorated with strings that hung little paper stars and balloons. There was a poster tacked to the wall that read “Happy birthday, Ace!” Beside the poster was the table of goodies that the team was now lined up to feast on. You decided to approach him now that the team’s attention was on something else other than the birthday boy.

“Hey, you.” You smiled at him, a blush already creeping on your cheeks. “Having a good birthday?” You’ve pined over Iwaizumi for so long, but it’s unbelievable to you that he’s already yours. Every time you look at him, it always takes your breath away. His tanned skin with those mesmerizing sea green eyes. I could just melt.

“(y/n),” He breathed, reaching out to cup your cheek. Your eyes widened and you were sure that Iwaizumi could feel the heat rising beneath his fingertips. Since you guys were such a recent couple, he hadn’t been that big on being affectionate in public. Until now, of course. “you did this all for me?”

“Um, I had some help from Oikawa, of course!” You averted your eyes from the brunette out of embarrassment. “He was the one who came up with this, after all. I didn’t know your birthday was coming up until a few days ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to pressure you into getting me a gift so soon.” He shifts his hands to pinch your cheek lightly. “And what was with you ignoring me the whole day? Was that part of the plan, too?”

“It was! I’m sorry, Iwaizumi, now let go!” You tried to pull away from him, but he chuckled, leaning in and stretching your cheeks even further. You messed with him all day, and now it was his turn.

“Hey, now, lovebirds!” Of course, until Oikawa ruins everything. “Come get a cupcake. And Iwa-chan, don’t think you’re immune from wearing the birthday crown!” In Oikawa’s hands was a little paper crown folded neatly out of construction paper. You took the crown out of Oikawa’s hands and placed it gently on top of his head, smoothing the stray tufts of hair. Iwaizumi’s face was carefully neutral, but he was screaming on the inside. Jesus Christ, you’re too cute for this world.

He composed himself and turned towards Oikawa. “Guess I’m the Great King for today, huh, Shittykawa?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you get away with it this once! And as the previous king, I decree that you have the day off!”

Iwaizumi moved to protest, but Oikawa cut him off before he could even open his mouth. “No buts! The birthday king deserves his rest, no?” He shot a knowing look towards you, and a teasing grin made its way onto the setter’s face. “With his queen, of course.”

“... Shut up, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi knew that there was no arguing with Oikawa once he had his mind set on something. It wasn’t all bad, right? He got to spend his day with his favorite girl.

You beamed and slipped your hand into his, tugging him towards the door. “I’ll treat you to some tofu, ‘kay? It’s all about you today.”

His mouth quirked up into a soft smile reserved just for you, and he squeezed your hand in response. “I really am a lucky bastard.”

[undercoverwizardninjaturtle]

I Forgot How To Breath: A Shattered ROTTMNT Fanfiction

Summary: A Shattered Prequel, Donnie’s not the only one who needs help from time to time. 

Word count:: 1,424

Pairing:Don’t you know me at this point? Wait you don’t? Oh then none, less then none

It was getting harder to breathe. Not because of some illness catching up to him, or because he was in any sort of distress. Believe it or not, the source of his breathing difficulty came from the Lou Jitsu Analog Watch he had refused to be more than three feet from for the past hour. Instead choosing to pace in front of it, glancing at it every so often

 “Leo they’re fine.”

 He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know Donnie was standing behind him, arms crossed with an annoyingly flat look on his face that didn’t’ betray anything other than minor annoyance. “Mikey Dad and Raph left the convention six hours ago. Even if Raph stayed behind to take more selfies with a cosplayer they should have been back by now. And they’re not responding to our texts. Mikey promised me they’d respond no matter how many times I texted them. “

 “They’re also with Dad.”

 “Dad isn’t perfect, remember when he got into a fight with that Lou Jitsu Impersonator who said Lou Jitsu was straight? He could have gotten arrested.  Again.”

His immediate brother gave off a tired sigh, “I don’t suppose you don’t want to sit at the tv at least where’s there’s a rug? You’re going to get dizzy and fall into the toilet again

“I’m not afraid of the toilet” He said with a narrow of his eyes. Turning back to his vigilance. Honestly he would of given the missing family members a call except eh had no reception, usually they had no problem with cell service but in Winter their network  always took a nose dive (A problem that kept Donnie up late at night trying to fix for the past eight years now). Truth was that Donnie and Leo should have been with their family except that the two had been unjustly grounded (ok so they had cooked Spaghetti for dinner and slipped Splinters tail in it, so he took a bite out of himself). He looked back to the analog clock for the fifth time in ten seconds

 Were they ok?

 What if something happened? What if Splinter had been arrested? What if Raph had got stranded alone and went weird again? What if Mikey had an appendix burst and they had to try and get him into a hospital without alerting anyone they were mutants? What if Mikey had fallen into a portal and ended up in a world made entirely of unblemished blank walls and refused to leave unless he painted all the walls

 His heart was beating a mile a minute, the seconds of the clock seemed to have come to a complete stop.  and squeezed his eyes shut. HE knew he was being childish; he knew he was being stubborn. Every time he thought of walking away that annoying voice return, telling him the same thing every time

That they were gone

 They were gone forever.  Taken, they were all that was left. Alone, they were all alone, now weren’t they? The only ones of their kind, in an unforgiving city. Splinter was the only one of them who had regular access to money in a way Splinter kept secret, Donnie and Leo had their allowances but that wouldn’t last forever. They’d have to find a way to make a living. Could they move in with April? NO April had her parents who had no idea of their existence. OR worst what if their family needed them and they were still in New Jersey? He KNEW nothing good ever came out of going to Jersey. This was all his fault, pranking Dad had been his idea, fi he and Donnie were there latest they’d all be together-

Every second of the clock was another second part of his family was missing

Every second of the clock was another second of his worst fears becoming reality

Every second of the clock was another second his heartbeat was getting faster

 HE was so focused the clock that when something large and flat fell over his head, covering him in darkness. Even though he was only a few months from becoming fourteen he let out the most immature shriek and thrashed around a few moments until he finally poked his head free in pure confusion till he saw Donnie with a bundle of blankets in his arms, he set one stack aside before taking the biggest and thickest one and flapping it out by the corners so it lay flat,” Come on Leo, if we’re sitting here all night we might as well be comfortable.”

 Leo looked back to the bundle of blankets, “Don come on- “

“No don’t’ be stupid, I’m not going to sit in the living room all night by myself while you watch the door all night on a cold floor. I’m not heartless. So, stop being a child and make a fort with me.”

 At first Leo was content with being a child, but when Donnie pulled out his limited edition glow in the dark Bluetooth Lou Jitsu sheets, he begrudgingly took the other edge  and helped him unfold it (while not thinking about how Donnie had never EVER used these sheets, not even when Leo had the Double Grade Rat flu and begged for them on his supposed death bed)

  So instead he grabbed a few extra pillows “No one said you were- “but even so he was welcomed with another blanket being thrown over his head. Thankfully without being in a panic, he freed himself intime to see Donnie pull over a beanbag chair and sit by his side in his favorite purple hoodie, “Pick out a movie to watch on the tablet, I’m bored.”

 “what about the internet? I thought the last snowstorm knocked it out.”

 “I downloaded them ahead of time, so we’d have something to watch. Just pick something, just so long as it’s not Jupiter Jim Sails the Seven Galaxies.”

 OF course, Donnie had the worst taste in movies. Even so he turned on Lou Jitsu in ‘Its ok to cry’ (which was a way cooler movie then it sounded)’ “It’s kind of weird, you know?” he said as the credits rolled in, “I get so used making sure you’re ok, it’s kind of weird when the tables are turned right?”

 Don had just poked his head back into their pillow fort, but made sure to roll his eyes, “what exactly do you mean by that?”

 “You know, I’m usually the one who looks after you bro. I make sure you don’t’ get overwhelmed or flustered or calm you down.” Leo was already enjoying digging into one of the chip bags Don had brought over. He was so into shoving as many chips into his mouth as possible he didn’t see Don’s exasperated face slowly unclench and his intelligent eyes glanced away, looking to his hands. If Leo had been looking at him, if anyone had been looking at him, they would have asked him why he suddenly looked so sad. And if anyone had asked, he would have answered, with a question of his own

 ‘Am I really such a burden to everyone?’

 But instead when Leo finally pulled his head free of the bag, Donnie threw a pillow at his face with a battle cry with all the skill of someone who spent most of their life learning how to mask their feelings. The ensuing pillow fight was full of laughter, and the breaking of lamps (eventually they would all be repaired with all the gum Leo and Donnie could chew) and overall, it was a fun night. IT was enough to finally ease Leo’s anxiety, and he didn’t even remember that Raph Mikey and Splinter were gone till they finally got a text a few hours later saying that they were holed up in a hotel because of the weather. Leo unleased d full smile and cheered nearly tackling Donnie over.  They would return by the next day, and only for Donnie and Leo to get grounded again for breaking so many lamps, and time went on. Yet occasionally, Don would get that same sadness in his eyes. After his meltdowns, after he’d get overwhelmed and Leo would help him, when he was sure no one was looking. And it would drive him to ask Sunita about the store just for Yokai. To take a challenge he wasn’t sure he had been ready for. That question that would haunt him

  ‘Is that all you think I am? ‘

A/n

I dont’ usually do authors notes like this, but i’m making a exception. I know right now the world is scary. I wish i could offer you some sort of comfort that would last more then a few seconds. But in truth? None of us know what tomorrow will be like, but I can promise that this will eventually become a memory as all things do.  I’m going to write as much as I can, even if it only helps one person because that one person will be worth it. Even though I’m one of the ‘essential workers’ right now (retail)

And as cliche as it sounds we are all in this together

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 33]

Rating: M Words: 2860 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When  a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure  about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the  newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the  daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t  even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are  they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Enjoy!

