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ohgaylor · 4 months

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In 2006, the year Taylor Swift released her first single, a closeted country singer named Chely Wright, then 35, held a 9-millimeter pistol to her mouth. Queer identity was still taboo enough in mainstream America that speaking about her love for another woman would have spelled the end of a country music career. But in suppressing her identity, Ms. Wright had risked her life.

In 2010, she came out to the public, releasing a confessional memoir, “Like Me,” in which she wrote that country music was characterized by culturally enforced closeting, where queer stars would be seen as unworthy of investment unless they lied about their lives. “Country music,” she wrote, “is like the military — don’t ask, don’t tell.”

The culture in which Ms. Wright picked up that gun — the same one in which Ms. Swift first became a star — was stunningly different from today’s. It’s dizzying to think about the strides that have been made in Americans’ acceptance of the L.G.B.T.Q. community over the past decade: marriage equality, queer themes dominating teen entertainment, anti-discrimination laws in housing and, for now, in the workplace. But in recent years, a steady drip of now-out stars — Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven-Symoné and Sam Smith among them — have disclosed that they had been encouraged to suppress their queerness in order to market projects or remain bankable.

The culture of country music hasn’t changed so much that homophobia is gone. Just this past summer, Adam Mac, an openly gay country artist, was shamed out of playing at a festival in his hometown because of his sexual orientation. In September, the singer Maren Morris stepped away from country music; she said she did so in part because of the industry’s lingering anti-queerness. If country music hasn’t changed enough, what’s to say that the larger entertainment industry — and, by extension, our broader culture — has?

Periodically, I return to a video, recorded by a shaky hand more than a decade ago, of Ms. Wright answering questions at a Borders bookstore about her coming out. She likens closeted stardom to a blender, an “insane” and “inhumane” heteronormative machine in which queer artists are chewed to bits.

“It’s going to keep going,” Ms. Wright says, “until someone who has something to lose stands up and just says ‘I’m gay.’ Somebody big.” She continues: “We need our heroes.”

What if someone had already tried, at least once, to change the culture by becoming such a hero? What if, because our culture had yet to come to terms with homophobia, it wasn’t ready for her?

What if that hero’s name was Taylor Alison Swift?

In the world of Taylor Swift, the start of a new “era” means the release of new art (an album and the paratexts — music videos, promotional ephemera, narratives — that supplement it) and a wholesale remaking of the aesthetics that will accompany its promotion, release and memorializing. In recent years, Ms. Swift has dominated pop culture to such a degree that these transformations often end up altering American culture in the process.

In 2019, she was set to release a new album, “Lover,” the first since she left Big Machine Records, her old Nashville-based label, which she has since said limited her creative freedom. The aesthetic of what would be known as the “Lover Era” emerged as rainbows, butterflies and pastel shades of blue, purple and pink, colors that subtly evoke the bisexual pride flag.

On April 26, Lesbian Visibility Day, Ms. Swift released the album’s lead single, “ME!,” in which she sings about self-love and self-acceptance. She co-directed a campy music video to accompany it, which she would later describe as depicting “everything that makes me, me.” It features Ms. Swift dancing at a pride parade, dripping in rainbow paint and turning down a man’s marriage proposal in exchange for a … pussy cat.

At the end of June, the L.G.B.T.Q. community would celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. On June 14, Ms. Swift released the video for her attempt at a pride anthem, “You Need to Calm Down,” in which she and an army of queer celebrities from across generations — the “Queer Eye” hosts, Ellen DeGeneres, Billy Porter, Hayley Kiyoko, to name a few — resist homophobia by living openly. Ms. Swift sings that outrage against queer visibility is a waste of time and energy: “Why are you mad, when you could be GLAAD?”

The video ends with a plea: “Let’s show our pride by demanding that, on a national level, our laws truly treat all of our citizens equally.” Many, in the press and otherwise, saw the video as, at best, a misguided attempt at allyship and, at worst, a straight woman co-opting queer aesthetics and narratives to promote a commercial product.

Then, Ms. Swift performed “Shake It Off” as a surprise for patrons at the Stonewall Inn. Rumors — that were, perhaps, little more than fantasies — swirled in the queerer corners of her fandom, stoked by a suggestive post by the fashion designer Christian Siriano. Would Ms. Swift attend New York City’s WorldPride march on June 30? Would she wear a dress spun from a rainbow? Would she give a speech? If she did, what would she declare about herself?

The Sunday of the march, those fantasies stopped. She announced that the music executive Scooter Braun, who she described as an “incessant, manipulative” bully, had purchased her masters, the lucrative original recordings of her work.

Ms. Swift’s “Lover” was the first record that she created with nearly unchecked creative freedom. Lacking her old label’s constraints, she specifically chose to feature activism for and the aesthetics of the L.G.B.T.Q. community in her confessional, self-expressive art. Even before the sale of her masters, she appeared to be stepping into a new identity — not just an aesthetic — that was distinct from that associated with her past six albums.

When looking back on the artifacts of the months before that album’s release, any close reader of Ms. Swift has a choice. We can consider the album’s aesthetics and activism as performative allyship, as they were largely considered to be at the time. Or we can ask a question, knowing full well that we may never learn the answer: What if the “Lover Era” was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?

There’s no way of knowing what could have happened if Ms. Swift’s masters hadn’t been sold. All we know is what happened next. In early August, Ms. Swift posted a rainbow-glazed photo of a series of friendship bracelets, one of which says “PROUD” with beads in the color of the bisexual pride flag. Queer people recognize that this word, deployed this way, typically means that someone is proud of their own identity. But the public did not widely view this as Ms. Swift’s coming out.

Then, Vogue released an interview with Ms. Swift that had been conducted in early June. When discussing her motivations for releasing “You Need to Calm Down,” Ms. Swift said, “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male.” She continued: “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of.” That statement suggests that Ms. Swift did not, in early June, consider herself part of the L.G.B.T.Q. community; it does not illuminate whether that is because she was a straight, cis ally or because she was stuck in the shadowy, solitary recesses of the closet.

On Aug. 22, Ms. Swift publicly committed herself to the as-of-then-unproven project of rerecording and rereleasing her first six albums. The next day, she finally released “Lover,” which raises more questions than it answers. Why does she have to keep secrets just to keep her muse, as all her fans still sing-scream on “Cruel Summer”? About what are the “hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you,” in her chronicle of self-doubt, “The Archer,” if not her identity? And what could the album’s closing words, which come at the conclusion of “Daylight,” a song about stepping out of a 20-year darkness and choosing to “let it go,” possibly signal?

I want to be defined by the things that I love,

Not the things I hate,

Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of,

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,

I just think that,

You are what you love.

The first time I viewed “Lover” through the prism of queerness, I felt delirious, almost insane. I kept wondering whether what I was perceiving in her work was truly there or if it was merely a mirage, born of earnest projection.

My longtime reading of Ms. Swift’s celebrity — like that of a majority of her fan base — had been stuck in the lingering assumptions left by a period that began more than a decade and a half ago, when a girl with an overexaggerated twang, Shirley Temple curls and Georgia stars in her eyes became famous. Then, she presented as all that was to be expected of a young starlet: attractive yet virginal, knowing yet naïve, not talented enough to be formidable, not commanding enough to be threatening, confessional, eager to please. Her songs earnestly depicted the fantasies of a girl raised in a traditional culture: high school crushes and backwoods drives, princelings and wedding rings, declarations of love that climax only in a kiss — ideally in the pouring rain.

When Ms. Swift was trying to sell albums in that late-2000s media environment, her songwriting didn’t match the image of a sex object, the usual role reserved for female celebrities in our culture. Instead, the story the public told about her was that she laundered her affection to a litter of promising grown men, in exchange for songwriting inspiration. A young Ms. Swift contributed to this narrative by hiding easy-to-decode clues in liner notes that suggested a certain someone was her songs’ inspiration (“SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM,” “ADAM,” “TAY”) or calling out an ex-boyfriend on the “Ellen” show and “Saturday Night Live.” Despite the expansive storytelling in Ms. Swift’s early records, her public image often cast a man’s interest as her greatest ambition.

As Ms. Swift’s career progressed, she began to remake that image: changing her style and presentation, leaving country music for pop and moving from Nashville to New York. By 2019, her celebrity no longer reflected traditional culture; it had instead become a girlboss-y mirror for another dominant culture — that of white, cosmopolitan, neoliberal America.

But in every incarnation, the public has largely seen those songs — especially those for which she doesn’t directly state her inspiration — as cantos about her most recent heterosexual love, whether that idea is substantiated by evidence or not. A large portion of her base still relishes debating what might have happened with the gentleman caller who supposedly inspired her latest album. Feverish discussions of her escapades with the latest yassified London Boy or mustachioed Mr. Americana fuel the tabloid press — and, embarrassingly, much of traditional media — that courts fan engagement by relentlessly, unquestioningly chronicling Ms. Swift’s love life.

