#ill do something for the milligans next (not really)

[tiarnanabhfainni]

i wrote another fic about generational trauma and the winchesters, this time featuring deadbeat mom extraordinaire mary née campbell, displacement, emigration, the american wake and just really missing your mom.

gonna quickly tag a few mutuals who might be interested but also you can find the fic under the cut

@uhuraha @myaimistrue @nonsensegnomes

American Wake

On a mild summer’s day in 1950, a wedding took place in Normal, Illinois. Dressed in a simple white dress that she had inherited from her mother, Millie Walsh looked up at the man who was to be her husband in daze of transcendent happiness. She had good reason to be besotted. His name was Henry Winchester and he was a dashing young academic of the supernatural with a fascinating air of mystery that surrounded him. They had met the previous year when he had come to her home in New York on a fact-finding mission. Millie fell in love after only two minutes of conversation.

With such a buoyant adoration to carry her through, Millie was perfectly happy to relocate to a state far from her family and friends to build a new life with charming debonair Henry. She knew about the supernatural elements of his life. How could she not? But it was a trade she was perfectly willing to make for the opportunity to create a family with him.

And she paid dearly for that decision. Millie lost a husband and was left to raise her four year old son alone.

It was all entirely avoidable of course. The Winchester name was not her inheritance by birth. No Cupid had ever marked her name for Henry. It was by no means a match made in heaven. If not for love, Millie could have lived a life completely divorced from the less-than-natural.

After her husband’s disappearance her heart hardened and she abandoned the Winchester name and any association with the supernatural. Packing her bags for Kansas, she returned instead to the ways of her own people. For Millie’s family had a long history of leaving their pasts behind them.

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

Millie’s maternal line can be traced back to a small town in Limerick, Ireland now known by the name of Patrickswell. The farm where her grandmother was reared would likely have been a fair few miles from the town itself but it’s difficult to be precise about these things since many of the records of the era were destroyed in an explosion during the Civil War of the 1920’s.

Bridget Ó Laochdha lived in a hard place surrounded by tough people. There was no work in the surrounding towns and villages and her family was forced to eke out a living on rented land. Most of the local community spoke little to no English and spent most of their day-to-day lives conversing and working through the medium of the Irish language.

The Ó Laochdha family was no exception to this rule. Bridget - as the sole member of the family with more than a rudimentary grasp on the foreign tongue - had been translating for her father at the market for most of her young life.

The rugged countryside that surrounded them was austere and beautiful but there was darkness around every corner. Violence engulfed the region as the Land War raged around them. The threat of eviction was a constant sword of Damocles over their heads and the precarity of the political situation left a permanent mark on Bridget’s development.

Bridget loved her family, of course she did. She loved the language she spoke with them and the easy rhythm of her life. But she knew that there was a brighter future out there somewhere on the other side of an ocean. Somewhere she wouldn’t hear constant news of Whiteboys, Invincibles and their clashes with the police. Somewhere that was safer, where she might get a job and support her family from afar. All she needed was the means to get there.

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

Mary idolises her dad when she’s young as children are prone to do. Her family are heroes who straddle the line between the known and the unknown and keep the world safe from the evil lurking in the shadows.

As a teenager, she joins the family business and she’s a natural. She excels particularly at getting information out of young witnesses. She sits amongst small groups of girls, nodding along to conversations about music, miniskirts and make-up and nudging the topic of discussion slowly around to the subject of her father’s latest hunt. Mary’s good with the guys too, she finds that a well-placed laugh or look can get her most of what she needs.

But intel is not the only area where she excels. Mary’s a sharpshooter and she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Hand her a shovel and she can dig a grave just as fast as the boys. She even knows the best technique for washing blood off her hands.

She’s on a path to be one of the best in the business. And she hates it.

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Although many people left Ireland to try their luck in the United States in those days, it was still a difficult path to tread. Tickets to get to New York were expensive and hard to come by. Buying a ticket at the harbour was as likely to get you scammed as to get you a place on the boat.

Bridget was fortunate in that her local parish priest was looking to sponsor a few young hopefuls on the trip across the Atlantic and offered her a place. That decision might have been the hardest any in her family had ever had to make. To leave behind everything she knew and understood for the small chance that her life could be better. She made that choice nonetheless.

The tradition of The American Wake was one that dated back to the famine years in Ireland to mourn the departure of a loved one to that far off place across the ocean. There would be no real way to send letters home consistently and economic conditions meant that the emigrants would likely never be able to return home. What do you do when you are setting up to grieve someone who is still alive? You hold a funeral.

On Bridget’s last day in Limerick she cried until her tear ducts ran dry. She sat in the centre of the room and listened to the keening women wail around her. Her father could not speak his sadness but he stood beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder, bowing his head in silent prayer. Her mother held her face in her hands and whispered one last goodbye.

Yet amidst all of the tears and the heartache, a sense of relief made its way into Bridget’s bones and settled in her spine. There was death and loss but a future there too. A brand new life in a brand new land. And while they’d never say it, her family was relieved too, she could see it in their eyes. This was one less mouth to feed, one less person to clothe. The money she will send home in remittances would lighten her father’s load by a considerable degree.

As she boarded the boat in Cobh, she stared at the ticket clutched tightly in her hand and thought not of what it had taken from her but of the life it stood to grant her.

