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shcherbatskya · 3 years

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okay here’s the much awaited (at least for me) first chapter of my multi chapter fic, where we go from here! it will be below the cut but i’m also uploading it to ao3 here

It was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ghoul hunt. They’d be back in a day at most. But it had been more than a day and Jack was getting worried. Normally he wouldn't be this on edge, but Sam was off the grid with Eileen and wouldn't be in range for a few days. Dean and Cas had gone to Tennessee three days ago to deal with a call from a concerned local authority who got their number after another hunter had stopped by the town to deal with a vampire nest. They’d promised Jack they would call him if they really needed him, but they hadn't been picking up his calls or listening to any of his voicemails. So he did the only thing someone with the innermost thoughts of a four-year-old would. He contacted the first person he could think of that Dean and Cas cared about, minus Sam.

Claire was doing the normal thing to be doing at one in the morning on a Tuesday. Sleeping. She was understandably alarmed when someone knocked on the door at that hour. She opened the door, marine-grade knife in hand (a birthday present from Dean), to a kid no older than herself.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing at my house at two in the morning,” she questioned.

“Hi! I’m Jack.” He raised his hand and did a little wave.

“Okay, Jack, still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I’m sort of your little brother? Did Dean and Cas not tell you?”

Dean and Cas? Huh. They had mentioned a kid, but she had expected a toddler not a teenage boy. “The god kid?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh. Okay then, so why aren’t you with Dean and Cas right now? They kick you out or something?”

“No, they’ve been on a hunting trip. They haven’t been home or answered any of my calls in a few days,” he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “I came here to see if you’d help me look for them.”

Claire could see how worried the kid was and if anything she was no stranger to absent parents and she’d stop anyone going through that if she could. Plus it’s not like she had anything better to do these days.

“Okay but you have to let me get the rest of my night’s sleep. I’ll pack a bag and we’ll hit the road tomorrow morning.”

Jack was pretty much beaming at her now, it was evident that he looked up to Claire from what Dean and Cas had told him about her. Kaia, who he regularly talked to, also told him a lot about Claire. She was like the sibling he never had!

Claire already had a bag packed. It was her ‘drop everything, something bad has happened and I need to haul ass’ bag, so far she hadn’t had to use it aside from one time she just didn’t feel like packing a real bag. She didn’t think she ever would have to, but here she was. The stakes of the whole ordeal hadn’t set in her mind until now. If they didn’t find them or get there in time, Dean and Cas could be dead. They could be dead right now. She put those thoughts out of her mind, in favor of the more optimistic outlook of Jack’s probably just paranoid. She still couldn’t sleep very well that night.

Jack was still sitting on the couch in the living room. Claire still lived with Jody and the other girls so he couldn’t do much else without waking someone up. He eventually fell asleep on the couch. He woke up when Claire came into the room.

“You ready to go or what?” She asked.

“Yeah yeah im ready,” he mumbled back, still half asleep.

“Do you want me to drive?” Claire asked.

“I don’t have a car,” Jack said, with a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world that he wouldn’t have a car.

“How the hell did you get here then?”

“I can teleport.”

“I guess I’m driving then.”

Claire put her bag in the back seat and Jack took the passenger seat of Claire’s old Subaru. And they were off.

“So where are we going”

“Dean said they were going to Tennessee for a ghoul hunt. Someone in a small town called them, I’m not sure what town though.”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, then.”

They did have a lot of ground to cover. The seventeen-hour drive from South Dakota to Tennessee was a lot in and of itself, but to try and find Dean and Cas without having a clue where to look was another story.

“Do you want to look in the news for somewhere to start?” Claire asked, not looking away from the road. “Maybe if you found something in our lane we could take care of that and see if they knew anything about Dean and Cas.”

“Good idea.” Jack seemed to be happy just being out of the bunker and having something to do. He pulled out his phone to look at any news, he looked at all the major cities first. There weren’t that many. Nothing in Nashville or Knoxville.

“Heres something! A public works director in Chattanooga ran over the city treasurer with a car.”

“That just sounds like regular murder. Probably for money or something, maybe they wanted the position.”

“Yeah but there have been an increasing number of murder cases there, way more than normal, all in the past two weeks. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? If it’s not our thing then we can just move on.”

“Chattanooga here we come, I guess,” Claire said. It wasn’t exactly the place she had thought of when thinking of the trip, she’d imagined a lot more action and less investigating a murder in Tennessee. But hey, it’s not for her sake. If it gets Dean and Cas back safe it’s worth it in her eyes.

About another hour passed in relative silence. It was going to get awkward if they were like this for another 12 hours.

“So do you listen to music?” Claire asked, just to break the silence.

“Yeah, I do. Mostly whatever Dean listens to.”

“Well do you want to play something?”

“Sure!” He seemed oddly excited about something as ordinary as picking the music, but he mostly rode in the car with Dean which means other people seldom got their say in what they listened to. Claire’s car had an aux cable which was also more than one could say about Baby. Jack really didn’t listen to much, he would listen to Disney soundtracks on occasion, but those are a sort of ‘listen to it once then it gets annoying’ thing.

“What are your thoughts on lo-fi hip hop beats to chill/study/sleep to,” Jack asked in a way that didn’t really sound like a question.

“There is really nothing else you can think of. In your super powerful angel kid brain, all you can think of is lo-fi beats to chill/study/sleep to.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Truth be told Claire would rather listen to anything but lo-fi beats at the moment, but when put on the spot like that it’s hard to come up with an idea.

“We could just take turns playing songs for a while.”

It was a flat stretch of land for a good amount of miles up ahead so Claire didn’t need to focus so much energy on watching the road.

They went back and forth, Jack played Rainbow Connection from the Muppets and Claire played Celebrity Skin by Hole, so on and so forth. They went on like this for a while, Jack really liked Abba apparently. They eventually agreed on one of the premade “road trip” playlists on spotify. It was mostly dad rock.

“You still need to eat and stuff, right?”

“Yes, I may be part angel but I still have human DNA and organs.”

“Do you want to stop soon? It might be nice to stay overnight somewhere and just get there in the afternoon.”

“Sure. Saint Lewis isn’t too far away from here.”

They stopped at a shitty fast food restaurant and then went to try and find a motel. Instead of stopping directly in Saint Lewis, they decided to go nearer to Mark Twain National Park, as they figured they would find better luck finding somewhere available without a reservation. And they did. A shabby-looking motel almost directly off the one-lane road. They headed inside and sure enough, there were more than enough rooms. It was by no means the most pleasant place either of them had stayed, but it would do for the night. They’d be out early tomorrow morning. They checked in, the woman working at the desk couldn’t have been more than in her early twenties, which wasn’t what you would think of when you walked in, but they’d seen more suspicious things. Claire dumped her bag at the end of the bed closest to the door.

#samael speaks #sammy sires #jack kline #claire novak #supernatural #spn #ill reblog this and tag people in a sec hold on

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septembersghost · 3 years

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@lanne13 "#but they were never in fact homeless - they have baby and they have each other and they were supposed to outlive me #whoops now i’m angry all over again and i’m so tired of being angry #i miss them #i miss supernatural reruns like a constant comfort #i miss knowing that dean winchester was out there somewhere saving people hunting things family business #i miss it and everything and i cannot believe how much it still hurts after almost a year - A YEAR"

hey...you're not allowed to take these thoughts directly out of my mind and post them on main, that's not fair. *hugs you* 🖤

okay. so. since you said this, it's something that has rattled its chains and skeleton around the haunted attic in my head for...nearly two years, really, even since before the finale, when S15 started in october of 2019. i could make this very personal and maybe it is something i'll address publicly someday, but we were, of course, always going to have to say goodbye, and cope with the aftermath of what that means, which is never an easy thing. (no doubt, endings are hard.) one of the things that kept catching me off-guard, in moments of contemplation and what i can only call creeping, dense fear, was the idea that i'd outlive them. the demarcations of time i've had since 2005 have often leaned on spn because of the pilot's overlap with my birthday, and the tradition of watching it each time september 13th rolled around again. another year older, another year survived - and that was true for the boys, too. they were always there, young and beautiful and wide-eyed and starting down their long, winding road for the first time. they were always there with crescent moon shadows dancing across their faces, with the radio up, with the flashing lights reflecting off of their faces as they stand over the trunk and sam says, "come on. we got work to do," in shock and barely contained anger, but with a tinge of something very nearly like hope, too, because dean is right there. they're embarking on this journey together, and we were there in the car, part of the ride. i got older than both of them there, but they were always older than me too. they existed caught in the amber glass of that first night, but they also blazed beyond it, and i...didn't, in certain ways, because of the circumstances of my life. time slipped past me, but some aspect of me is always that girl from 2005 whose life was halted and turned upside down, that girl who saw two lonely, lost, provocative, courageous boys and let them wind like ivy around her heart before she even realized it was happening.

the thought of outliving them was almost unconscionable. thinking of them as gone felt impossible. especially for them to go before me. at some point i took for granted that they wouldn't go first, i long assumed i would. they had to always have the open road ahead of them. they had to always be in the story. become - as i've said too many times by now - the folklore, not only folding into it, but transforming it, making it their own. the winchester gospels, written anew, reshaped and galvanized and with that backbone of bravery and that ever-loving heart. and you know...you know how i feel about the ending where they were left. how i understand and empathize with the pit of anger and sorrow.

i've been dreading today, in a way, because i was afraid that raging sea of emotion would drag me under again - it's not like it doesn't still regularly happen, even all these months later - because i was afraid that the reminder that would stand is of them being gone, would be more eulogies and mourning, and us standing in the remnants of the story we so loved, where we found ourselves, between dust motes and shadows, despite monsters and teeth and bullet shells, in the story of a family and the shifting concepts of identity, of connection, of home. i expected to cry today - it's a small miracle i didn't (i will again, at some point, this is known) - but what took my breath away more was this feeling of defiance. of...not really even resurrection, because we haven't let them go, we haven't let the story die. so many stories come to an end and much more resoundingly END. fans leave them behind, in their caskets. supernatural, somehow, hasn't done that. it's experienced a renaissance instead. it has us saying no, absolutely not, they can't be taken from us. there's still too much horizon. there are still too many unexplored pages. they're still too vibrant and fighting too valiantly to relegate them to anything as prosaic as finality. we can't fix it, and yet...nothing ever really ends.

where the quietly holy thing happens, between story and life, where that flicker of transcendency sparks, when those barriers blur, is what we're doing - have we outlived them or are we keeping them alive? there's a warmth and a strength in that, because maybe we're making sure that they remain and continue to exist. that we pass them down to ensure that they outlive us after all. if the veil between the living and the dead is thin in places, maybe so too is the veil between what we perceive as a story and what we believe is real. maybe in certain hidden ways, we breathe the words to life. i have these tattered shreds of hope that they'll outlive me yet. still saving people and hunting things. the work is never quite finished. maybe that's immortality after all.

#idk what this is but i saw your tags and was like. oh...i know i know that feeling and i'm so sorry and i wish i could help it #i wish i could make it better or lighter or meaningful #and this is the only way i know how #lanne13 #supernatural #like the rifle #dean feelings #sort of...i mean...obviously. we're going to file it there #the consolation of imaginary things #just like a folk song #our love will be passed on #*#i know this is all reiteration of things i've already said but i'm going to keep saying it to make it true #you're alive in my head #in the cracks of light i dreamed of you; it was real enough to get me through #bubble wrap around my heart #very much #who lives; who dies; who tells your story

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unnuevosoltransformalarealidad · 3 years

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Surprise

Title: Surprise Summary: The boys prepared a surprise party for you. Pairing: Winchester Brothers x Reader, Mary Winchester x Reader Prompt: You think everyone has forgotten your birthday but they surprise you Warnings: Feelings of loneliness, sadness, bad thoughts about the family. Word Count: 1791 This was written for the @firefly-in-darkness‘s 2K Follower Celebration

Sam and Dean took you in after rescuing you from a wendigo, you were in pretty bad shape, so they took you back to the bunker, they patched you up, and they made sure to get a full recovery before thinking what you were going to do next. Mary took care of you from the moment Dean put you in the bed. She was the mother you’ve never had, and you were beyond grateful for what they did. She offered you to stay with them, you felt a connection with Mary that you couldn’t say no. You adopted her as your mother and the boys like your brothers. They were your family from the moment they rescued you. And because now, you were living under the same roof as them, Mary and the boys made sure you went to school and had a normal life, plus the hunting, but you were only on research duty.

You woke up today, remembering when you found a family. One year ago, they found you and you found them. Coincidentally, they found you a week before your birthday, you were just grateful for saving your life. You got out of bed, went to shower, and went to the kitchen to have breakfast with your family.

-Hey guys — you greeted them -Good morning, sweetie — Mary said kissing your forehead -Morning, mom -You have school today, right? — She questioned -Yeah, I have two classes about old mythology and folklore. Pretty boring -It’s boring because you already know that — Sam said -You’ll be fine, sweetheart — Dean said giving you your breakfast -Why did you ask, mom? — you asked confused -The boys are leaving in two hours on a hunt and I have to meet with Bobby — she explained -Do you need my help? -No, don’t worry. I’m not going on a hunt, I’ll be back in a couple of hours — She explained -Besides, Cass and Jack will be here — Dean mentioned -Well, be careful guys, please. Love you — you said and left the kitchen

You went directly to your room to get ready for school. Like you said, you had two old history classes and were boring, so you downloaded a few books from the MoL database to help with the research for your brothers. Once you were ready, you left your room and went to the war to pick up your books.

-You almost ready? — Sam asked -Yeah, I’ve to grab my books and I’m out — you explained Sam and Dean were talking about the case, you caught a few details from what they were talking about, so you had an idea of what it would be, but you needed to do the research first. Your mom came from the hallway almost ready to leave too. -Ok guys, I’m leaving — Mary said -Yeah, me too — you added -We’re leaving in an hour or so — Dean mentioned -Ok kids. You all will let me know when you arrived safely at your destinations -Yes, mom — Sam, Dean, and you said together After that, Mary and you left for the garage.

Your school day was really long, hopefully, you were able to do some research and gave the boys a lead on the case. Of course, you were fed up by Sam for not paying attention during classes.

YN: You should be thanking me instead of scolding me. I saved you tons of research. Be glad that I’ve set up radar on my computer.

You texted him and went to your car to get back home. When you were inside the car, you noticed that you had a text from Cass

Cass: Y/N, Jack, and I left, we found a possible lead on an angel I’ve been looking for. We are coming back tonight or tomorrow morning. We left your dinner ready in the fridge. YN: Ok, Cass. Thank you for letting me know. please be careful. Love you guys Cass: We love you too.

After exchanging messages with Cass, you drove back to the bunker. You felt something in your chest, you felt alone, you felt loneliness. Your mind started to race with negative thoughts “they don’t want you anymore, they are tired of you, they rather traveling than living with you on the same roof, even the angel despises you”. You did your best to ignore them and kept going with your day.

While you were having dinner, Mary called you. She told you that she needed to stay with Bobby one more day because something happened. You already knew that Sam and Dean were not coming back in like three days, and now Cass and Jack were gone too. And everyone decided to leave three days before your birthday.

*Mary's POV*

You were trying to locate Y/N but you weren't able to find her, her phone went straight to voicemail, and you were really worried. So, you decided to call the boys, maybe they know something

-Hey mom! — Dean greeted you -Have you heard something about your sister? She’s not picking up her phone -No, Sammy talked with her yesterday because she was doing research while she was at school -I need her help and she is not answering -Did you reach Cass? — Sam asked -Yeah. He left with Jack, said something about an angel thing. She is alone Sam was able to understand what was going on -Crap — Sam exclaimed -What is it? — Dean asked -Her birthday is tomorrow, and nobody is with her. We all know that we cannot let her alone because she gets too depressed, and that’s what we basically did -We have to do something — Dean said -Something like what? — Mary asked -Let’s do a surprise party -She is going to hate you — Sam stated -Probably, but we all need an excuse on why we weren’t with her -Ok. I’ll call Bobby and Charlie for backup, you guys call Cass and go back home tonight.

You were deadly worried about your daughter, so you traced her phone. She was at the campus library. Of course, she will be searching for shelter in books. That night, you asked everyone who was with her through her recovery to meet in a motel, so you could start planning. -Dean, Cass, you boys go and buy food and drinks. Sam, you go and buy her some presents. Charlie, Jack you guys are going to help me decorate the bunker. And you Bobby, are going to help me as well, but I need you to make her do some heavy research, something that takes time for her to find out, so we can get everything ready. Everyone agreed and started to get everything ready.

*Y/N's POV*

It was the day of your birthday and you were alone. All your family was busy and no one remembered you. It was a Thursday, and those days were the longest for you. You started the classes at 7:30 am and ended them at 4 pm. Your first period went well, you learned two or three things in Latin but nothing new. You were heading to your second period when you got a text from Bobby

BS: Hey sweetheart, I know you’re at school, but I need your help YN: Hi Bobby, what do you need? BS: It’s witchcraft, the old school. I need you to find something on the Necronomicon YN: That’s not a real book, Bobby, we all know that BS: I know, but it seems that a witch is killing people with that book YN: Well, I’ll see what I can find BS: Thanks, sweetheart. Love you

Bobby never mentioned your birthday, it was weird, he was always the first one to congratulate. Well, at least you had something to distract yourself, even if it was with a fictional book. The following classes were long, you had a few things to do, but being able to multitask was a gift for you, so you researched while doing an essay in class.

You left school at 4:30 pm and went directly to the campus library to work. You thought that in an hour maybe, you were going to be coming back home because you didn’t find anything. You were wrong. You’d found a lot, most of the things were fictional, as you expected.

You didn’t realize how late it was, it was 9:00 pm and you were still in the library researching. Your phone buzzed bringing you back to reality.

MW: Sweety, where are you? It’s late and I haven’t known anything from you in two days.