Even in 2023, public discussion about the romantic entanglements of Ms. Swift, 34, presumes that the right man will “finally” mean the end of her persistent husbandlessness and childlessness. Whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s extracurricular activities involving a certain football star (romance for the ages? strategic brand partnership? performance art for entertainment’s sake?), the public’s obsession with the relationship has been attention-grabbing, if not lucrative, for all parties, while reinforcing a story that America has long loved to tell about Ms. Swift, and by extension, itself.

Because Ms. Swift hasn’t undeniably subverted our culture’s traditional expectations, she has managed, in an increasingly fractured cultural environment, to simultaneously capture two dominant cultures — traditional and cosmopolitan. To maintain the stranglehold she has on pop culture, Ms. Swift must continue to tell a story that those audiences expect to consume; she falls in love with a man or she gets revenge. As a result, her confessional songs languish in a place of presumed stasis; even as their meaning has grown deeper and their craft more intricate, a substantial portion of her audience’s understanding of them remains wedded to the same old narratives.

But if interpretations of Ms. Swift’s art often languish in stasis, so do the millions upon millions of people who love to play with the dollhouse she has constructed for them. Her dominance in pop culture and the success of her business have given her the rare ability to influence not only her industry but also the worldview of a substantial portion of America. How might her industry, our culture and we, ourselves, change if we made space for Ms. Swift to burn that dollhouse to the ground?

Anyone considering the whole of Ms. Swift’s artistry — the way that her brilliantly calculated celebrity mixes with her soul-baring art — can find discrepancies between the story that underpins her celebrity and the one captured by her songs. One such gap can be found in her “Lover” era. Others appear alongside “dropped hairpins,” or the covert ways someone can signal queer identity to those in the know while leaving others comfortable in their ignorance. Ms. Swift dropped hairpins before “Lover” and has continued to do so since.

Sometimes, Ms. Swift communicates through explicit sartorial choices — hair the colors of the bisexual pride flag or a recurring motif of rainbow dresses. She frequently depicts herself as trapped in glass closets or, well, in regular closets. She drops hairpins on tour as well, paying tribute to the Serpentine Dance of the lesbian artist Loie Fuller during the Reputation Tour or referencing “The Ladder,” one of the earliest lesbian publications in the United States, in her Eras Tour visuals.

During the Eras Tour, Ms. Swift traps her past selves — including those from her “Lover” era — in glass closets.

Dropped hairpins also appear in Ms. Swift’s songwriting. Sometimes, the description of a muse — the subject of her song, or to whom she sings — seems to fit only a woman, as it does in “It’s Nice to Have a Friend,” “Maroon” or “Hits Different.” Sometimes she suggests a female muse through unfulfilled rhyme schemes, as she does in “The Very First Night,” when she sings “didn’t read the note on the Polaroid picture / they don’t know how much I miss you” (“her,” instead of that pesky little “you,” would rhyme). Her songwriting also noticeably alludes to poets whose muses the historical record incorrectly cast as men — Emily Dickinson chief among them — as if to suggest the same fate awaits her art. Stunningly, she even explicitly refers to dropping hairpins, not once, but twice, on two separate albums.

In isolation, a single dropped hairpin is perhaps meaningless or accidental, but considered together, they’re the unfurling of a ballerina bun after a long performance. Those dropped hairpins began to appear in Ms. Swift’s artistry long before queer identity was undeniably marketable to mainstream America. They suggest to queer people that she is one of us. They also suggest that her art may be far more complex than the eclipsing nature of her celebrity may allow, even now.

Since at least her “Lover” era, Ms. Swift has explicitly encouraged her fans to read into the coded messages (which she calls “Easter eggs”) she leaves in music videos, social media posts and interviews with traditional media outlets, but a majority of those fans largely ignore or discount the dropped hairpins that might hint at queer identity. For them, acknowledging even the possibility that Ms. Swift could be queer would irrevocably alter the way they connect with her celebrity, the true product they’re consuming.

There is such public devotion to the traditional narrative Ms. Swift embodies because American culture enshrines male power. In her sweeping essay, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence,” the lesbian feminist poet Adrienne Rich identified the way that male power cramps, hinders or devalues women’s creativity. All of the sexist undertones with which Ms. Swift’s work can be discussed (often, even, by fans) flow from compulsory heterosexuality, or the way patriarchy draws power from the presumption that women naturally desire men. She must write about men she surely loves or be unbankable; she must marry and bear children or remain a child herself; she must look like, in her words, a “sexy baby” or be undesirable, “a monster on the hill.”

A woman who loves women is most certainly a monster to a society that prizes male power. She can fulfill none of the functions that a traditional culture imagines — wife, mother, maid, mistress, whore — so she has few places in the historical record. The Sapphic possibility of her work is ignored, censored or lost to time. If there is queerness earnestly implied in Ms. Swift’s work, then it’s no wonder that it, like that of so many other artists before her, is so often rendered invisible in the public imagination.

While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable.

Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

Whether she is conscious of it or not, Ms. Swift signals to queer people — in the language we use to communicate with one another — that she has some affinity for queer identity. There are some queer people who would say that through this sort of signaling, she has already come out, at least to us. But what about coming out in a language the rest of the public will understand?

The difference between any person coming out and a celebrity doing so is the difference between a toy mallet and a sledgehammer. It’s reasonable for celebrities to be reticent; by coming out, they potentially invite death threats, a dogged tabloid press that will track their lovers instead of their beards, the excavation of their past lives, a torrent of public criticism and the implosion of their careers. In a culture of compulsory heterosexuality, to stop lying — by omission or otherwise — is to risk everything.

American culture still expects that stars are cis and straight until they confess themselves guilty. So, when our culture imagines a celebrity’s coming out, it expects an Ellen-style announcement that will submerge the past life in phoenix fire and rebirth the celebrity in a new image. In an ideal culture, wearing a bracelet that says “PROUD,” waving a pride flag onstage, placing a rainbow in album artwork or suggestively answering fan questions on Instagram would be enough. But our current reality expects a supernova.

Because of that expectation, stars end up trapped behind glass, which is reinforced by the tabloid press’s subtle social control. That press shapes the public’s expectations of others’ identities, even when those identities are chasms away from reality. Celebrities who master this press environment — Ms. Swift included — can bolster their business, but in doing so, they reinforce a heteronormative culture that obsesses over pregnancy, women’s bodies and their relationships with men.

That environment is at odds with the American movement for L.G.B.T.Q. equality, which still has fights to win — most pressingly, enshrining trans rights and squashing nonsensical culture wars. But lately I’ve heard many of my young queer contemporaries — and the occasional star — wonder whether the movement has come far enough to dispense with the often messy, often uncomfortable process of coming out, over and over again.

That questioning speaks to an earnest conundrum that queer people confront regularly: Do we live in this world, or the world to which we ought to aspire?

Living in aspiration means ignoring the convention of coming out in favor of just … existing. This is easier for those who can pass as cis and straight if need be, those who are so wealthy or white that the burden of hiding falls to others and those who live in accepting urban enclaves. This is a queer life without friction; coming out in a way straight people can see is no longer a prerequisite for acceptance, fulfillment and equality.

This aspiration is tremendous, but in our current culture, it is available only to a privileged few. Should such an inequality of access to aspiration become the accepted state of affairs, it would leave those who can’t hide to face society’s cruelest actors without the backing of a vocal, activated community. So every queer person who takes issue with the idea that we must come out ought to ask a simple question — what do we owe one another?

If coming out is primarily supposed to be an act of self-actualization, to form our own identities, then we owe one another nothing. This posture recognizes that the act of coming out implicitly reinforces straight and cis identities as default, which is not worth the rewards of outness.

But if coming out is supposed to be a radical act of resistance that seeks to change the way our society imagines people to be, then undeniable visibility is essential to make space for those without power. In this posture, queer people who can live in aspiration owe those who cannot a real world in which our expansive views of love and gender aren’t merely tolerated but celebrated. We have no choice but to actively, vocally press against the world we’re in, until no one is stuck in it.

And so just for a little while longer, we need our heroes.

But if queer people spend all of our time holding out for a guiding light, we might forgo a more pressing question that if answered, just might inch all of us a bit closer to aspiration. The next time heroes appear, are we ready to receive them?

It takes neither a genius nor a radical to see queerness implied by Ms. Swift’s work. But figuring out how to talk about it before the star labels herself is another matter. Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity.

Lying is familiar to queer people; we teach ourselves to do it from an early age, shrouding our identities from others, and ourselves. It’s not without good reason. To maintain the safety (and sometimes the comfort) of the closet, we lie to others, and, most crucially, we allow others to believe lies about us, seeing us as something other than ourselves. Lying is doubly familiar to those of us who are women. To reduce friction, so many of us still shrink life to its barest version in the name of honor or safety, rendering our lives incomplete, our minds lobotomized and our identities unexplored.

By maintaining a culture of lying about what we, uniquely, have the knowledge and experience to see, we commit ourselves to a vow of silence. That vow may protect someone’s safety, but when it is applied to works of culture, it stymies our ability to receive art that has the potential to change or disrupt us. As those with queer identity amass the power of commonplaceness, it’s worth questioning whether the purpose of one of the last great taboos that constrains us befits its cost.