It was about ten days before Kristoff felt all of his symptoms had fully subsided. He had started going for jogs a couple of days ago, but anything more than that tended to bring the headache roaring back. So he continued to take it easy, go for a short jog in the morning, and only watch an hour of tapes per day. Anything longer than that hurt his head, too.

Anna had… not so slowly started moving her things in. She didn’t have much, but he told her to put her stuff wherever she wanted, that she could make this place as much hers as she wanted. And he genuinely meant it. His house had just been a house. He hadn’t put much thought into it beyond the comfort of his couch and bed. Decor was minimal, and everything was very much brown.

Maybe she could help him make it a home.

Her just being there already made it closer.

—

After four weeks, they broke her lease and she had officially moved in. They figured it would help her save some more in the long run, help her skate by for just a little longer, even if he told her over and over that she didn’t need to worry about money.

But Anna hadn’t wanted to start things out that way. She had some savings, and she could pay for things here and there, and she didn’t want him to feel like she was taking advantage. Kristoff assured her that he could never think that she was. But still, she insisted, and he told her that that was something he absolutely loved about her.

He had been able to start doing more normal exercises again. Working with the trainers was annoying, but there weren’t any headaches returning when he pushed himself like he used to. They told him if he could do this for a week without any symptoms popping up, he could get back on the ice. 

—

That week went by like a breeze, and Kristoff relished in the feel of crisp ice under his skates. There was no feeling better than being on the ice. He sighed with defeat as they told him they wanted to wait another week before they started firing pucks at him, but he grudgingly agreed. At least he was skating.

And then, even better, he got to come home and see Anna, her hair wrapped into a bun on top of her head as she sat with her knee to her chest, drawing in an almost full sketchbook, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Hi baby,” he smiled, his heart warming as she looked up at him and used the back of her hand to push hair from her eyes. He kissed her softly as he walked past, enjoying the pure domesticity of it all. “Have a good day?”

“Oh yes! I went to that cafe downtown that we like - you know, Oaken’s Mochas and Teas?” 

He always laughed at the name. So on the nose.

“And well, I noticed that they didn’t have any sort of logo or anything so… I don’t know. I just…” she blushed and spun around on the chair, dangling her legs off the side. “They know me and I figured what was the harm in asking - so I’m designing something for them now!”

His eyes widened and he took three steps forward to clear the gap between them, placing an enthusiastic kiss on her lips. “Anna, that’s so great.” 

“They’re paying me, too!” She was giggling against his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Remember how the last place wouldn’t pay? I took it because, you know, portfolio, but I offered for free, but they insisted.”

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Then her arms were around his neck and not letting go and she hummed low and slow, “how about you? Good day? Worn out?”

Oh. He was never too worn out for that.

He hoisted her up onto his hips, grinning like a madman as they moved backwards to his bedroom. Well, their bedroom. She never did sleep in the spare room.

—

He was growing slightly frustrated at the week-by-week status, but he knew this was his second head injury, and they wanted to be more careful this time around. But only progressing to the next step after a whole week was growing agonizing. At least he was doing non-contact now, grinning from ear to ear as he slapped each puck out of midair.

God it felt so fucking good to be back like this.

Anna had come with him today to spend some time with Honeymaren while they practiced, and he could hear her whooping from the stands. Every time he made a save, “that’s my baby!” Every time someone scored on him, “you’ll get it next time honey!”

It was the most endearing thing ever, as she jumped up and waved her hands in the air, as if it were an actual game. As if it weren’t just her in the stands, cheering him on during a practice.

God he loved her so much.

—

Finally they were letting him practice back in a regular jersey. No more no-contact. He was fortunate that goalies rarely got touched anyway, but now they guys weren’t holding back anymore. Slapshots and more risky wraparounds and pucks fired in a way that made him dive were becoming the norm again, and he felt so damn good with every puck he saved. 

Shot by shot, the rust was shaking off, and Kristoff felt ready to get back in a game. It was almost April, and he needed to be playoff ready. They had promised him he’d be back in by March 20th, which gave him a little under three weeks of in-game play before the playoffs started. They were so close to a playoff spot, and he knew that he could help them win it.

But he wouldn’t rush, and he was going to trust the physicians on staff, and take it slow. 

If for no other reason than Anna.

He knew she was worried about him getting back in. But they weren’t playing the Stallions yet - they had at least until the Eastern Conference, and by then he would undoubtedly be a one hundred percent. Plus, the guys had his back, and, he couldn’t help but laugh about it, Warren had been scratched for the rest of the season. Coach’s decision.

—

Right on the promised date, Kristoff was starting in net against Tampa, and the literal electricity in the arena had him amped up beyond belief. Their whole team was working together like a well oiled machine, and he hadn’t realized what a vital cog he was to the whole operation until he had been gone. Even if it had just been in practice, he already felt the connection, and he knew this game would be easily won.

Anna had threatened him with an indefinite withhold if he didn’t let her come on the roadie, so she was up in their box, undoubtedly screaming along to every play, and just knowing she was in the arena made his game that much better. 

They won, 5-2, and dog-piled in the middle of the arena as they clinched their playoff spot.

Fuck. This was still the best feeling in the world.

—

The rest of the season went by in a flash, and before they knew it, the Ice Breakers were facing New York in round one. It felt so easy now as they swept the round, and had extra days for recovery. 

The Stallions lost against Boston. 

It had been a weird moment, celebrating someone else’s loss, but Anna had come home with two bottles of champagne and they popped bottles and got a little drunk and Anna had taken him to bed and all right, he might be okay with celebrating another’s loss if it meant he got this. Plus, it was the team that almost took him out for the end of the season.

Yeah, he was okay with celebrating.

Philadelphia was a harder won match. They liked to play dirty. It went to game seven before they finally secured the win, and they all felt the tiring ache of it. Kristoff hated going to game seven - it meant they only had two days to recuperate before the next match started. 

But Anna had drawn him a hot bath, had snuck in to lay on his chest while he relaxed, and scratched her fingers against his chin as she waxed poetic about playoff beards and how maybe he should just keep it and then her hands sunk a little lower, and he was suddenly feeling a lot more prepared for the Conference finals.

He genuinely thought they might lose to Toronto. They lost the first two. Won the third. Lost the fourth, and if they didn’t win all three of the remaining games, they were out.

It was close. God it was so fucking close. 

Game seven. They were 3-3. Sudden death overtime. It looked like it might head into double overtime, with only eighteen seconds on the clock, but then --

Pederson scores! Ice Breakers win!!!! 

Thank fuck.

—

Anna was there for every game. Every win, every loss, she was there. And he knew he wasn’t being a good boyfriend right now, he knew that he was too focused on his career right now and this was what he had been so fucking concerned about from the beginning.

But after game two against Nashville, which they lost miserably, Kristoff was sulking on the couch watching tapes to figure out where they kept scoring on him, and Anna wrapped soft arms around his neck. 

“Hey,” she hummed, not even reacting to his short, irritated reply. “I just want you to know… How proud I am of you.”

That got his attention. 

“You had a really traumatic thing happen, and you bounced right back from it, and you’ve been playing so hard, and so well, and… There’s no fear, and that’s amazing.” He let one hand raise to her arm, stroking his thumb across her skin.

“I love you so much,” he muttered, tilting his head back to look up at her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bad boyfriend.”

“I know,” she smiled, placing one quick kiss against his lips. “And you haven’t. I can deal with your job being most important for two months of the year.”

“You love me still?”

“More every day.”

He felt more confident in game three. And four. And then they were up three to one, and only needed one more fucking win to win the whole damn thing. 

—

They were in Nashville and Anna was lamenting the fact that they didn’t have the time to actually see the city this week, and Kristoff pulled her close and told her if they won tonight they could stay here as long as she wanted and see everything she could possibly think of. She blushed and kissed him and told him that he better bring his A game, because she was holding him to it and would be horribly disappointed if they had to fly back home tonight.

That was an extra motivation.

They arrived at the arena early, amazed at the crowd already forming and the insane energy just surrounding the building. Playoff hockey was a whole other world, and he was so ecstatic that Anna was getting to experience it by his side. He kissed her deeply before she had to head up to the box and him to the locker room, with a quick squeeze of her bottom and a laugh.

“Hey!”

“It’s for luck!!”

Anna swatted at him but grinned as she followed Jelissa up the stairs to the visiting team’s box, laughing with the blonde about their stupid men and how on earth do we put up with them and Kristoff tuned out the rest before he heard something he didn’t want to. Then he turned his focus to the game.

“Men!” Sven hollered, his voice booming through the locker room. “This game is do or die. We’re ahead, but you better not let that cockiness mess with your game.”

Kristoff couldn’t help but smile. His best friend had perfectly honed his skill of making a speech lighthearted but also motivating. The team followed him into fire, and Kristoff had always admired him for it. When Sven wrapped it up and hopped down from his perch, Kristoff held out a hand, gripped his best friends’ and knocked their helmets together.

“Captain.”

“We win together or we die together, brother.”

Kristoff almost laughed at the drama of it all. “Calm down, Aragorn.”

Sven was silent for a moment. “When the fuck did you watch Lord of the Rings?”

“... Concussion recovery was rough.” He dropped Sven’s hand and smirked. “But it was actually pretty good.”