You thought about answering her, it was your birthday and none of your family members seemed to remember it. You answered it anyways with a quick response

YN: I’m at the library on campus. I’ll pack my stuff and I’ll be there in 30. Sorry

You started to pack your things. You couldn’t believe all the stuff you found from that book. Half an hour later, you were opening the door from the bunker, everything was dark. You turned on the lights and you heard some noise. Instantly you pulled your gun from the back and started to go towards where the noise was coming. The war room was empty, so you headed to the library. The light was dim, you turned in and you heard a massive scream

-Happy Birthday! - Everyone shouted You couldn’t believe it. You lowered your gun and you covered your face -What the hell? — you exclaimed -Happy birthday sweetie — Mary came and hugged you, you put your gun in your back — We’ll talk about that later — she whispered in your ear -But I thought… -You really thought we could forget your birthday, hun? — Charlie said — We needed to make you believe it so we could organize it -Thank you. I wasn’t expecting it. I thought... -We know, N/N and we are sorry about it. — Sam said and hugged you

They gave you a lot of presents, all your friends and family were there. You couldn’t be happier

-Bobby, before I forget, I need to show you what I found in that book -Sweetheart, I asked you to do that, because we needed you out of here after school. There is no witch using that book. It’s not real -Well, according to my research, that’s not entirely true

Everyone laughed at your comment, but when they saw your face, they knew you were serious. There were a lot of things that were uncertain and they needed to be learned. But for now, having a surprise party with your family was everything you needed.

Tag List (It’s open, ask away)

#firefly2k #writing challenge #spn x reader #winchester brothers x reader #sam x dean x reader #sam x reader x dean #spn fandom #spn fanfic #spn imagine #mary winchester x reader

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 3 years

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Okay, I have searched high and wide and do not see that this has yet been done, so I present to you - my analysis of the parallels between Destiel and Cas/Claire in Season 10, Ep .20 - Angel Heart. TL;DR: Claire/Cas are a metaphor for Destiel and Destiel is forever.

As a reminder - central storyline is Cas finding Claire who lands in the hospital while looking for her mom and looping Dean/Sam to help him try to connect with her (and eventually all of them get roped into searching for and then finding her mom who then almost immediately dies, because Supernatural gonna Supernatural). Dean still has the Mark of Cain with no cure in sight, and the side conflict is Cas and Sam’s concerns re: the effects because he is “getting worse” (many worried looks are exchanged!). Also important to recall that in 10.09 during the burger date of my HC dreams, Dean asked Cas to kill him if he ever goes dark side again from the Mark. SO - THE REAL STORY OF ANGEL HEART FOR ME IS how Cas’s feelings towards Claire present a mirror for his emotions towards Dean, and the inner conflict between allowing Dean to push him away (with Dean’s request that Cas kill him from 10.09 hanging over his head) or continuing to fight to be there for him/save him - as presented in the two separate one-on-one conversations/BM scenes between Cas and Dean - and then later Cas and Sam - in the Impala.

I’ve included them in their entirety from the script below, with emphasis on what I feel is important and my thoughts.

Conversation 1 - Cas/Dean

DEAN

Hey, Cas, listen, what you're doing for Claire and helping her find her mom...

It's good. It's a good thing.

CASTIEL

But?

DEAN

Well, where does it end? I'm not trying to be a dick, but truth is, you're not her dad.

In fact, you're not anything to her except a-a constant reminder of someone that's gone.

CASTIEL

No, I'm...

Responsible for everything that's happened to her.

DEAN

Look, I'm just saying, she's been surviving on her own for quite a while now, and ... and then partly because she doesn't have anybody to answer to.

You know, there's... There's nobody holding her back.

CASTIEL

We just found her in a hospital. You telling me that she'd be better off on her own?

DEAN

I'm saying she might be stronger on her own. ANALYSIS: Dean and Claire have always been very similar people to me (which is why I think they initially clash so much). This is very reinforced both in 10.09 (ketchup is a vegetable!) and in the part of this episode where Dean ends up “babysitting” Claire (a moment of silence for yet another scene of Dean actually being amazing with kids and how he should have gotten his own kids dammit). I think Dean is speaking about himself in part in this discourse, relating his own journey to Claire’s (and in true Dean fashion, falling into his usual habit of pushing away those who love him because at this point he knows the end is near). The “you’re not anything to her” is pretty blunt, even for Dean, especially after his taking special care to sit Cas down to spill his feelings re: Claire during the burger date in 10.09. I also took the “constant reminder of someone that’s gone” as Dean’s motivation for pushing people away; he’s trying to ease their pain (not his because Dean does not care about himself at all whatsoever as we all know) upon what he thinks will inevitably be his death from the Mark. The comment can also be related to his request that Cas kill him if he goes too far down the wrong path, and Cas’s presence is a constant reminder of that for Dean, of how not only is he going to go crazy and lose him but he also is putting him through the burden of ending his life. (Oh, and Dean is the King of Constant Reminders of Someone That’s Gone because see multiple trench coats in Baby’s trunk). Cas’s feelings of responsibility towards Claire also parallel his feelings about Dean - he resurrected him, and he has always felt responsible for the burdens Dean carried after that fact; (even if they weren’t directly tied to Cas) he has always felt like he burdens Dean (see the iconic 6.20 - The Man Who Would Be King). Cas’s protectiveness and urge to connect with Claire for me is a direct mirror of not only his trying to save Dean from the Mark without having to carry out his request to kill him, but also his desire to emotionally connect with him while Dean is clearly in a headspace of shoving everyone out. These are all pretty gray parallels. The next conversation though for me is fairly black and white.

Conversation 2 - Cas/Sam

CASTIEL

When this is over, should I... Should I leave Claire alone?

SAM

What? No, man. She's family. Well, I mean, she's not exactly family, but she's close enough. I mean, you two have history. Simple as that.

CASTIEL

So do you think she's better off on her own?

SAM

Cas, she just turned 18.

CASTIEL

You were alone when you left for college at that age, weren't you?

SAM

Yeah, but that's different.

CASTIEL

How, Sam?

SAM

Here's all I know ... going it alone, that's no way to live. You being there for her, even if she thinks she doesn't want you to be there for her, that's good for both of you.

CASTIEL

Maybe, in the end.

SAM

In the end. ANALYSIS: This is so clearly about Dean and not Claire to me. There is no way Cas thinks Claire is better on her own in any capacity. It doesn’t track with anything he said to Dean earlier, and it doesn’t track with any of his actions in the scenes in between these conversations (he got her a damn birthday gift for Jack’s sake if that’s not the opposite of leaving someone alone and not trying to be their family idk what is). If Dean didn’t change Cas’s mind on this, I have BIG DOUBTS that Sam would have anything to say that would so why would Cas even ask him? Also, the entire thread with Sam/Cas at this point in the season is focused on their mutual worry about Dean. Why is Cas randomly talking to Sam about Claire? And - what history does Cas have with Claire? Yes, they have had some prior interactions but can you really call that history? Dean himself mentions in 10.09 that Cas has only met her once before that episode. But there is someone else, someone who is “not exactly family” who recently expressed that it’s better off to be alone, who DOES have significant history with Cas, and that someone is also someone Sam has pretty good insight on. In fact, Cas is basically parroting what Dean said to him in conversation 1 back to Sam in conversation 2, and to me it’s not because he is concerned about Claire because he has already decided he’s going to watch out for her. The only path left undecided is Dean - and whether he allows him to push him out or continues to be there, because it is good for them both. The “in the end” clinches it - because what is Claire’s “end”? She’s young; she’s not going anywhere anytime soon even if she makes a few bad decisions (and Cas is an angel at this point; that protection is pretty mighty). Dean, however, has an end quickly approaching because of the Mark, and it’s an end Cas cannot control or manipulate. So, in conclusion, Angel Heart shows that Claire is a mirror for Dean in her mannerisms, life events, personality, and place in Cas’s heart (which is the only explanation that fits for the title of this episode, which is the same as a very disturbing 70s horror movie and that clearly does not track).

Also, let’s not forget that Claire is canonically queer, loses her soulmate/first love to an alternate reality/world until Jack saves her from it and they are reunited. So, there’s that aka the finale we all deserved.

**if you read this far, bless you, truly for reading my nonsense ;) Feel free to comment and reblog, or message with me. I could overanalyze Supernatural forever here if you’ll let me.

#destiel #spn #spnfamily #spnfandom #deancas #claire novak #dean winchester #episode analysis #spn parallels #supernatural #Angel heart #spn season 10 #they deserved so much more #devils in the details #what makes a story work #myspnmeta

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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after jared has now confirmed on that podcast that the last scene of the show will just be sam + dean, i hope everyone can stop speculating about cas being there. he is not. (that of course doesnt mean hes not in the ep at all)

For those who WANT to actually listen, you can see it here (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/jared-padalecki-returns/id1256754097)

While I intend to talk on this statement left by the Nonnie there's a few other things to talk about. For those specifically interested in THIS QUOTE, it’s part “Ten” in my notes.

Before I go on, lemme say, I keep saying Misha *isn’t* in the final *shot.* I can also say *ten thousand times* that “the final shot” is NOT THE SAME THING AS THE “FINAL SCENE.” I don’t know how many times I have to beat this into people’s heads. The “Final scene” may not even BE the final shot because for all you know, the last final scene is something like around scene 50 and the last 10 shots are some Swan Song montage with a dialogue. Scenes are also composed of *multiple shots* on the regular, and *very rarely* shot in order. So actually, it depends on what you even consider a ~scene~ but a shot and a scene are not the same thing. No matter how many times people choose to misunderstand this, this will continue to be true.

As it is, the board already going up to 47 was high. Not unheard of, but high. I absolutely do not think anybody should be surprised if that’s actually closer to the last 5 minutes of the episode and the next 10+ shots are literal full blown montage. Because once again, and I can not emphasize this enough, they are not teleporting to a bridge at the end of the fucking show. I repeat, they are not, in the last 20-40 seconds, teleporting to a bridge at the end of the fucking show. And they weren’t on that location any other day.

But I also know this fandom takes anything that’s in shorthand and blows it up into the worst case extremization, so I’m actually going to address this and even tag @curioussubjects and @winchestersingerautorepair and point out that Jared talks about “the last time Sam and Dean see each other” -- so enjoy that. See you on the other side, brother.

Okay so first, as a general note related to everything, that particular podcast is a mess. There is literally 17 minutes of nothing related to Jared at the start. It's a mix of sadness about how he knew a relative was dying, sadness, people's sad facebook messages which I get, losing someone is sad--but then a bunch of nonsense about ads and swag and sponsors. Like to anyone preparing to actually listen, you can skip to about 17 minutes in.

One: Confirmed they started quarantining (J2 at least) on Aug 2. 14 days gave them a few days before filming. But they refused to break quarantine even to walk the dogs to not reset the quarantine period. (This is one of the first things they talk about after the barrage of ads and other things)

Two: Jared has some great insight on how and why to let a dog go. He jumped it a little sooner than I would I think, but he talks about knowing when they're in pain or suffering. He gave assistance to her bad hips and other things through late life but saw when the spark left her and she wanted to go. Someone will probably try to problematize this but as someone that witnessed someone refusing to put down their dog while she spent half of her day having seizures and shitting herself, huffing, being terrified and unable to move, that was impressive. (This starts somewhere around 22 and goes to about 31:30, it's about a ten minute segment.)

Three: after this they actually go into the show, it also lets us know that the podcast is *recorded early on in filming*. It's talking about the first few days he left for filming. This wasn't just-now recorded. This is a few weeks old, like most Inside of You podcasts are.

Four: Jared ignores social media a lot, he confirms.

Five: He goes on having to talk about saying goodbye to a 15 year friend, never having gone more than 5 months without playing Sam, the process of being in the moment. It boils down to staying distanced from social media and your phone to be in the internet, which can actually add to feeling alone. (This may not be true for everyone, but I can definitely see why it feels so for Jared--he admits it's somewhat escapism.) Rosenbaum debates what counts as connection, but Rosenbaum also doesn't deal with a bajillion shitty comments from all his fandom lanes. He uses the podcast as an example, which is entirely different than Jared talking about ignoring twitter or instagram.

(Commercial break at 39 for a counseling/therapy service, runs to about 41 then one for a toothbrush rofl goes to about 43:15, so basically a 4 minute commercial break)

Six: Jared talks about his clinical anxiety impact on the final shooting and everything and why it was so important to have his dog with him during quarantine. He started terrified about it but got 4-5 days in and realized it was great. The wife and kids even considered going with him but he said it was okay and declined. After 45 he goes on complimenting his wife and the work she does at home.

Seven: He goes back to March 12 being the last day of filming back before covid and everyone had to run home on Friday the 13th of March LOL. So Supernatural got cursed on Friday the 13th. Rolling back to everything Gen has to do with the kids and the routine, goes back to talking about her. Talks about being the New Toy from dad being home so much. But then back to August first day of shot as an outdoor shoot. How early it was. So 21pt1 was an outdoor shoot. They continue to go on and on about how hard having kids is, if rewarding, until after 50 minutes. This converts into a conversation with his psychiatrist about his kids, his mom's birthday during social distancing, and all kinds of other commentary. Difference of psychologist vs psychiatrist. Loves sugar cuz he couldn't have it as a kid, etc.

Eight: This bit carries them all the way out past the hour mark. Just before the hour is where the "pain" section from the promo comes from. It turns into mortality and fear of death. Turns into stuff like natural childbirth. So from an hour to 1:03:00 it goes on, then it turns into another ad break that goes to about 1:07:15

Nine: How emotional the ending is, reading the script every day, remembering places start after the 1:07:15 commercial end. First week they shot up the old highway for example. Jared saying goodbye to locations he knows. Very bittersweet. There are no pickup shots because of covid.

Ten: The final scheduled moment, what you're talking about, and Jared tried very very VERY difficultly. (1:08:30 or so) -- he struggles and says "The last time Sam and Dean see each other is the last time Jared and Jensen see each other, if that makes any sense." He refused to say what the last scene was. It will be the last filming camera moments together. Which unto itself uh, hi, yes, welcome to every speculation I ever had, see you on the other side brother. Because it's the last time they see each other.

Eleven: After a bit about being emotional, they talk about Jared’s arrest, the trolling about orange jumpsuits from the crew, and asking what happened. Jared doesn’t even entirely know what happened, says it’s not an excuse, but the cliff’s notes are he was filming in Van, then he flew to Austin, he had a double date with Gen and two friends, he went to his friend’s bar (we alllll know Stereotype), they split some wine, a cocktail, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept, bachelorette parties and show fans bought him drinks, he doesn’t know what even happened, he thinks he was blacked out, got pulled down by his hair and thought he was in a fight. He hasn’t had a drink since, he was like absolutely fucking nope. He literally wonders if he was drugged in the drinks he took from other people, but either way, he’s completely stopped drinking. It goes into them settling and actually the people thinking he was drugged, which is why the legal followthrough was light. This goes out to almost 1:20:00.

Twelve: Around then he goes on about Walker’s pickup period, how and when shooting normally works, and it’s all kinda in the air because of Walker, shortseasons because of covid etc.

Final question blast:

Supernatural movie?: Jared hopes so

Channel chuck norris?: Make Walker his own, has nothing to do with Chuck’s walker even if he grew up watching it in texas, new character, new story, new era.

Paranormal experiences of his own?: He has seen some things, experienced some things he can’t explain, but as far as specifically, “definitively no but possibly yes.”

Talked with Chuck Norris at all?: Not talked to him directly, their “people” have talked, had to give his blessing though because Chuck Norris co-owned the rights. Part of the EP group and ownership.

If you had a chance, what superhero would you play: He’s heard Nighthawk from fans, he kinda sits there quietly thinking and has a hard time. Screentested for the Superman McG movie in 2004 but didn’t get it.

The car wasn’t in either of their contracts. Jared actually goes on that despite images Jared’s actually the car guy more than Jensen. It wasn’t in either of their contracts but they kinda just knew it was gonna happen. He goes on about his favorite cars, his car books and parts books since he was a kid, etc.

-----------

Following through on this, I HAVE to keep saying. 47/A47 is, I would bet 5 dollars on it right here and anyone that wants to bet against it can leave a comment in the notes so I know who owes who money, Sam and Dean having their final talk already post major resolutions with a few more ends to tie up, saying their pre-goodbyes, and shot 60 is Sam and Dean’s final shot of going separate ways, with Sam on one side and Dean on the other.

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anemonenemerosa · 3 years

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27 with either wolfstar, jily, or deamus 😊

Thank you so much for the prompt. This is my first time writing Deamus and I hope I did them justice. Also the plot was mainly inspired by a converstation with @mooncat457writer, who kindly explained to me what B&Bs in the US are used for 😅

27: I run a bed & breakfast and you showed up for your reservation alone. Do you understand what the purpose of a b&b is?

Breakfast in Company

It's a bright and sunny day mid-October when Dean meets the most peculiar person to ever enter his life.

"Good morning! Please pick a table and help yourselves to some tea or coffee. I'll bring out breakfast in a moment" Dean smiles as todays only guests descend the stairs, still rubbing a bit of sleep from their eyes.

It has been a fairly slow week so far and Dean is grateful for it. His parents really needed more than a few days off and he is happy for them but that doesn't mean he would've enjoyed running their little Bed and Breakfast at maximum capacity on his own.

Quickly, he prepares the ordered pancakes and sunny side ups on toast with bacon and gets himself a cup of coffee with milk and maple syrup to indulge in on the way back to the little reception. Since two bookings were cancelled last minute, and he already sat up a room for the Irish couple arriving any minute, Dean is free from around noon to the next morning. He's invited to birthday party of an old friend in Chicago this evening and while a 20h ride seems to be a bit exorbitant to attend a party, let alone when one has guests to look after, Dean has his methods.

He is just working on an advert-commission he'd taken on when the little bell above the door announces someone's arrival. A backpacker around his age is standing in the doorway, which is not uncommon but a bit early for the folk from Otter Creek to arrive here on their way to Hunters Beach. The little B&B is situated on the coast directly between both places and very often, backpackers or hikers come in to either ask for the restroom, directions or to buy a sandwich, which Dean's mum usually sets up on a tray at the porch with a tin box for payment.

"Hello, there. How can I help you?" Dean put on his professional smile, as the short guy with a freckled face and cute smirk steps to the reception.

"Howya doin', I have a room booked here. For Seamus Finnegan?" Ah. The heavy Irish accent, however unfamiliar, sparks a warm feeling in Dean's stomach. But that's not important, he has to stay professional instead of flirting around. The guys that came here were taken anyway.