In every case, is the best form of solidarity still silence?

I know that discussing the potential of a star’s queerness before a formal declaration of identity feels, to some, too salacious and gossip-fueled to be worthy of discussion. They might point to the viciousness of the discourse around “queerbaiting” (in which I have participated); to the harm caused by the tabloid press’s dalliances with outing; and, most crucially, to the real material sacrifices that queer stars make to come out, again and again, as reasons to stay silent.

I share many of these reservations. But the stories that dominate our collective imagination shape what our culture permits artists and their audiences to say and be. Every time an artist signals queerness and that transmission falls on deaf ears, that signal dies. Recognizing the possibility of queerness — while being conscious of the difference between possibility and certainty — keeps that signal alive.

So, whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s sexual orientation or gender identity (something that is knowable, perhaps, only to her) or the exact identity of her muses (something better left a mystery), choosing to acknowledge the Sapphic possibility of her work has the potential to cut an audience that is too often constrained by history, expectation and capital loose from the burdens of our culture.

To start, consider what Ms. Swift wrote in the liner notes of her 2017 album, “reputation”: “When this album comes out, gossip blogs will scour the lyrics for the men they can attribute to each song, as if the inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test.”

Listen to her. At the very least, resist the urge to assume that when Ms. Swift calls the object of her affection “you” in a song, she’s talking about a man with whom she’s been photographed. Just that simple choice opens up a world of Swiftian wordplay. She often plays with pronouns, trading “you” and “him” so that only someone looking for a distinction between two characters might find one. Turns of phrase often contain double or even triple meanings. Her work is a feast laid specifically for the close listener.

Choosing to read closely can also train the mind to resist the image of an unmarried woman that compulsory heterosexuality expects. And even if it is only her audience who points at rainbows, reading Ms. Swift’s work as queer is still worthwhile, for it undermines the assumption that queer identity impedes pop superstardom, paving the way for an out artist to have the success Ms. Swift has.

After all, would it truly be better to wait to talk about any of this for 50, 60, 70 years, until Ms. Swift whispers her life story to a biographer? Or for a century or more, when Ms. Swift’s grandniece donates her diaries to some academic library, for scholars to pore over? To ensure that mea culpas come only when Ms. Swift’s bones have turned to dust and fragments of her songs float away on memory’s summer breeze?

I think not. And so, I must say, as loudly as I can, “I can see you,” even if I risk foolishness for doing so.

I remember the first time I knew I had seen Taylor Alison Swift break free from the trap of stardom. I wasn’t sitting in a crowded stadium in the pouring rain or cuddled up in a movie theater with a bag of popcorn. I was watching a grainy, crackling livestream of the Eras Tour, captured on a fan’s phone.

It’s late at night, the beginning of her acoustic set of surprise songs, this time performed in a yellow dress. She begins playing “Hits Different.” It’s a new song, full of puns, double entendres and wordplay, that toys with the glittering identities in which Ms. Swift indulges.

She’s rushing, as if stopping, even for a second, will cause her to lose her nerve. She stumbles at the bridge, pauses and starts again; the queen of bridges will not mess this up, not tonight.

There it is, at the bridge’s end: “Bet I could still melt your world; argumentative, antithetical dream girl.” An undeniable declaration of love to a woman. As soon as those words leave her lips, she lets out a whoop, pacing around the stage with a grin that cannot be contained.

For a moment, Ms. Swift was out of the woods she had created for herself as a teenager, floating above the trees. The future was within reach; she would, and will, soon take back the rest of her words, her reputation, her name. Maybe the world would see her, maybe it wouldn’t.

But on that stage, she found herself. I was there. Through a fuzzy fancam, I saw it.

And somehow, that was everything.

#ooooh my word this was BREATHTAKING and so well-said #because coming out is in fact a very delicate thing #full article here for the tumblr crowd!#taylor swift #articles #new york times #gaylor swift #gaylor #lover #chely wright

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collegetennisoriginstory · 8 months

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Update plans for CT:OS Chapter 4

Some exciting announcements! 📢

I'm done with writing / coding the first part of Chapter 4 for CT:OS, and making good progress on the second part! 🔥

I wanted to update everyone on how things are going, and share some of the main juicy bits you'll be able to expect for the chapter + set down some TENTATIVE (!! don't shoot me, I'm always overly optimistic 🫣) dates for the Chapter 4 release.

The first part will be romance/friendship-heavy, and the second part will be mostly tennis-heavy.

Pt. 1 (roughly +45k words, 10k words in a single playthrough)

Have dinner with Tobin at their house*, though you might have a... tough conversation after [things might get saucy!] (achievement up for grabs) 🍳

Bump into Rayyan in the tennis courts at night** 🌘, vent some frustrations, and potentially resolve some... issues! [locker room pt. 2, rebranded slightly] (achievement up for grabs)

Convince the coaches to let you swap doubles partners (or stick with your original one)—find out if Tobin or Rayyan will be your partner for the season!

Study sesh with G at the Haynes student lounge before the match on Friday 👩‍🎓🧑‍🎓, voice some of your niggling worries [or... redefine the meaning of... 'studying'] (achievement up for grabs)

Bonus Rayyan**, Sam, and Tobin*** POV scenes (though Tobin's scene is a little short, sorry)

Pt. 2 (unsure, roughly looking like maybe 50k with code?)

Reunion with Sam (if you'd asked them to come visit Cargill for the weekend & watch your first match of the season) 🎊

Say hi to G, D, and your other hallmates who've come to cheer you on

Kickstart the season proper against Cornell 🎾 (bust out your chops with your newly minted doubles partner, and prove your mettle in your singles match) [will you win or lose your doubles and singles match, and will Cargill clinch the overall win?] (achievement up for grabs)

Or, if you're not selected to play, sit next to Sam, and your hallmates, and cheer the rest of your team on! (yes, you will might have to explain some rules)

*If Tobin had invited you in Chapter 3 **If Rayyan had been assigned to be your doubles partner originally ***If some things to down at the Tobin dinner.

Dates

Pt. 1

Send to beta-testers: 2 Sep

Early-release: 9 Sep (probably minimally edited)

Public release: 23 Sep (to give me some time to edit)

Pt. 2

Send to beta-testers: 16 Sep

Early-release: 23 Sep (probably minimally edited)

Public release: 7 Oct (to give me some time to edit)

Future patches

I am still working to revamp the romance system, so you might find very inconsistent romance coding

Can't wait to share it with you all!! In the meantime, I'll be plugging away diligently :)

Love you guys! <3

#college tennis: origin story #ct:os #if #interactive fiction #planned update

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ourshadowstallerthanoursoul · 3 months

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An audience with... John Paul Jones

(from Uncut, April 2010 - link)

You’re stuck on a deserted island, you have one instrument you can bring. It is: a) piano, b) bass or c) mandolin? (Gary Attersley, Ontario, Canada)

Oh… that’s horrible! I’ll probably get Hugh Manson – the guy who builds all my bass guitars – to build me some monstrous instrument that encapsulated all three! Hugh and his brother Andy Manson once actually designed me a triple-necked guitar with 12-string guitar, six-string guitar and mandolin on it! Andy also designed a triple-necked mandolin. But I guess if it really came down to it on a desert island, it would have to be the piano, because you can do so much on it. You’re a whole band. The bass is not much fun on your own.

John, it’s so good to see you so engaged with today. Any advice for old farts who can’t move on? (Andrew Loog Oldham)

Who are you calling an old fart? I dunno, Andy, you tell me! Ha ha. He’s done a good job of staying up to date. Andrew, of course, gave me the name John Paul Jones. I was John Baldwin, until Andrew saw a poster for the French film version of John Paul Jones. I thought it ’d look great in CinemaScope, as I wanted to do music for films. I imagined it saying “Music By John Paul Jones”, over the whole screen. I never realised then that he was the Horatio Nelson of America!

I know that you’ve been getting heavily into bluegrass lately – who are some of your favourite bluegrass artists of all time? (Ryan Godek, Wilmington, Delaware)

Apart from Bill Monroe, you mean? Oh, there’s loads. I’m friends with the Del McCoury band, I love that style of classic bluegrass. I love Sam Bush’s Newgrass stuff. And of course there’s Nickel Creek, Chris Feely, Mike Marshall. I love it all, really. One thing I like about bluegrass is that you don’t require amplifiers, drums and trucks. You can pull an instrument out of a box and get on with some instant music making. I carry a mandolin around wherever I go. I also like the fact bluegrass musicians play more than one instrument. There’s a tradition of them swapping instruments. In bluegrass bands I swap between double bass, fiddle and banjo.