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

When Mary meets John for that second date outside his mother’s house, she knows that this is it. That he is her ticket out.

She clutches his body in her lap and cries and she doesn’t know what to do. With death and destruction all around her, Mary makes the only choice she can.

Deanna’s body still lies abandoned on the kitchen tiles. But isn't it better, in a way, that she never had to face her daughter leaving her behind?

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

The first impression America made on Bridget was not a positive one. No sooner than she arrived at Ellis Island, did they take the last vestiges of her home away from her. Bridget Leahy took her first step onto foreign soil without even her name to console her.

Her first job in New York was that of a kitchen worker in a large airy home in the employ of a family belonging to the upper echelons of East Coast society. Her hours were long and her fingers near scrubbed to the bone. Since her food and board were covered, every penny that she earned was sent home to Patrickswell.

While her English had served her well in local markets of Limerick, she found that they were quite inadequate here among native speakers. She sat around the table in the servants’ quarters with the others who worked in the home and listened as conversations happened all around her. They all spoke so fast and the topic of conversation switched so quickly that she couldn't quite keep track. Bridget simply did not have the vocabulary to contribute and so she stopped speaking entirely.

The longing for home was like a physical wound lodged just under her ribs and sometimes she wondered how she continued to breathe through the pain.

The only times that she could recognise herself was on her rare evenings off when she made her way down to the local Irish dance hall. There she could allow young men from Inchicore, Kilrush and Listowel to spin her around a room to the music of home and forget where she was for just a few hours.

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

It is impossible to overemphasise how little the role of a housewife suits Mary Winchester. The sundresses feel awkward on her form and the kitchen still feels like a foreign land.

The other mothers in the neighbourhood all seem to speak the same language as they switch tracks fluently between complaining good-naturedly about their husbands and swapping recipe cards. Mary has never felt more out of place.

She doesn’t know where she fits or how to contribute. The loss of her mother is like a crater in her chest and she doesn’t know where to lay down all of the grief she holds in her hands. She thinks she would be better at holding her children without it.

When it all gets too much, she sheds the skin of Mary Winchester and leaves her small family behind to retrace the Campbell path. She might not be able to get her family back but she can pretend to be home for just a small while when on a hunt.

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

In a small catholic church on an intersection, Bridget Leahy married Mick Walsh of Tyrone in a small, private ceremony. As a married woman, she left the world of employment behind and started the task of homemaking in their small Manhattan apartment. She did her best to keep the rooms aired out and clean but the grime of the city was ever present.

When she looked out of the window and saw grey dusty streets she couldn't help but compare the view to green fields and the fresh air of the Limerick countryside. Her husband worked in construction, building monuments of steel to the sky that looked towards an American future while she remained stuck in an Irish past.

When Bridget’s pregnancy first became obvious to the couple, they were delighted. This was their chance to build something of their own on American soil. A family.

When her waters broke, the women of the neighbourhood rushed into her room to oversee the birth and refused to let her husband in so he could hold her hand.

In another life maybe Bridget stayed at home and married a local boy in Patrickswell. Maybe she gave birth at home next to her parents’ fireplace with all of the women of her family around her and her mother stroking her hair.

Maybe she was destined to die in childbirth no matter where she was but at least at home the last voice in her ears would have been in a tongue that was her own.

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

Just like Millie Winchester née Walsh before her, Mary Winchester let the supernatural into her home in a desperate grab for the life that she wanted to build.

And just like her mother-in-law before her, a demon crashed through the walls and destroyed every semblance of a family that she had found.

[ckneal]

Now, I’ve been around fanfiction long enough to know that in any angel-turns-human AU story, there is one question that burns brighter than all the rest: What about their first sick day?

Well, I’ll tell you this: That first year after the rapture, out of the two of them, Adam is actually the first one to get sick. He picks up a really, truly nasty, slowburn of cold about a month after bringing Michael home. And, aware that he had just taken a huge chunk of time off (convincing Sam and Dean to help bring Michael out of the Empty was not an overnight task, nor teaching Jack how to make a new human body from scratch), Adam initially tried to smother the growing ailment with over-the-counter remedies and sheer willpower, while this bug steadily asserted dominance, laying waste to his sinuses, building up pressure inside his head, and settling into his chest and making itself heard in his throat. Three days in, his boss finally sent him home because everyone knew, even if he was refusing to say that he was sick. Michael, of course, was relieved to see Adam finally resign himself to bedrest, even though the entire situation is a sharp reminder of the fact that Michael is no longer a divine being, capable of healing with a touch. He feels all the more useless when Adam, well-meaning but also speaking through a haze of cold medicine and the beginnings of a fever, tells Michael he should keep his distance, because who knows how badly his cold would hit someone with virtually no antibodies.

Adam then passed out for the majority of the day, while Michael proceeded to mope in the living room, feeling like he’d been banished, pretending to have something to do but really just moving things around the room that were perfectly fine as they were before. He’d given up, gone online, and scrolled past the third post on his favorite Supernatural site that he normally would have jumped to correct on their misinterpretation of lore had he not been so preoccupied (never mind that he still hasn’t actually read his father’s books), before it struck him that he does know what to do in this situation.