"Ahh, the guests from Ireland. Welcome" He replies politely, smile still in place. "Where's the other one, then?"

"What? Who?" The guy, Seamus, furrows his brows and stares at him in mild confusion.

Odd. "Your partner? The person you came here with?"

"I- I came on my own." The bewilderment on the freckled face turns into irritation, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

It was only then, that Dean realises he's staring in bewilderment, too, "You booked a room. Here. For you alone?"

"Yeah." It seemed that both of them don't really understand what the other was getting at.

"Do you understand what the purpose of a Bed and Breakfast is?" Dean asks eventually.

"A place to sleep and to have breakfast. Yes, I do know. It's in the name and we have those in Ireland, too." The other boy replies pointedly as if Dean thinks he was a complete nutter.

"Then you might know that most, no, actually all people come here in company, mostly with their partners. Romantic getaway and such? So, I just assumed that your booking..." ...was for a romantic weekend with your partner. Dean feels rather sheepish now and seems to be looking the part, if the smirk tugging on the backpacker's lip is anything to go by.

"I know nothing about romance." He declares, "I booked a place to sleep and eat in a good location to go for a few hikes before I head south."

"I see. Well, come on then, I'll show you to your room." Dean begins to appreciate the humour of the situation and conveniently forgets to mention that the Hotel in Otter Creek might be the much cheaper option for a single. He would rather like the guy to stay here for a bit more.

When Dean opens the door to the little room to reveal a Queen size bed loaded with pillows and blankets that match the fuzzy carpet, the tourist seems to get onto something.

"Are all your rooms like this?" Dean only nods as an answer, "Yeah...okay, I get the couple-y thing now." But instead of getting mad or irritated, Seamus just chuckles "Oh well, good story to tell Ma and Da." With that, he leaves his backpack on the floor and asks Dean for things to explore around here abroad the trodden ways.

Dean, mentally prepared for a drama, is pleasantly surprised by the unbothered way of the boy and points him to some of his favourite places, which he never does with tourists. Usually, Dean is rather protective of his quiet spots.

oOo

It is 3 in the morning when Dean comes back from the party in Chicago, stepping out of the fireplace and dusting himself off with a quick spell. The house is silent except for a very weird buzzing sound that is muffled almost immediately. Maybe someone forgot to silence their phone for the night.

oOo

The other guests are long gone for a daytrip when Seamus makes his first appearance downstairs in the morning. He leans over the reception with an odd expression on his face. Not unfriendly but odd, nonetheless. "Keep me company for breakfast?"

It's unlike Dean, but he has absolutely no idea how to read the boy. What he knows, however, is that he never met someone like Seamus. "Sure thing. What kind of a host would I be to leave you all on your own?"

They get along incredibly well and time flies by in a whirl of laughter, funny anecdotes and interesting stories about the wildlife in Ireland and Maine.

"Seamus, why did you come to Acadia National Park, of all the parks in the US?" Dean asks. He switched to herbal tea after three cups of coffee.

"Oh, come on, you live here." Seamus exclaims while kicking Dean's shin playfully under the table, "There is no way you haven't looked properly! It's so nice here with the forest blending into the coastline. Also, I'm on quite a long trip and try to get to see all the big National Parks like Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canyon and Mesa Verde."

The topic changes at the mention of Mesa Verde to ancient cultures and folklore, Irish folklore eventually. They keep on chatting and bantering until Seamus begins to make some weird remarks with ill-disguised hints of witchcraft in Ireland, always glancing at him, looking for something. He couldn't possibly know. Could he?

Dean takes a nervous sip from his tea, completely at loss on what to do and tries to excuse himself under the pretence of the tea gone cold just to hide out and think. Should he call the MACUSA? Restrain Seamus? Obliviate the boy himself?

But before he even gets up, Seamus holds him back at his arm, "I gotcha." and stares at the cup, which sets on fire immediately. With a shout both boys jump away from the table and with another sharp glance, Seamus extinguishes the fire... by blowing up the whole table. Dean is frozen in place and stares at the scene, comprehending. Seamus, who turned very red in the face, keeps apologising as he pulls a wand out of his pocket and restores the mess.

"You- you are a wizard." Dean mumbles from where he plopped down on his chair again, still a bit perplexed.

"Yep, just like you." Seamus offers with a smile, completely unperturbed by the recent explosion.

"How did you know?" Dean's brain is focusing on the important questions again.

"Well," Seamus leans back on his chair with the disarming smirk of his on his face, "firstly, your place is connected to the Floo. And then, I've got this." He announces proudly and places a golden object on the table. "It's a recommendation of a former teacher of mine at Hogwarts. Bit of a nutter, even known as Mad Eye, but this thing detects magic that is worked around you and I figured it's practical on travels. It went on when you came back tonight." That was the humming! "I got really excited when I realised that you must be the wizard here. I've never met one from outside the British Isles."

"And you thought it's a good idea to set my stuff on fire to tell me?" Dean jokes and has the pleasure to witness the blush returning to the other boy's face within seconds.

"Nah... I just... I should give up on wandless magic altogether, honestly, this always happens." The backpacker waves a dismissive hand, but the blush stays in place.

"Always?"

"More often than not." Seamus admits and takes a deep breath before continuing, "Especially when uh.... when I like someone."

"Is that so?" Dean could swear that his heart just skipped a beat while a giddy feeling settled in his stomach.

"Apparently."

"Well, then keep it together, we can't have you constantly blowing things up on our date."

#deamus #dean thomas #seamus finnigan #harry potter fanfiction

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 4 years

Text

In honor of Avatar: The Last Airbender coming to Netflix, have a Destiel AU :D

read here on ao3

The tribe is buzzing for weeks before the Avatar’s arrival. It’s been a long time since they’ve had an Avatar from the Fire Nation, and not since before the Hundred Years War. The death of the last Avatar from the Fire Nation had sent the world spiraling into war, and Dean’s tribe had been decimated. He’d watched his own mother die at the hands of a deranged fire bender, and his father had been killed years later by a warring tribe. He and Sam had grown up homeless, living off what they could find until they stumbled upon Bobby and Ellen’s tribe one day. They’d been welcomed in like family despite being nothing more than two lost boys.

Still, as he dons his green attire and washes his face (at Ellen’s insistence), he’s excited. He’s never met an Avatar. This new Avatar, Castiel, is the same age as Dean—twenty-four, give or take a few months depending on when Castiel’s birthday is—and this is his grand introduction to the world. He’ll prove to the world that he’s mastered all four elements at the end of the month but for now, he’s making the rounds through all the different tribes around the world. This week, he’s visiting the different Earth tribes. He’s already seen some of them and Dean’s heard good things from friends in farther villages—he’s kind, he’s gorgeous, his smile is to die for—but he’ll make those judgments for himself. Hell, maybe this guy will spectacularly fail his demonstration at the end of the month, who knows.

“Don’t forget your face,” Ellen says with a smile as she stands in the doorway of his room, radiating pride. He smiles softly and hods up his washcloth to prove that he’s already washed his face. “No,” she says, laughing and holding up the tub of ink that Dean’s only seen a few times in passing. “It’s tradition, you, Sam, and Bobby will all be wearing it. Jo too. The Avatar wants to honor his fellow benders.”

Dean inclines his head just barely, then tilts his up and closes his eyes so Ellen can carefully paint the ink along the waterlines of his eyes, as well as in intricate swirls across his forehead and cheekbones. A quick look in the mirror when she’s done confirms that it’s a good look on him if he does say so himself.

The main area of the village isn’t far from the home they live in with Bobby and Ellen. Sam practices his bending on the walk there, three rocks swirling in the air over his hand, his face pursed in a look of utter concentration. It’s kind of adorable, even on an adult like Sam.

“You ready to see him?” Charlie whispers, elbowing Dean in the side. Dean glances at her and grins.

“Hell yeah. Never seen a fire bender in real life, much less and Avatar. Should be pretty cool. I just hope he’s not an asshole.”

Charlie laughs. “I’ve only ever heard good things. Anna wrote me a letter and said he’s dreamy, although I don’t think that’ll matter much to me,” she says with a giggle, eyes sliding over to meet Jo’s.

Dean just rolls his eyes and follows Bobby and Ellen to the main street, lining up along the side. He can already hear the horns announcing the arrival of the Fire Nation, so he slips into his bender stance—feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed respectfully.

He doesn’t peek until he can tell by the noise from the crowd that the Avatar is close. He tilts his head up a fraction so he can see the Avatar. His breath catches in his throat. All those rumors weren’t wrong. Avatar Castiel is so attractive that Dean thinks he could combust on the spot from being so attracted to him. Fitting, Castiel in a natural-born fire bender.

He quickly redirects his gaze to the ground. He’s not overly eager to be seen as disrespectful to the new Avatar, no matter how attractive he is or how badly Dean wants to continue watching the fluid movement of his lithe body, so carefully draped in the colors of the four elements. He’ll get a chance to drink his fill of the Avatar later tonight when they host his welcoming feast.

Dean’s family is hosting the feast since Bobby and Ellen are the tribe’s elders. They leave the welcome ceremony early to prepare, although most of the preparations were completed that morning. Dean helps set the table and lavish it with traditional earth kingdom dishes, everything from the delicious, homey stew that Ellen insists on making the minute anyone gets sick to the delicious, homemade ice cream the nearby water tribe taught them how to make. It’s the perfect mix of Dean’s home and the royal-level food the Avatar must be expecting by now. Guy’s lived in a temple for nearly a decade, no doubt he’s only been given the best.

Castiel arrives without any fanfare, which is shocking in and of itself, but it’s the traditional earth bender robes he’s wearing that really throws Dean off. It’s just Dean’s family in attendance, but he’d expected the Avatar to wear some fancy Avatar robes, or at least Fire Nation robes.

“Avatar Castiel. Welcome to the Singer tribe, we’re so honored we could host you,” Ellen says, bowing respectfully as Castiel turns his gaze to her. If Dean’s not mistaken, the Avatar blushes.

“I appreciate the hospitality, ma’am. It’s nice to be outside of the Fire Nation for once.” He smiles wryly, bowing his head in return. “Your home is lovely and everything smells…” he pauses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he drinks in the scents swirling around their home. “Amazing,” he finally finishes, grinning as he opens his eyes.

“Please, have a seat, Avatar. Indulge in whatever you’d like.”

Castiel smiles softly. “I appreciate the respect, but it isn’t necessary. After you, please. You are the tribe elders, after all.”

Bobby and Ellen both seem taken aback, but they take their seats, and only then does Castiel take his. Dean, Sam, Jo, and Charlie settle into their own seats, each of them finding themselves caught by the scrutinizing gaze of the Avatar.

“You three are benders?” Castiel asks, eyes flickering between Sam, Dean, and Jo. The latter nods, grinning widely.

“Born and bred,” Jo confirms, nudging Dean’s shoulder. “These two stumbled into the tribe, but I guess they’re pretty cool.”

One of the candles on the table flickers out as Castiel reaches for a piece of bread and Dean watches in awe as the Avatar effortlessly relights it with a flick of his fingers. It seems like it’s barely a passing thought in Castiel’s brain, the fire just flickering from his fingers like an extension of himself. He supposes that’s how it is, though. Castiel was born with the ability to control fire, just like Dean was born to move earth.

“You seem out of your element,” Castiel continues with a small smile, eyes shifting to Charlie. The delicately drawn arrows swirling around her skin give away her bending ability and yeah, Castiel’s right. Charlie’s a long way from home, though she’s called this tribe her home for as long as Sam and Dean have been around.

“I was banished from my tribe when I was young. I had no interest in pursuing the study of air bending and they weren’t exactly pleased with that. The Singers took me in and taught me how to bend on my own terms.” She smiles, shooting a grateful glance across the table at Bobby and Ellen. “They’re good people.”

Castiel chuckles. “You seem to accumulate strays, I see. It’s noble of you.”

Their dinner passes in a mix of comfortable silence as they all eat and surface-level conversation regarding Castiel’s demonstration at the end of the month and what goes on from day to day in their tribe. Dean steals as many glances as he can because let’s face it, Castiel is gorgeous and he really doubts he’ll get to see the Avatar again, at least not up close like this. Might as well drink his fill now.

Except, once dinner is cleaned up and Ellen and Bobby have retired for the night after showing Castiel his quarters for the evening, Dean finds himself outside, alone with the Avatar. Castiel swirls a ball of fire in his hand absentmindedly, though he extinguishes it immediately when he notices Dean’s wary glances.

“Fire makes you uncomfortable.”

It isn’t a question, so Dean doesn’t answer. He’s not exactly inclined to spill his entire life story to this random man anyway, even if he is the Avatar. He hears Castiel huff a laugh beside him, and then the small rock pile in the corner of the yard is shaking, three rocks floating directly toward them. Dean catches them effortlessly, twirling his fingers to make the rocks spin in a circle above his palm.

“I wish earth bending was that easy for me,” Castiel admits with a sigh, leaning against the wall that surrounds Dean’s home. “It’s always been the hardest to bend, in my experience.”

Dean snorts. “Can’t exactly help you with that, Avatar. I only know how to bend earth, I’ve never known anything else.”

Castiel smiles. “It’s easier than you think, you know. Here, let me show you. Bending air isn’t dissimilar to bending earth.” He steps closer to Dean and holds out a hand. Dean watches him warily for a moment before extending his own hand in return. The Avatar is the only one that’s supposed to master all four elements, but Dean can’t help the thrill that runs through him at the prospect of learning to bend another element. He’s not even sure if it’s possible.

“You have a unique connection to the spirit world,” Castiel says, seemingly answering his question without Dean having asked it. “Has no one told you?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, skin tingling as Castiel finally takes his hand. “Told me what?”

Castiel hums. “In a previous life, you were an Avatar. An Avatar from the Air Temples.” He smiles softly, tilting his head. “Avatars are often reborn into tribes they struggled to master. Since you were an air bender, earth would have been the most difficult for you. I was a water bender in my previous life, hence my being a fire bender in this one.”

Dean scoffs. “I was an Avatar? That’s cute, Cas, but I don’t think it’s true.”

Castiel’s fingers skate along Dean’s palm. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

Dean hesitates, only for a moment, but what if… what if Castiel is right? His parents had died when he was young, and all of his other family had already died by that time. Anyone who would have known wouldn’t have been able to tell him. Is Castiel right?

“Show me.”

Castiel obliges, raising a hand to rest his fingers on Dean’s temple.

The effect is instantaneous. Dean is standing it what looks to be the distant past, watching the Avatar’s demonstration. She doesn’t look familiar, at least not at the moment, so he takes a seat and watches. Her form is shockingly good, although he’d expect nothing less from the Avatar. It’s not until he sees her eyes that he realizes who this is. He’s seen those eyes in the mirror every day of his entire life. This is him. It’s a little shocking to realize that he was a woman in another life, but watching her bend all four elements so effortlessly is astounding.

He’s pulled from the vision before he wants to be, but Castiel is standing in front of him with a small smile. “See? I wasn’t lying. I’m sorry your family never told you.”

Dean shrugs. “Not like they had the chance. Why are we both alive at the same time, then?”

Castiel hums. “We always have been, actually. When I was in the spirit world, they told me that you and I have always been alive at the same time, and we’ve both mastered the elements in the same lifetime. It was just a matter of whoever was found first became the Avatar. This time, it was me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Then I can learn all four elements? Isn’t that… I don’t know, frowned upon?”

Castiel laughs. “Probably, yes, but I’ll teach you.” He smirks over at Dean. “What are they going to do, arrest me?”

Dean snorts. The Avatar actually has a sense of humor, go figure. “I suppose not. Don’t you have to leave, though?”

He shrugs. “I’ll come back if you’d like. I do need to continue my visits and complete my demonstration at the end of the month, but after that, I still haven’t found a place to stay permanently. This feels like as good a place as any.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “I figured you’d return to the Fire Nation.”

Castiel waves that away almost instantly, face twisting with disgust. “Absolutely not. I hate it there. They kept me locked in a temple for a decade mastering the four elements instead of letting me visit the tribes that actually mastered them. They just brought me teachers that reinforced their belief that the Fire Nation is superior and I’m protecting the world only because the spirits have asked me to.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Perhaps,” he admits with a shrug. “Once I’ve completed my demonstration, I won’t have to return. I’m sure they’ll be surprised if I settle down outside of the Fire Nation, but I don’t exactly care.”

Dean smiles. “I’ll double-check with Ellen and Bobby but I doubt they’ll mind if you stay here. They might put you to work in the fields, though,” Dean says with a laugh.

Castiel smiles. “I look forward to it.”

Three weeks later, Castiel returns to Dean’s tribe and makes it his permanent home.

#profoundnet #deancasfanficnet #writersofdestiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #a: tla #my writing

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butterflydreaming-writes-fic · 3 years

Text

*sweats* I'm excited to offer a gift fic for @imthatpeculiarone in this round of the Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion.

Title: This Wheel's on Fire

Word Count: 3,419

Fluff, Rated Gen

An old Lincoln Continental with faded paint nearly hits Baby in the supermarket parking lot. Dean slams the brakes. His untasted coffee takes a dive, and Dean is quickly slapping take-out napkins from the glove box stash even as he slides into an open parking spot. He takes a minute of the limited time he has for this errand to get himself calmed down.

His temper flares up again when he sees that he’s parked next to the gold Continental. He doesn’t have time to move the Impala to another spot, so he slides over the bench seat. The Fiat on that side is crookedly parked but still leaves enough space for Dean to open the door more than four inches.

Phone in hand, he scrolls through Jody’s text messages for the list. While he was driving to the store, she’s added more. He grabs a shopping cart on the way in, notes where the freezer with the ice is, and speeds up an aisle toward the bakery section, where he almost collides with a guy striding through the T-intersection.

“Shit! By bad,” Dean says, stopping short of running the startled man down.

The man squints. His blue eyes burn brighter. “That would be the second time today,” he accuses.

“What?” Dean asks.

The man rolls his eyes. “I don’t have time for this,” he gripes as he beelines for another section of the store.