One Butthole Surfers anecdote, please? (Dave Grohl)

Ha! I was brought in to produce the Butthole Surfers’ 1993 album, Independent Worm Saloon. I guess it was to give it a heavy rock vibe, but it didn’t work like that. They were actually incredibly hard-working in the studio, but I do recall running up a phenomenal bar-bill at the San Rafael studio. And then there was Gibby [Haynes, Butthole Surfers’ frontman] and his… eccentric studio behaviour. Gibby did one vocal take shouting into his guitar. He held it out in front of his face and screamed at it. Ha! He was trying to find out if it picked up through the pick-ups, which it kind of did. And that was pretty good.

How’s the violin coming along? (Sean, Berkshire)

I started about three years ago. With the guitar, or the piano, you can sound OK quite quickly. With the violin, it takes much longer. Once you get past the first six months of scraping, of muttering to yourself, “What is this fucking horrible noise on my shoulder?” you get the odd musical bit, and you think, ‘Oh, this is starting to get good.’ And you continue with it for a while. I’m getting into country fiddle playing, Celtic folk songs, a bit of swing. Basic stuff, but very satisfying.

Why not record a second ‘Automatic For The People’ with REM? (Franz Greul, Austria)

They haven’t asked me! But doing the string arrangements for that album was a great experience, actually. They sent me the demos of their songs, and we went into a studio in Atlanta, with members of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. They were great songs, something you can really get your teeth into as an arranger. And I’ve been good friends with them ever since.

How did you first meet Josh Homme? And is he still a notorious party monster? (Rob Hirst, Kippax, Leeds)

Well, I think we’ve all calmed down rather a lot. Dave introduced me to Josh at his 40th birthday party. It was a ridiculous themed place where they have jousting with knights. As Dave said, it was like somewhere you’d have your 14th birthday party. Or maybe even your 4th. Anyway, Dave sat Josh and I together for a blind date. Which was reasonably embarrassing for both of us, surrounded by people going “prithee this” and challenging each other to duels. But we survived the trauma and went into the studio the next day, and just started jamming. And I knew immediately it was going to be something special.

If Them Crooked Vultures had Spice Girls-like nicknames what would they be? (Paul Jones, Liverpool)

Dave would be Smiley Vulture. He can’t stop grinning. Josh would be Slinky Vulture. He’s a slinky kinda guy. And I’d be Speedy, I guess. Or Jumpy. So there you go. Smiley, Slinky and Speedy. Or does that sound more like the dwarfs?

I remember you being a pretty funky bass genius back in the day! What memories do you have of those sessions? (Donovan)

The sessions with Don and Mickie Most were great, because we were given a free hand. I usually got leeway, because I was the sort of Motown/Stax specialist, so producers in the mid ’60s would get me in for cover versions of American records, and none of them could write bass parts convincingly enough, so I was London’s answer to James Jamerson, I guess! And I was certainly encouraged to get kinda… funky when I worked with Donovan.

How did it feel to see Jimmy Page and Robert Plant venture off in their own project in the ‘90s without mentioning a word of it to you? (Danny Luscombe, Hull)

Oh yeah, I was pissed off about it. The surprise was in not being told. It’s ancient history now, but it was a bit annoying to find out about it while reading the papers. It came just after Robert and I had been discussing the idea of doing an Unplugged project. Then I’m on tour in Germany with Diamanda Galás, I turn on the TV and see Robert and Jimmy doing it, with someone else playing all my parts! I was pissed off at the time. You would be, woudn’t you? But… it’s all in the past, isn’t it?

Did you listen to much work by Josh Homme or Dave Grohl before you were contacted in relation to joining Them Crooked Vultures, and if so, how did you honestly rate it? (Ralph Ryan, Lisronagh, County Tipperary)

I did like the Foo Fighters and Queens Of The Stone Age, before I’d met either of them. There’s a tendency for people – especially musicians from my generation – to say that there has been this terrible decline in musicianship, that today’s bands haven’t got the chops, blah blah blah. But that’s not true at all. There’s always some people for whom technique on an instrument isn’t necessary. They can get their ideas across without being able to have the chops. But Josh really does have the chops, he just doesn’t feel the need to flash them about all the time. In fact, there were a few riffs he gave me that I had to simplify, because they were bloody difficult to play. I really had to work at it, where he could just flick it off. He is an astonishing musician.

Were you serious when you told Peter Grant that you wanted to jack it in to become choirmaster at Winchester Cathedral? (Brian Fisher, Manchester)

Ha! That was a tongue-in-cheek joke, although I was serious about leaving Led Zeppelin in 1973 unless things changed. But Peter did sort things out pretty quickly. What kind of choirmaster would I have made? A bloody good one! Listen, any way that they’ll pay you for making music is just the best situation in the world. I’d do it for nothing. I don’t care what music it is. I just love it all. The rubbing of notes together. I love it all. I would be very passionate about whatever I decided to do.

What was the worst session you ever did as a jobbing session player? (Adam Burns, Castleford, West Yorkshire)

I generally have fun memories of that time. I’d criss-cross London playing two or three sessions a day, going between Trident and Olympic and Abbey Road and Philips in Marble Arch, you know. You’d be backing Shirley Bassey, Cat Stevens, Lulu, whoever was paying you. The worst experience was a Muzak session. With Muzak sessions, the music was deliberately boring. I distinctly remember one session where I embellished the bass part a little bit, just so that it wasn’t so boring for me to play. They said, “No, you can’t do that. Any interest in the music will distract people’s attention from when they’re meant to be eating.” Or standing in a fucking lift. For fuck’s sake! So I was like, “OK, thanks, bye!”

#john paul jones #jonesy #led zeppelin #robert plant #planty #jimmy page #pagey #john bonham #bonzo #60s #70s #70s rock #70s music #rock music #ourshadowstallerthanoursoul

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f0rg3t-me-n0t · 1 year

Text

Stubborn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When you’re excluded from a hunt you decide to take matters into your own hands. Pretty fast you realize that setting off alone wasn’t such a good idea.

Words: 8,3k

Warnings: angst, language, Dean being a dick, fluff, friends to lovers

A/N: English isn’t my mother tongue so please excuse any mistakes! :)

Masterlist

~~~

It was a normal Thursday afternoon. Cas and you were sitting in the library, noses stuck in some books about various monsters as you were waiting for the Winchester brothers to return with some groceries. Now and then you would do some small talk with the angel, joke about something you just read or revel in memories. Just when you both were laughing about that one time Dean had started to act like a dog the door to the bunker opened.

Both of you looked up and watched Sam walking down the staircase. He smiled at you and held up his hand to greet you as he made his way to the kitchen. His older brother followed him but he didn’t seem to be in a good mood. The dirty blonde had a stern look on his face and didn’t even glance at Cas and you. You frowned.

Right now there was nothing that should bother Dean to look that grumpy. Resting your chin on your hand your gaze followed his figure until he disappeared around the corner.

„Do you know what’s up with him? This morning he seemed to be having a good day.“, you asked Cas but the brunette man shrugged.

„I just noticed that he looked a little more thoughtful in the last few days but I don’t know why.“, he answered.

Sighing you stared off into the entrance area and tried to remember what had happened lately that could have caused Deans's mood swings. At the moment there was nothing big that you had to worry about; no angel stuff and even the demons seemed to behave. But then you thought of the last case and you knew that you had found your answer.

Two weeks ago you and the brothers had dealt with a ghoul. In a little town in Kansas, more and more people had been vanishing so you had set off to find the cause. On site, you had met the young Sheriff Luke Haynes, with whom especially you had gotten along very well. Dean hadn’t seemed too keen on it, but it had given you access to some important files that had led you on to a couple who had just moved to town. While Sam and Dean had gone out to observe them, you and Sheriff Haynes had stayed behind to do a little more research. After a while it had occurred to him that he had left an important file at home, so you had set off to his house. Just as you had entered his place before him, Haynes had suddenly knocked you out. It had turned out that he had been the ghoul and that he had planned to kill you, take on your form, and thereby lure Sam and Dean into the trap as well. Luckily the brothers had noticed this through a mistake by the sheriff and so they had just barely been able to save you. Afterward, Dean had been mad at you for trusting Luke. Of course, you had felt unfairly treated, after all, you couldn't have known that the Sheriff had been the monster. You had argued with him which had led to you not talking to each other for a while, but after a few days, everything had seemed to be back to normal. At least you had thought so.

You shook your head as you got rid of the memory and bit your lip.

Could Dean still be bothered by this accident?

„Everything alright?“, Castiel suddenly spoke up.

„Oh.“, you nodded hastily as you felt caught. „Yeah, it’s nothing.“

„If you say so.“, the angel didn’t seem convinced, but just then Sam and Dean entered the library and sat down at the table.

You cleared your throat and smiled at them.

„Hey.“

The taller brother reciprocated your greeting but Dean only nodded to you.

„You got everything for the lasagna?“, you asked.

„Yup.“, Sam confirmed. „We bought some of that iced tea you like, too. They had it on sale.“

You looked at him in surprise before you started to smile again.

„Sounds good. Thanks.“

He waved it off.

„We also have a new case. Jody called us on the way to the store.“, Sam told you next.

„What’s it about?“, Cas wanted to know.

„Probably some vampires. The police found two dead girls in Brookings, South Dakota. They were drained from every last drop of blood in their body.“, Dean explained now.

It was the first time he said something since they had come back from their little trip to the supermarket.

„Nice.“, you said sarcastically. „When are we going?“

„Yeah, no.“, Dean snorted. „You’re staying here with Cas. Sam and I will drive there tomorrow morning.“

You leaned back in confusion and couldn’t help but feel attacked by the tone of his voice.

„What’s that supposed to mean?“, you asked and crossed your arms in front of your chest

„That you’re not coming with us.“, the older Winchester opened the bottle of beer he had brought with him and took a swig.

„And why is that?“, you still couldn’t believe his words.

„Because we can’t have you trust the wrong person and fuck up everything again.“, now he looked you directly in the eyes and it felt like his green orbs pierced right through you.

For a while you didn’t say a thing, then you huffed loudly and pinched the bridge of your nose.

„So that’s what this is about? You’re still mad about the last hunt?“, you murmured sourly.

„Hell yes, I am.“

You laughed dryly.

„Are you for real? You fucking know that I couldn’t have known, that he was the ghoul! It was a mistake, alright?“, you raised your voice now.

„Yeah, but a pretty big one if you ask me.“, Dean didn’t seem like he would give in anytime. „You nearly died and could’ve gotten me and Sam killed, too!“

With that, he took it too far.

Sam decided to step in: „Come on, Dean. How could she have kn-“

„Shut up!“, the green-eyed hunter shouted angrily. „I always had a bad feeling about him.“

„You had, huh?“, you stood up. „Why didn’t you say anything then?“

With narrowed eyes, you looked at Dean. You were furious but so was he.

„It wouldn’t have made a difference.“, he breathed through his nose and got up from his chair. „You were being all sparkly-eyed with him!“

Now your mouth fell open.

„I wasn’t!“, you defended yourself. „What the hell?!“

You couldn’t believe how much the conversation had gotten out of hand.

„Oh yes, you were!“, Dean roared.

„You know what, Dean?“, you hissed as you started to make your way to your room. „Fuck you.“

With that, you left the three men and the last thing you heard was Sam calling your name.