“Haven’t I been telling you for years that you would like it?” He smacked Kristoff upside the head and grinned. “Never listen to me, but the second you get a girlfriend…”

They heard the announcements starting, and moved out towards the runway. As always, they were last onto the ice, and as always, they fist bumped before they stepped out. He was as ready as he’d ever be. The timer counted down, they got into position.

Three.

Two.

One.

The puck hit the ice.

Period one had a rough start. 2-0 Nashville. But he was recalibrating, remembering what it was he kept missing. They got him on his glove side. They knew he was a little weaker, a little more hesitant with it after the injury.

But he could fix it.

Period two, nothing got by him, and the guys scored three times. 2-3 Ice Breakers. Thank god.

Period three, and the pressure is on. Nashville doesn’t want to lose, and the Ice Breakers don’t want to drag it out. They’ve played three long matches already. 

Nashville scores.

Ice Breakers score.

3-4.

4-4.

5-4.

5-5.

And then.

Carruthers, the kid they just brought up from the minors to fill in a gap from another injury, fucking scores with three seconds on the clock. His third game. His first NHL goal.

The fucking Stanley Cup game winning goal.

The whole team runs to center ice. The whole team dog piles on top of the kid, still silent and slack-jawed with shock, still not believing what just happened. 

“Fuck yeah!” 

“God damn it Ruthy!”

“How the fuck, kid!”

The incoherent screaming from the team didn’t drown out the booing from the crowd, but nothing would bring them down right now. Nothing could.

After their celebration, both teams basically let the three seconds run. Nashville knew nothing could be done, and the Ice Breakers weren’t about to let anything past them anyway. The buzzer rang and they all cheered again, whooping and hollering as they received the cup, went through the motions in the arena that wasn’t welcoming them. Then they ran down the runway, back to the locker room to find their family and friends waiting with enough champagne for every person in that room to have their own bottle.

Captain Sven Pederson had the pleasure of carrying the cup back with him. 

Music was blasting, everyone was screaming, champagne was already flying through the air and as the team started stripping some of their bulkier gear off, Mattias took to the stage. 

“I’ve never been more fucking proud of you boys. You rallied together and in just a few years, we’ve already risen so far beyond what people expected of this new little team in the middle of nowhere. I’m not going to make some big long speech,” Kristoff could see the tears in his eyes as he sniffled, and he let out a booming laugh as he looked around the room. “But you’ve all just… you’ve made me feel like a proud father.” He waved his hands in front of his face and shrugged. “But fuck my speech, let’s celebrate!”

And celebrate they did.

Bottles popped, beers were distributed, everyone drank way more than they should as Sven emptied at least 8 bottles of champagne directly into the cup and lifted it to pour into every players’ mouth. The man of the hour, Scotty Carruthers, was herded to the middle of the pack and drenched in champagne and beer before he had even fully finished processing what was happening.

After far too long, Kristoff found Anna, and she leapt immediately into his arms, placing sloppy peppered kisses all over his face. “I’m” kiss “so” kiss “fucking” kiss kiss “proud of you.” And then a hearty one on the mouth, as her hands pressed firm to either side of his jaw. 

Kristoff smiled with his fingers spread wide over her back as she threw her arms in the air to add more beer to the rain in the room. She laughed brightly, lowered her hands back to his shoulders, and gave him the best smile he had ever seen. “I love you so much.”

And then he thought that somehow that was worth more than the fucking Stanley Cup.

[supernaturalee]

Green and Gold: Part 2 - Gwilym Lee x Reader

Pairings: Widow/Single Father! Gwilym Lee x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, Mentions of X rated thoughts, and more KAREN

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Parts: One

Summary: When Gwilym lost his wife two years ago he feared raising his daughter alone in a small coastal New Jersey town would be difficult. In the two years since her death, Gwil and Brianne are finally ready to start moving on. Following the words of a child psychologist, Gwil signs Bri up for cheerleading with the local youth squad, something Gwil knows nothing about. As he is thrust in the world of cheer bows and back handsprings, he will learn it takes a lot more than green and gold uniforms to mend his and his daughter’s hearts. Hopefully through the squad they will find strength, friendship, and possibly a spark of new love for the widow himself.  

Taglist:@the-baby-bookworm​ @ixchel-9275​ @slutforbritdick​ @kurt-nightcrawler​ @radio-hoo-ha​ @imgonnabeyourslave​ @queendeakyy​ @girllety​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @what-wicked-delights​ @drivenbybri​

Author’s Note: It’s almost 2 am EST and I thought to myself, why not post part two. We are getting into meat of the story here, y’all! Again, this update is late, but my writing was hard to come by for a while. So without further ado, he is part 2 of Green & Gold. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments. 

In the four short weeks since Brianne had started cheerleading practice, Gwilym had come to learn three absolute truths. First being that cheer made Bri happier than Gwil had ever hoped. In the time since that first practice, he had seen her smile more than he had seen since before Angela had passed away. Her eyes lit up now whenever she spoke about how the routine was coming along or how she was learning all of these different things. Such as stunts or new tumbling passages or jumps that had odd names like toe touches, herkies, and pikes. While Gwilym cooked dinner or checked over her homework, he could always hear her routine music coming from the stereo in the living room. Once he got her to wash her hands and then settled at the table. It would become Gwilym’s inquiry into the world of cheerleading and Brianne was more than happy to oblige his many questions. 

Bri had taken to cheering like a fish takes to water. It was in her blood, Angela’s cheerleading history flowing through Brianne’s veins now. It made Gwil so happy. She spent three nights a week on the mat now and Saturday during the day at either the home field or away fields cheering on the young football players. The football team’s age coincided with the cheerleaders of Bri's team’s ages. Or the Mustang Pee Wees as Gwil had learned. He had finally found out the difference between the game cheers and the competition cheer as Bri had once told him. He usually sat in the game bleachers trying to decipher how American football was more popular than actual football. Or as Y/N lovingly reminded him every time he complained, “It’s soccer here.” she would say with a smile. At first he thought it was kind of annoying but now anytime she reminded him, he found it endearing. The way her lips curled up in a smile as she said it, he found himself mesmerized by it. 

When Brianne wasn’t cheering and once her homework was done, she could be found hanging out with her new friends Jasmine, Joey, and Selma. The carpool Y/N had promised had been fruitful for Brianne and Gwilym on the friendship front. They had been the type of cheer parents Gwilym had hoped for and luckily he got in with them instead of the others. That was the second absolute truth he learned that, cheer parents were absolutely bonkers bananas insane. Karen Diguimi was just the tip of the massive iceberg that was the “Stepford Stangs” as Joe lovingly coined them. Gwil had now become a member of the mailing list. A dreaded place to be that he wouldn’t have agreed to had he known what a nightmare it truly was. 

He had now started to receive daily emails with updates on fundraising and how close they were to the nice buses. Game schedules, rule changes, and low fat recipes to keep your little cheerleader in proper cheering shape were among the other important articles. Plus little snide comments on the surrounding towns’ teams and how far superior the Mustangs were to them. It was like a tabloid magazine that Gwil now had a daily subscription too.

 Y/N had sent him a long paragraph text about the low carb recipes and how dare the “Stepford Stangs” imply that only certain shaped children could be cheerleaders. ‘It is the middle of October and they are nine and ten years old. WHY DO THEY HAVE TO BE SWIMSUIT READY?! Gwil, you will have to stop me from strangling Karen at the next practice.’ It made Gwilym feel a swell of pride for a moment that he read her text. It caused the return of a certain set of emotions. These feelings that he was feeling were something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Often he would check over the email for that week’s game schedule then file the email away. His new gang of misfit parents would mock the over ridiculous links in the emails or the fact that they received a new one every day. Joe always sent a meme or two about them, while Rami commented on the complete lack of email etiquette. ‘It’s too many emails and too many people hit Reply All instead of reply. It is chaotic!’ Rami had sent in their group chat. ‘I think its nice to keep us informed with the same information that we knew yesterday.’ Lucy had added. Gwil finally being able to put a face to the name as he met Rami’s other half at the first football game of the year. She was blonde, slim, and in a way almost fairy like. Her movements were graceful but she had this hidden strength to her. Rami and Lucy complimented each other well. Rami was a computer engineer, who like Gwil, could do most of his work from home. Lucy, on the other hand, was a certified midwife and a nurse at the local OBGYN. Often traveling between the hospital and the doctor office. Their schedules mostly allow for their twin girls’ busy sports schedules to work. Joe ran an accounting firm but swore he was bad at math. He stated he liked the business but preferred leaving the accounting to his dedicated small team of accountants.

Finally, the third absolute truth that Gwilym Lee knew was that Wednesday nights were now his favorite night of the week. It was the only night parents were allowed to stay for the whole practice. This meant about two hours of watching Bri have the most fun and grow into an even stronger, more beautiful young woman. It also meant getting to spend time with his new friends including Y/N.  Y/N had quickly become Gwil’s confidant in all things cheer related. Any question or need he had, she had the answer and was always there with a smile. It was just another reason why Gwil was now harboring a crush on this woman. He and Bri had not seen her coming. He thought he would scrap by with googled information and keep his head down. He would be quiet and lonely,  knowing just enough to get by. 