Adam had shared a lot of memories in the cage, particularly during the years right after Lucifer’s departure, when they were first alone together and Michael was more guarded when it came to participating in conversation. Many of those memories had been from Adam’s childhood that he had deemed “harmless.” And as such, while Michael was new to the practice of being around sickness, Michael actually did know how to take care of someone. At least, he knew how Kate would have taken care of Adam. While never having met Kate Milligan, Michael was aware that she had been very young when she had Adam and that she had raised him alone, that she worked often, and that as Adam got older, it became increasingly difficult for her to take time off from work to care for him when he became ill. But she would do what she could in her off hours.

One of those things was preparing meals in advance that Adam could pick from as needed. Michael wasn’t overly acquainted with cooking at that point, but luckily, Kate hadn’t been either. She would buy premade items from the grocery store and alter them at home. Adam’s favorite had been half and half peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, which had been made by purchasing dough for both confections and simply meshing them together before baking. Oddly, the more difficult item to find was the soup. It was canned, but Kate had stuck to a specific brand, because it had been Adam’s favorite brand during a brief period of pickiness when he was eight. It didn’t appear to be as common in the city where Adam and Michael had settled as it had been in Minnesota during the 90s. Fortunately, Michael had stolen Adam’s phone before going shopping, and a stranger he came across in the greeting cards section at the drug store showed him how to use the map function to locate various stores nearby.

Adam managed to sleep through the racket that ensued from Michael coming home and fumbling his way through what, make no mistake, could only very loosely have been called cooking--Michael managing to unsettle a tower of stacked mixing bowls and burn himself on both the stovetop and interior of the oven--Adam only finally waking up when his nose cleared long enough for the smells to reach him. Michael was standing by, and Adam very quickly found himself being pushed onto his back when he opted to sit up.

“Michael? Get out of here, you’re going to get sick.”

“Not if you don’t breathe on me,” Michael said, quoting a memory from when Adam was nine that he knew wasn’t strictly true, but did not particularly care. He had a jar of Vicks Vaporub in hand and was pulling Adam’s shirt out of the way.

“What’s that smell?”

“Dinner. Hold still.”

“Since when do you cook?”

“Since a half hour ago, hold still.”

Despite twice repeating the instruction, it’s only when Michael straddles Adam that Adam actually lays still. He continues to press for details though, because Adam does recognize the aroma drifting in from the kitchen, and while he doesn’t particularly remember sharing those memories, he isn’t so much surprised that Michael does (Michael’s recall verges on obsessive), as he is by the fact that Michael actually did something with it. In the month since leaving Kansas, Michael only very rarely left their apartment, and never on his own.

Had it not been for the fact that he was determined to wait for Michael to decide when they would be back on those terms, Adam might have forgotten he was contagious and kissed Michael right then.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.”

Michael only looked up from Adam’s chest and noticed the way Adam was looking at him when Adam’s hand settled on top of his. That was, additionally, the moment when it struck Michael he was straddling Adam, and that the last time one of them had done that to the other, one of them hadn’t actually been physically real, and that they hadn’t done what they’d been doing then in a fairly long time. Of course, it hadn’t seemed strange to him to get into this position a second ago, as, in terms of Michael’s projections, they had done a lot more than kiss, and their relationship with one another hadn’t changed at its core since, but in terms of Michael being a physically present being in a body of his own, they hadn’t actually. . .

“Michael?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“I’m pretty sure I smell smoke.”

And then all at once, Michael was scrambling off the bed, the moment hastily pushed aside in his rush to save the cookies (which were burnt, but a benefit of Kate’s “recipe” was that there was plenty of dough leftover for new batches). By the time that Michael came back, Adam had remembered that he was a breathing germ farm and subsequently put his bedroom eyes away, and Michael suggested they relocate to the couch and watch the obnoxious devil show that Adam liked (Lucifer) while they ate.

Of course, despite Adam’s gradually flagging efforts to keep Michael at a distance for the sake of his health, Michael wound up catching the cold and would spend the next two weeks buried under every blanket they owned while Adam returned the favor of taking care of him. Because Adam was right, he had no antibodies, of course he was going to get sick.

[angelhummel]

could you rank the degrassi next class characters?

gladly!! also sorry in advance if you love any of the characters im about to shit on lol

20. Frankie Hollingsworth. Almost had her second to last but. No. Klu Klux Fran?? The ZOO?? I can't even talk about her she's just so damn annoying and racist and omg. And she was being pushed as the new Main Girl which made everything all the more offensive and unbearable

19. Esme Song. Sorry but I do not think she had a single redeeming trait. She had nothing she stood for, no actual character beyond being an antagonist to every single other person on the show. Like she thinks Shay is stupid for being embarrassed about getting her period on her boyfriend's pants, and yet she calls Yael disgusting for having armpit hair?? So what's the truth? And people are like "well she's mentally ill" to excuse all she does. Well Maya is mentally ill and Esme makes fun of her too. So who's side are we on? Like I would've liked to see her get help and develop but we didn't get that so.