Dean doesn’t have time either. The cake is ready when he gets to the bakery counter, but they’ve written “Congratulations Kelsy” instead of “Kelly.” To fix it, Dean would have to wait for the only person on staff with the rare skill of being able to write with decorator gel to get back from a break of unknown duration. He takes the cake as-is and a tube of Cake Mate. He rattles through the aisles for the rest of the supplies, eyes the coffee cart, but opts to get in the shortest of the long checkout lines instead.

The cranky guy gets in line behind him.

Their eyes meet and lock. For a second it looks like the guy might yield and move to another line, but as Dean is starting to unload his items onto the belt, the guys interrupts.

“Can I go ahead of you? I only have three things.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Dean says. “I’m on a clock.”

“I’m not your buddy,” Blue Eyes snipes. He eyes Dean’s purchases, expression a mix of irritation and confusion.

“Man, what is your issue with me?” Dean protests. “Look, I haven’t had my coffee yet, so maybe I’m missing something. But I’ve gotta finish shopping and be gone in sixty seconds, OK? There’s a pregnant lady waiting for her cake and baby shower games. I’ll be out of your life in five minutes.”

The man’s face suddenly brightens. “You’re going to a baby shower.” The brilliance of his smile is like white sparks. Dean feels his body respond to the warmth of that smile even though the sudden transformation from pissy to friendly throws him.

The checker has started scanning Dean’s purchases. He gives her the sticker with the barcode for the cake. “And six bags of ice,” he tells her.

Blue Eyes asks, “Is the party for your partner?”

That startles a laugh out of Dean. “No,” he answers, a drawn out negation. “My friend is hosting. The mom-to-be is from her church.” He adds, “I’m not seeing anyone currently.” He gives the guys his own friendly smile.

Dean’s lure lands, because the man extends a hand. “I’m Cas. By the way.”

“Dean.” They shake hands. Cas has a strong grip. In the fleeting skin to skin contact notes the slight callous and Cas’s long fingers. He has good hands.

“It's a happy occasion.” Cas sets down his purchases: a guinea pig plushie, pack of gold gift wrapping tissue, and a glossy white bag decorated with rainbows and unicorns. A tween must be having a birthday.

Dean reaches for his wallet to pay. It’s not in his pocket. “Crap.” This grocery store isn’t set up to take pay apps.

Cas catches on. “Dean, I’ve got this,” he says. “It’s just,” he gestures at the bags, “diapers and candy bars.”

“It’s a lot,” Dean objects. “I’ll Venmo you the money right now.”

“I don’t know Venmo,” Cas says. He tells the cashier, “I’ll pay for mine with his.” To Dean he says, “Let’s exchange phone numbers and we can settle up later when we’re not holding up a checkout line.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asks.

“I believe in trusting people.” Cas nearly bumps Dean’s hip putting his card into the payment terminal. When the path is clear, Dean pushes the shopping cart past the checkstand, but for a long moment Cas and Dean are crowded into each other’s personal space.

“You said you haven’t had coffee yet. Can I buy you a cup?” Cas points to the coffee cart. “I know you’re short on time, but we can get each other’s contact info while they make our drinks.”

They both order drip coffee, black. The barista doesn’t have any brewed, and offers a choice between Americanos or a five minute wait.

“We can blame our delay on traffic,” Cas suggests.

They opt for the wait.

“OK, give me your number,” Dean says after they take a table in the tiny dining area. “If you want I can bring you cash after I drop off the party stuff.”

The cart is too big, so Dean takes out the bags and sets them on the table, leaving the cart parked out of the way. He’ll need it when he gets the ice on the way out. They start out chatting about movies and end up in an oddly intense discussion about social justice and the existence of a benevolent God in the minutes until the barista calls out that their coffees are ready.

Dean takes the lid off and slugs the coffee. He can’t help the sound that comes out of him, even though it is borderline inappropriate for a grocery store. “That’s scalding,” he says, eyes watering, “but so good.” Cas is smiling at him. “My friend woke me up with the shopping emergency,” Dean explains. He gestures to his coffee-splattered clothes. “And then some dick in a crappy Continental makes a illegal left on the way in here — “

“Excuse me ,” Cas interrupts with flashpoint ire. “That turn was both legal and clear , and if your boat hadn’t been taking up two lanes we would not have had that near miss!”

Dean takes a long swallow of hot coffee before he gets in a fight over Baby’s honor. He takes a mental half-step back as he realizes that Cas was the driver earlier. Dean has a bad temper, he knows it, and he’s learned to be better about it than he was in his twenties. Cas had saved his bacon with the money thing, and he had done it in spite of thinking Dean was in the wrong.

“Look. Thanks for the help,” he says. He’s sincere but somehow it comes out sounding aggressive. “I mean it. Thanks.” Without saying anything more, he grabs his bags and stalks out. He makes it all the way to Baby before he realizes. He gets the shopping bags in the trunk and goes back for the forgotten ice.

Cas is walking directly toward him. For a solid three strides across the asphalt it is a game of chicken. They stare daggers at each other, oblivious to any traffic around. Nearly simultaneously, they both realize that Cas is walking to his car, which is parked right next to the Impala, and Dean is walking back into the grocery store. They pass each other; the absence of acknowledgement is an acknowledgement in itself.

Dean makes it back into the store, loads up a shopping cart with the ice Cas paid for, and pushes the rattling cart out the door and across the lot to his car. The Continental is still in its spot. Cas hasn’t left yet; he is sitting in the driver seat. Dean can’t get into his driver’s seat until Cas leaves, so he loads the ice into the trunk slowly. He finishes his coffee.

When Cas still hasn’t left, Dean walks around the Lincoln’s large ass end and raps a knuckle on the back window to get Cas’s attention. He waits for Cas to roll down the window a few inches, before pitching his voice to him. “I can’t get in my car until you pull out,” he tells him.

“Your shopping cart is in the way. I’ve been waiting until it’s safe,” Cas informs him.

Dean just shakes his head and walks away, dragging his cart to the corral at the end of the parking row. He lobs his empty paper cup into the same trash can he dropped the mess from his spilled coffee into. He watches Cas back out of the space, smooth and easy, the engine of the Continental bumbling like a contented bee as he drives away. Dean jogs back to the Impala and slides into the driver seat before a car can take the newly empty spot, not that anything would fill the space like that late ‘70s Lincoln Continental Mark V.

He gets a weird feeling looking at the empty space. It feels like a missed opportunity. He wishes he’d kept his mouth shut about the left turn. How many times had someone cut him off in traffic or made a bad lane change, and how many of those times mattered after? None. He and Cas had been having a good conversation, connecting.

Dean tunes the radio to the classic rock station, relaxes with the comfortable and familiar, and heads out. Kelly’s address is less than five minutes away, but too many of the residential streets dead end, and by the time he finds the right path through, it’s been a quarter hour. there is space for him in the driveway, though, and he pulls in so that he can unload the ice bags. He tosses one on his shoulder and knocks on the unfamiliar door.

* * *

“I should have handled that better,” Cas says to the stuffed animal, his last minute gift for Kelly’s baby-on-the-way. Her house is close by and he knows the way, so he finds himself thinking about Dean, feelings a mix of irritation and deep attraction. Dean, who he will probably never see again.

Because he knows that quite a few guests will be attending her party, he parks the Lincoln around the block to leave space along the street in front of her home. Kelly Kline-Rooney and her husband Jefferson have a newly remodeled, two-story Craftsman home with a large yard and back garden. Cas drew the plans for the remodel, and over some difficulty with the contractor, he and Kelly became friends.

He’s arrived early to help with set up, but Jody, the organizer — who he meets for the first time — shoos him out of the kitchen, so he gets to spend the time with Kelly. “How are you,” he asks her, “and how’s the baby?”

“I’m good,” she says, “we’re both good.” She heaves a little sigh and fidgets in her armchair. “Actually, I’m a little wound up. I haven’t finished painting the mural in the nursery, and all of a sudden I feel like there won’t be enough time to get anything finished before my baby gets here.” She smooths a hand over her belly. Her expression changes and she gasps, “Oh! Give me your hand.” She takes him by the wrist and pulls his hand toward her baby bump.

He feels her baby kick, all that life, gearing up to meet the world. Cas has to admit, because Kelly has enthusiastically roped him into the experience of her pregnancy, he has become more interested in the idea of having children. It has broadened his outlook.

“Kelly,” he finds himself saying, “I met someone today.”

Her eyes sparkle with interest. “It’s not even ten o’clock yet!” she laughs.

“I met him at the grocery store,” Cas says, shrugging. He smiles, thinking about Dean. His smile breaks as he recalls how it played out. “Unfortunately,” he confesses, “we didn’t part on good terms.”

“Cas,” Kelly mourns. “What happened? Tell me all about it?”

“This beautiful man,” he starts, thinking of Dean, his deep voice and the way he spoke with conviction and certainty. The way he made direct eye contact. The sexy freckles and the shape of his lips.

“Yes?” Kelly prompts when Cas gets lost in thought.

He laughs. “He is… very attractive,” Cas emphasizes. “You know I’m not overly focused on appearances, but Dean.” He shakes his head and looks heavenward. His eyes fall to his hands. He picks at his fingernails. “We almost got into a car accident, and that’s what we ended up fighting about. But before that, we got coffee together and talked, and we exchanged numbers.”

“Well that’s good!” Kelly encourages. “Something sparked between you. You can call him and smooth things out.”

“I wasn’t in the wrong,” Cas grumps.

“No, sweetie. I’m not saying you have to apologize or anything. But you can talk. You only just met. Sometimes first meetings don’t go all that well because of sparks.” She gives him a robust pat on the knee. “I’m rooting for you.” Inching forward in her chair to get up, she sighs, “I miss drinks with booze in them. How about we get some fancy lemonade and pretend it’s rosé?”

“I’ll get it,” Cas says so that Kelly doesn’t have to rise. He enters the kitchen with a hello for Jodi and gets introduced to Patience a moment before she leaves to answer the front door. Cas can hear her greeting the newcomer, and he stops mid-pour when he hears the deep timbre that answers. He finishes pouring Kelly’s sparkling pink lemonade before he musters the question for Jodi, “Is that Dean?”

“You know each other?” Jodi responds with cheerful curiosity.

Patience comes back in, holding up a grocery bag. “Dean came through. I’m going to help him bring in the bags of ice — “

“I can help with that,” Cas interrupts.

“Would you? Thanks!”

The look on Dean’s face when he sees Cas is… not what Cas expected. Dean’s eyes light up, and there is a genuine wonder in his surprise.

* * *

Missouri’s granddaughter, Patience Turner, waves for Dean to come inside. “Hi Dean! Jody’s in the kitchen.”

“Hiya, Patience. Where can I put the ice? I’ve got five more bags like this.”

“There’s a big cooler out on the barbecue patio,” she says. “Through the living room. I’ll get you some help unloading the car.”

The living room already has a dozen people in it. Dean exchanges salutations with the people he knows and exudes charm at the rest. He shakes out the bag of ice into the cooler, which looks big enough, and scopes out the landing spot for the cake. There is a long table already stocked with plates and plastic cutlery; it has some gifts on it that will need to be moved to join the pile of gifts on the coffee table. Dean registers that one is a white gift bag with unicorns and rainbows on it, stuffed with gold tissue.

Patience is in the entry with Cas.

For a solid beat, Dean doesn’t know what to think, because something in his chest turns over like a big engine revving up. Once the wheels of his mind get going, he still continues standing there like an idiot. “Hey, Cas,” he says.

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas turns and goes out the door. When they reach the Impala, they are alone together, and it is awkward. It is definitely awkward. Cas stands by the trunk, expectantly.

“Here, let me get that,” Dean says. As he unlocks and lifts the heavy lid of the trunk, they are standing too close again. Dean should mind that Cas’s keeps getting into his personal space, but he doesn’t. He wants to get closer. This level of attraction makes him stupid, and he feels the urge to make an offhand comment to sabotage himself.

But then Cas says, “I’m sorry we parted on a bad note.”

“Yeah, um,” Dean answers, “me too.” He knows it’s not enough, not when he’s gotten a second chance. “I mean, I’m sorry, too.” It’s hard to believe it can be that simple, but Cas’s face lights up with hope, so maybe it is.

“Between the two of us, I’m sure we can get all of this in one trip,” Cas says, and now they have to get moving. Apparently, he is also a pro at self-sabotage. It’s weirdly comforting.

They don’t get much of a chance to talk alone after that. Dean fixes the writing on Kelly’s cake and catches up with Jody, while Cas makes party talk with the people he knows. They chat, but not alone, not until Dean is volunteered to fire up the barbecue and Cas escapes outside with him.

It’s a gas barbecue, and clean. There isn’t much to do while it heats up. “How do you like your burger?” Dean asks, because food is an easy topic.

Cas shrugs. “Well done?”

Dean shakes his head. “A good cut of grass-fed beef, medium rare — that’s a burger to sink your teeth into. Juicy, fresh.”

“I don’t eat much red meat anymore,” Cas says. “I sneak a trip to White Castle once in a rare while.”

“White Castle? You’ve gotta let me make you a real burger, Cas.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Trust the Meat Man,” Dean says, pointing both thumbs back at himself.

Cas squints at him. “You’re very confident in your opinions,” he says.

Dean’s not sure how to take that. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“There’s more than one side to things,” Cas answers.

“A right side and a wrong side?” Dean teases.

“Dean.” Cas gives him an eye roll and a look, a real cut the crap look that delights Dean. He knows he likes arguing with someone who can hold his ground.

“You’re easy to get riled up, y’know that?”

“Am I.” Cas’s tone is flirty.

“Or maybe it’s just easy for me to get your wheels burning,” Dean flirts back.

“How, by disparaging my car?” Cas asks.

Dean blinks. “Your car?”

“You called it ‘crappy’.” He does the air quotes. “It’s not. There’s a lot to love about an old car. As I would think you would know, since you have one yourself.”

“Did you just compare my Impala to your land yacht? How does a guy like you even have a car like that?”

“I like it,” Cas defends.

“It’s still not a Chevy,” Dean says.

“I have never understood the Ford - Chevrolet rivalry,” Cas comments. “They’re not sports teams. It’s bizarre.” He’s serious.

“OK, OK,” Dean responds. “I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he says. He adds on, “It just comes easy to me.”

“So we should just kiss and make up?” Cas asks, making eye contact.

Dean licks his lips. Damn, if that isn’t an invitation.

They both glance at the sliding glass doors and the potential audience inside. “Ah, the garden shed,” Cas starts. “There might be some needed equipment.”

“Yeah, barbecue stuff or,” Dean agrees.

As soon as they are inside the painted shed, they are in each other’s personal space again. There is nothing accidental about the kiss that follows. Cas’s hands grip Dean at the hip. Dean puts his hands on Cas’s jaw. He holds his head and kisses him deeply, eager to feel him. He gets Cas’s lower lip between his own and gently lingers as they explore each other’s mouths.

They make out for as long as they think they can get away with. But the barbecue is unattended, and they know someone will wonder where they’ve disappeared to if they are gone too long.

Dean makes the moment they have last as long as he can. “I guess we should get back,” he murmurs, nuzzling at Cas’s neck.

“Mmh,” Cas makes a noise that could be agreement.

“What are you doing after the party?” Dean asks.

“Probably helping clean up,” answers Cas.

“Funny, me too. What about tomorrow?”

“Well, tomorrow I have to run some errands after work. Grocery store shopping.” Cas’s eyes are twinkling.

“Oh. I see. How about I do the shopping, and cook you a nice dinner? My place?”

“You’re on, Meat Man,” Cas agrees.

* * *

#pbexchangereunion #pbexchange #deancas #also on ao3

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anchanted-one · 4 years

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Harry Potter Talk

Settle in everyone, this is going to be a long one.

So a couple of days ago, I saw a massive anti-HP (the character) rant that really irritated me that I wanted to address.

Before I do, let's address the transphobic in the room. Rowling. Transphobia is detestable, and not wanting to support the series while that directly benefits and enriches her is a super valid stance. Also my personal stance, we support the trans people in this house!

Now that that's out of the way.

"Harry Potter, jock from a wealthy family" or something to that effect.

Regardless of how big his bank account is, remember how Harry was brought up? And by whom?

The Dursleys. The magic-hating child-abusers. Who forced Harry to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. Who gave him Dudley's things secondhand. His mother's sister was so unwilling to spend a dime on him that she was dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray to use as Harry's school uniform.

His cousin Dudley, who delighted in tormenting him, and whose gang joined him in beating up Harry whenever Dudley felt bored enough that he wanted to beat him up for fun.

Is this the upbringing of a "rich jock"? He never used much of his wealth in the Muggle world and even in his school years he seems to know the importance of restraint, and sharing (in book one, he's delighted to be able to share with Ron, and in book four he gives the Twins a thousand galleons without a second thought). Dudley was the one who got thirty-six presents on his birthday and threw a fit coz it was less than what he'd got the previous year. Harry got a used tissue for Christmas. He was the one so not expecting any gifts at all that his best friend's mother packed him a hand-knitted sweater for him, and made his day.

Jock? He played the loneliest position in the Quidditch team. The Chasers and Keepers work together as a team, and the Beaters too, but Seekers are ignored by everyone--including the team--until it becomes apparent that they've spotted something.

Harry was quite popular when he joined the school, but that popularity mostly manifested as people pointing at his scar and whispering about him. Most made him uncomfortable. He only ever had a few friends he was comfortable with.

There were long periods when he was in fact an outcast. That time he lost fifty points for the thing with the dragon, or the time when the Ministry and the Newspapers had turned the entire Wizarding world against him. The time his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all Houses except Gryffindor treated him like shit, and even the Gryffindors, while they were cheering for him, weren't paying much mind when he was saying that he didn't do it, or that he needed support. That one time, even Ron didn't stay by his side. He was all alone but for Hermione.

The only time he fit the bill of the jock was in book six, when he was too obsessed with what Malfoy was doing to give a damn about his newfound popularity. That was also when he chose the company of outcasts like Neville and Luna over popular hangers-on.