~~~

For almost an hour now you had been laying on your bed. Teeth clenched and arms crossed in front of your chest, you had tried to calm down, but it was hard with those accusations of Dean. You knew that it all had been an accident but with his words, he had managed to make you feel a little bad and even made you doubt your worth.

What if he was right? What if you were going to trust the wrong people again?

You sighed and rolled onto your side as you shook your head.

No, you shouldn’t think about that. You didn’t do it intentionally and that’s what’s important.

Nevertheless, Dean just didn’t seem to get that. You couldn’t comprehend why he was so angry about it and also why he would accuse you of having been flirty with the Sheriff. That really hadn’t been the case. You only had thought that he had been nice and it had been easy to make some small talk with him.

Now anger started to rise again.

„Who does he even think he is?“, you mumbled grumpily. „What does it mean to him who I’m flirting with? I mean…he does it with nearly every woman he sees.“

You clenched your hands into fists and sat up.

No, you wouldn’t let yourself be treated like that. Maybe you should teach him a lesson and show him that you were still very much capable of managing a hunt. Even on your own.

And so it was decided. Smirking you started to pack your duffel bag while you were making a plan in your head.

~~~

„Oh look who it is.“, you heard Dean say as you entered the kitchen. „Have you calmed down?“

You only shot him a cold glare and made your way to the fridge. It wasn’t really your choice to be here right now, but you had promised the boys to make some lasagna for dinner and now you had also incorporated it into your plan.

As you started to prepare the sauce Sam came up to you.

„Hey.“, he greeted you quietly and watched you dice the onion. „You alright?“

You slowed down for a second.

„Not really.“

Then you put on a faster pace again.

Sam sighed.

„I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.“, he said just loud enough for you to hear and glanced at his brother.

„I don’t think so.“, you chopped the onion a little more aggressively and the younger Winchester gulped.

„You know how he is. Sometimes he’s just overreacting and being a dick. But…it’s never for no reason.“

„And what’s his reason now?“, you put the knife away and turned to Sam.

It was silent for a few seconds, then he scratched his neck.

„Well…I think he was scared for you.“, he guessed. „And that he’s trying to protect you.“

„Wow.“, you rolled your eyes. „What a perfect way to show that.“

You grabbed the celery and the carrots and started to chop them as well.

„I know.“, Sam huffed. „He can really be an asshole.“

„Yeah.“, you looked at the older Winchester who was reading a book and didn’t seem to notice your conversation.

Then you chuckled a little.

„Thanks for talking to me, Sammy. I appreciate it.“, you smiled at the man next to you.

He really had managed to lighten your mood a little.

„No problem.“, he patted your shoulder. „You’re important to me, Y/N. Didn’t want to leave you in a bad mood.“

„Kind of you.“, you answered. „Your brother could learn from you. It's a little sad that you're apologizing for him.“

Sam shrugged.

„I’m sure he’ll do it sooner or later, but I just wanted to talk to you now.“

„Well, we‘ll see.“, you sighed, then you grabbed the chopped ingredients and took them with you to the stove.

The brunette brother left and you went on with the cooking. After you had put the lasagna into the oven you did the dishes and just as you had put the last knife away Dean raised his voice.

„I could hear you and Sam, you know.“, he said.

You leaned against the counter and crossed your arms.

„So?“

He put the book away and stood up.

„I won’t apologize.“, he told you. „I said the truth.“

„Yeah, sure.“, you snorted. „Because you know me better than myself, huh?“

„I know when a woman flirts, so yes.“

As a reaction to that you showed him your middle finger.

„You might be the biggest manwhore on earth, but you don’t know me, Dean.“

He grinned smugly.

„Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I do.“

Now it was enough for you.

„Rot in hell, Winchester.“, you left the kitchen.

His last few words alone made you want to disappear right now instead of later, but you just knew, that you had to make the Winchesters and Cas believe that you would stay here to get through with your plan.

You went to the bathroom to calm down your nerves and joined Cas and Sam in the library afterward. By talking to them you tried to distract yourself a little and when the lasagna was finally ready they helped you to prepare the dining table.

„That’s really good.“, Sam said after he had taken his first bite.

Cas nodded in agreement and only Dean stayed silent.

„Thank you.“, you smiled at Sam.

For a while you all ate in silence, then you cleared your throat. It was time to make some progress with your plan.

„So…about tomorrow…“, you started.

„You’re not coming with us.“, Dean looked at you coldly.

„Yeah, I know, dumbass.“, annoyed you breathed out loudly. „I just wanted to ask if there’s anything Cas and I could research for you.“

The green-eyed hunter looked surprised.

„Wow, the princess has accepted her fate. Good.“

That you wanted to punch him for that was an understatement. You needed to. Still, you remained calm.

„So?“, you raised an eyebrow and ignored his words.

„Uh. Yeah.“, Sam nodded. „Maybe you could do some exact research on the case and send it to us tomorrow. I think I’ll look for some basic stuff in the car but it would be really good to know a little more about the details, too.“

„Okay, sure.“, you said, then you took another bite from your lasagna. „I‘ll make sure to send the results to you before you arrive in Brookings. How long do you think the drive will be?“

Now Sam shrugged and looked to Dean.

„Like 6 or 7 hours. We‘ll start at 9 am. It should be 3 or 4 pm when we arrive. At latest 5 pm.“, the older Winchester said.

„Alright.“, you had heard everything you had wanted to know.

All of you finished the lasagna and Cas even offered to do the dishes, while the two brothers went back to the library.

„Thanks.“, you smiled at the angel and put your plate into the sink.

Then you looked at your watch. It was a little after 8 pm.

„I think I’ll read some more in my room and go to bed afterward. I‘ll see you in the morning.“, you said.

„Sure. Have a good night.“, Cas answered and you left.

When you arrived at your room you checked your duffel bag and put a few more things in it. Then you went over the plan again in your head.

Leaving was only possible if everyone was asleep. The door to the garage was heavy and creaky so it wouldn’t be clever to escape right now. You were also pretty sure that Dean would be making a few more preparations, which included inspecting the Impala and you couldn’t risk him realizing too soon that you were gone. Also, you were sure, that he was going to kill you for stealing his car but right now you were too petty to care. You just really wanted to hit him where it hurts.

~~~

At 1 am you were confident that everyone had gone to bed. At half past 10 you had gotten yourself a glass of water from the kitchen and noticed that only Dean was still sitting in the library. Approximately at midnight you then heard Dean yawning as he passed your room in the hallway and now everything was as quiet as it could be. Carefully you put on your jacket and your boots and shouldered the duffel bag. Afterward, you tiptoed to the garage and opened the door as cautiously as you could. Its creaking made you sweat instantly, but after a few breathless seconds, you managed to slip into the big hall and sighed heavily.

„Good job.“, you praised yourself while patting your shoulder.

Next, you flipped the light switch next to the door and your gaze instantly met the Impala. Just then it dawned on you.

The car keys. Dean always had them inside his nightstand, when he was at the bunker.