Yet there was Y/N with her intelligence, her helping hand, and her kind heart. Bri also loved her and Jasmine. She was treated with so much love, respect, and care by Y/N. Gwil found it hard to keep himself from melting every time he was in her gaze. He felt like a teenage boy with a crush. He had confided in Ben who told him to get back on the horse. However, to Gwil, the horse was a twenty foot tall bear that was very hungry. Angela was still on his mind, in his life, in his heart. He saw her every day in the brown eyes of his daughter. He feared that any new relationship he would start would be doomed to be branded as the rebound relationship for the man with the dead wife. Even if he found someone, they had to pass the most important test in his book, being well loved by the most important person in his life, Brianne. He shook away the heavy thoughts as the red light turned green. He pressed his foot on the gas as he continued the drive to practice. Bri and Jasmine chatting in the back of his car. 

Y/N had asked him to pick Jasmine up from school and drive her to practice. Y/N had a meeting with the college board about one of her students. She would meet them at the cheer gym later. Gwil’s mind couldn’t help but wander to Y/N. He hoped her meeting went well. He knew in just the short few weeks of knowing her that her job meant a tremendous amount to her. Professor Y/L/N had a very nice ring to it. His mind wandering further to dirtier thoughts. If they were ever to be together would she let him play the teacher's pet. His fantasy slowly took form in his head when Bri’s voice snapped him back to reality. 

“Dad?” No answer came from the driver’s seat. “Earth to dad. Father?” She laughed. Gwil pushed all X rated thoughts from his mind and looked to the rear view. 

“Hmm?” He answered, putting on a small smile to show her that he has really been paying attention the whole time. 

“Could Jasmine and Ms. Y/L/N come to dinner with us?” Bri asked sweetly. The two had joined them for dinner every Wednesday night since that first practice. 

“Please Mr. Lee!” Jasmine used the same sweet voice. Gwil rubbed his jaw with his free hand as the two girls started repeating the world please. 

“Please please please please please please please please please please please please please!” Bri and Jasmine begged together. Gwilym laughed, smiling. 

“It is fine with me but we will have to ask your aunt, Jasmine, when we see her.” He said.  Both girls cheered happily as they looked at each other. 

“Of course Mr. Lee!” Jasmine smiled. “Aunt Y/N likes getting dinner with you and Bri.” Jasmine said. Gwil felt his cheeks heat up for a moment. This came as a surprise to him in a way. Sure he knew she cared about their friendship but maybe this meant she also felt something more for him. He quickly pushed this thought away, no it wasn’t a good time for him to get into a new relationship. I’m not ready. His thoughts continued his mantra. 

“Well we like having dinner with both of you as well, dear.” He answered her. Jasmine’s smile grew. She was a wonderful little girl who Gwilym had grown to care for. She didn’t know what she was doing for Brianne, but Gwil did and how it helped her improve immensely. He had known his daughter had tried to hide her sadness from him. It was something she tried to do to prove she was strong like Angela but she didn’t need to. Gwil and her grandparents knew that Brianne had every ounce of Angela’s strength tenfold. 

As he pulled into the parking lot of the cheer gym he saw Y/N’s Jeep had not yet arrived. He also didn’t see Joe’s or Rami’s cars either which meant he would be alone. He would most likely have to face yet another conversation with Karen. Or he could just hide out in his car until his friends arrived. He shook his head for a moment, he had to go inside, he could handle this. As both young girls made their way inside, Gwil followed behind them making sure both safely got in the building. 

He signed both in at the desk where the young man who Gwil had learned was one of the coaches’ sons sat. He gave the teenaged boy a wave before moving to his usual spot in the bleachers. He had settled into the groove of sitting with everyone, Gwil sat on a lower bench due to his height, while Y/N sat on the bleacher bench above him so she could make eye contact easier. Rami would sit above her and then Joe would sit beside her, the four almost making a little diamond of security. His blue eyes looked around the room before he spotted her. 

Karen was talking to some of the other team parents, her eyes scanning the room for him. He dropped his head down trying to hide himself from her.

“Oh Gwilym!” She exclaimed, moving to him. Gwil sat up straight, damn he had been caught. He politely smiled and nodded. Please don’t come over, please don’t come over, please don’t come over… He repeated in his head, it was too little too late. She made her way over to his place of peace and quiet. 

“Hello Mrs. Digumi.” He said politely. Her smile grew. Damn, his British charm. She stood in front of him. 

“Please call me Karen.” She smiled still. “I wanted to ask how everything was going with Brianne. She is quite the little cheerleader. One of the best on the squad. Almost as good as my little McKenna.” 

“Thank you. I will tell her that later. She certainly seems to be enjoying it and that makes me happy.” He said honestly, maybe he was wrong about Karen. 

“You should have her over for a play date with my McKenna. You and I can exchange parenting tips or tips of some other kind.” She batted her heavily mascaraed eyes at him. He gulped softly. 

“I will have to talk to Bri about it and get back to you Mrs. Dig-Karen.” He corrected himself. 

“I am just saying Brianne seems like a very sweet girl and you don’t want her to get in with the wrong crowd before middle school. Popularity is key and my little McKenna is going to be one of the most popular girls in school. Just like I was. If Brianne settles herself with the likes of those children, her social life is over and I don’t want that for her or for you. Popularity is everything.” She said as she sat next to him. No, he wasn’t wrong about Karen.

Wrong crowd? What the hell, they are children not teenagers. He thought to himself before defending the children of his friends. Popularity is everything. What a bunch of bullocks. 

“Jasmine, Joey, and Selma are good kids. They are smart, fun, courteous, kind and they are Bri’s friends. They were the first ones to welcome her with open arms,” He said. Gwil was a bit taken aback that a grown woman would say something like that about ten year olds. If Bri and Jasmine weren’t on the mat about 50 feet away, he would have forgotten his manners and let Karen have it. 

“I don’t appreciate you talking that way about my friends’ children or about your child’s fellow teammates.”   He continued, his tone was serious and sharp. Her eyes went wide as she heard the manner in which he spoke. 

“Oh! I didn’t mean the kids! I meant, um, the parents.” She was quick to backtrack and try to fix her mistake. Her chance with the Welsh man slipping away. “Gwilly, you are new to all of this. I should have specified that I meant that if Brianne settles herself with the likes of the parents of those children, her social life is over. You both deserve so much but you are still so naive, honey.” 

“My name is Gwilym.” He stated. She had called him Gwilly, a nickname that Angela would lovingly call him after a few glasses of wine. How dare this woman even try to put herself in the same realm of love as his wife. 

“I am so sorry honey.” She smiled to try to cover up the large hole she had dug for herself. “Like I was saying to you that first practice those parents you have chosen to bond with don’t understand the mustang way.” It was clear to Gwilym that Karen intended to keep digging. “Especially Y/N, I mean she likes to pretend she was a good cheerleader because she was once a national champion herself. But she was the worst one of that team, I should know, I did date her brother.” Karen said as jealousy slipped between each word. It was clear to her that Gwilym cared more for Y/N than he would ever care for her. “They carried her to the gold medal and she got the recognition for it like everyone else. Even made her brother break up with me, how dare she. That bitch.” That was the final straw for him.  

“I am going to stop you right there, Mrs. Diguimi. I do not want to hear you ever bad mouth my friends or their children. Please understand I am friendly with you because I have to be. You are the team mom and I do not really like having issues with anyone. However, my daughter is the only reason I am here. Y/N, Joe, Lucy and Rami plus their amazing children came as an incredible bonus to all of this. You did not.” He said calmly. “Now please step away from me and know, this is the last conversation we will have that is not about fundraising or cheering information. I do not take kindly to people belittling others or their children for their own personal benefit. Thank you and have a good night.” 

Karen let out a breath of air through her nose, standing up quickly. Moving from the bleachers, staring him down. 

“Oh I understand.” Her voice dripped with sweetly sickening venom. “If you ever change your mind I am right over there with the good parents.” She moved to the other waiting ‘Stepford Stangs’. Gwil let out a long breath as a smile appeared on his lips. God, how good it felt to let her have it and god how he wished Y/N had seen him. She would be so proud once he told her. It was the sudden sound of two voices that drew him away from his fantasy. 

“I see you are on the list now.” Rami said as he and Joe joined Gwilym in the bleachers. 

“List?” He asked, tilting his head curiously. 

“I’ll let Joe explain.” Rami smiled. 

“It is Karen Diguimi’s way of saying you are cancelled until you apologize.” Joe smirked. “We just caught the tail end of what you were saying but from what we heard, it was fucking brilliant.” He said quietly enough for just the three men to hear. “Welcome to the list. I have been on it since the ‘I won’t let my underage child wash stranger’s cars in the shortest shorts debacle of last summer season.” Joe said. 

“Rami, how did you end up on the list? It seems like she likes you the most out of all of us.” Gwil asked. Rami chuckled. 

“I once asked her if the pom poms for adults were necessary at a competition because it was just one extra thing to carry.” 

“That’s not too bad.”

“She also hates my wife.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So we both reside on the list with Joe and Y/N.”

“What did Y/N do to get on the list?”

“What hasn’t she done to get on the list?” Joe laughed. “First it was being Dominic Y/L/N’s little sister during high school. Then it was becoming Jasmine’s key guardian when he died, then it was a few other arbitrary things I don’t remember, but most recently, it was getting you to be our friend instead of hers.” Joe said. 

“It’s a rite of passage to get on the list.” Rami said. All three men laughed as Gwil felt more at peace than ever before. Even though Karen had basically verbally bashed children in front of him and badmouthed Y/N, she did provide one key piece of vital information. Y/N as a former national champion for the Mustangs, maybe even on the same squad as his late wife. He marked it in his brain to ask her later. 