Yes, there are legit reasons to hate the character; he has a massive hero complex. He routinely gets his friends into trouble because of it. He has a very narrow and myopic perspective because of which he doesn't notice much outside of his mystery-hunter track (there was a time when I could illustrate that point better, but it's been a decade and more since I read the last book. I wanted to better read up before talking about this, but I can't bring myself to binge-read like I used to)

By contrast, yes James Potter was a 'jock'. But that's reason to hate him, not his son. Harry, when he sees Snape's worst memory, is rightly horrified. When Remus tries to make the "we were just fifteen" excuse, Harry reminds him "I'm fifteen!". (It should also be noted that Snape's memories obviously show his nemesis at his worst, whereas Remus Lupin--the Werewolf--tells Harry repeatedly that James and Sirius were there for him when no one else was. James risked his life to fight Voldemort, whereas Snape was happily on Voldy's side until that one person he cared about was marked for death by the Prophecy©. Snape was also an abusive bully well until he died--just ask Neville. Dumbledore has also told Harry that memories are fickle things, which can be changed, so the chances that Snape simmered in this memory and unconsciously distilled it to make his old nemeses seem even worse--or himself seem like the angel who wouldn't hurt a fly--also exist. As someone who's experienced bullying, mockery, etc, I know this self-serving tendency of memory quite well. Though this bit is speculation on my part. )

Regarding the sillier names like Pansy Parkinson, and mean descriptions

In addition, when the series began, it started as a children's series, hence the Roald Dahl-like non-villain bad guys of the early part, and the "hate-me-I'm-nasty" names they were given. The Dursleys. Dudley Dursley aka Dudders. "Pansy Parkinson". Everyone was more caricature than character. That's how they are in children's books.

Many people are also described in a way to make the reader immediately dislike them. Malfoy is pale, with a pointy chin. Snape is an oily man with a large beaked nose and greasy hair. Rita Skeeter has a mannish jaw. Umbridge has a face like a toad. All of this is again in keeping with the Roald Dahl theme. Whether it's Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, Violet Beauregarde or their mannerisms and descriptions make readers feel an instant dislike for them.

When the series became more... Mature, those caricatures can start finding their critics. Never mind that such caricatures and worse can be found in thousands of other works, like Superhero comics for instance. Yes, no one names their children "Pansy" but Slytherin was an allegory for white supremacist type people. Back in those days, JK wanted them to be hated without reserve, much as she wanted bigotry and racism to be (irony, considering where she stands today).

Death of the Author

In the text there is no real transphobia that I can remember, other than that description of Rita having a "mannish jaw" (I admit that I haven't read it in ages, but I am still certain of this). Once the material is out in print, everyone is free to interpret it as they choose. Whenever JK comes out with clarifications or retcons or something--as she is known to do anyway--it's still more of her headcanon than in-world truth. If there is no outright mention of something in the text, then it doesn't matter what meaning the author intended to convey. What matters is what each reader makes of it. In the case of Harry Potter, the enemy are clearly folks obsessed with blood purity: Purebloods.

Lazy names

I'm going to speak specifically about the Indian names here: Parvati and Padma Patil.

While India is a large country and the name is more common in certain regions than others, I had heard that Patel/Patil surname is quite common in Britain. And really in Indian cinema the most common girls' names are Priya (Big Bang Theory as well) or Pooja, many girls in this side of the screen have goddess names. Like "Parvati". Many people also keep the same first letter for names for twins, or even in families (for instance, my parents, sister, and I, all have names starting with "A"), so "Padma" is a nice choice of name. And really, Padma and Parvati Patil are much better names than "Khan Noonien Singh" (now there's a lazy name).

Everyone insists that Star Trek's Khan is supposed to be of Indian origin, but with a name like that and an actor with a Mexican accent... I don't really think so. It was because of this silly character generation that I didn't particularly mind him being played by the very white Benedict Cumberbatch.

But the Patil twins. Them I can feel that connection to.

Races of the main cast

Now this might be something contentious, so I apologise for that in advance.

No one cares what Harry is, though since Petunia is noted as being pale, and Lily has red hair, the unknown factor is James Potter. Was he black? That would make Harry biracial at best.

Ron is written as a freckled boy with red hair, and all Weasleys share that look.

As for Hermione... She is the poster child of the blood-purity bigotry bias. When reading her, people are supposed to understand that the prejudice against her is certainly her Muggle-born origin; not her skin color, not her nationality, not her sexual orientation. Which is why I feel it's necessary that she stand out as less as possible in those other ways. For this reason I think that it was a good idea to portray her as white.

Here are characters who are specifically noted as black: Dean Thomas, Michael Corner (both of whom were Ginny's boyfriends), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan, Blaise Zabini (who's noted as being very handsome, and quite popular). Aside from these we have a few token people of Indian and Chinese origin. Speaking again as an Indian, I don't really mind. This is a British story set in a mid-nineties British school only accepting students from the British Isles. It makes sense to me if there are few Indians.

What does all of this translate to? There are legit reasons to hate both the character and the series. So don't make stuff up, especially if you're ignoring the text to do it. Don't confuse the author and their work, even if you have resolved not to buy that work and thereby support her.

#Harry Potter #In defense-ish of #My opinion #Bigass post

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nightowlgazette · 4 years

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Bela Lugosi Is (Un)Dead

Los Angeles is the home of entertainment, the beach, and even some specters that haunt some places that might make you feel like you’re in a classic horror movie. The place is known as the “City of Angels” might be filled to the brim with the ghosts of ages past. Especially those who have once graced the silver screen or even your TV screen at home.

Today, the city is best known for the bright lights, big stars, and the Walk of Fame that pays homage to many who have made a name for themselves in entertainment. But is there a spirit of some celebrity hanging around their star?

We may not be able to answer that question definitively, but what we can do is point you to the places that might.

With that, join us as we take a look at the Top 10 Most Haunted Places in Los Angeles.

10. Hollywood Forever Cemetery

First on the list is the cemetery that is the final resting place of many celebrities. With names like Mal Blanc, Fay Wray, Gary Golden and more, a stroll can quickly turn into a game of “you name it, they’re probably here”.

One of the known hauntings that most visitors have recounted was the sound of a woman crying by the lake that is located on the grounds of the cemetery. Some have said that the woman may have been that of Virginia Rappe. Rappe was a silent film actress who passed away in 1921. Her death was said to be linked to a fellow film actor named Fatty Arbuckle. While Arbuckle was cleared in the connection of her death, some historians beg to differ.

Many visitors have often found figures and apparitions milling around the cemetery grounds, with most of them wearing clothing from the periods of when they were still alive. So it may not be unusual to see a specter dressed like they were from the 1950s.

9. Hollywood Pantages Theatre

When charmed businessman Howard Hughes owned the infamous Pantages Theatre, he built a door that connected his office directly to one of the theater balconies, where he would go to think in the dark. Hughes’s ghost is a notorious workaholic, and is said to be seen in his former office on the second floor.

According to legend, during the restoration in 2000, people said they saw a man stepping off the balcony, walking along the scaffolding, and standing over a worker to inspect his work. When the guy turned to ask the man what he wanted, the figure vanished.

The Pantages is also host to a female presence who died during a show in 1932. Apparently, during a cast recording, microphones were set up in the theater and they heard someone singing in the mic when no one was on stage. Some say the woman who died was an aspiring singer who’s living out her unrealized dreams of performing at the Pantages.

8. The Culver Studios

The studio complex where such legendary Tinseltown films as Gone with the Wind and Raging Bull were filmed was built in 1918 by silent movie pioneer Thomas Ince. Ince died in 1924, after falling ill on newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst’s yacht during a star-studded cruise and dinner, celebrating Ince’s 42nd birthday. While the official cause of death was listed as heart failure, legend has it that Ince was actually shot and killed by a jealous Hearst, who was supposedly aiming at (and missed) Charlie Chaplin, who had eyes for Hearst’s mistress Marion Davies. Some say Ince’s ghost still shows up for work at his beloved former studio, and can be seen and heard walking through walls and criticizing management.

7. The Queen Mary

Famous for its Halloween event, Dark Harbor, but the Queen Mary in Long Beach is certifiably haunted according to the countless visitors who claim to hear voices and rattling chains during tours and overnight stays. The Queen Mary certainly has a past that’s ripe for modern-day hauntings. She started life as a luxury liner, setting forth on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, in 1937, and hosting everyone from Bob Hope to Winston Churchill. But when WWII began, the Queen Mary was drafted into service as a ferry ship, carrying thousands of troops into battle areas. The fancy lady was stripped of her chic facade, painted a camo grey and dubbed the “Grey Ghost.” After years of service in war, and at her majesty’s whim, the Queen Mary was eventually sold to a tour operator and sent to retirement in Long Beach, where she’s been a floating hotel and event spot since 1967. According to the late psychic and ghost hunter, Peter James, who led tours around the Queen Mary, almost all areas of the ship including the second class pool deck and engine room 13 are known to be haunted.

6. The Haunter Forest and Cobb Estate

Avid hikers will recognize this spot as the Sam Merrill trailhead, “a quiet refuge from people and wild life forever”—so reads the dedication on the cobblestone gate of the Cobb Estate. But to ghost hunters, it’s the Haunted Forest.

The sparse forest didn’t seem so haunted until the 1950s, when the Marx Brothers purchased the land and temporarily saved the dilapidated mansion from destruction—in the process turning it into a favorite haunt for squatters and ne’er-do-wells.

Today, you’re more likely to find curious teens at night wandering around what’s left of the house’s foundation; though ghost sightings are non-specific, many report ghostly noises on the surviving staircase and the feeling that they’re being watched in the dimly lit forest.

5. Griffith Park Old Zoo

A lot of people who may have heard or seen spirits will describe them as a man, woman, or child. But not every spirit might be of human form. The Old Zoo located in Griffith Park might be such a place where the spirits of even unhappy captive animals may be heard or possibly seen at night. By the daytime, it’s a really popular picnic area where friends and family can hang out and enjoy the day.

This was the first-ever zoo to be established in Los Angeles. And it was home to many lions, bears, monkeys, and several other animals. If you want to check out a place at night they might not be a walk in the park for the faint-hearted, this could be something to check out.

4. “The Entity” House

The Entity House might just look like some ordinary house located smack dab in the middle of suburban Los Angeles. But the home is known for having a story that was published into a book (and later adapted into a horror film that earned the house its name). The house was believed to the be sight of a series of hauntings with one victim recalling so many stories of each haunted happening.

While the story of “The Entity” may seem to live on forever in books and movies, the home may still have a story of its own to tell of things never been told. Are there spirits still haunting the home? What other stories that have yet to be heard that may have never been revealed in either the book or film adaptation? We will discuss the history of the home and the stories that have given it the reputation of being one of the most haunted places in all of Los Angeles.

3. Beverly Hills Bermuda Triangle

Even in the trendy neighborhood of Beverly Hills, there’s always a place that has some kind of strange presence. This part of 90210 is no stranger to some weird things. Billionaire and aviation enthusiast Howard Hughes was said to have crashed into a few homes in the neighborhood. Fortunately, Hughes survived the crash.

However, this area was also the site of a couple of high-profile homicides. One of them was the murder of Bugsy Siegel in 1947. Nearly sixty years later, a Hollywood publicist named Ronni Chasen was shot while driving in her car. She later died shortly afterward when she collided into a light pole as she attempted to flee the scene.

Over the years, some celebrities who came across this part of LA often found themselves in weird, if not, near-death situations. One such case was when musician Jan Berry of the 1960s group Jan and Dean was nearly killed in a car crash while driving and turning a sharp curve.

2. Hotel Roosevelt

Legend has it that the ghost of Marilyn Monroe still haunts her old stomping grounds. Until a few years ago, there was a famous mirror in the lobby where people would take pictures and claim they could see Marilyn’s reflection above them. The full-length mirror that once hung in Monroe’s poolside suite, and then in the lobby where it has since been removed. On the ninth floor, you can hear the late actor Montgomery Clift—who lived in suite 928 for three months while filming From Here to Eternity—practicing on his trumpet. During their stay, many guests have asked the hotel staff to tell the guest in the next room to stop playing in the middle of the night, only for the room to turn out to be vacat. What’s more? Lights and faucets are known to turn on and off on their own and the switchboard gets calls from vacant rooms.

1. Bela Lugosi’s Apartment

Bela Lugosi was another one of the acting greats in the horror film genre. For those that don’t know, his famous role was Dracula. It was known that Lugosi would always visit his favorite cigar shop every day on Hollywood Boulevard. When he died, the mortician could not have told a crazy story like the one of what happened while driving Lugosi’s body to the funeral home.

The funeral procession was supposed to go towards the cemetery in Culver City. However, the horses that were carrying the coffin had started to fight the driver. The driver wanted the horses to go right, however, the horses drew the hearse to the left. The horses went through oncoming traffic and down the boulevard. Turns out, Lugosi had gone daily to buy cigars and read the newspaper on Hollywood Boulevard. The horses stopped right in front of the shop that he frequented.

Some have said that Lugosi’s spirit may have played a role in that apparent incident. Possibly as a way to say goodbye to the place that he called home for much of his acting career. But ultimately, no one would ever be able to explain what really happened.

Eliot Wilde, journalist and writer for Night Owl and host of Night Owl FM

#vtm rp #article

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stusbunker · 5 years

Text

Older Bonds and Deeper Ties

For Better or Worst: Chapter Seven

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC

Other Characters: Jack, Naomi, Dean, Castiel, OC Bandit (their dog)

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 3599

Summary: Sam comes home late and has to face the music. Jack continues his pursuit of answers. Castiel pushes on. Emery starts panicking on her own. Sam knows things.

Warnings: Show level experiments, nightmares, and suggested loss of a child.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.” - Anita Ofokansi

Sam pulled Emery’s car behind his crossover, knowing they would have to switch their positions soon enough. It was just after one in the morning and Sam didn’t know what he was walking back into. Or who Emery was, really. He hoped she had gone to bed so he could take some more time to wrap his mind around what his life had become. He also knew he had fucked up by not calling and the shame was eating at him on one side, as the thought of not owing her an explanation scratched on the other. This was probably his worst birthday, yet. Cautiously, Sam approached the back door, but the motion detectors spotted him, and he had to ease in through the mudroom without much stealth.

He nudged a hamper full of wet clothes out of his way before stepping into the kitchen. Bandit’s tags then his nails on the tile floor raised Sam’s head in time to see Emery, blurry eyed and ridiculous with her scarf askew and his robe nearly tripping her as she met him. Everything he had worried about fell away when her smoky voice rattled a tender, “happy birthday.”

He tried to keep the smile from his lips, but they weren’t listening, his face broke open like a well whacked pinata. “I think I missed it.”

She caught up with him, snaking her arms around his waist as he set down his keys on the island. Her head hit him between the shoulder blades, she was just so small. Sam pulled her hand up to his heart, spinning into her embrace. They kissed quickly, but he wouldn’t let her pull away.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he confessed.

“Yeah, what the hell, man?! I had plans and then the stupid rain happened and Mox and Sho are assholes. Luckily Bandit was here otherwise I would probably still be pouting--”

“You smell good,” Sam interrupted, kissing her a little deeper.

“Nope, nice try though,” Emery smirked, holding him at arm’s length. “Where were you?”

“At the meeting until like 8:30, 8:40? Then, somehow, they found out it was my birthday. So, we had drinks,” Sam started talking, hoping to make sense.

“And your phone suddenly evaporated, or they took you to the one dead zone in a city of half a million people?” Emery nodded, biting back the snark enough to tease and not harm.

“How much wine have you had?” Sam glanced behind Emery at the countertop, eyeing the abandoned blue glass bottle.

“Enough! Hey, don’t change the subject.” She poked him in the sternum, hard enough for him to wince.

“Ow! Well, you’re usually an adorable drunk. I was just asking!” Sam groaned, but couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore. “Cady took my phone. She noticed your texts during the meeting and decided to be a child and hold it hostage.”

“Did she now?” Emery’s eyebrows hitched. “And?”

“And, I’m sorry.” Sam conceded, not feeling the least bit guilty about using Cady as a fall guy. Just a tad guilty about the lying part, though.

“No, not you Sam, what else did Cady do?” Emery knew things, somehow Sam forgot how intuitive she was.

“She made a pass at me,” Sam mumbled.

“I knew it! That little--,” Emery inhaled before the words came out. “Did anyone else see it? Is it going to be a big thing?”

“No, once I told her, twice, she got the message,” Sam swallowed, taken aback at the faith she had in him, in their relationship.

Emery tucked a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Are you okay?”

“’m fine, why?” Sam straightened, still playing with the fingers on her free hand.

“A hot, younger woman tried to get you in bed, Sam. It’s not an easy situation to navigate, for anyone. I know this is still new, for you, this kind of life—”

Sam huffed. “Trust me, putting Cady in her place was the easiest thing I did all day.”

“Well okay then,” Emery draped her hands on the back of his neck. “Why don’t we get to bed, Birthday Boy? Wifey is tired.”

“Me too,” Sam yawned just as Emery was about to kiss him again. Instead she attacked his cheek down to his neck. The warmth of the wine radiated from her skin as it brushed against his. Sam dipped and picked her up, stomping up to their bedroom in a shared bout of exhaustion tinted giggles. Sam slept soundly that night, not because he was in denial, but because he couldn’t deny how loved he felt with Emery. The lies were second nature to him, but he had told her the truths that he could at the time. He had been used before, he wasn’t letting his guard down, but a part of him needed her to be real.

^*^*^

“It’s good to see you again, Jack,” Naomi held open the door to her office, ushering him inside the stark décor. He tried to smile back, but his better instincts allowed him a polite caution.

Once she was sat behind her desk Jack spoke up, “I want to see Dean. If I am going to trust you are doing the right thing, I need to see proof of life.”

“Proof of life? In Heaven?” Naomi replied tartly, not letting her amusement show. “Jack, I’d like to think you have a good understanding of the desperate circumstances we are in here. The lengths we have gone to, to keep the souls and this world, safe. We have entertained your visits and questions, but I can’t risk your presence setting Dean, or Michael off.”

“How do I know he’s even here?! That you’re making progress. You won’t tell me where Sam is. Just let me see my--- Dean. I want to see Dean.” Jack hadn’t realized he had stood up with his outburst, his soul burning behind his eyes. A fact that Naomi didn’t miss, she tugged her jacket into place and sniffed at the petulant Nephil.

“Please?” He added softly, sitting back down.