18. Hunter Hollingsworth. Terrorist. Not even interesting enough to be an actual school shooter. Just a waste of a character. Sexist, violent, had a plot about wanting to play video games at school. I'm so bored. Only not at the bottom bc I feel like he wasn't in my face as much

17 & 16. Baaz Nahir & Vijay Maraj. Thing 1 and Thing 2 to the would be school shooter. Clowns. They were a terrible group and I cringed any time they had a plot together. Annoying together, useless on their own. Hard pass

15. Yael Baron. The final member of the above group. Was mostly boring and annoying and especially dumb for being romantically interested in Hunter. Only gets bonus points for their coming out as nonbinary plot. After their makeover I was literally crying

14. Jonah Haak. Mostly disliked him for being in a relationship with Frankie. Like I'm sure they were only a year or two apart but he felt so much older than her. It was gross. And mostly he's just really blah. The attempt at a straight edge character at that point was. Hilarious. at least.

13. Winston Chu. Seemed harmless at first but idk all the boys were shifted high into clown mode when this show hit netflix. The incident with the geisha and Japanese soldier costumes? Defending Zoe against Esme? Then later telling Goldi maybe she should take her hijab off to cause less of a fuss? Bruh.

12. Saad Al'Maliki. Honestly I felt like he was the one with the most braincells most of the time. Probably pissed me off the least. But he was also in the least amount of episodes and didn't make much of an impression on me. Was mostly just boring. But I'll take boring over everything that came before

11. Lola Pacini. Degrassi has a knack for introducing the worst and most obnoxious characters and then eventually making you love them. Lola was not quite that. I hated her for the longest time but it decreased a bit near the end. I got emotional when she had her abortion. And when she gave Yael their makeover. And when she reached out to Saad and convinced him not to leave. I feel like I could've grown to like her more if the show went on, but again... Oh also I hate her and Miles together sorry

10. Grace Cardinal. Ugh Grace is confusing to me. I wasn't the biggest fan of her story with Zoe. I mean sure you're allowed to hook up with someone and then realize "oh that's not for me" but it was handled so awkwardly. Like she slept with Zoe just to be like "damn i hate when everyone thinks i'm a lesbian :/" like why. Idk she was fine but I'm not over the moon about her

9. Goldi Nahir. Ugh okay I feel like they didn't know what to do with her. Like she had the plotline about if she should take off her hijab or not. And she had to teach the poor whities about racism. That was about it? She was adorable and sweet and a bright spot in the show but ugh she deserved better than what she was surrounded with lol

8. Shay Powers. Again, it's not her fault she's stuck in a show written by 70 year old white people. But the black girl is completely oblivious to the racism of her friend? She has to ask her dad if a racist thing is really racist? She's never experienced racism? Ok Degrassi. They treat all their black girls like shit and I feel like I just stan them out of spite bc of that lol. But she's cool and a nice person and she's into sports so she's at least doing stuff

7. Rasha Zuabi. Another generally nice and cool character that I have positive feelings for. Also she was gay so yay. Loved her story with Zoe. I think there was just one moment where I was like "wtf are you doing" but compared to everyone else it's not a big deal

6. Zig Novak. I have to admit that all my enjoyment of his character comes from before Next Class. He was such a sweetie and then he left and came back acting dumb as hell. That was not my boy in Next Class. But ahhh he's still my boy sorry I love him <3

5. Deon "Tiny" Bell. Basically the same as Zig above. But I feel like he maybe had a few less moments of being an asshole? Also his promposal for Shay was cute <3 Wait didn't he also date Lola? Wasn't a fan of that either.

4. Zoe Rivas. She was the one dressed up as a geisha lol (: Oh boy Next Class was something else. Umm it was nice to see her process of accepting herself as a lesbian. I feel like it took forever tho. Which is understandable irl but this is a tv show lol. I didn't enjoy her sucking Zig off in the woods. Not fun. But her relationship with Rasha was one of my fave things about NC

3. Tristan Milligan. The amount of hate Tristan gets is faaaar too much. He's one of my favorites of the whole show honestly. I think he's funny and dramatic and a great addition to the show. But he gets knocked down bc I can't remember anything he did in Next Class other than BEING IN A FUCKING COMA FOR A WHOLE SEASON. He's already Owen's brother, he's suffered enough. But I love his relationship with Miles. And him helping Zoe accept herself

2. Miles Hollingsworth. Yes another character I wasn't fond of at first. Hated his relationship with Zoe and thought he was just boring. Truthfully I think I only became interested when he started dating Tristan lol. Plus omg with his family?? It's a miracle he got out at all. He went through so much bullshit and he was especially going through it in Next Class. He was kind of a hot mess but also I just care a lot about him. He deserves the world <3

1. Maya Matlin. Is Maya really my fave?? I guess so! Yet another character I wasn't fond of at first. Which is insane bc we just got to the part in our rewatch where she first shows up and I'm like !!! baby girl!! So precious!!! And I wanted to cry thinking of what she's about to go through. I feel like her character is treated with some of the most respect and care. Her motivations and mental health decline all make sense storywise. I just care a lot about her and got super emotional watching everything in her story, especially the later parts in NC

Wow this is a lot!! But I hope you enjoyed my ranking and explanations lol. Also like. Everyone was racist. Everyone was mentally ill. That was the whole show. It was a hot mess and truth be told I am not a fan. Even the characters I love, they were acting weird here. Like I said about Zig and Tiny and their character regression. And I think it was the same for like Tristan and Zoe and plenty of others too. Everyone was off, idk how to explain it. But that's my ranking for the hot mess that was Next Class!!