„Fuck.“, you cursed under your breath.

Of course, you could break into the car and hotwire it but you weren’t exactly a pro. Dean had shown it to you one time, but you weren’t sure if you remembered everything right.

All in one this meant, that you had to sneak into Deans's room and steal his keys, which was a whole other level of hard. This man had a gun under his pillow and sometimes he slept like a stone but other times he woke up by the tiniest noise. You just could hope that the first option was tonight’s case because waking him would be the end of you. That was clear.

Gulping you opened the door again and made sure to put something under it so it stayed open. Just in case you had to flee.

Then you made your way to the Dean Cave. 20 feet away from his door you could already see that it was wide open and the light was on. There was no trace of Dean. Your heart started beating faster immediately and you looked around frantically. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom. Exactly this was your chance to get the key. Without thinking long you went to his nightstand and took it, then you ran out of the room and to the next corner where you were sure that Dean couldn't see you. Your heart felt like it was exploding in your chest, especially when you heard his footsteps, but luckily shortly afterward you heard the door to his room close and everything went quiet again.

Shakily you breathed out and slowly went back to the garage, where you waited for a while before you closed the door again. Just to make sure Dean was asleep again.

Afterward, you grabbed the keys to all the other cars in the garage which were kept in a small basket in one of the cabinets. You really wanted to make sure, that Sam and Dean couldn’t follow you, so you removed all the spark plugs from the vehicles.

Then it was finally time to set off. After you had opened the gate you sat down in front of the steering wheel and took a big breath before you turned on the car. Like a cat's purr, the engine came alive and you couldn't help but grin.

Dean would be really angry about this. You just knew. But right now that was just what you wanted. Baby was the most important thing to him so you wanted to take her away. At least for a while. Maybe Dean would learn from this not to mess with you.

With those thoughts, your journey began.

~~~

Three hours later you stopped at a self-service gas station. It was nearly 5 am and you yawned while stretching out your body. As the gasoline was being pumped into the car you got yourself an energy drink from one of the vending machines. You were really tired but you still wanted to arrive in Brookings around 9 am and right now you were pretty good on schedule. After you had emptied the can at once you bought another one and walked back to the Impala. The tank was full now, so you got back into the driver's seat. Your heart rate increases a little as you grabbed your phone but when you saw that there were no messages you exhaled relieved.

Good.

You continued the drive and like you had wanted to you reached Brookings around a quarter before 9. Smiling you pulled up at the Super 8 Motel and got yourself a room under a false name. After you had put your luggage onto your bed you grabbed your phone for the first time in 4 hours. You had put it on silent mode so it wouldn’t disturb you. The first thing you saw were countless phone calls from Dean. He had called you 14 times and even Sam had tried his luck 8 times. Apart from that, there were a lot of text messages and just like you had wanted Dean‘s messages were full of anger.

~~~

Dean [7:59]:

Where the heck are you?!

Dean [8:11]:

That’s it

You took the Impala?!

You’re so dead.

I’ll kill you with my own hands.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

Dean [8:28]:

Would you please answer the telephone?!

Come on

Fucking hell Y/N!

Seriously

Dean [8:47]:

Okay, now you’ve really done it. You stole all the spark plugs??? For real?

Just wait until I get to you.

~~~

Sam’s messages were a lot less frightening.

~~~

Sammy [7:51]:

Where are you?

We’re worried.

Sammy [8:07]:

You really took off alone?

Come on, that’s dumb.

A whole nest by yourself? Please don’t do this.

Wait for us.

Sammy [8:35]:

Dean‘s furious. I’ll try to calm him down but did you really need to take the Impala?

Just try to be careful with it.

Sammy [8:57]:

It would be really nice if you could answer your phone.

Come on.

I know that Dean talked a lot of shit yesterday but it’s a really bad idea to do that hunt alone.

You could die. Please wait for us and we’ll talk about everything.

~~~

Taking a deep breath you turned off your phone and slipped it into your pants pocket.

„Now what?“, you thought.

Sam was right. Taking on a vampire nest alone wasn’t the best idea but Dean’s words still made you angry. He was really acting like he was Mr. Perfect and never made any mistakes.

You just didn’t get it. Why would he be so mean to you if he was scared for you and wanted to protect you? That’s why you couldn’t believe Sam‘s words. It just had to be something different even though you secretly hoped it wasn’t.

Despite all the recent hassles, you had to admit that you didn't hate Dean at all. You just couldn't, no matter how much you wished you could. You had developed these feelings for him for a while now and you couldn't understand why. Yes, he was very handsome, funny, and really nice most of the time, but sometimes he also was the biggest asshole in the whole world. Just like yesterday. In those moments you could slap him in the face.

Even more so when he’s hitting on some new girl again to get her to sleep with him. Because this just hurt you. It’s ripping you apart every time he and some pretty girl eat each other's faces at some bar, while you are watching next to Sam. Still, you didn't dare to tell him about your feelings. Too big was the fear that you were more like a sister to him. It was just easier to stay quiet instead of handling rejection.

You huffed, then you got up to change into a suit.

„Let’s get this over with.“, you mumbled as you got back into the car and made your way to the police station.

The night before you had already done a lot of research on the topic. The two girls, namely Katherine Heart and Sidney Paulson, had gone to a local party and never returned home. Two days later an old couple found their bodies on a walk. Like Dean had already said there was no more trace of blood in their body so it had to be some vampire nests work. The weird thing about the case was that the two girls weren‘t found near the party, no, they were found on the other side of the city which was quite a distance away, at least by foot. No one knows what they wanted there. Both of them didn’t live near the crime scene nor did they know some friend who did. It was just confusing but maybe it was your lead onto the vampire nest's location.

~~~

During your talk with the local Sheriff and while taking a look at the files you hadn’t really gotten smarter. The Sheriff had mostly told you things you already knew but also one new thing: The bodies weren’t moved. When examining the vicinity of the crime scene, they had found a lot of traces of blood that belonged to the victims so you had decided to look a little closer into it yourself.

When you arrived at the place you showed a cop your fake FBI badge and were then allowed to enter the area. It was right in front of some trees which were located at the entrance to a forest. Curious your gaze flew over the terrain. The police had marked the position of the bodies and where they had found traces of blood. Most of them led to the trees, but the Sheriff had told you that the „trail“ was only a few feet long and ended right at the beginning of the forest. There was no point in following them. There were just too few.

„Hmm.“, you thought and turned to the cop who had watched you.

Apart from him, you were the only person here right now. Seemingly the city had already done most of its job.

„Are there any buildings in that direction?“, you asked the blonde man while pointing to where the tracks led.

He shrugged.

„Only an old little barn. We already looked into it. Nobody was there.“, he told you.

Huffing you nodded.

„Alright. Thanks.“, you didn’t quite yet believe his words.

An old barn was just the right hideout for some vampires. That’s also why you decided to investigate it later, but first, you wanted to go back to the motel, eat something and prepare for the worst case. Maybe you could also talk with the parents of the girls.

Back in your room you grabbed your phone and turned it on again. You just were too curious about the others. Again there were some missed calls and new text messages. One stood out from the others and your stomach got a little queasy.

~~~

Sammy [11:47]:

We’ve got a car. Please stay at the motel. We’re gonna be there around 5 pm.

~~~

Right now it was half past 1 pm. You sighed.

You really didn’t want to meet them before you had finished this case. Managing everything alone was exactly what you wanted to prove to Dean.

„Maybe I shouldn’t visit the parents.“, you murmured as you took a look at a map of the city that you had placed on the wall over your bed.

This would at least prevent you from seeing Dean, Sam, and Castiel, but you could really use some more preparation. Right now you felt a little overwhelmed and just didn’t know enough about the pack.

You shook your head and turned away from the map. No, you needed to talk with the parents. There was no way around it.

It was decided and so you took off to the next diner and got yourself a burger. You gobbled it down in record time and left right away to talk with the parents. Sidney’s parents couldn’t tell you more than the Sheriff had but Katherine’s brother remembered a little detail.

„Before Kat met up with Syd, she told me that they had found a new pot dealer and wanted to buy some stuff from him. We both smoke so…well she wanted to know if she should buy me some weed, too.“, he looked at you a little embarrassed as his parents stared at him in shock.

It seemed like they didn’t know of his little secret.

„What?!“, his mother said. „You’re smoking pot? And Katherine wanted to buy some? Why didn’t you tell the police sooner?“

„Yeah. Maybe it could’ve helped with the investigation.“, his dad just shook his head in disappointment.

You tried to hide a little grin.

„I know it’s a little hard to confess something like that in front of an FBI agent but you don’t need to worry. I won’t put you into jail.“

„Really?“, the boy looked relieved.

„Really.“, you nodded. „But only if you give me some more details on it.“

You smirked and he gulped.

„Sure. Uh, Kat said that the guy only dealt at one place: the old abandoned barn in the forest. I think they were on their way there.“, he told you.

„Good.“, your suspicions were confirmed and you stood up from the couch you were sitting on.

„So they were killed by a pot dealer?“, the blonde mom looked horrified but also like she had solved the case.