Naomi stood up, looming over the desk like a disappointed principal. “Your persistence doesn’t change my responsibilities, Jack. Heaven cannot fall. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think so,” Jack nodded, something in his face shifting the fire in the angel’s eyes to something cooler, something closer to warmth. She walked around the desk and nodded toward the office door. Somehow, they were in a different hallway than the one that had led them to the office originally. It was still bright and stark, but narrower and twisting. Jack kept close to Naomi’s heels, feeling like the door-less walls were tightening every few yards.

“You cannot tell anyone what you see here, Jack. I know you have kept your word so far, but I need to reiterate how important it is that this process won’t be disturbed. Can you promise me that this stays between us?” Naomi had stopped at the end of the hall, a T intersection with three doors surrounded them now.

“Yes, I swear,” Jack nodded enthusiastically, hands heavy against his pockets as he wiped the sweat off.

“I need you to remain quiet. Don’t try to touch him or reach him in any way. Can you do that?” Naomi watched Jack until, against her better judgement, she rounded the corner to the right and faced a fourth hidden door at the end of a much shorter corridor.

“Wait here.” Naomi smiled sadly before disappearing behind the tempered glass door, her warped form fading from view as Jack watched earnestly.

Jack cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. He was trying to hold all that nervous excitement and fear inside himself. He needed Naomi to trust him if he was going to be allowed further access. If he was going to save his family that he owed his life, twice over. He could do this. He would this. Just when his internal dialogue had reached thudding levels, the door clicked open, a dull metallic shimmer reflecting from the depth behind Naomi.

“It’s okay, Jack. You can come in, just don’t touch anything,” she whispered tensely.

Jack had gotten used to the solitary meetings with Naomi, occasionally he would see Dumah or one other angel he hadn’t been introduced to. Heaven was vast and they were stretched thin, with so few of their kind remaining. Jack knew his father had given them false hope for stability, he didn’t want to repeat those failures. Steeling himself, Jack walked past Naomi into a large space, it reminded him of a surgical bay from Dean’s favorite medical show. There were white machines and metal trays upon the matching counters, directly in the center of the room, approximately thirty feet from where Naomi and Jack stood, was Dean.

He lay with a crown of rods laced through his skull, his mouth open and eyes closed. He wore the black tee shirt and jeans he had left the Bunker in, all those months before. Jack inhaled deeply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Dean’s boots lay underneath the simple bed, as if he would kick his legs over the side and slip them on at any moment.

Naomi watched the Nephil process the scene, knowing he would protest at any moment. This, like all their previous discussions, was a test. She was desperate to save Heaven, but she was not careless. This boy was a valuable resource, with the loyalty of a Winchester and the naivety of Castiel. She needed him to trust her and he was so willing to. His desire to prove himself shone through every squint or thoughtful pause. She tried to brush off the endearment she felt, as residual family connection.

“Can he feel---” Jack started.

“He’s not in any pain, Jack. No, Dean is kept separate from his body for now. As is his guest,” Naomi explained, unwilling to tempt fate and call the angel inside the hunter’s mind to the surface.

“How much longer?” Jack turned to lock onto her piercing blue eyes.

“We aren’t sure. We are doing everything we can for him,” Naomi reassured. Then turned back the way they came. Jack blinked against the tears in his eyes as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall. He was alive and Jack could get to him if he really needed to. But Jack wasn’t dull enough to think that Dean was safe. As if on cue, once they reached the door a pained whimper escaped Dean’s lips, freezing them both in place.

^*^*^

Castiel was surprised to find Sam and Emery’s home unwarded. He wasn’t breaking in, just casually observing as he roamed their neighborhood on foot. It had been a week since he had gotten through to Sam, the first chance he could make the trip back from the Bunker. Mary had called him in to help as they slowly pieced apart the remaining factions of Michael’s army. She knew Cas had his own agenda, but he hadn’t shared his progress with her. He didn’t want to give anyone’s hopes up. His own included.

Sam spotted him as he loaded Mox and Sho into the backseat with Bandit, his annoyance shining through on a dark glare topped off with a subtle shake of his head. Cas sighed and kept walking, through the damp lawn of a small park and back to the quiet diner on a noisy street, where he had left his car. He came back just after dark, watching from across the street beside a seldom used alley. From what he could gather, Sam’s wife was human. Their life had been set up to thrive, a nice house and comfortable jobs out of harm’s way and far from prying eyes. He needed to unravel the layers of the spell before he could convince Sam of the best course of action.

It was on the third day that Sam took Bandit for an extra walk, putting Emery’s distraction over finals’ preparation to good use. He found Cas camped out in his flamboyant car, nodding to Cas repeatedly before leading him down a side street, close, but not too close to their usual loop of the neighborhood.

“Any news?” Cas challenged once they were a safe distance away.

“Not really, no,” Sam sighed, watching Castiel crouch down to greet Bandit. “We have way more normal security on the house that I imagine necessary, but I haven’t found any hex bags or anything.”

“What about her? Do you suspect she is under an angel’s control?” Castiel offered. Sam’s lips pursed and he started shaking his head.

“I don’t mean possession, at least not currently,” Castiel eased.

“Look, man. I know something is going on, but—”

“But what, Sam? You are out here in some contrived reality, intentionally separated from Dean, me, your mother AND Jack.”

Sam kneeled down and scratched Bandit around his collar, humility and guilt slamming into him. “You’re right, Cas,” Sam let out in a constricted whisper. “How’re they doing?”

Cas huffed, “Fine, considering. Jack has refocused on physical training and Mary is quite the dispatcher.”

Sam smiled, warm and worried. “And the new recruits?”

Cas had been hoping the conversation hadn’t circled back to the Bunker and its Apocalypse World inhabitants. His pause sent Sam’s defenses back up. “We’ve had some tough hunts. Maggie, and a few others, but—”

Sam inhaled sharply, the news, a bucket of cold water down his back. The hunting life a cacophony of loss, such a stark contrast to his months of sudden complacency.

“They need you back. We need you both back,” Cas finished firmly.

“I can’t leave, if I do something much worse will happen,” Sam practically mumbled, free hand dragging over his beard.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cas stepped closer, conscious of the length of their public conversation. He nodded Sam around the next corner, continuing to talk as they walked. “What? What will happen if you break this deal?!”

Sam looked over his shoulder, instincts returning after being dulled for so long.

“I don’t know.” Elbows bowing out, hands firmly in his pockets. “I just know I’m not going to put Emery—or Dean—in danger.”

Cas’s jaw clenched; the air thickened impossibly around the old friends. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet he was. Winchester stubbornness and loyalty always blinded them in the end. Though Sam was usually easier to reason with, or so Castiel remembered.

“Alright, just be careful. I shouldn’t have to remind you, but don’t ingest anything you haven’t prepared yourself.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The kitchen was stocked when I showed up, but we’ve done all our own shopping since,” he replied tersely.

“Perhaps you should take over cooking duties, exclusively?”

Sam glanced to Castiel, chagrin softening his features. As Castiel felt Sam’s acquiescence, he reeled in his own doggedness. He had been in Sam’s shoes, once upon a time, when human kindness had saved him from harsh truths. When he couldn’t face what he was or what he had done after swallowing half of Purgatory.

“I know you trust her, Sam. I don’t want to infringe on your--- relationship, but I think---”

“Got it, Cas. Stay diligent,” Sam cut him off. “Look, here’s my new number. I couldn’t get through to Mom or the number I tried to remember for you. Grab yourself a burner, we can keep in touch easier.”

“They’re thorough, I’ll give them that.” Cas shook Sam’s hand, taking the strip of paper, a smoother gesture than Sam expected.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Sam muttered before crossing the street, heading back the way they came.

^*^*^

Emery didn’t know where she was going or how she ended up in the backseat of some outdated boat of a car. She felt like she was five years old again, her granddad driving her to school while her mom worked the morning shift at the diner. The heavy metal seat belt, familiar and cool in her lap. But it wasn’t her granddad driving, it was some white guy, two of them, actually. As she watched in silent disbelief of her surroundings, it became apparent that the men were twins. Or perhaps the driver was a descendant of the passenger, their clothing at odds with each other.

Suddenly, the one to her right turned to face her, a wave of nausea hitting her as a smug smile crept over his mystifying features.

Emery woke with the taste of bile in her mouth. The surrealism of the dream hitting her with a second bout of panic as the possibility of what the encounter meant for her, for the human sat beside an angel in her vision, for Sam, and their entire deal. She raced from the bed and dry heaved into the toilet. The stretching cold crystallized across her overheated skin, overreaching in its unpleasantness. Carefully, she fell back onto her palms and ass, the tile edges biting into her, vibrations sputtering from her heart to every inch of flesh.

The light snapped on, Sam hesitated in the doorway, waiting as she tried to pull the green from her features. Quickly, she flushed away what little came up.

“Baby? Can I get you anything?” Sam’s voice cracked over his first words of the day. He couldn’t look directly at her, the disgust breaking through his usual cool. Emery chuckled, some tough guy he was.

“Just leftovers from a nightmare,” Emery reassured, groaning, she pulled herself up.

“You sure? Cuz we could stay home, just in case?” Sam offered, arms crossing over his chest while she marched back to bed.

“Don’t have to twist my arm. No Church it is,” she grumbled, tugging the comforter to her chin.

“Okay, rest up. I’ll be back up in a bit,” Sam squeezed her ankle, and pat the bed, earning a weak agreement from Emery.

An hour and a half later, Sam gave up waiting for Emery to emerge from her cocoon. Instead, he piled breakfast onto a sterling silver platter he found in the china cabinet. He focused on the small motions that built the meal, piece by piece. Coffee, of course, alongside a glass of ginger ale tainted with a touch of holy water, scrambled eggs, with more salt than was necessary. In all, they gave him the trifecta of tests in an inconspicuous, single serving. His insides were too wound up to take any of the food for himself; reluctance and apprehension warring within.

Along the far corner, Sam placed a single tulip from the yard atop an almond colored envelope. After placing the unbuttered toast beside the eggs, in case her stomach remained upset, Sam resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing left for him to prepare. No other item needed, no way to prevent the inevitable without giving up completely. Conflicted wasn’t a strong enough word for his state as Sam climbed the stairs. He knocked on the bedroom door with Bandit at his heels, whose eagerness to check on Emery refocused Sam’s attention.

“Come in, but I’m not gettin’ up yet,” Emery’s warbled voice called through the carved wood. Sam balanced the tray and opened the door, letting Bandit in to get the first kisses. Emery giggle whined as she patted Bandit a spot beside her. He, instead, circled thrice before laying across her legs.

“Hey.” Sam stood sheepishly, while Emery sat up.

“What’s this? Breakfast in bed? Lucky me.” Emery smirked, holding her arms up as Sam settled the tray onto her lap. Sam hovered, eyes sparkling in anticipation, but the ornately engraved tray left her unblemished. She smelled the flower before setting it back down to read her card, the opening words gripped her chest and stole her breath away.

‘A mother is not defined by the number of children you see, but by the love she holds in her heart.’

“How—" her words caught in her throat, tears falling without her realizing they had formed.

Sam cleared his throat and pushed her breakfast over to his empty side of the bed. He took her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the grief.

“I guessed?” Words softening as he peered into her astounded eyes. “By the way you are with Trudy and the baby. By the way your body was molded into something beautiful, a testament to what it had carried,” Sam whispered, lips dancing over her forehead.

“Geez, maybe Hallmark should hire you,” Emery teased, trying to lighten the moment that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Happy Mothers’ Day, Emery. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I want you to know… that I know that part of you. I see you, and all that love in your heart, even if no one else does. Okay? And I’m sorry they’re not here with us now, ya know?” Sam pawed at her hair as her hands clamped over his wrists, holding him to her.

“Yeah, I know.” She breathed deeply, sticky and thick through the sobs. “Sam? I see you too. I might not get, all of it. But I know you’re so much more than this life.” A few ragged breaths later, she kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t earth shattering, but short and salted, yet filled with a deepening bond neither had seen coming. She left the card propped open on her bedside table as she ate. The final tests forgotten, but if Sam had been paying attention he would have noticed, her only reaction was a stifled grimace at the now cold, over-seasoned eggs.

^*^*^

Read On: A Door Once Opened

#for better or worst series #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x emery simmons-winchester #sam winchester x ofc #sam/ofc #sam x emery #simwin #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic series #spn fanfic

36 notes · View notes

inkdrinkershadowsinger · 4 years

Text

Thoughts/Background Goblet of Fire

What kind of creepy graveyard is this? Skeletons crawling over one another? Snake hidey-holes? Is this Nagini speaking or can she hear Voldemort from that far away? This just shows how fast she is as she moves along the ground here. Literally, we have here the Angel of Death equipped with wings and a scythe, which normally the Grim Reaper carries.

One light on in the caretaker’s house which is right next to the family graveyard? We are assuming that this is the Riddle estate, correct? Wealthy families like that would have had a family graveyard near their home. Also, that house in the background, Riddle Manor? Is super big and though it is dark looks grandiose.

The house here, looks well lived in, but at the same time, almost like it has only recently been inhabited. This is a kitchen, but it looks like there is a shovel on the wall, and only one light?

Still, only one light on in the main Riddle house. Wormtail can’t even draw a curtain? Dang.

Those are some old fashioned keys. I understand that this is a Manor or whatever, but this takes place during the nineties? No one thought to update the locks on this place? Frank mentions, “Those kids”, like people breaking in has been a real problem. Why not update the security? Also, who has been paying for the upkeep of this place? Lucius? Some secret Dark Lord Corporation? Is that why they are old school? Because we all know that wizards like to keep everything super, super, super old school?

Seriously, who is keeping up this place? The topiary is amazing!!

He looks like he is walking up a sort of backdoor entrance or servant’s entrance.

He is the caretaker for the grounds, but can’t dust a little? That clock needs a good one.

The light wasn’t muted because no one was casting a lumos, they were simply using a lamp that had the fabric bits removed that dampen the light.

The way that Barty is smiling when Nagini perches herself on Voldemort’s chair is fucking terrifying.

Ron’s room really is all orange. Such a fanboy.

The Burrow is in such a great spot. The little pond in front, the trees, the openness. The house itself is incredible. Still, only one light on. Whose? You can see the group walking away. That has to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. Or Ron forgot to turn off the light, again.

They are all having to run to keep up with Mr. Weasley because he gets his cardio, bitch.

Mr. Weasley is rocking that straw cabana hat because he knows Muggles son!

Such a beautiful shot!

Did they travel through a worm hole here? I know the director or whoever had to make a creative choice in how this was going to be portrayed, but…. Idk.

Everyone is flying around, the arena is clearly segregated into Ireland’s colors or Green, Red, and Yellow, perhaps hinting at the final score of the match? Nice job, filmmakers.

What is this guy juggling? It looks like toy merecreatures almost.

Orange is the Weasley families favorite color. They’re just owning it at this point.

The pitch looks like it is in the inside of a volcano or a mountain.

Some people have seats right on the grass of the pitch? So, if the Weasle’s have bad seats at the very top what would the very lowest seats be classified as?

Who knew that a job qualification for Professional Qudditich players is the ability to adequately throw and spark fireworks?

Krum is a showoff.

Those are omnoculars? What Ron has to his face?

The way that they were all packed in together, it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t burn down with all the incendios they were throwing around.

They are all wizards, underage or not, and this is a life threatening situation, and yet, no one is firing back at the Death Eaters?

Okay, so everything did get torched to the ground. None of these tents had some fire retardant?

That amount of spells coming at the trio.

That style of hat that Crouch is wearing has got to be some ministry trend. Wait until they all hit the trucker hats in the 2000’s.

That Dark Mark is really cool.

I love her hat though. It looks like something that would have been worn to the royal wedding.

Seeing the train is always stunning.

I love the collection of sweets here. Colorful, to attract the youngins.

This is a really colorful movie. The third one was very muted while still being stunning. This and the next one experience with splashes of color that are just beautiful.

They are passing a big lake in the background there. Out of the window just looks wild and remote.

He addresses it clearly to Sirius Black. Is that a qualification for the owls to know where they letter needs to go or do they just have to have been there before? I need to know the specifics of owl travel.

You get to see the whole scope of how large not only Hogwarts is ,but the grounds, and I love that.

You see Neville in this first sequence as they are watching the other schools arrive as well as Fred, George, Ginny, Colin, Harry, and Hermione. Angelina Johnson is in the background behind the twins.

The sails on the Durmstrang ship looks like it is decorated with a two headed dragon. Is that the symbol for Durmstrang?

So while Dumbledore is chatting, Hagrid and Flitwick are behind him chit chatting.

There are two levels to the head table in this movie. The main folk are sitting at the higher table. Snape is leaning against the wall, not directly related to them at all. I bet he hated first days at the school.

Snape is one hundred percent mimicking Dumbledore’s speech for a hysterical Flitwick in the background.

The bald guy behind Dumbledore looks asleep, straight up.

Are butterflies the symbol for Beauxbatons? That would be very interesting. A creature that transforms completely into something else.

Hermione and Ginny are the only two who know what’s up in this shot.

Dumbledore was giving Madame Maxime eyes.

Filch is just standing dead in the middle of the Durmstrang wizards.

He is still standing there when Krum and Karkaroff walk in.

The kids so promptly follow Dumbledore’s instructions even though some of them are probably embarrassed about having to sing the school song.

But not Harry James Potter. He is living for this song.

Again we get so many shots of the school in this movie.

You can see the house point containers behind Dumbledore’s head.

You can see them again after the goblet is revealed.

Is that a tower of marshmallows?

OMgosh! The sky acted up when Crouch Jr came in because Hogwarts knew that he wasn’t who he said he was!!!!

The cup is so primitive looking compared to the container that is in.

It almost looks like each layer was created by a different faction of the wizarding world as a whole. That could definitely be a fanfic.

The perspective starts on the Durmstrang ship which again features a dragon.

Cages, nets in the background of the DADA classroom.

There is also a lot of glass and mirrors in the room which almost makes me think of a fun house where you don’t look like yourself in any of the mirrors which is super fitting for Crouch Jr. at this phase.

Why does Hermione look so suspicious already?

And what is the use of all the bugs, Crouch Jr. you sick mother f-er.

Who needs fifty overflowing worms in a jar?