Thank you for the ask, ily <3

[winchester-fantasies]

An Inconvenient Flame (Part Three)

Series Summary: You’ve known Sam and Dean Winchester all your life. You find you have developed an attraction for the eldest Winchester, but Dean has never indicated he felt anything more for you than a little sister. A late night encounter causes Dean to question his own feelings for you, but with your age gap, he’s hesitant to let anything grow beyond attraction. Things come to a head when a case forces you together. Will these embers of attraction lay buried or will this inconvenient flame of desire become an inferno?

Word Count: 1945

Warnings: swearing, light angst

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     The next morning, you and Dean checked into a dilapidated motel. The previous night you had slept in the Impala, Dean taking the front and you taking the back. It had been relatively easy to sleep despite the cramped space and your head resting on nothing but your jacket. Dean’s soft snores had lulled you to sleep, and your dreams had been pleasantly plagued by him.

     When Dean requested a room with two queens, the lady behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with evidently permed hair and bloodshot eyes, shook her head. “Sorry, hon. We’re out of those. All I have left’s a full,” she said, voice raspy.

     You felt nervousness creep into your stomach at the thought of having to sleep in the same bed as Dean. He gave you a look, silently asking if you were okay with that arrangement. You nodded but swallowed when he turned back to pay.

     After getting your things from the Impala, you walked toward your room. As Dean unlocked the door, he turned back to you. “I can take the couch,” he offered before heading inside. Once the lights were on; however, it was obvious there was no couch, only a chair. Dean looked around sheepishly before glancing at you. “I can take the floor?” he again offered, this time uncertainty in his voice.

     “Don’t be ridiculous!” you stated, rolling your eyes. “We’re only going to be here for a few days anyway. I think I can manage sharing a bed with you,” you continued with a playful smirk. Dean chuckled in return and went to set down his bag at the foot of the bed.

     “So listen,” Dean said, making you turn from closing and locking the door. “I talked to Bobby before we left, and he said he’s gotten a lead from a friend of his about the demons.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise as he continued, “His friend only lives two towns over.”

     “Serious?” you asked in excitement. “And Bobby’s okay with us checking it out?”

     Dean shrugged. “He seemed to be. Said he talked with his friend and said he’s willing to help us out. Apparently this friend is super loaded and has a shit ton of connections. Those connections helped him find an equally loaded guy. Goes by the name of Lowell - who also just happens to be a demon.”

     You took a moment before replying, taking everything in that Dean had just told you. “Wow,” you finally said. “What’s the plan then?”

     “I know we’ve got to take care of this salt and burn, but then after we can deal with this demon business,” Dean answered.

     You were excited at the prospect of actually getting some answers, but you were hesitant. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Dean?” you asked.

     Dean got up and started rifling through his duffle. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked as he took out a bottle of bourbon.

     “Because it’s only been a year since...everything,” you said quietly, not wanting to even speak that woman’s name.

     You saw Dean tense up at the mention of the previous year, but when he turned back to you, he smiled. “I’m good. I’ll be fine.”

     You sighed and gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Alright,” you answered with a nod. You weren’t about to start arguing with him. You’d just have to trust he knew what he was doing, and if he didn’t, you’d be there to pick up all the pieces.

**********

     You lay in bed facing the wall, your back towards Dean. You had scooted as far to the edge of the bed as you could, making sure you gave him plenty of space. However, it didn’t seem to matter how far you were from him, he seemed to permeate everything around you, even the air you breathed.

     The room was dark, and all you could hear was his breathing, soft, slow, and steady. It was a comforting sound, and you soon found yourself on the verge of sleep. Just as you were about to succumb to its sweet embrace, you felt Dean move and knew he had turned to face you.

     “(Y/N)?” he whispered. 

     You felt butterflies fill your stomach at his low, gravelly voice, and it took you a moment to respond. “Yes?” you asked quietly.

     “You never did finish telling me what you were saying yesterday,” he said, his voice still a gruff whisper.

     At first you couldn’t recall what he was talking about, then the you remembered you had started to apologize when Sam had interrupted you. “Oh, yeah, I didn’t did I?” you said. You turned over to face him. You couldn’t see his face in the pitch-black room, but you could feel his eyes on you.

     “Nope, you didn’t,” he chuckled.

     “I just...I’m sorry that I treated you that way the other night, Dean. I had a little too much to drink, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I know that’s a shitty excuse, and it doesn’t excuse my actions. I know you were just watching out for me.” Dean was silent. You waited, nervousness pricking at your insides. It killed you to not know what he was thinking or to see his facial expression.

     “I was just trying to watch out for you,” he finally answered, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. “But you’re also right,” Dean continued, “that I’m not your father, and I should mind my own damn business.”

     “No, no, Dean,” you said, reaching out and touching his arm or at least what you hoped was his arm. “I really appreciate your concern. You’re a great friend. I really don’t know what I would do without you. Thank you for always being here, even when I fuck up.”

     You removed your hand and waited for a reply from Dean. “Yeah, well, I’m glad I can be such a great...friend,” he replied. Was that disappointment you heard in his voice? You didn’t have a chance to ask him if he was alright before he turned back over. “Good night, (Y/N),” he said.