As practice started and the three men continued their conversation, still no Y/N. Part of Gwilym began to worry that something bad had happened. He checked his phone to see if she had called or texted but nothing. He tried to push the worry to the back of his mind as Joe began to talk about the upcoming competition this weekend. It was the same thing Bri had not stopped talking about for the past week. Even as he got her and Jasmine into the car today, they talked about their nervous excitement for it. 

Joe was going to ride up with Rami and Lucy. Figuring Gwil would want to carpool with Y/N. Actually all three of them, Joe, Rami, and Lucy, hoped something would blossom between the two. 

“Oh I hadn’t even thought to ask her. It is probably too late, I will just drive up myself.” He said he was a bit disappointed he hadn’t asked. 

“She’ll say yes if you do ask.” Rami smled. 

“She might not.” Gwil continued. 

“Oh no, she will definitely say yes.” Joe smiled slyly. Both men looked at each like they both held the same secret that Gwil wasn’t privy to. It was at that moment Y/N moved into the gym still in her work clothes. Her blazer that was once covering the purple silk blouse, was replaced by a jean jacket. She wore black slacks and black vans. 

“I don’t drive in heels, I don’t want to be responsible for that many lives.” She had told him their first Wednesday night dinner out with the girls. He knew that she kept a pair of black lace up vans in her Jeep for the drive home from the university. 

“Speak of the Devil and she shall appear.” Joe teased her as she sat in her usual spot. She laughed and Gwil’s heart skyrocketed into flight. 

“Ha ha. Good to see you, Mozzarella.” She snarked. 

“That’s Mr. Mozzarella to you.” Joe answered. Both tossing their heads back gently and laughed. There went Gwil’s pulse racing for a moment. 

“Did I miss anything?” 

“Gwil’s on the list.” 

“No!”

“Oh hell yeah!”

“How? Tell me! I have to know how Karen’s little lust for you somehow got you on the list.”

“Karen’s little what?” Gwil said. 

“Dude, she wanted to bone you.” Joe said. “Hard.”

“Bone?” He asked.

“Sleep with you, knock boots, cherry pick, dude I know too analogies for sex.”

“She’s married!” Gwil exclaimed quietly to the group. 

“Hasn’t stopped her before.” Y/N said. “Anyway, tell me how you got on the list.” 

Gwilym began to tell the story of her confrontation with Karen. His own smile grew as he watched Y/N’s own smile grow as he got to the words match. 

“Mr. Lee you are bloody brilliant.” She said, her hand rubbed his arm for a moment before she withdrew it. Gwil blushed. 

“It was nothing.”

“This is cause for celebration. You being on the list. We will all go out kid free and celebrate soon.” Joe said. 

“Sounds good to me.” Rami agreed. Y/N nodded, her eyes looking up and waving to Jasmine as the girl waved back. 

“Hey Y/N, did you know Gwilym here was going to drive to Trenton all alone?” Joe stated. Gwil’s eyes went wide as he looked at the man over Y/N’s shoulder. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Really?” She asked.

“Yeah. He was going to drive by himself.”

“Why don’t you ride with me? It isn’t as long as a drive if you have a partner.” She offered him. Her Y/E/C eyes meeting his blue. A small smile on her lips.

“Um, you won’t mind?” He asked shyly. 

“No, it will be a treat to spend time with you alone.” She said honestly, all the room felt almost like it was silent around them. Joe and Rami watching the two just share prolonged eye contact. Gwil could almost swear there was a light pink tinge on her cheeks as well. 

“Then it's all set. I’d love to ride with you.” He smiled. The tinge got a bit darker. 

Joe poked his head between the two, “Is your, um, neighbor coming?” He asked her. His voice was almost giddy, like Gwil’s when he talked about Y/N on the phone to Ben. Who was this woman  that was making Joe act like the same lovestruck teenager he was?

“Oh no. Unfortunately, Jolene had one of her advanced painting classes rescheduled to Saturday. It is too much money to miss out on but she promised Jasmine she was coming to Regionals.” Y/N said as she raked her hair up into a messy ponytail. 

“Oh.” Joe’s smile faded quickly. 

“You know you could just ask her out. She likes you too.” Y/N patted her friend’s shoulder. Joe shook his head. 

“The divorce is still too fresh to Joey. It wouldn’t be fair to him for me to get involved with someone new so soon after his mother and I split up.” Joe admitted. Gwilym understood that point. A divorce was a similar loss to a child as a parent passing. Everything became different over night for them, changing so suddenly. Joe and his ex were friendly enough to a point for the sake of their son. The one thing that will keep them forever linked. 

“Okay honey. One day though, Joey is just going to want his dad to be happy.” She said with a soft smile to their friend. Joe just nodded looking over at his son. 

How Karen could ever call this wonderful woman a bitch was past Gwilym’s arena of thought. He looked at Y/N and smiled. God how beautiful she is even in the lighting of this gym. He thought to himself. As more time passed for the practice, the three experienced cheer parents told Gwilym everything he would need to know to be ready for Saturday. How he would have to have Brianne ready before 6 am to get her to the gym so that the team could take a bus together to the arena before driving there with Y/N. He would have to make sure he paced enough bobby pins, snacks, water, everything. His worry level that he would mess this all up grew. Especially the idea that he would have to do her hair in a high slick back ponytail. Brianne had hair like her mom’s thick and wavy, he could barely get it into braids without at least three Youtube tutorials. 

“How about this? I bring Jasmine over at like 5. I can do both of their hair and you can make sure they have enough snacks?” Y/N offered, once again being the incredible person that she was. 

“Please. I fear what I would do to my poor girl’s head.” He said honestly. 

“I think you would be fine, but the first competition is the scariest for both the parent and the cheerleader.” 

“It will put not only my mind at rest but Bri’s mind too. Thank you Y/N.” 

“Anything for you, Gwil.” She smiled. “Oh and um, thanks for standing up for the kids earlier with Karen. She can talk all the crap she wants about me but Jasmine doesn’t deserve that. It means a lot to me and it shows me how wonderful of a human being you are.” She said before turning her attention back to the mat. His heart raced again. God, Wednesday nights really were his favorite. 

[theskywaslookingback]

!!!!!!!! if you wanna talk abt it more i wd Love to learn things abt your take on the usher foundation 👁👁👁

<3 This almost made me cry tbh I would LOVE to talk about my AU. So I started out having the idea after listening to Gerry’s statement about how there’s no powers of “love or hope or...indigestion or anything like that” and my brain instantly said But What If There Was? And I figured the Usher Foundation would be as good an institute to explore that as any because 1) I’m American and it’s easier for me to write like an American than it is for me to write about the UK and 2) I could explore things without canon constraints on characters. I have an inspo tag for the AU here.

Basically, I love American urban legends. I love southern and midwest gothic. I thought about how I could apply things like mysteries, creepypastas, urban legends, and cryptids to the 14 Fears Formula and I started planning. There’s blurring of the lines, just like there are with the Fears, and I call them Hopes. (I know it’s cheesy. The whole AU is cheesy. Let me live.) What is a person afraid of and what could help them instead? The easiest example is the Dark. What helps combat fear of the dark? The Light. So I take a statement and I formulate it around a Being that helps save someone from a Fear. And maybe it doesn’t work sometimes, maybe the fears still take and feed on people, the Usher Foundation is a Beholding stronghold after all; but the point of the AU is that there are things that Try To Help. (And yes, I know that a lot of the point of TMA is that through terror we have to be the ones to reach out and help each other I know okay. Let me live.) 

Roanoke Branch: 

Luke Thomas is the first person that you meet. He’s a little bit of season 1 Jon, derisive of the thought of using something as low tech as a tape recorder to transcribe a statement, but he’s also a bit more how I imagine Sasha would have been as head Archivist. Capable, curious, a bit too nosy. He’s not the Head of the Archives or anything fancy, he’s just what I’ve dubbed as Lead Scribe. He’s tasked with transcribing some of the more recent statements as well as checking on the team to make sure everyone has working equipment. He’s basically got as much power as the kid the teacher appoints to look after everyone while they step out to talk to another teacher. 

Then there’s Jenna Higgins. Jenna works with older, more delicate statements. She’s the one that gives Luke the idea to work with tape recorder because she has to use one. Her laptop doesn’t work in the climate controlled room with the older documents. She’s sweet and smart, always quick to give a compliment or advice if needed. She worked in a library before applying to the Usher Foundation and eventually Luke will read her statement. If the Eye is Seeing and Knowing and Not Doing then there has to be a being that Applies Knowledge and that’s what has saved her. She has no fear of secrets being discovered, or of knowing too much, because she knows knowledge exists to be applied to the world. 

Julian Matthews and Samantha Thorn are Journeyman Scribes (researchers). They work with cursed objects and check the validity of statements for the Scribes. Julian has worked for the Foundation for almost 20 years, Samantha has only been there for 1. 

Brent and Michael are assistants that pop in on and off as needed. Brent works in the library and Michael is an office assistant. 

The Roanoke Branch covers a majority of Virginia and north up to Maine. Right now their statements include: a Black Dog that protects a cemetery from the Lonely, a forest of Moth Creatures that worship an orb that looks like the moon, something that is Not A Deer, the Jersey Devil, and a man with a head like a bird.

Dallas Branch:

I live in Texas so y’all know I’m gonna have fun doing urban legends from where I grew up. The Dallas Branch covers part of the South namely Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Louisiana. 

Savannah James is their head scribe. She grew up in the Panhandle of Texas and was marked by the Vast (and if you’ve ever seen rows and rows of cotton fields with nothing but that and the open empty sky you’d understand), but managed to escape due to something in the field that held her down and kept her from staring at the sky. Something that said “you are part of this Earth and you are not alone”. Her girlfriend’s name is Jocelyn and she stops by sometimes to bring lunch and occasionally comments on a statement.