Dean Thomas is straight up rocking a composition notebook from Walmart on that desk. He is representing Muggle culture at its finest.

Crabbe is wearing a ring. Is that his heir ring? That would be interesting as we see the younger generation start to really get pulled into the war in this film.

The portrait on the stain glass crying. We have all seen this, and appreciate the majesty.

We love a rain soaked Robert Pattinson.

Everyone is just watching the battle between the twins and Hermione.

There is no other light in the Great hall except for the Goblet? Dumbledore does love his aesthetic.

Snape is like, get me out of here.

And that display of power is why all of them dang kids sing that dorky song.

Who is Cedric kissing here as he goes up to the head table?

The cup is like the opposite of the Goblet of Fire. It is shiny and bright and new while the goblet is ancient looking.

You can see Harry’s scar quite prevalently in this shot.

The Hogwarts trophy room. I have never connected this before. It is huge.

Karkaroff has gold fillings.

What are the spinning trophies and where can I get one?

One light on in the top part of the castle.

Pensieve memories are blue, and the Goblet’s fire is blue. Coincidence? Fic writers, you tell me.

The suns on the curtains in the boy’s dorm is a nice touch.

Ron has a homemade quilt. I bet he gets those for birthday gifts instead of the infamous Christmas sweater. Molly Weasley is a boss.

What are all of these trophies for? I bet Dumbledore keeps all the ones that the various clubs and groups have won over the years.

Magical cleaner?

The scope of Hogwarts is amazing.

The owlery is literally covered in bird shit, like every inch. Dumbledore clearly instructs Filch not to clean it to deter frisky students.

Is that a cat on the stairs there?

I can’t ever decide if the Common Room looks too big or too small, here.

Harry talks about Voldemort so casually. But I guess if someone tried to kill me year after year we would form a sort of familiarity.

Those cabinets in the back are filled with board games. Bet me. Gryffindors are notoriously bloody, and game night, gets wild.

I bet Neville spends a lot of his time in the lake just researching and studying all of the different plant life.

Neville cares not at all for the drama behind him. He’s just like, “Give me the plants”.

I love that bright orange flower. Hagrid ain’t no fool. He knows how to get the ladies.

The mist in the background could almost be taken as fog, but then you think about the dragon’s and it literally could be smoke.

Hagrid representing all of the men who are shorter than their women.

There looks to be about six dragon handlers here.

They are carrying branches or their wands lit with fire at the end. Is that to confuse the dragons? Make them think that they already covered that area in their territory and are thus safe?

The handler on top gets bucked off the cage. He is done with this job.

I’m sorry, but those badges are ingenious. Do we know in the movie that Draco is the one that made them or is that fanon?

Those Hufflepuffs are nasty.

The sculpture that is seen in that scene in the courtyard looks like the same one that is present in Half Blood Prince. Do they also move around the castle at will?

Harry pushed Draco, and that guy in the back is like, “Yes, let’s have a fight.” Then he and the other guy straight up bounce when Moody pops on the scene. But Goyle is ride or die. Or maybe they ran and got McGonagall because she came really quickly???? Hmmm??

The walls are all green and lightly moss covered. Gorgeous.

Like, is there a legit list of all the things that teachers cannot do. 1. We do not use Transfiguration as a punishment. 2. Trying to main or kill students is expressively forbidden. 3. Flashy robes are allowed and encouraged. Share in the glorious pattern of life.

Crouch Jr. should have been shitting his pants at being at the end of McGonagall’s wand.

Again with all the mirrors. So, Crouch Jr. can make sure that his transformation isn’t slipping?

What are the faces in the mirror here?

All the clues were there, and I didn’t see a single one. This movie and book is a masterpiece of plot. Plain and simple.

McGonagall was like, “Let’s not have the arena with the dragons so close to the castle, eh, Albus?”

There is a bed for each of the champions in this tent. Could no one transfigure a couch?

They have punch and muffins in the background. “Lime punch before you fight a dragon?” “Sure.”

I never noticed that blue in Madame Mazime’s hair. I love the school spirit that she is showing here. Dumbledore seriously thought of mimicking her. He would look bomb with a tie die beard. Convince me otherwise.

Filch is featured spectacularly in this movie.

The trunk at the bottom has a red cross on it, making this very likely an emergency tent that just so happens to double as the waiting area for the champions.

Colin made that sign for Harry.

I feel like that chain, oh, I don’t know, could have been magically reinforced or something.

How does his glasses stay on? I bend over, and mine are on the floor.

Even Draco here is like, “Come on, bro.”

Snape knew he should have stayed in bed.

So, does the waterfall seen here does that fall into Hogwart’s grounds as well because that would be awesome for field trips. My love for this ancient, magical castle in the middle of nowhere is unmatched.

Where was Seamus during that challenge? I did not see him.

The picture of the woman in the far left is very striking.

The Black Lake is a huge expanse. I always think of it as kind of small, but it is massive in this movie.

The pastries in the back are floating along the table. So cool.

Mrs. Norris just chilling, waiting to see these pitiful humans embarrass themselves.

Why can’t they have healed Harry? I understand the look, but dang, people continuity.

Neville has got them shiny dancing shoes. Augusta was very pleased when Neville asked her to buy them for him.

Hermione is a queen, and she knows it.

There is that semi circle of stone again from the third film. Hmmm….

Ginny’s friends are coming in with the support. Love a squad.

There was fruit on that table. I always wondered if they got snacks and what not during the daytime, between meals.

What was the need of carriages if the ball was held at the school?

Ron waited until last minute to even try on those robes or he definitely could have worked something out.

Owl sculptures are supporting the fires here.

Krum is dumbstruck by our girl.

Somehow she loses Krum to argue with Ron.

Is that couple making out at the table?

People are dancing in the hallway?

A gaggle of girls are crying on the stairs. Every middle school dance ever.

I’m telling you, whoever designed this cemetery had a very messed up imagination.

Neville stays out all night long. It is morning coming through that window. You dog, you.

Half of the allure of going to Hogwarts is to get to become a prefect and use that bath. Let’s be honest.

Crouch Jr. hates his life right now.

All of those books are like represent my best life.

Half of those students are like, “Yeah, no, you took all my money last time.” Because let’s be real, no one bet on Harry, and Fred and George scored big time.

Those top tiered placed have got to be enlarged with wizard’s space because they are quite small, and the whole school plus the two others are expected to attend each trial? Yeah, not big enough it seems.

Harry is a show off.

Seamus is wearing Hogwarts merch. Like where did he get that? A catalog? Gift shop in Hogsmeade?

You can see the merpeople’s ancient village here, or hints of it. Archways, etc.

Fleur looks legit worried here. Like Harry was right to not trust Dumbledore to ensure their safety when he can’t even tell Fleur who is out of the competition by this point that her sister is going to be okay.

Why are Fred, George, and Ginny right next to Malfoy and Co. for this shot, shouldn’t they be at odds? Or was that the best spot and neither were giving it up? Or plain movie making reasons?

Harry is wearing a wand holster on his leg. Fanfiction writers catch all the details.

Seamus is like, “I am Harry’s hype man. I will keep him from getting hypothermia.”

Why did Hermione turn French here for that line?

Rescue….. that’s a strong word here, Dumbles.

Crouch Sr. is such an interesting character. He knows what it is like to lose a family, and he has his guard up because of that. Their story and their family is so interesting to me for some reason.

I think that’s the closest that Crouch Jr. gets to breaking character.

If you were born in the nineties you had at least one of those jackets that Hermione is wearing here, and if you had more, you had them in several colors.

Who bewitched Mad-eye’s eye? It is a very powerful magical object in its own right, right?

Please see my post about Sirius and Azkaban.

As soon as Snape is mentioned Crouch puts his head in his hands because he knows Dumbledore is going to have to have a say.

Dumbledore is looking so closely at the details that he misses the bigger picture in Harry’s dreams and Moody’s actions.

It’s so weird that Snape has a storage area for ingredients near Dumbledore’s office. I bet that Snape has several storage areas spread throughout the castle.

Snape could have just looked inside Harry’s mind, and be done with it, but no….because plot.

Neville is carrying yet another plant behind the trio here.

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle are so carefree here that you almost forget that the happiness of youth that they have at Hogwarts is about to go extinct just like Harry and his friends. All of the kids in this story face a sharp change in perspective after this book.

I like that Harry has fake Moody, Krum has Karkaroff, Fleur has Madame Maxime, but Cedric has his dad because he gets to say goodbye to him.

The maze is just a massive headgame.

Do you think the reason that Fleur ultimately becomes close enough to Krum to ask him to her wedding is because Krum sought her out and made serious recompense for him being imperioused while in the maze?

They are just resorting to brute strength there at the end. The maze making them forget that they are capable wizards. A jelly legs jinx probably would have had much the same effect.

Angel statues I get, but this big dementor, grim looking thing holding the bones of Voldemort’s father. I just don’t get it.

Cedric gave Peter a chance to speak or stop, but Peter again took the cowards way out, and blasted Cedric before he really had a chance to fight back. What a punk bitch.

I’m glad that you are forced to choke your own self Peter because you deserve it.

Voldemort’s transformation here is both stunning and horrible.

The Death Eaters come out of the Dark Mark’s mouth.

Their masks here are different then the ones used earlier in the morning.

Voldemort is snatching their weaves here, and I love it. Stupid klan robe wearing wizard Nazis.

Voldemort puts his foot on Cedric’s face. Like, son, you need to pay for that privilege.

A lot of the Death Eaters here look like they have like staffs. I don’t understand.

A Death Eater in the background is litearlly clapping when Voldemort makes Harry bow, like get a hold of yourself, Hershel.

The statue, again, in the background presents such a striking image as the two duel.

The spell that Crouch Jr. urged Harry to learn is the one that saved Harry.

Harry just wanting to physically protect Cedric’s body with his own. Just heartbreaking.

I’ll never not sob when I hear Amos Diggory sob, “That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

Fred and George look to follow Crouch Jr. and Harry out. Do they tip off the professors?

Doesn’t Crouch know what it is like to stand in Voldemort’s presence? He was just babysitting the man, I mean, dang. Fangirling is one thing, but you have business to handle.

Don’t insult my Neville. I will throw down.

The mirrors are gone at this point. It looks like Crouch has almost packed up because he knows that he will no longer be needed.

Not his blood, ahhhhh!!!!!

Snape puts such flourish into his casting. That scene at the carriages earlier in this film. He looks like he is rearing back away from Karkaroff, but he is merely preparing to cast one fanciful, flourish of a hex on the man.

Just stick your face in the crazy Death Eater’s face, Harry. Great thinking. No wonder Snape doesn’t hold your intelligence in high regard.

We don’t get one look at Professor Sprout. This boy’s Head of House?

Look at all that magical cooperation, and yet, none of this was used in book seven, or any book after except for mentioning Fleur married Bill, and Harry learned a little tidbit about the Deathly Hallows symbol from Krum.

I love this film. It is stunning, and truly made me a diehard HP fan. I don’t think I will ever really tire of it.

#Harry Potter #Goblet of Fire #Harry Potter and the goblet of fire #Harry Potter thoughts #Harry Potter analysis

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Text

Makeshift

Of course I had to write a thing for Dean’s 40th birthday. Unrepentantly silly fluff. Enjoy!

Rating: T Words: 2200 or thereabouts Dean/Cas, and Sam on the side :)

Read it below, or on the ao3 here

Dean had been in a mood all day. Sam knew better than to poke at him about it. They’d been out in the frigid January Minnesota air staking out an old warehouse on the edge of town. Donna had called them in for backup rounding up a couple of Michael’s vampires who’d decided they weren’t ready to go back to hiding in the shadows after their connection to his power was severed. They may not have had Michael’s grace giving them superpowers anymore, but they were still as slippery as any vampires they’d ever dealt with. Old, strong, and worst of all, smart.

Still, though, Cas had been confused by Dean’s grouchiness. He’d woken up that morning in a strange mood, and it had only grown worse and worse all day. Not even the promise of a satisfying end to their miserable hunt had given him the least bit of cheer. They’d spent a frozen dozen hours sitting out in the snow, only to hear from one of Donna’s trusted local informants that the vamps had been spotted leaving town, headed north into the forests that bled into Canada. That had been Dean’s last straw.

Cas could definitely understand his frustration. They’d wasted an entire day while enduring intensely unpleasant circumstances. He and Sam felt that frustration just as acutely as they warmed up in their motel room. But rather than relief at the notion that they may have intimidated the last of Michael’s monsters back into submission, or even contentment at the prospect of a long, hot shower and a warm bed to climb into, Dean seemed almost melancholy, and that was something Cas couldn’t understand. When they’d returned to their motel room, Dean had headed directly for the shower. As soon as the water started up, Cas quietly asked Sam what was wrong.

“It was a bad hunt and a bad day,” Sam said, not looking up from searching through his bag for a warmer pair of socks to wear. “Plus I think he’d probably rather been doing anything else today, you know?”

Cas frowned at that and shook his head. When it was clear that no further explanation was forthcoming, Cas clarified. “No, Sam, I don’t know. Dean usually enjoys hunting, and while I understand today was difficult, I assumed he’d be happier to have been able to help Donna this way, even if we don’t have a pile of dead vampires to show for it.”

Sam looked up at him, holding a fluffy wool sock in each hand, blinking in surprise. There was no way Cas could not know it was Dean’s birthday, right? “He turned forty today. That’s a kinda milestone birthday for most people, but I think he hoped to spend it doing something more fun than freezing his ass off in the woods.”

Cas’s bafflement melted into a frown, his eyebrows pinching together. “Yes, he mentioned wanting to cook a big dinner and watch some of his favorite movies. I was surprised enough that he hadn’t wanted to do something more celebratory. But then again, this marks a different sort of milestone for him.”

It was Sam’s turn to frown now, halfway through peeling off his snow-soaked socks. Cas, however didn’t make him ask for clarification.

“He’s been alive on Earth longer than he was in Hell now.”

Sam’s bare foot went clunking to carpet and his mouth dropped open as he blinked up at Cas. “Well, shit.”

Cas took a deep breath. “Do you think we have time to surprise him tonight?”

Sam reached over to Dean’s jacket, draped across a chair, and snagged the car keys. He tossed them to Cas. “I saw a grocery store about half a mile down the road, out toward the highway. Get a case of the good beer, and whatever else you can find that’s festive. After eating cold fast food burgers all day, that’s probably anything in the store. But you know what he likes. And hurry. He’ll be out of the shower soon, and I won’t be able to distract him long.”

Cas gave a terse nod and was out the door like a flash. The store was blessedly uncrowded, but also not terribly well stocked. The locals had picked it over the day before, preparing for the snow that had fallen overnight. At least the roads were clear again, enough for the store to be open at all. He raced through the aisles, gathering snacks, a package of multicolored balloons and an assortment of sparkly cardboard party hats, and hoped Hair Raiser Lager was what Sam had deemed the good beer , before heading off toward the bakery in search of the one thing he knew was a birthday tradition.

It wasn’t as if he’d had time to call ahead and place an order, so he was stuck making a selection from the meager pickings available in the grocery store's bakery section. He grabbed a box of tiny candles and a tube of green icing he could use to write the message on top the way he knew it was typically done. He frowned down at his purchases as they crept along the belt at the checkout station. No, on second thought, nothing about this was traditional.

After all his items had been scanned, bagged and paid for, he paused at the end of the counter, opened up the pastry box, and as best he could, added the message, Happy Birthday, Dean. He debated adding some other sort of artwork, but after a moment of indecision, he deferred to making haste and getting back to the motel as quickly as possible.

As soon as he shut off the engine, he knew he’d taken too long. He heard Dean through the door to their room, and suddenly doubted his entire mission.

“So you just sent him out alone, in the dark, in this shitty weather, for fucking snacks ?”

“Dean, he offered to go. He was upset that you were having such a bad day, okay? He wanted to cheer you up.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be a lot fucking cheerier if he was here, and not probably flipped over in a snowy ditch, or whatever.”

Sam snorted at that as Cas quickly gathered his shopping bags and the case of beer. He eyed the pastry box sitting carefully on the seat beside him, but decided it would be best to make a second trip back out for it. He needed to reassure Dean that everything was fine. He hadn’t meant to make things even worse.

He hurried to the motel room door, but just as he was about to knock, it flew open to reveal Dean standing there with his coat half on, clearly about to storm out of the room. The moment he saw Cas, it wasn’t anger on his face, though. Cas wasn’t completely sure, but it looked more like profound relief. All of Dean’s distress fled as Cas held out the beer. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and took it from him, stepping back into the room so Cas could enter.

“Hey, you got the good stuff,” Dean said, grinning up at Cas as he knelt down to shove as many of the bottles as he could into the tiny fridge.

Cas set the rest of his bags down on the bed in front of Sam, opening the bag with the balloons and party hats and giving Sam a knowing look. Sam smirked at him and gave an approving nod.

“I have one more thing out in the car. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a moment later with the pastry box, just as Sam crept up behind Dean with a shimmery golden cardboard crown emblazoned King of the Party in rainbow glitter. Dean glanced up to see Cas set the telltale box on the table beside him, giving Sam the perfect opportunity to stretch the crown’s elastic chin strap around Dean’s head.

“Surprise!” Cas said in a moderately enthusiastic tone.

Dean resisted his initial impulse to lash out behind him out of sheer instinct, and instead overbalanced and ended up on his ass on the floor, pawing at his neck where the elastic band had snapped at his skin.

“What the fuck?”

Dean reached up slowly and felt the crown on his head, and pulled it off to see what the hell it was. He read the words, putting the pieces together as Sam handed Cas a conical cardboard hat lined with some sort of fluffy feather shit and a party horn. Cas put the hat on and then examined the horn, his eyes widening as he bent over in front of Dean. He blew into the horn and it unrolled just far enough to whap Dean on the forehead. Cas was just about to apologize, after seeing the flinch in Dean’s eyes, when Dean fell over laughing. Cas and Sam just exchanged a puzzled glance, and Sam shrugged as they watched Dean pour out twelve hours of stress in less than two minutes through the sheer power of laughter. Cas was about to ask if he was okay, but Dean wheezed and choked his way through a few gasps of air and grinned up at him.