     “Good night, Dean,” you answered. You turned your back to him. After a few minutes, his soft snores filled the air, and you sighed contentedly. It felt wonderful sharing a bed with him. The only thing that would make it better was if he had his arm around you. But you’d take whatever you could.

**********

     The next morning found both you and Dean sitting in the local library. You had come to research the history of the town in order to gain information regarding the old Milligan property. Everyone in town agreed the old mansion was haunted, but when you and Dean asked around about the elderly couple who had both died five years before, you had discovered they had both been cremated. Dean thought it unlikely it was them after further discovering that the supposed haunting had been taking place for well over a hundred years. For some reason most of the articles you had already read online failed to mention that very important piece of information, instead choosing to focus on the Milligans’ deaths.

     The library wasn’t busy. Probably due to it being a Wednesday, you reasoned. Usually you relished the quiet; it helped you to focus when you were researching. But right now, you found it nearly impossible to get anything done. Dean was seated next to you, his focus purely on the historical records from the 1920′s, trying to find anything that might help identify who you were up against. Normally, you didn’t have a problem being so close to Dean - you had researched plenty of times together - but something about this hunt felt different. You were keenly aware of every move he made, every page he turned, every book he opened and closed, and it was driving you crazy.

     You cleared you throat and mentally shook your head, attempting to clear your thoughts and get your mind back to the job at hand. It seemed to work for a few minutes as you relaxed, actually enjoying what you were reading. However, it was short-lived when you suddenly felt Dean’s knee against yours. It was soft, barely noticeable over you pant leg. But you could feel it, and electricity shot up your leg and into your stomach.

     You paused from your reading and sat still. You expected him to move his leg back when he realized he had just touched you, but he made no attempt to move or didn’t realize he was touching you and instead his leg remained where it was. You didn’t wan to be weird and look at him or move away. He would think you felt uncomfortable with him being so close when, in reality, it was the total opposite.

     You ignored it, and instead turned your attention back to the book. You were almost about to give up due to your mind being so distracted by Dean and the butterflies swirling in your stomach, when your eyes suddenly stumbled upon a story.

     “Here!” you exclaimed, your finger pointing excitedly at the paragraph you had just read. You looked up at Dean and saw his eyes light up in interest. You could tell he was glad he didn’t have to read anymore. Research was his least favorite part about hunting, and he usually left it up to you and Sam to do.

     Dean jumped up from his chair and came to stand beside you, looking over your shoulder. “Where?” he questioned, scanning over the text.

     His close proximity made you dizzy and for a moment you found it hard to think, let alone speak. But finally you found your voice and pointed back to the paragraph. “Here. It says that there was a family who lived in the Milligan mansion back in 1900. However, it was called Rosewood Estate back then. Anyway, the family’s name was Buchanan. They had seven kids, but supposedly one of them, a little girl named Emma, dealt with mental illness. Well, instead of getting her the help she needed, her parents locked her in the attic. She wasn’t allowed to socialize, not even with her own family.

     Apparently they were a very prominent family in the community, and they felt that if people found out about their daughter and her illness that it would turn into a scandal, especially since Mr. Buchanan was running for mayor at the time. It seems nobody even knew they had a seventh child until Buchanan was charged with bribery, coercion, and embezzlement. When the authorities searched the house for the embezzled money, the attic was one of the first places they inspected. That’s when they discovered little Emma. However, she was already dead, having died from starvation according to the coroner at the time.”

     Dean whistled softly. “Talk about fucked up,” he stated.

     “Yeah,” you said with a harsh chuckle. You looked up at Dean who was silently reading over the text again. You could tell he was taking everything in and wasn’t even aware you were watching him. He was so close you could see the freckles that dotted his cheeks and ran over the bridge of his nose. God, he was handsome.

     You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the desire that began to creep into your core. “So, what do you think?” you asked.

     He glanced at you before straightening. “I think you’re onto something. Lets go take a look at the old mansion and see if we can take care of Emma.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

[eeveelutionsforequality]

About Split: I think it might be based on Billy Milligan; he was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder after he got arrested for three rapes. He had 24 personality, and apparently three of them committed the three different rapes. And like the 24th personality was used for achieving fusion of the other 23. Idk if this changes anything, I just wanted to give another point of view about this issue

But did he turn into a superpowered cannibal that could climb walls?

Like I said, my problems with the film aren't that it portrays someone with DID as capable of bad things, because we are, everybody is - we can be the bad guy, the good guy, and everything in between. In fact, each alter has the potential to be any one of those things. I accept that, and I accept that storytelling might use the fact that one face can hide two very different people to create tension, fear, confusion, and that's perfectly fine in my opinion.