Matthew Johnson and Monica Perez are two other scribes that work on older statements. Monica is bilingual and will transcribe statements both in Spanish and in English. Some statements are even taken down in Mexico and transferred up to this office.

Sarah Hernandez is a Journeyman Scribe and fairly new to anything paranormal. She’s enormously skeptical to the point of anger until she meets an aspect of the Stranger and manages to survive it. 

Their statements include: The Goatman’s Bridge, a jackalope, a swamp with only a single alligator, The Tall Men, and a cotton harvester that turns on by itself. 

I’ll do my absolute best to keep to actual cryptids and urban legends. I will try to be sensitive and avoid things that may be involved in Native American culture and do my research on things I think are cryptids before writing the statement. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this project because I work full time and I have a dozen other WIPs that I work on off and on, but they are fun statements to write. Eventually I’d like to have branches and statements for all across the US. I’d love to do a statement over Things In The Corn because god are those always good urban legends. 

(And this is just a fun note: There’s nothing that really stops The End because death comes for us all, but I call its Hope “Absolution” which has to do with freedom from guilt or sin and it my mind it’s the thing that allows you to see death not as something to fear but as something to embrace.)

[writeyouin]

The Crooked Man X Reader - Purpose (COMMISSION)

A/N – Thank you for yet another commission from @petitelepus​. I hope this is to your liking.

Warnings – Minor thoughts of suicide. Minor harassment.

Rating – T

Commission Request: A female Reader Fable who is loyal to the Crooked Man down to the bone! She knows what he is doing is wrong but he also gave her life a meaning.

Word Count - 1827

You clung tightly to your purse which was the only thing you had left in the world; all it contained now was one lonely five-dollar bill and a pocket-sized painting of your cottage in the homelands. You had never been one of the main fables that the Mundy’s talked about, only one of many scullery maids in Prince Charming’s palace; nobody of great importance.

Ever since you had come to the Mundy realm, it had been one problem after another, going week to week trying to scrape enough money together just to survive. Now, with no money and no job prospects from either Fabletown or the surrounding Mundy area, you were forced to go to the Business Office for help. If Old King Cole was still around, you doubted it would be a problem; he was a merry old soul after all. However, the person you had to convince was Ichabod Crane, and you had heard that he didn’t have much in the way of generosity. Although it was late and you were the last person awaiting a meeting with Mr Crane, you hoped it wouldn’t affect his judgement, and that he might be moved to help you.

Finally, Crane himself opened the door but it wasn’t to see you, it was to kick both Snow White and Bufkin out.

“TAKE THAT WRETCHED CREATURE AND KEEP IT AWAY FROM THE BUSINESS OFFICE MISS SNOW! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MORE OF ITS DISRUPTIVE BEHAVIOUR.”

Snow looked like she was about to argue, but had evidently had enough that day, “Come on Bufkin, let’s leave the Deputy Mayor alone; it’s closing time anyway.”

“Yes, Miss White,” Bufkin agreed, not caring that Crane had kicked him out. The advantage of being a flying monkey was that he could always get back into the Business Office from the outside window whenever he wanted to, and now he could mooch a drink off someone before returning.

“AND YOU-” Crane pointed an accusing finger at you, seeming to lose some of his bluster afterwards, “Make it quick.”

“Yes, Sir,” You squeaked, stepping into the office and closing the door behind you.

Crane walked to his desk, closely followed by you as you explained your plight. At the sound of your desperation, he started paying closer attention.

“So you need money,” Crane concluded.

“Yes, Sir, but a loan would be fine, I’ll pay it back as soon as I find work.”

“That’s redundant. If you are unable to find work, then I’ll have wasted an investment. It would be better if I simply gave you a job myself.”

“That’d be wonderful, Sir. I used to be a scullery maid so I can clean and-”

Crane waved your explanations away, “I am not in need of a maid. I have another job in mind for you.”

“Anything, Mr Crane. I’ll do anything.”

Crane closed the gap between the two of you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a way that only made you feel vulnerable and afraid. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You tensed up, clenching your teeth, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as Crane trailed his hand down your arm. Under his touch, you froze, feeling cheap and abused.

“I happen to need someone for various roleplays,” Crane told you. “And since you’re willing to do anything-”

Coming to your senses, you pushed Crane away from you, running out of the office as fast as you could with tears in your eyes; Crane’s screamed insults following you out of the room.

In the dark of the night, you kept running, not daring to stop lest your shame catch up to you. Without Crane’s money, you had nothing, not even enough to rent somewhere cheap for the night. Once you got to the park, you finally stopped running, walking along the bridge so you could look down at the glassy water that reflected you and your many failings.

Catching your breath, silent tears slid down your cheeks. What was the point of living in a world crushed in the fist of capitalism? With all that you had in the tiny handbag, you may as well resign yourself to starving to death, if the cold didn’t take you first. It would probably be better if you drowned yourself now. Unlike Mundy lakes, the one in Fabletown was deceptively deep, and would serve as a half-decent final resting place. Mechanically, you inched your leg over the side of the little wooden bridge, so you were straddling the handrail.

“Begging your pardon Miss, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a cockney voice said from behind you.

You turned to find Tiny Tim watching you sympathetically.

“Tim,” You breathed, recognising him instantly; it was hard not to when he was such a major character.

“Aye, thanks for leaving off the tiny. I hate it when people say that. You wanna come with me? I have someone interested in employing you.”

You looked towards the glassy water once again, fear now clutching your heart as you scrambled to get away from it, back onto the safe side of the bridge. Tiny Tim put an arm around you to steady you. “Do you want my coat, Miss? You’re freezing.”

You nodded jerkily, stuck with the thought that you had been close to throwing your life away. Tiny Tim removed his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Alright then, you coming? I’m s’posed to take you to the boss.”

“Who is it?”

“Ah…Best he explains it, he’s had a bit o’ bad press lately, so his name does no good.”

You started thinking of all the villains you knew of. Bluebeard, the Tweedles, the Jersey Devil; you couldn’t picture Tiny Tim working for any of them.

“I promise he’s good. He gives people like you and me jobs. Who else’d hire me as a bodyguard?”

“…Alright, I’ll join you.”

With an amiable smile, Tiny Tim led you towards an out of place door on the bark of a tree, deep within the park. From the door, he led you down a rich hallway till you were in front of two solid-oak doors.

When he opened them, you found a man like no other. He was an older gentleman with a sagging left eye, as if he’d had a stroke. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once, and he held a cane, to keep up straight.

Instantly, your breath left your body in a state of panic, for who did not know of the Crooked Man? He was whispered to have taken part in every recent major crime in an attempt to control Fabletown, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do; suddenly, Ichabod Crane was starting to look like a real martyr.

“Miss (L/N), Sir,” Tiny Tim announced, before leaving you alone with the Crooked Man.

“Ah, yes, Miss (L/N), please, take a seat,” The Crooked Man gestured to the sofa opposite him in the small office.

“Why am I here?” You asked in a small voice, sitting down.

“Why? Because I heard that you were looking for employment, and I saw the manner in which Crane was planning to abuse you.”

“How? That only just happened…”

“Ah, it is of no real concern,” The Crooked Man answered, thinking of Bloody Mary and all she managed to see through her mirrors. “Tea? Coffee perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah, I see you have manners. They’re so often overlooked nowadays, don’t you think? Alright, down to business,” He sat down in the armchair and scratched his chin. “I have heard that you are in need of employment, and it so happens that I’m looking for a personal chef, as well as a house maid. You will be free to come and go as you like, and you will be handsomely compensated for your work. The only thing I would ask is for your discretion. You see, my name has certain connotations, as I’m sure you are well aware of.”

A small part of you wanted to ask whether you would be executed if you didn’t take the job, but another larger part of you didn’t seem to care. You had met Tiny Tim time and time again, and he seemed to be a reasonably good judge of character. Perhaps he was right; it wasn’t every day you got offered a job that you were suited to for a good wage.

“It will be a pleasure to work for you, Sir,” You inclined your head politely.

After three months of working for the Crooked Man, you had never been happier. The work was good and it paid more than you deserved. You found yourself looking forward to taking his meals to him, enjoying every interaction with him. He was always polite and respectful, in a way that nobody else had ever been before, and whenever you brought the tea tray to his meetings, he made sure his goons always treated you with the upmost respect. Once, Tweedle-Dee had dared to lay a hand on you, and he was immediately punished. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it had warned the others off you for good.

While you knew that the Crooked Man’s business dealings were morally wrong, you found that you didn’t care. He had brought you back from the brink of depression, and for that, you would forever be loyal to him.

“Breakfast, Sir,” You announced yourself into the office where he spent most of his time.

“Hm,” He replied, reading through some paperwork. He was unusually quiet as he scanned the script in front of him.

“Everything alright, Sir?”

He put the papers down with a sigh, managing a smile for the first time that morning. “Nothing that cannot be fixed. Just a dip in some stocks of mine that I find rather disappointing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It will all be fine, my dear,” He said with a grin.

Your breath hitched in your throat; he’d never called you anything but your name before. Was it possible that he held the same feelings for you that you harboured for him? Or was it merely a platonic nickname, now that you had been working for him a while.

“A penny for your thoughts, (Y/N)?” He asked, noting your distress.