„Hmm…the barn is a little bit farther from the place where they…they were killed.“, the father sighed. „Could’ve also been anyone else.“

Now the mother‘s shoulders sloped down as she started to cry.

„I just want to know who killed my baby.“, she sobbed.

You pressed your lips together and put your hand on her shoulder.

„I will find out. I promise.“, you said quietly, then you walked to the door. „Thank you for talking to me.“

As you went outside you looked at your watch. Now it was 4 pm and your heart started to beat a little faster. You were running out of time and on one hand, you knew that it really wasn't good to rush yourself now, but on the other hand, you wanted to leave for the barn as soon as possible. With everything the brothers had written you were a little scared to see them again.

Shakily you took a big breath and walked back to the Impala.

„I can do this.“, you murmured, then you set off to the barn.

You parked quite a bit away from the building so the vampires wouldn’t notice you and opened the trunk to get the weapons you needed: some dead man’s blood, a machete, and a shotgun. Afterward, you went on to the barn and tried to be as quiet as you could. Even though they should be sleeping but you didn’t want to risk anything.

As the cop had told you the wooden building wasn’t that big, which could be a win for you. Getting lost while hunting some vampires wasn’t an option if you wanted to live. Nervously you stepped in front of the entrance and put your hand on the door handle. Again your heart rate increased and a question rose in your head.

Were you really doing the right thing? Was it really necessary to put yourself in danger to show Dean how capable you were?

You bit your lip and hesitated. The memories of the last few days flooded your head and you could feel yourself getting mad again. It made you stubborn enough to decide that it was in fact necessary to do this case alone, so you slowly entered the barn and looked around. Apart from a little hay, nothing was to be seen at first but when you took a closer look into an adjoining room with some tools you found a staircase that was hidden under a tarpaulin and led to a basement. With caution, you removed the material and stepped downstairs while you pulled out the syringes with the dead man’s blood.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your throat went dry. Gripping the weapons a little tighter you walked on and finally, you found the vampires. It wasn’t a big pack, only five vampires, but they slept next to each other on some hay and a defeated sound escaped your lips.

How should you do this? How could you inject everyone with dead man’s blood without waking any other vampires up? Especially with the hay.

Your palms got all sweaty and you chewed on your bottom lip. Right at this moment you realized that setting off alone really hadn’t been a good idea.

„Maybe I should just go.“, you murmured without a sound and turned around.

Only then did you notice the dark-haired man who had been watching you with a smirk.

„My, my, what do we have here?“

~~~

Right after you had been caught you were knocked out by another vampire. Sometime later you woke up tied to a chair in a small room. Blinking dazedly you looked around and it took you a second to remember what had happened.

„Fuck.“, you cursed while trying to loosen the rope.

Suddenly the dark-haired man appeared again and tutted.

„You’re not getting out of here. Stop trying to.“, he said.

„Better than doing nothing.“, you huffed and he chuckled while getting closer to you.

„You still have hope. Cute.“, he made fun of you and circled you.

Behind you, he came to a halt and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

„What made you think it would be a good idea to hunt down a vampire nest on your own?“, he asked.

Shivers ran down your spine and you gulped.

You said nothing.

„Yeah. Just a dumb little girl.“, the vampire spoke mockingly.

He moved in front of you and crouched down so he was at eye level with you.

„Well, good for us. We were getting a little hungry anyways.“, he told you as he stretched out his hand for you.

His long fingers traced your jaw and you flinched. Trembling you looked at the man wide-eyed as you could feel his sharp fingernails scrape slightly at your neck. With a sudden movement, he withdrew his hand and you winced. A sharp pain ran through your body and you could feel some blood run down your skin. Terrified you watched the vampire lick his finger.

„Sweet.“, he murmured. „I think we’ll use you for a little while.“

He left and you closed your eyes with a whimper.

How could you have been so dumb? Why did you let yourself be provoked like that?

Shortly after the man came back with a bucket and a small tube with a cannula.

„Let’s make some breakfast for the others.“, he grinned as he placed the bucket beside you.

„Please don’t do this.“, you croaked.

„You tried to kill us.“, he gripped your left arm. „So no.“

With that, the vampire pushed the needle into your vein and almost instantly the red liquid started to pour into the bucket.

„I‘ll see you in a few minutes.“, he winked at you, then he left the room.

You breathed out shakily and watched the bucket fill up slowly. At this moment you just wished that you had waited for the boys, more so that you had never set off alone and given into your anger.

A single tear ran down your cheek and you sniffled.

Dean was right. You had fucked up again.

Numbly you stared off.

And now he must really hate you. You just stole his fucking car, his beloved Baby, for some revenge. He would never forgive you for that. Maybe he would even be glad that you’re gone.

You started to cry silently. It felt like your worst nightmare had come true and you could do nothing about it. You could just watch and feel yourself getting weaker as the bucket filled up more and more.

~~~

„Y/N!“, Dean shouted as he broke into the motel room.

He was ready to push her into a wall and talk some sense into her, but the apartment was as empty as it could be.

„Fuck!“, he kicked the trash can that stood next to a desk.

„Easy there, Dean.“, Sam and Cas had followed him and his brother sighed.

„Oh fuck off, Sam.“, the older Winchester pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out loudly.

The taller man pressed his lips together, then he looked to the angel who quietly went through the motel room until he stopped at the nightstand and picked up a note.

„Y/N left us a message.“, he said and cleared his throat. „Make yourselves at home. I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about me.“

Sam sighed now and Dean started to shake his head.

„Why would she do something so dumb?“, he spoke angrily.

It was silent for a few seconds until Cas spoke up.

„Well, you haven’t been the nicest to her recently.“

Dean glared at him and was ready to answer, but Sam was faster.

„He’s right. You shouldn’t have treated Y/N like that. She really couldn’t have known that Haynes was the ghoul.“

The older Winchester scoffed.

„Sure. She could have if she didn’t drool all over him.“, he mumbled.

„Seriously?“, Sam rolled his eyes. „She didn’t. She was just being nice to him to get us some important files. Maybe you would understand that if you weren’t so fucking annoyingly jealous.“

Dean looked at him like he wanted to punch him.

„Me and jealous? You must be kidding.“

Sam shook his head.

„I‘m serious. Why else would you be so angry about something like that and accuse Y/N of being inattentive because she flirted with the Sheriff?“, he asked.

His brother didn’t have an answer for that.

„See?“, Sam crossed his arms in front of his chest.

„Yeah, yeah.“, Dean huffed and made his way outside. „Let’s find Y/N.“

Cas looked knowingly at Sam and both of them chuckled, then they followed him. By locating the Impala they arrived at the barn about 10 minutes later.

„Look, whole and in one piece.“, Sam told Dean as they made their way to his car to grab some weapons from the trunk.

„It better is.“, the green-eyed hunter murmured grumpily and got to work picking the lock.

Afterward, they took some of the machetes and the last two syringes with dead man’s blood.

„Better than nothing.“, Sam said and handed Castiel a machete.

„Thanks.“, the angel answered. „So, what’s the plan?“

„First we should check the situation and how Y/N is doing. Then we either support her or rescue her. More likely the latter.“, Dean suggested.

Sam looked at him annoyed. He didn’t like how he was talking about her. The older Winchester sighed.

„I didn’t mean it like she’s weak. I mean it like there’s a fucking pack of vampires and she wants to take them up alone. Not even I could do that. Not without special abilities or weapons at least.“, he explained. „I know that I was being an asshole, okay? I just want to get Y/N out of there now, alright?“

His brother's face softened and he nodded.

„Alright, let’s do this.“

With that, the three men approached the barn cautiously. At the backside, Cas found a gap through which they could watch what was happening inside.

„Would you look at that.“, a vampire joined the group that was sitting on some hay and held up a bucket with red liquid.

Dean felt himself getting sick.

„No.“, he breathed out nearly silent.

„Finally some breakfast.“, a girl said and took the bucket from him before she took a sip. „Delicious. I always had had a thing for hunter’s blood.“

„That’s it.“, the older Winchester decided. „I can’t watch this.“

He was ready to storm into the barn and let all hell break loose but Cas stopped him.