What bothers me about the film is that DID alone isn't a superhero backstory - we can't change our bodies, we aren't "the next stage in evolution", we aren't "on a higher plain", we can't "alter our chemistry", as the movie proposes - we aren't mystical, magical beings. The psychiatrist in the film uses misconceptions about DID, describes that number of alters like it's unheard of, and promotes popular misinformations like that it can "cure blindness" (when in reality, it can simply cause like a psychosomatic blindness or other problems for certain alters, or lessen the degree to which things the body suffers with affect certain alters - for example, if a specific alter is a coping mechanism for a leg injury caused by the abuse, they may be unable to feel or use that leg long after the initial injury is cured, because the brain, when they're in control, believes that the leg is still damaged; or it can create a sort of placebo effect where the brain doesn't believe it has certain symptoms when a specific alter is present, so they present less, like when cancer sufferers drink "magical water" and feel better for a bit despite the water doing nothing). Contrary to what the psychiatrist character in the film says, DID couldn't cure blindness that was caused by any actual physical damage, in the film she says it "healed the nerves" but... it. can't. do. that - either the damage would have healed anyway or it wasn't there to begin with; people can become blind for various reasons, and some blindness is caused by the subconscious mind not communicating what the optical nerves say to the conscious mind, those people can still navigate rooms or smile back, but they don't know why they're doing it since they think they can't see, so an alter could have that type of blindness while another does not, which to an uneducated observer may appear like DID curing blindness. Does the film explain that? Does it use what can actually happen? Nope. It just makes up a bunch of nonsense about DID to explain the impossible scenario, instead of going "actually there's a real world explanation of why this happens, should we use that?" the writers went "lets make up something that sounds cool".

There's a Marvel mutant called Legion, and his mental illnesses (schizophrenia in some incarnations, DID in others) is linked to his mutation and interacts with it, but his mutation, his father being Prof. X, is why he has those powers, not his mental health issue. It would've been easy for Split to take a similar path, to come up with a separate reason for Billy/Dennis/etc's body to be mutated and then have their DID interact with that. But instead the film promotes the misinformation that people with DID have "unlocked" their mind, that they're capable of great feats of transformation (and not just the fact that he can change his clothes in 13 fucking seconds while switching), and so on.

It's like making a Deadpool who's powers were caused by his cancer - not by anything done to him while he had the cancer, not by the mutant gene, not by an unheard of magical strain of cancer, just by normal run of the mill cancer - and that ALL cancer sufferers have this magical, superhuman, mega evolved thing inside of them. Except in this hypothetical, there's also a common myth in the real world that it actually is possible for cancer to cause things that in reality it can't cause, and that cancer sufferers are dangerous, unstable, and the worst of the worst. People would want to correct that, and people would think that it's sloppy researching.

I guess, what it boils down to is that I'm complaining about bad writing and a lack of research. They came up with an unrealistic premise and, instead of delving deeper into the condition and deciding to create a situation in which the disorder and something else worked together to create "The Beast", they just sort of ran with "No this can totally happen"... AND THEN added a character who is supposedly an expert on this and had her spew some pseudoscience at the screen, that some people out there actually buy to a lesser extent.

I just don't like bad science. It's why I love The Martian so much, because it's a sci-fi film that's 99.9% based in scientific fact. Whereas, when I'm watching a sci-fi or horror film and I see something that can't happen, it takes me out of the film, and it annoys me because as a writer I research EVERYTHING and I hold other people to that standard. There are authors who studied historic London city maps meticulously for weeks and continuously while writing the books, and then there are authors who go "Eh, it probably had a bunch of poop everywhere so I'll just describe that and hope they don't notice that my character has taken eighty seven rights and then a left into what would actually be the river", and you can tell when reading or watching their work.

Also the term is "integration", not fusion. I nitpick. That is my problem. And given that I know quite a bit on this topic for obvious reasons, everything I saw of this film - adverts, reviews, clips, etc - bugged me. I will watch the film in full one day, but at the moment I'm too sick to get through that length of time of anything remotely triggering (which sucks because I also want to rewatch The Voices to talk about how the two differ and what makes The Voices a better film, despite both being films with mentally ill bad guys).

Anyway, yeah, I respect that some people like it, feel free to watch it... Just... Remember not to get your understanding of things from movies. And I know that sounds obvious to anyone with a brain, but the number of people I've seen (mostly on Facebook, some irl, some on YouTube) use "...like in Split", or use it as an example of someone with DID, or reference things said in the film to support their incorrect argument, is what probably really set off my dislike for this movie. Up until then I was just "ugh, another typical movie getting shit wrong, using misinformation, that everyone's complaining about because we need representation but no don't portray us like that, or like that, or like that, we are literal angels who are happy all of the time and if you show us being bad or unhappy then you're promoting ableism and blah blah blah", but seeing people genuinely fall for the bullshit in a movie pissed me off and sent me on a bit of a tirade a while back. I've since taken a step back and am more on the "It's just a movie" bandwagon, but I criticize other movies and media when they get things wrong so I'm not going to not criticize this one just because some people are going "It's just a movie, Jesus, you only care because you have DID and it hurt your feels to be the bad guy". Cause I think that's shitty of them and I think that's really misrepresenting my problems with this film from the beginning.

~ Vape

[troop2017]

Wednesday started as a quiet, do nothing kind of day.  By the time we’d had our lunch though we were getting restless, so we decided to go for a cycle ride around Rye Harbour.

This was, sort of, a success…  We lost each other when Calv went off ahead and I couldn’t see what way he’d gone!  Never mind we found each other eventually and I still did 8 miles (and took the photo above – we spent the ride trying to stay ahead of the black raincloud!)

Before getting back in the car we popped into the bar of the Rye Harbour Holiday Park for a cuppa (coffee for Calv and hot chocolate for me), where we chatted with the bar manager who gave us some local snippets about Winchelsea Beach and Winchelsea itself.  Winchelsea is often referred to as the smallest town in England, as it has a school, shop, church, town hall and mayor (although it seems this is purely a ceremonial post).