“Holy shit, I’d been about to run out in the snow after you, and you were just out happily bringing back the best thing I coulda gotten today. Damn, Cas. You did good.” Dean scrambled to his feet, kicking the fridge shut and handing Sam and Cas each a beer. “But you know that birthday cake doesn’t exactly pair well with beer.”

Cas squinted at Dean and took a sip of his drink. “Then I suspect we should be glad the store was sold out of traditional birthday cake.” He set his bottle down and opened the box, revealing an exquisite Boston cream pie with his hasty birthday message for Dean written in the tidiest frosting handwriting Dean had ever witnessed.

Dean abandoned his own beer to lean over the cake in awe. “Whoa, did you do this?”

“I wrote the message, yes,” Cas replied. “But I bought the cake.”

Dean looked up at him in wonder. “You bought a pie cake for my birthday.”

Cas nodded. “Yes. As well as an assortment of chips and a cheese platter. And some balloons.”

“Don’t forget the hats,” Sam added, scratching at where the elastic band of his pointy hat was digging into his ear.

Dean pulled out his pocket knife and was about to carve into the cake when Cas’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“There are traditions to observe first, Dean.”

He carefully placed four of the tiny candles in the cake and then rummaged in his pockets for a matchbook to light them. Dean added a fifth candle, and Cas squinted at him. Dean just shrugged in response.

“For luck.”

Cas nodded approvingly and lit them. Dean even tolerated Sam and Cas singing Happy Birthday to him, not even laughing at their attempt to harmonize, and then blew them all out.

“I hope you get your wish,” Cas told him quietly while Sam brought over paper plates and plastic forks and began serving up slices.

“I think I might’ve already got it, actually,” he replied, giving Cas an unusually soft and fond look.

Cas stared at him for a moment and then smiled. “Yes, you may have.”

Sam held out a plate for Dean, but Dean was too busy suffering through some sort of mid-life crisis to notice. It may have been the quickest mid-life crisis in history, because seconds later he pulled Cas into a hug. When he didn’t let go, Cas gently patted his back.

Dean muttered into Cas’s neck, clinging to the back of his coat, “I didn’t want to spend this whole day in hell again, so thank you. Thanks for this. For pulling me out the first time, and then pulling me up every time I’ve fallen again since then.”

Cas sighed, holding Dean tighter like he’d done the day he’d pulled Dean from Perdition. “Thank you for doing the same for me, Dean.”

Dean sighed into his neck, lingering for just a moment, but unable to convince himself to push this any further. He wasn’t sure just how far a birthday wish could take him. Even with an extra candle for luck.

“So is this a better birthday now?” Cas asked.

Dean pulled back and looked over to see Sam grinning at them both encouragingly.

“Yeah, it’s definitely getting there.”

It wasn’t his own favorite home cooking, and it wasn’t the comfort of home, but Dean had exactly what he wanted for his birthday. The three of them settled in and watched some dumbass ghost hunters show for a few hours, laughing particularly hard when the guys on screen fled in terror from a building they knew full well hadn’t had a single ghost in it since they’d cleared it out a few years back. A few hours later, after Dean had nodded off with his head on Cas’s shoulder, Cas had to agree. It might not have been perfect, but it was definitely getting there.

(in case you need it again, it’s on the ao3)

#spn fanfic #destiel #happy 40th birthday dean #things i have written

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strawberryybird · 4 years

Note

So whats your favorite thing about each of your fe3h favs? Anything you could just go on a long rant about for any of them? or interactions between them that you wish had happened or wanted to happen.

Waking up in the morning and going through all of the drunk blogging and “-thank-u-for-weathering-my-deep-need-to-be-liked-and-given-attention-off-main-I-guess” if this isn’t a whole mood on its own I don’t know what is. Anyways it sounds like you had fun and it was definetly fun reading everything. I hope you are feeling okay the day after everything. And to tack on a random question which fe3h character would you want to get drunk with if it was just the two of you?

Hi Hello!! thank u for enjoying my drunk blogging !!! and for the asks!!! (and the lovely comments on my fics actually hi there ur wonderful!!!) i’m currently cursing the damage i’ve done to my sleep schedule and suffering under my (truly deserved) hangover lmao ;p apologies u don’t get drunk me, only uncaffeinated hangover me, but we talk to the same degree and make the same spelling errors lol

ah yes.. im a fountain of moods (all of u still with me here are saints hhhh)

ok content time:

the second one first: i absolutely want to get drunk with ferdinand von aegir. the man’s a hop, skip and a vodka shot away from a mess. i love him. he’d be full of conversation and would buy the rounds every time as a true nobleman should !! he’d probably be really good at instigating drinking games but horrible at playing them.. i love party gay ferdie von aegir.

i’m going to LIMIT the faves i list because truly i love them all very much but i have to at least pretend i have some restraint and i don’t want to make this even More of a wall of text it’s going to become . SO

edit: ok i started writing this at like. half ten pm. when the fuck did it become monday.

edit edit: Disclaimer time: these are my conclusions and my conclusions alone. I’m not saying I’m objectively right or correct. I’m very much approaching this from an English Lit-ish point of view because that’s just how I look at a lot of media. I’m not asserting my opinions or conclusions as the only viable to interpret this media, and if anything I say offends you then I am sorry, it was not my intention but I acknowledge that I have hurt you. This is not the exhaustive list of my thoughts on the whole thing, there’s a lot more depth and detail I didn’t go in to.

My favourite thing about Edelgard is the Everything, but notably I really love her proud nature and how in VW it quite directly gets her *spoilered*, and in CF it’s integral to her success (bc it’s her own rigidity within herself that keeps her standing i think) and I Like Tragic Characters (and it’s very elinor dashwood). because it’s one of the qualities that can throw her character into a villainous light & it’s really interesting !! but at the same time.. it’s not quite ‘pride’ purely, and it’s kinda the wrong word. it’s some mixture of determined/stubbon, anger, self-reliance, and that really hard veneer of personality u develop when you’re around people who aren’t healthy for you to be around, and the very very critical need to be right about the choices you made because the weight of the consequences would kinda ruin you if you weren’t. (the dean winchester effect huh) and wrap that up together with a big scoop of ‘i believe my way is right’ (’and my way Has to be right’) and then u get a lot of what i LOVE about Edelgard’s character

My favourite thing about Dorothea is really how she was the character that Hated the war. genuinely the contrast between white clouds dorothea & timeskip dorothea Breaks My Heart EVery Time I See Her !!!!! that and Spoilers!!! (her last words in AM unrecruited is edelgards name and i literally had to stop and cry about it for five minutes.) she’s one of the characters that post-war doesn’t have a Massive political stake in the war - like there’s her anger towards the current class system (another reason i bloody love her PLEASE give me angry feminine characters) but i think it’s her bonds with edie (or byleth&whoever if recruited) that keep her actually fighting in the war & it’s kinda different and i like that (actually i think she parallels/sends up/contrasts really really nicely with mercedes in that way)

my favourite thing about Marianne is just everything. how she finds worth within herself if you play VW (and the very very harrowing hc that she didn’t if you don’t), how she’s full of a quiet rage for the crest system but you eek it out of her as you play the game. how she’s still loved by the deers despite her appalling mental health (fight me on that canon) and the game essentially has her ‘save’ herself by finding worth and life within herself. i love her so much ok. (i also love her because she committed identity theft.. she and i share a name with the second dashwood sister oho (but i don’t use that name on the internet hhh) (also because my favourite shakespeare play is king lear (no really it is), my birthday is in red wolf moon too, i used to have very long hair i wore in a plait most days for school, little 11 and 17 year old me acted Exactly like white clouds marianne did & genuinely i love marianne von edmund to pieces but God it hurts to see her in game sometimes bc her journey mirrors a lot of mine & i love this character. so much.) WOW that was a lot. am i sure im not still drunk

so claude is not only one of my favourite characters in the whole damn game, but also shares the name of one of my favourite painters so i simply have to love him ;p however i can’t give a proper opinion on him yet because i haven’t finished playing deers yet :( but !! i love how (as is with all the lords) he has a veneer of personality to him, but in contrast to Edie where it’s quite seemless with her actual personality, Claude’s veneer of personality seems very opaque and plastered on. i may or may not just be wildly imagining things but he’s a very different personality in his lower supports with Lysithea than he is in his B support with Marianne, for instance. like, i love characters that are obviously a lot more socially intelligent than i could ever be, and claude is *chef kiss* BEAUTIFUL ON EVERY LEVEL.

i’d wax lyrical about Ingrid too but honestly there’s many better people out there with the good ingrid content than i could do. shortly, i love the New Take on the pegasus knight archetype she brings, and i really like her perspective on femininity !!! she’s such a good character & she brings so much to the game and to the pegasus knight character too!!!!! she’s such a bright personality and altho i wish so many of her supports weren’t centred around make-up (hhh dorogrid fans i pray for you), i think she’s really going to pave the way for whoever’s next in that character slot. (like, you can’t tell me she’s not an offshoot of Phila from awakening lmao)

no ok i’m adding in Hubert because i love this vampire man. i really really love the devoted servant archetype and we all know i love edelgard’s tragedy. and i love hubert. so much. the way he enables edelgard in pretty much everything is just so so interesting to think about, and i love his intensity about it. he’s like the ever present reminder that edelgard’s will kinda has to work otherwise the potential consequences of her being wrong are personified in hubert imo. it’s only touched on in VW in his letter but like. god i wish we got more but it’s a wonderful starting block. i love his comic relief as well, he’s such a fun character to have !!!! and also i have so many hubert fics in my bookmarks that just Get him. i love hubert. oh i love hubert.

i’m going to cut myself off there because . that’s just a LOT.

as for characters i would sell a limb to have them talk to each other, honestly it’s Edelgard/Marianne. (and only 51% because of all the projection i have going on with those two ok don’t at me i k n o w). that support chain would be too powerful and honestly i wish they had one becuauese it would have gone so Hard about what Edelgard was doing and what Marianne thought about it, and how they connected over it & they probably would have had their supports set over cups of tea or smth .. it would have been amazing.

(but i’d rather have nothing than an awakening-level-content support where they talk about eating fucking bear meat instead of talking about how they grew to trust each other with and their ability to save the fate of the world HUH AWAKENING. (i’m salty about fredrobin forever)

also hilda/dorothea supports . we were robbed. they’re best friends and you can’t actually tell me otherwise. they run the disaster bi chat of garreg mach. honestly i just would Love a support chain for them that starts with them talking about self care routines and something really small like accessories or perfume and it goes into how self-esteem and how dorothea has to find the same worth in herself as hilda so easily can. (hilda’s the queen of self esteem she’s a babe) and in CF they could have dialogue and then we cry about it. and in SS they talk about how they both chose their place with Byleth and not at edie/claude’s side like i’m just free balling here it could be Anything and i’d love it.

also big shocker .. dorothea/marianne supports . they both hate themselves in their profile CAN THEY PLEASE CHAT.

also i accidentally fell in love with the claude/edelgard ship and i desperately need them to interact on the same level that edie and dimitri get to because.. aren’t there supposed to be three main characters huh intsys .. and like i get what the game goes for with two of the lords embroiled in a personal war against each other at the heart and the third actually finding something close to the truth because he’s not involved in age old grudge matches but at the same time That’s one of the things that really really falls flat for me in the game. dimitri’s villain is edie, edie’s villain is big dragon wife, claude’s villain is the lack of communication that everyone in fodlan suffers from apparently. lack of communication and lies. ymmv with what im saying rn but i would have preferred if all three lords had strong personal ties to each other and in Each Route it was brought up. or just snip dimitri’s dialogue out of CF because i have beef with how that WHOLE moment went down on so many accounts hhhh honestly it makes me angerey to think about lol

.. back on topic- can the lords pls talk to each other because it would be SO interesting in white clouds and i like seeing how their personality presentations clash

also . can i marry manuela yet. my crops are dying here.

.. im so sorry about this but it’s midnight and i’m too tired to edit so. have this. thank you so much for the questions!!!! very kind (and brave) of you to ask me!!!!! i had a lot of fun writing all of this & as always if anything you didn’t quite /get/ i’m happy to re-explain myself!! :)

#ask #OH HELL THIS IS A POST HUH #fe meta #i mean it's not its just me having opinions rather loudly on ur dash #also that paragraph about edelgard is pretty much what i keep in mind to write her for my rtau fic #this is LONG im SO SORRY but NOT SORRY AT ALL #ur an actual angel if u sat thru this all #anyway. thank u so much for the ask that's so kind of u and i sent this mess back out into the world #my apologies oml #ok it's gone midnight im hitting post before i chaneg my mind #kalinary

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

How a Cretin Loses It All

Recently, I watched an old enemy lose her social standing, “friend” group, administrative and professional connections, probably her job, and maybe her place at her school.

Now, I’ve tried writing this a few times. While I would LOVE to spill every dirty little deed she’s done to deserve this, I don’t want this to fall on anybody I care about and need to make this vague. Suffice to say, she’s a Cretin, liar, thief, and all around jerk.

The Background She and I used to work for the same organization, not a very expansive one but well-known in our niche community, affiliated with the college campus so closely that shes worked for the college for some time and all members are students– this is important later. She clawed her way up the ranks in our local branch, laying out plans to cut the legs out from under anyone that could threaten her position, holding secret meetings about people she didn’t like, hiding and altering paperwork and dirty deeds from the Central org leadership, and straight out threatening to boot people who went against her (especially since she kept all procedural documents secret, so no one knew her actual limits. As top dog, she would insist that she could verbally tell the branch what we needed to know and would put herself as a roadblock between us and Central. Upon complaints, Central would simply tell us all to play nice because they didn’t have the full picture).

After a Veteran friend and I had reached the point where we needed to move on to better and brighter projects/graduated school, Cretin was the most senior person left at the local branch. She made some moves here against me personally to tarnish my reputation and those of my buddies who had left before– didn’t work.

Now, with that little sabotage failed, Cretin had a lot of bad feelings. Instead being an adult for once in her life, Cretin began to accumulate new power she had previously been cut off from under the watch of Veteran and I. She took over the instruction of newbies, which was a horrible idea for everyone involved.

The Peak As the new Instructor with Veteran and I gone and having her claws deeply sunk into branch leadership, along with hoarding all documents/rules/communication from Central, she managed to manipulate the branch into thinking it was normal for her to be the lone Instructor with zero branch oversight/input and that Central was okay with people making changes to the curriculum. Which, of course, it wasn’t. She also began overstepping her roles much further than before, alienating other organizations/clubs/students, and of course her own members to the point where no one would work with the local branch anymore just to avoid dealing with her– the other groups said this nearly verbatim to the members.

Her members became so sick of it that they gave her an ultimatum– Cretin leaves, or everyone else does and the branch closes.

Well, Cretin believes she’s done nothing but serve the organization, so she dug her heels in so far she didn’t even need a shovel for her grave.

The Downfall From what was sent out to all current/affiliated/recent members of that branch (thank god for bureaucracy and reporting procedures) and when the members reached out to Veteran and I to learn about how to report incidents and inappropriate behavior, I can piece together a rough timeline of what she did to those poor people after I left.

First, without V and I, there were only recent members and newbies who didn’t know anything about anything. When I got wind of my reputation being tarnished, I reached out to a couple members to ask why and to get a copy of governing docs– I had copies, but wanted to see if what they had matched up. I got crickets and later found out that Cretin had been informed and had screeched at them all not to provide me with documents because my membership had gone “invalid” (not true, my official standing was Active at the time) and was back at her threats. This was reported to Central at the time I became aware of it and again at the end with much, much more backup from the young members.

Second, Cretin hadn’t been allowed as Instructor before this point because it was the only thing a branch leader couldn’t do. Well, she decides she’s graduating soon and wants to have held every position by then so she steps down as leader, puts a puppet in her place and continues feeding little to no info to the puppet leader. This is how the branch was fooled for so long into thinking Cretin would be sole Instructor and work without oversight.

As Instructor, she hazed the sh*t out of those student members– I’ll put the biggest hits at the end, but it was nasty, humiliating, and downright dangerous. At one point she realized her control must have been slipping, so she dismissed the entire class of newbies and then waited to announce it at the next business meeting when it was already too late to recall them.

This is when The Ultimatum happened. Cretin essentially only had friends through the branch, some non-local branch members, her job on the college campus, and whatever tenuous strands of a relationship she still believed she had with the other groups nearby. Everyone quit all at once except for Cretin’s Crony ( Cretin had actually tried to rid herself of for nearly a year…. sad who your allies become, isn’t it?) left and began to ask Veteran and I questions on what was normal, or allowed, or illegal. We walked them through how to report to Central and the college, and they dutifully did. Central received their reports and asked for mine– it was nearly 7 pages before photos. It was all worth it just to have Central sit up and understand that my conversations with them abour Cretin over the years had NOT been exaggerated.

The Final Score The investigation was months long, required at least a dozen interviews by Central, and many meetings with the college– who I’ve since learned had even MORE information. Here are the biggest hits of Cretin’s crimes:

• demanding newbie whereabouts outside of instruction/events at a constant level • disregarding their disclosed health conditions/concerns • intimidation • harassment • fake judicial hearings for minor infractions • an unsafe driving incident that she got pulled over for with newbies IN THE CA, • providing and consuming drugs and booze with members and minors (which was actually on her birthday, and was the only way she could get anyone to hang out with her) • and destroying organization property.

Cretin had the audacity to call up former Central leadership and ask for coffee dates and letter of recommendation along with “networking seshes” directly after the new broke. She hasn’t gotten it. I’ve since heard through the grapevine that the Central leader had to beg to be allowed to reopen the branch on that campus…. and they can, 2 years from now, due to the extent of the hazing. It’s currently closed. I’ve also heard whispers that she’s lost her cushy campus job of being student advisor to one of the deans. You know, because of the HAZING. She’s also removed the school name and her job title from her Insta, and her LinkedIn now shows her location as her hometown, not where the local branch once was– wouldn’t it just be a shame if all that hazing got her expelled right before her final year?

Happy ending: and all members/dropped newbies are eligible for proper training and positions elsewhere and are being welcomed with open arms by Central and other groups from the campus.

Source: anonymous submission.

#submission #anonymous #prorevenge #pro revenge #pro revenge stories #revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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