As coolly as you could, you approached him with his morning tea. Upon delivering it to his desk, you pecked his cheek. It was a move that could possibly lose you your job, but you decided to risk it anyway. If the Crooked Man had any thoughts, he kept them well guarded as you silently left the room, your heart pounding. Once the door was shut, the Crooked Man pressed a hand to where your lips had been and took a deep breath. He would have to find a way to repay the gesture ten-fold; you had very quickly become more to him than just another employee.

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[spacecrone]

Sorry, Cassandra.

So, it's definite then

It's written in the stars, darlings

Everything must come to an end - Susanne Sundfør

I first learned about the climate crisis in 2008, as an undergrad at Hunter College, in a class called The History and Science of Climate Change. For the next decade I would struggle with how to process and act on the scientific paradigm shift climate change required: that human activity could disrupt the climate system and create a planetary ecosystem shift making Earth uninhabitable to human life. I became a climate justice activist and attempted to work directly on The Problem which was actually, as philosopher Timothy Morton writes, a hyperobject, something so systemic and enormous in size and scope as to be almost unintelligible to human awareness. I’ve cycled through probably every single response a person could have to this knowledge, despair, ecstasy, rage, hope. I’ve landed somewhere close to what I might call engaged bewilderment. For me, his particular locale has a soundtrack, and it’s Susanne Sundfør’s cinematic dance dystopia Ten Love Songs, an album that tells a story of love and loss in the Anthropocene. Sundfør is a sonic death doula for the Neoliberal project, with a uniquely Scandinavian version of bleak optimism. To truly grapple with this time of escalating transition, we need to really face what is, not what we hope or fear will be, but what is actually happening. A throbbing beat with shimmering synths around which to orient your dancing mortal envelope can’t hurt.

Susanne Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs was released a few days after Valentine’s Day in February of 2015, six months after I had been organizing Buddhists and meditators for the Peoples Climate March.  I was already a fan, having first heard her voice as part of her collaboration with dreamy synth-pop outfit m83 on the Oblivion soundtrack. Oblivion was visually striking but felt like a long music video. The soaring synths and Sundfør’s powerful voice drove the plot more than the acting, though I loved how Andrea Riseborough played the tragic character Vika, whose story could have been more central to the plot but was sidelined for a traditional Tom Cruise romantic centerpiece. But since the movie was almost proud of its style over investment in substance, the music stood out. The soundscapes were as expansive as the green-screened vistas of 2077  in the movie. It was just nostalgic enough while also feeling totally new, a paradox encapsulated in the name of m83’s similarly wistful and sweeping Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming.  I am not exempt from taking comfort in style that signifies a previous era, and I am also not alone in it. It’s a huge industry, and while the MAGA-style yearning for a previous era is one manifestation, maybe there are ways to acknowledge culture as cyclical in a way that doesn’t sacrifice traditional knowledge to some imagined myth of perpetual progress.

When Ten Love Songs came out the following year, I listened to it on repeat for days.  Sundfør seemed to have absorbed the music-driven sci-fi into a concept album, with m83 providing her with a whole new panopoly of sounds at her disposal. Like Oblivion,  Ten Love Songs told the story of a future dystopia with high speed chases, nihilistic pleasure-seeking and operatic decadence against a backdrop of technocratic inequality. It mixed electro-pop with chamber music and I listened to it on a Greyhound ride to Atlantic City in the middle of snowy February. I hadn’t felt like this since high school, that a full album was a sort of soundtrack to my own life, which I could experience as cinematic in some way while the music was playing. This situated me in my own story, of studying climate change as an undergrad and graduating into a financial collapse, working as a personal assistant to an author writing about ecological collapse and ritual use of psychedelics, to joining a Buddhist community and organizing spiritual activists around climate justice. 

Ten Love Songs is a breakup album, with lyrics telling of endings and running out of time. But it didn’t read to me as an album about a single human romantic relationship coming to an end. It felt like a series of vignettes about the planet and its ecosphere breaking up with us, all of us. People. Some songs like Accelerate, one of the album’s singles, throb in an anthem to nihilistic numbness and speeding up into a catastrophe that feels inevitable. Fade Away is a bit lighter, tonally and lyrically, (and if you listen, please note the exquisitely perfect placement of what sounds like a toaster “ding!”), but is still about fading away, falling apart. The way the songs seem to drive a narrative of anthropocenic collapse built on science fiction film scores, the combination of orchestra and techno-pop, absolutely draws on Sundfør’s experience collaborating with m83 for the Oblivion soundtrack, which itself combined Anthony Gonzalez’s love for the adult-scripted teen dramas of his own 80’s adolescence. In Ten Love Songs, Sundfør takes what she learned from this collaboration and scores not a movie but a life experience of living through ecological collapse and all of the heartbreak and desire that erupts in a time when everything seems so close to the knife’s edge.

I am reminded of another Scandinavian dance album that was extremely danceable yet harbored within it a sense of foreboding. The Visitors, ABBA’s eighth studio album, was considered their venture into more mature and complex music. The two couples who comprised the band had divorced the year before it was released, and the entire atmosphere of the album is paranoid, gloomy, and tense. The cover shows the four musicians, on opposite sides of a dark room, ignoring each other. Each song is melancholy and strange in its own way, unique for a pop ensemble like Abba. One song in particular showcases their ability to use an archetype of narrative tragedy and prophesy to tell the story of regret. Cassandra is sung from the perspective of those who didn’t heed the woman cursed by Zeus to foretell the future but never be believed. 

I have always considered myself a pretty big Abba fan, something my high school choir instructor thought was riotously funny. I was born in the 80’s and nobody in my family liked disco, so I seemed like something of an anachronism. But pop music, especially synth-oriented pop, has always felt like a brain massage to me. It could get my inner motor moving when I felt utterly collapsed in resignation to the scary chaos of my early life. But I only discovered the song Cassandra in 2017, while giving The Visitors a full listen. It felt like I had never heard the song before, though, as a fan I must have. But something about 2015 made the song stand out more. It starts with piano, soft tambourine, and the ambient sound of a harbor. It has a coastal Mediterranean vibe, as some Abba songs do, foreshadowing Cassandra’s removal from her home city, an event she foretold but could not get anyone to believe. It’s a farewell song of regret, echoing the regret the members of Abba felt about their own breakups. 

We feel so full of promise at the dawn of a new relationship. Only after the split can we look back and say we saw the fissures in the bond. The signs were there. Why did we ignore them? This happens on an individual level but the Cassandra paradox is an archetype that climate scientists and journalists are very familiar with. This particular Abba song, and the Visitors album overall, uses this archetype to tell the story of a breakup in retrospect. With climate change, the warnings have been there, even before science discovered the rising carbon in the atmosphere. Indigenous peoples have been warning of ecological collapse since colonization began. Because of white supremacy and an unwavering belief in “progress,” perpetual economic and technological development and growth, warnings from any source but especially marginalized sources have been noise to those who benefit from that perpetual growth model and from white supremacy itself. Is there a way to undo the Cassandra curse and render warnings signal BEFORE some major event turns us all into the chorus from Abba’s song, singing “some of us wanted- but none of us could--  listen to words of warning?” Composer Pauline Oliveros called listening a radical act. It is especially so when we listen actively to the sounds and signals of those we would otherwise overlook.

When I look back at my life in the time that Sundfør’s Ten Love Songs and m83’s movie music seems nostalgic for, the late 1980’s in New Jersey,  I was a child with deeply dissociative and escapist tendencies, which helped me survive unresolved grief, loss, and chaos. I recognize my love for Abba’s hypnotic synth music as a surrendering to the precise and driving rhythm of an all-encompassing sound experience. I also see how my early life prepared me to be sensitized to the story climate science was telling when I finally discovered it in 2008. I had already grown up with Save the Whales assemblies and poster-making contests, with a heavy emphasis on cutting six-pack rings so that sea life would not be strangled to death. I knew what it was like to see something terrible happening all around you and to feel powerless to stop it, because of the way my parents seemed incapable of and unsupported in their acting out their own traumatic dysregulation. Wounds, unable to heal, sucking other people into the abyss. I escaped through reading science fiction, listening to music like Abba and Aphex Twin loud enough to rattle my bones. I wanted to overwhelm my own dysregulated nervous system. I dreamed of solitude on other planets, sweeping grey vistas, being the  protagonist of my own story where nothing ever hurt because ice ran through my veins and the fjords around me. My home planet was dying, and nobody could hear those of us screaming into the wind about it.

Ten Love Songs woke up that lost cosmic child who had banished herself to another solar system. Songs of decadence, songs of endings, songs of loss. Though that album was not overtly about climate change, Sundfør did talk about ecological collapse in interviews for her radically different follow-up album Music For People In Trouble. After the success of Ten Love Songs, Sundfør chose to travel to places that she said “might not be around much longer” in order to chronicle the loss of the biosphere for her new album. It is more expressly and urgently about the current global political moment, but the seeds for those themes were present and in my opinion much more potent in the poppier album. But maybe that’s the escapist in me.

The old forms that brought us to this point are in need of end-of-life care. Capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchal theocratic nationalism, neoliberalism, they all need death doulas. Escapism makes sense in response to traumatic stimulus, and for many of us it may have helped us survive difficult circumstances. But if we are to face what it means to be alive on this planet at this moment, we might be here to be present to and help facilitate and ease the process of putting these systems to rest. And maybe this work is not at odds with a dance party. The ability to be visionary about shared alternatives to these dying systems is not inherently escapist, when we are willing to take the steps together to live into those new stories. What would happen if cursed Cassandras, instead of pleading with existing power structures to heed warnings that sound like noise to them, turned to each other to restore the civic body through listening, through bearing witness to each others unacknowledged and thwarted grief over losses unacknowledged by those same systems of coercive power?