Armed with this new information we headed for Winchelsea to explore further.  The 1st sight we encountered was the towngate at the top of Strand Hill; a steep hill and a narrow gate at the top followed by a sharp bend.  As this road seems to be used as a rat-run by quite a number of people (such a shame) it gets quite busy here.

  Strand Gate, Winchelsea

  Directly opposite is the look-out, built so people could look out over where the sea used to be.  Then, just a short way up the High Street we found the church, St Thomas’s – trust me you can’t miss it!  It really is an amazing spectacle for such a small town, and is testament to the importance of the town in previous times.  Spike Milligan is buried in the churchyard, his grave engraved (in Gaelic) with the epitaph “I told you I was ill”! (A lady showed us where it was and we, in turn, showed a foreign couple, I think they were Dutch (there are a lot of Dutch people visiting this area) where to find it).

  Spike Milligan’s gravestone

  St Thomas’ Church, Wincelsea

Inside St Thomas’ Winchelsea

The Old Armoury & Town Well, Winchelsea

Court Hall & Museum, Winchelsea (& the little car :) )

We visited the church, St Thomas the Martyr, which was a bit special I have to say.  We then wandered a little more around the town.  There are some beautiful buildings, one of which houses the museum, which hasn’t re-opened for the season yet.  It opens on Bank Holiday Monday though and we also saw a poster telling us about tours of the ancient wine cellars – I’m waiting to hear if we can join Saturday morning’s tour :) (Update – we’re on it!)

Today, Thursday, we headed towards Tunbridge Wells.  We decided, however, not to actually visit the city as we couldn’t see that there was an awful lot of interest located there.  So we decided on Bewl Water (just to look at what was there), Scotney Castle and Bayham Old Abbey.

I jumped in the driver seat (which, at the end of the day, prompted Calv to say that I’d given him a rough ride…  I pointed out that’s simply what it’s like to be a passenger in the C1..!) and we headed off towards Bewl Water.

We only wanted to see what was available for us to do there another time (eg. walks, cycling, kayaking), but it cost £2 to park which was collected as you entered so we couldn’t just have a look.  So we headed straight to Scotney Castle (National Trust), literally 2 mins further up the road.

This place was a revelation!  I knew there was a ruined moated castle but I didn’t know about the ‘new’ house built in it’s grounds, and for which the castle was ruined.  Some of the old castle’s bricks were actually used in the new building, along with stone quarried from the grounds (now planted with wonderful shrubs and flowers).

The house has been presented as it was lived it by the last occupant, Betty Hussey.  Betty died 2 weeks short of her 100th birthday which I initially thought was quite sad, until the guide told us that this was exactly what Betty wanted, as otherwise ‘she would have been old’! She seems to have been quite a character :)

Walking down to the old castle we headed through the quarry, now beautifully planted, and on through the idyllic gardens.  On the way we also spotted the boathouse (with a boat still in situ!)

The ‘castle’ itself is an enchanting sight, and on stepping inside you can clearly see that it was a proper family residence.  There was also a priesthole, from which a priest did once manage to make his escape.

Wandering around the paths surrounding the moat I came across the ice house, a rather impressive structure :)

And then the view back up to the new house…

We did also have a spot of lunch in the tea-room before exploring, and then a cuppa after exploring.

Next up was Bayham Old Abbey.  We, of course, have English Heritage membership and therefore didn’t have to pay.  However, we felt that the charge of £5.80 was rather steep for what was there to see.  In addition to the abbey ruins you also had access to 2 of the rooms of the Dower House later built in the grounds.  They were, however, both pretty empty and with little of interest to commend them.

Bayham Old Abbey

Tree growing into the ruins at Bayham

Bayham Old Abbey

We haven’t done too much today, Friday.  We visited Hastings again (to get another wash done) and discovered St Mary in the Castle & Pelham Place.

This was originally a church (and you can visit the crypt where there are often exhibitions showing – free to enter).  I think you can also normally visit the auditorium (as it’s now a theatre), but they were setting up for a performance when we were there.  The shops at the front used to be part of a grand arcade, and there are 3 blue plaques on the crescent of buildings behind.  It’s a real shame that more isn’t made of this as it’s real history in the town.

Unfortunately we made the mistake of venturing further into town.  It’s not something we would recommend or do again.  However, heading back to the Old Town – which is a must visit – we could see all the signs of preparations for the bank holiday weekend festivities of Jack in The Green, which looks like a lot of fun!

We were also thinking of visiting the castle and, knowing that it’s pretty much a complete ruin I assumed it would be cheap, if not free… Having ascended the cliff via the West Cliff Railway, actually older than the East Cliff and ascending through a tunnel, we made our way to the castle entrance to find that it would cost £4.75 each.  We decided not to bother, which is a shame (and it might have been the wrong decision, but from what we could see we didn’t think so..)  Please let us know if you know different.

We’re now relaxing and looking forward to our cellar tour in Winchelsea in the morning :)

          Discovering Winchelsea & the Enchanting Scotney Castle Wednesday started as a quiet, do nothing kind of day.  By the time we'd had our lunch though we were getting restless, so we decided to go for a cycle ride around Rye Harbour.