„I know it’s hard, but we need to sort out what we’ll do first. Saving Y/N is important but we can’t let something happen to us either.“

„I so don’t care what happens to me right now, but you’re right.“, Dean rubbed his temples. „Okay, you both take the dead man’s blood and try to keep them in check, I’ll look for Y/N.“

„Okay. Let’s separate and surprise them.“, Sam nodded and they set off.

~~~

Dazedly you looked up as you heard screaming from the upper floor. You blinked a few times and noticed that the dark-haired vampire must have had returned. The bucket was gone and so was the cannula. Instead, a bloody bandage had been wrapped around your arm.

„Shit.“, you breathed out weakly.

You couldn’t believe that you had thrown yourself into this danger zone. It had been clear as day that something like that would happen. But now it seemed like the Winchester brothers and Castiel had arrived to get you out of here. On one hand, you were more than relieved about that but on the other hand, you were incredibly scared.

What would they say to you? More so, how would Dean react?

A loud crash from above made you flinch and your heart started to beat faster. Still a little numb you looked around helplessly until you finally realized that there was still something left you could do: scream.

And that you did.

You yelled as loud as you could, shouting Dean‘s, Sam‘s, and Castiel’s names until someone was banging against the door.

„Y/N!“, you heard Dean roar.

Right then you were so relieved you could cry.

„I‘m here!“, you screamed hoarsely.

„I’ll get you out of there!“, he shouted back and the banging got louder.

It seemed like he was throwing himself against the door and then he finally broke through and stood before you, breathing heavily. His eyes scanned you with worry and just as he wanted to say something a vampire suddenly appeared and he was thrown to the ground.

„Dean!“, you cried out but the green-eyed hunter already had it under control.

With one swift movement, he pinned the man beneath him and decapitated him with a swing of the machete. When he stood up a girl stormed into the room. An angry scream ripped from her throat when she saw what he had done and she attacked Dean instantly. He skillfully fended her off and gave her a violent kick in the stomach so that she staggered backward and fell to the ground. Then he lunged at her and did the same thing he had done to the man before getting up again.

His chest was heaving rapidly as he glanced around the room to make sure no one else was attacking, then he finally rushed over to you and began untying the rope.

„I‘m so sorry.“, you apologized as your lip trembled. „I-“

„It’s alright.“, Dean shook his head. „You’re safe now and that’s what matters.“

He helped you up and you staggered, feeling a little wobbly on your legs.

„No. I shouldn’t have-“, you tried to say while Dean stabilized you by supporting you with his arm.

„Yes, you shouldn’t have, but I understand.“, he cut you off. „I was being a dick for no reason and you didn’t want to let it slip.“

„Still-“

„It’s okay. Really.“, now he grabbed you by your shoulders and looked at you honestly. „I’m just glad, that you’re okay. When I saw that vampire with your blood I had already expected the worst. Let’s get you out of here first and talk later, okay?“

For a few seconds you just looked at his green eyes, then you nodded.

„Okay, come on.“, he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.

On the upper floor, you saw Sam and Cas fighting with two more vampires, but when Dean came to help them it only took them a few more minutes to defeat them. Afterward, Sam came right up to you and hugged you relieved.

„What were you thinking?“, he whispered and stepped back to look at you.

You shrugged and averted your gaze in shame. Castiel came up to you and patted your shoulder.

„It’s good to see that you’re well.“, he said.

With a weak smile, you scratched your neck.

„More or less.“, you told him. „I feel a little uneasy if I’m being honest and my head hurts.“

You touched the spot on your head where you had been knocked out and winced. When you retreated your hand and looked at it there was some blood on your fingers.

„Well, you lost a lot of blood. I’ll fix you up at the motel.“, Dean stepped into your line of sight and nodded outside to the cars.

After he supported you again, you all left the barn and split up between the cars. Sam drove off with Castiel and you got into the passenger’s seat next to Dean.

„Sorry for stealing your car.“, you said meekly.

He looked at you and you could see how the corner of his mouth twitched.

„Baby’s safe and sound, so you’re good.“, he answered. „But never do that again.“

Now his expression was more serious.

„I promise.“, you held out your hand and he shook it.

„Good.“

With that, he started the engine. On your way back to the motel you both were silent. Only Asias‘s „Midnight Sun“ could be heard in the background.

Finally, you reached your room and stepped inside. Sam and Cas were already there and talking with each other. They stopped when they saw both of you and it got awkwardly quiet.

Thankfully Dean spoke up.

„Let’s get you fixed in the bathroom.“, he said.

You nodded and followed him.

„Sit down.“, he instructed you and pointed to the bathtub as he closed the door behind you.

Obeying you watched him open the first aid kit he had brought and pull various things out of it. Next, he went up to you and started to loosen the bandage around your arm carefully.

„I‘m sorry.“, you told him for the third time now.

„You already said that. And you don’t need to apologize.“, he shook his head while he started to clean the wound with some disinfectant.

„Yes, I do.“, you sighed. „I shouldn’t have gone for that nest alone. I really could’ve died and gotten you hurt or dead, too.“

„But you didn’t.“, these three words made you furrow your brows, especially because of how he had reacted in the last case. What surprised you way more still was his next sentence. „If someone should apologize, then that’s me.“

„What?“

Dean put a bandaid on your wound and looked up at you.

„It’s my fault, that you set off alone.“, he said. „I said all of those horrible things to you and that’s why you ran away.“

His gaze fell to his hands.

„I‘m really sorry for being such an asshole. I…“, he tried to find the right words. „I was being jealous. That’s why I acted that way.“

You didn’t know what to answer at that so he got up to take care of your head wound.

„You…you were jealous?“, you asked after a while.

The green-eyed hunter only nodded.

„You were really jealous of the Sheriff?“, you repeated yourself and stopped him by grabbing his arm softly.

Now he looked at you.

„Yes, I was.“, he gulped, then averted his gaze. „You were being all nice with him and-“

„But Dean..“, you cut him off softly. „I only was that nice with him so it would be easier for us to get those files. That’s all.“

He stayed silent after that so you pulled him down to sit with you.

„I feel so stupid right now.“, he mumbled and rubbed his temples.

You chuckled quietly.

„Yeah.“, you said. „There are better ways to show a girl that you like her.“

Dean smiled weakly and nodded.

„That you can say out loud. But I didn’t get the memo I guess.“

It went silent again and you could feel your heart rate pick up.

„So you really do like me?“, you asked nervously.

You sounded a little unsure and finally, his green eyes met yours again.

„Of course.“, he said softly. „How could I not? I mean, look at you.“

He put a strand of hair behind your ear and let his hand rest against your cheek. Your breath hitched and you went a little red.

„You're the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.“, he added and now you looked down at your feet. „And you‘re funny and nice…and you can cook one hell of a lasagna.“

Now you saw him smiling from the corner of your eye, still you just couldn’t reciprocate it with what was going through your head.

„But…why…why would you still make out with other women then? Why would you sleep with them if you had feelings for me?“, you asked him, your voice barely a whisper. „Why wouldn’t you tell me?“

Dean sighed now.

„Because I thought I didn’t deserve you.“, he confessed. „I fucked up every relationship I ever had and I just can’t do that to you.“

„It’s still my choice if you deserve me or not.“, you answered right away. „Not yours. And…we both…we’re so different than every other relationship of yours. How should you know that it won’t work out if you don’t give it a try?“

You looked back up at him and his lips were parted in surprise.

„You really want me?“, he asked. „You sure?“

Nodding you laid your hand on top of his that was resting on top of his leg.

„I do.“

Unnoticed you both started getting closer to each other until only a few inches parted you.

„What if I hurt you?“, he whispered.

„You don‘t know that, Dean.“, you shrugged slightly as you looked into his eyes weakly, yearning for him.

Silence filled the whole room and suddenly a little smile appeared on his lips.

„Okay.“, he said hoarsely, then he closed the gap between you both and softly laid his lips against yours as he engulfed you into his arms.

Melting into him it felt like your head was spinning. His lips fit perfectly against yours and he was so gentle that you could have cried. It was like everything you had ever dreamt of and more. Breathing weakly you ran your fingers through his hair and arched against him. Dean pulled you into his lap and softly nibbled on your lower lip until you parted your mouth slightly for him. His tongue gently touched yours until you both became bolder and more confident. But you didn't go any further, you just wanted to savor that first kiss and be close to each other. After a while, you slowed down before you broke apart and smiled at each other.

„Thanks for persuading me.“, the green-eyed hunter whispered. „That was perfect.“

You chuckled.

„Anytime.“

And then your lips were on his again.

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot

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jennyboom21 · 4 months

Text

“It’s going to keep going,” Ms. Wright says, “until someone who has something to lose stands up and just says ‘I’m gay.’ Somebody big.” She continues: “We need our heroes.”

What if someone had already tried, at least once, to change the culture by becoming such a hero? What if, because our culture had yet to come to terms with homophobia, it wasn’t ready for her?

What if that hero’s name was Taylor Alison Swift?

I want to be defined by the things that I love,

Not the things I hate,

Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of,

Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,

I just think that,

You are what you love.

Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.

That questioning speaks to an earnest conundrum that queer people confront regularly: Do we live in this world, or the world to which we ought to aspire?

And so just for a little while longer, we need our heroes.

In every case, is the best form of solidarity still silence?

I think not. And so, I must say, as loudly as I can, “I can see you,” even if I risk foolishness for doing so.

She’s rushing, as if stopping, even for a second, will cause her to lose her nerve. She stumbles at the bridge, pauses and starts again; the queen of bridges will not mess this up, not tonight.

But on that stage, she found herself. I was there. Through a fuzzy fancam, I saw it.

And somehow, that was everything.

#nyt x Gaylor swift #Gaylor swift x the msm #mainstream media x gaylor swift #gaylor fandom #Swiftgron #Taymily #tily #the New York Times article

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