Engaged bewilderment means my version of hope, informed by Rebecca Solnit’s work on the topic, comes from the acceptance that things will happen that I could never have imagined possible. Climate change is happening and there are certain scientific certainties built into that trajectory. Some of it is written in the stars. But as with any dynamic system change, we do not know exactly how it will all shake out. These unknowns can be sources of fear and despair, but there is also the possibility for agency, choice and experimentation. The trajectory of my individual life was always going to end in death. Does that make it a failure? Or does it render each choice and engagement of movement towards the unknown an ecstatic act? As the old forms collapse, no need to apologize to the oracles. At this point they are dancing, and hope you’ll join.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Reaction to ‘Wizards’

There were some elements of Wizards that I was quite pleased with and others I found disappointing.

Here are some notes I took while watching it: 

“I was busy,” says the guy who was ASLEEP.

Cuckoo clock in bookstore looks like Bular’s head.

Green Knight can teleport, confirming potential parallel character to Angor Rot and Tronos Madu, both yellow-eyed assassins with teleportation and tragic backstories (later confirmed, yes, there are parallels between this character and those two besides the visual one)

Jim always tips at the cafe; yup, that sounds like Jim 

Gunmar saving Jim: irony. Is Jim going to go to the Gumm-Gumm camp now? 

Confirmation that portrait was Arthur and Guinevere and she is “gone”, presumably by magic or killed by a troll - is she dead or did she just leave? (Later confirmed, dead)

Morgana’s name is carved on the tree under Arthur’s and Guinevere’s - was she in love with Guinevere too? 

Is that Nari with Morgana and Guinevere? (Later confirmed, yes)

Stone doll Callista finds looks like Angor’s totems - same village? He said it was “Gunmar’s war” that destroyed it, and she says it was a human attack, but Angor might’ve seen it as a retaliatory attack by the humans which Gunmar’s actions had provoked?

Arthur being the one to cut off Morgana’s hand makes Merlin SLIGHTLY less of an asshole for using it in the Amulet, but a lot of this still could’ve been avoided if Merlin had been willing to shut up and listen. 

Oh, except it wasn’t Arthur who cut off Morgana’s hand the first time anyway? 

Episode 3 ends without Steve getting knocked on his back, so that scene must’ve been his sparring match with Lancelot in Episode 2 instead of keeping it an Episode 3 tradition (like how Zuko and Iroh hug in Episode 18 of each season of Avatar the Last Airbender)

Why would Douxie be grossed out at the idea of swimming naked? Swimsuits have only been around for, what, 80 years? Presumably it was a specific lack of desire to see Steve naked.

Neat take on the Lady of the Lake. 

AAARRRGGHH used to have a triple set of horns - what happened to the other two? Receded, amputated, knocked off? Also, Gunmar says AAARRRGGHH is ‘holding back’ when they spar and has yet to win against him - if AAARRRGGHH was doing that on purpose, this supports my theory that he was debating how safe it was to stay on Gunmar’s side for some time before deserting. 

Morgana possessed? 

Angor Rot saved Morgana/recovers her body and gives a funerary-sounding blessing, showing he was sympathetic to humans before losing his soul  

Oh, and Nari gave her the new hand 

Wait, so who steals Angor’s soul in this timeline? 

Called it on that servant guy being a Changeling - he appears in the background of, like, every scene that episode where they’re talking about Morgana using unexpected strategies to sneak into Camelot. 

Wait, except his human form is an adult - so is he a polymorph? Or Familiars can be taken as adults but babies are easier to contain and have less ‘established personality’ to match after replacing them? Or has Morgana already been creating Changelings? AAARRRGGHH calls Jim “impure” when they meet in Dwoza, suggesting Gumm-Gumms already know what Changelings are, except Morgana wasn’t working with them yet

Is Callista going to be Deya? (Later confirmed, yes)

Show seems to be matching up with old theories about Deya being the first Trollhunter, confirming that the show, comics, and novels are all separate continuities (since comics and novels show pre-Deya Trollhunters). 

Gumm-Gumm berserkers - mind-controlled or grit-shaka’d (talisman of “no fear”), to throw themselves into sunlight like that?

Steve seems ready to refer to any half-decent older man as his dad, like when he refers to Merlin as ‘Wizard-Dad’. Maybe it’s because I was watching Brooklyn 99 recently but I’m reminded of Jake Peralta.

Big Jim’s crystal neck protrusions look like Strickler’s knife collar back when I thought that was part of his body. Glowy lines look like Gunmar; tie-in to Gunmar born of a “corrupted Heartstone” since Jim is “corrupted” now?

Aw, Krel called Ricky his dad. 

How did AAARRRGGHH fit through the HexTech door to the backroom?

“Cat and mouse” line cuts to a shot of Archie obviously imitating Nari (confirmed a few minutes later)

Toby has obviously seen Ghostbusters. “When someone asks you if you are a god, you say YES!”

Decoration in bookshop looks like Angor’s head.

Was that lightshow of Nari searching the world for Jim’s soul just a visual metaphor for her powers or did literally everyone on Earth see that?

“There’s a force neither of us can escape - gravity!” says the woman who can fly.

Morgana’s occasional echo-y voice in Trollhunters matches Bellroc and Skael - possession/magical-influence related?

So did Merlin have that book on him or did his body turn into the book?

Are all dragons fluffy and/or shapeshifters in this universe? 

Might’ve been smarter to keep Merlin’s staff intact and destroy the Grimoire so the Arcane Order never knows where to find the Genesis Seals, just saying.

If Morgana didn’t become “the Eldritch Queen” until, like, IMMEDIATELY before Angor approached her (therefore days earlier at most in the unaltered timeline), how had he heard of her to seek her aid? Was he actually reaching out to the Arcane Order? At least this explains why he didn’t go to the Trollhunter for help - there was no Trollhunter to approach yet.

Big Jim ‘dies’ in the same pose as AAARRRGGHH in Trollhunters Season 1 and Draal in Unbecoming, both false death scenes, for five-second foreshadowing Jim was alive. 

Mixed feelings about him being human again - like I’ve said, I didn’t think the Troll Jim subplot was well-executed but I also felt like, now that it’s been established, the show needs to stick with it. Since everything’s over I’m going to headcanon Jim having shapeshifting powers now and being able to switch between human and troll at will, he just didn’t think to try to do so on-camera.

Also, I feel like Jim’s relationship with Claire is once again completely overshadowing his relationship with Toby, instead of them being different kinds of relationships with equal weight. 

Barbara is going to be pretty shocked when her human son shows up again. She and Strickler don’t appear at all in this series, even in cameo. 

Maybe Jim’s not a troll anymore because, with Merlin and Morgana both dead, their magic is “broken” and that’s what was holding his transformation in place? Merlin’s through the potion, Morgana’s through the Changeling femur, both through the Amulet.

Is Jim still going back to New Jersey? Blinky’s got to, unless the trolls there have elected a new leader or they’re bringing the New Jersey Heartstone back to Arcadia.

Series ending scene also would work as the final scene of a movie, setting up a sequel hook even though it’s supposed to be over now. 

Seems like wizards are long-lived and age really slowly? Possibly a “will not die but can be killed” situation, like vampires, or unicorns (at least in The Last Unicorn) 

Additional thoughts after finishing the show and thinking for a while: 

I don’t get how Morgana could end up with such a reputation among trolls - enough to have superstitions about her, seen when Dictatious objects to Usurna saying her name - when they only interacted with her for like a few days at most. I guess she made a pretty strong impression on Gunmar, who passed that on to everyone else? Or maybe she cultivated that reputation over time via the Changelings?

Speaking of the Changelings, does this mean that, while Morgana designed the process to create them, she doesn’t make each individual one? Otherwise she would’ve had to pre-make a bunch in the time between getting her new hand and being trapped in the Heartstone. Although, if she can steal Angor’s soul remotely (with the idea she was already trapped in the Heartstone when that happened), she can probably also make Changelings remotely. 

I’m kind of sorry the Changelings got invented so quickly; I figured there would be some trial-and-error to that process.

How I think the Original Timeline went: 

Morgana would’ve turned to the Arcane Order seeking magic allies, later in the day that gets changed when the time-travelers arrive. Possibly she seeks out Nari, specifically, remembering her from childhood. 

Merlin then sees Morgana as the Future Threat and he or one of the knights (not Arthur) cut off her hand in the resulting fight. 

Merlin makes the Amulet. It chooses Callista, who is still in Camelot’s dungeon at the time, and she agrees to fight Gunmar in exchange for her freedom. 

She fully intending to go back on the deal and run for it, but then something-something-something and she learns her original name and saves the world anyway. Probably she’s the one who took down and imprisoned AAARRRGGHH in Dwoza, which inspired the other trolls there to follow her. 

Morgana finds out about the Trollhunter shortly before Angor arrives to ask her for magic, which is why she orders him to hunt the Trollhunters down.

Arthur thinks Merlin killed Morgana and wants to avenge her, leading him to the Arcane Order for the original not-time-loop-prompted attack.  

Show did a good job establishing and developing Douxie’s relationship with Merlin

Also, how did that bookshop end up a center of Merlin’s power? He’s only been in the modern world for a few months. Did he set a shop up off-camera while the trolls were travelling to New Jersey and the Akiridions were discovering Earth? 

How did Ricky Blank lose his head, anyway? Can Hex Tech fix him? Krel says magic and Akiridion tech combine harmoniously.