Part V – “But we’re still sleeping like we’re lovers”
I stood there, transfixed by the overwhelming
feeling of her in my arms, unbelievingly real against the paleness of my tired
memories. I didn’t know what had happened to her – clearly something had happened – but was only glad I had
found her, right in the moment when my arms seemed to be so needed to hold her.
“Will ye tell me?” I murmured against her hair –
fragrant like a freshly squeezed lemon, like a garden after pouring rain -, my
hands rubbing her back in soothing circles. “What happened?”
“I will.” She tilted her chin, allowing our
eyes to meet – hers were dry but glassy, as if her body was wrecked with fever.
“I want to tell you.”
“Good.” I attempted a calming smile, but felt
the muscles of my face stiff from concern. “Do ye want to sit down?”
“We can’t talk here.” Claire told me, finally stepping
back, away from the comfort of my body – I felt the loss of her warmth as acutely
as I would miss a limb. Phantom pain, permanent and excruciating, constructed
by the mind to deal with unbearable loss. “This is Geillis place – she is a close
friend – and she’ll be arriving shortly from work. I thought she had forgotten
her keys when you knocked.”
“Ye can come to my house.” I offered, almost
biting my tongue in eagerness. The image of Claire in my home - the tips of her
fingers brushing the book spines in the shelf, her lips drinking from one of my
glasses - a kiss shared through the marks we’d both leave there – made my heart
swell to the point of bursting. “I mean, we can have a conversation there
without being disturbed or interrupted.” I babbled, struggling to explain
myself over a bout of flushing cheeks.
“Alright.” She nodded in agreement – trusting
me implicitly. Naturally. “Let me
just feed Adso and grab my coat.” The feline meowed in agreement and rubbed
against Claire’s legs, sleek and charming, as if he had been waiting to be acknowledged.
We made our way through the pleasant streets of
Edinburgh, headed towards my house, located just a few blocks away. We traded
some words, but were mostly immersed in our thoughts – preparing what we would
say and do, when we finally could expose ourselves in a safe haven. As we
walked, we didn’t touch – not even our arms bumped into each other, in that
casual way of shared movement. We were both consciously avoiding to touch,
keeping a safe distance, even if acutely aware of each other.
“It isna a big house.” I apologized in a
jumbled way as we entered my apartment, collecting unmatched socks and forgotten
papers along the way.
“I love it!” Claire smiled in a reassuring way,
admiring the big flat screen and black speakers. Her butterscotch eyes covered
my pictures and books, the quilt thrown over the back of the sofa, the
magazines and pamphlets I had sorted inside a little basket next to the
bookcase. “I can tell you live here – it’s warm and alive. It’s a real home.”
I grinned in content – almost purring in
satisfaction -, as she took off her coat. She wandered around, touching objects
with a respectful hand and clicking her tongue in appreciation of my book
collection. Eventually she talked again, her back turned to me.
“Where is your bedroom?” She asked in a rough
voice, unhinged – and then, predicting my puzzlement, she added in a low and
hesitant tone, as if talking to herself. “I haven’t been sleeping much – I didn’t
want to close my eyes and let my mind roam freely. I can barely stand on my
feet, to be honest. Besides,” Claire turned and glanced at me, fumbling again
with her sleeves. “I think it would be easier to talk if we touched.”
“Aye.” I breathed deeply, walking towards my
room. “Whatever ye need.”
I watched as she laid down on my bed, above the
plaid that meant home to me – taking off her boots and socks in the process.
Her movements were slow and calculated, as if she wished to cause minimal
impact with her presence, so that I would carry on with my life after her
departure. Claire rolled to her side, curled like an unborn child, safe and
peaceful in the womb.
I came around the bed and managed to lay down –
silent and precise as a thief in the night -, leaving an empty space between
us, as I faced her. She seemed tired beyond her years and utterly broken.
Without a word she slid her hand to the middle
of the bed, where I could reach out and touch it – I did so, softly playing
with her fingers until she relaxed and our hands were entwined.
“Why are ye here?” I asked, my voice husky. Her
face was a duality of shadows and bursts of light, coming from the window to
dance on her features. “In Scotland?”
“I had to come.” Claire adjusted her face on
the pillow, caressing the nail of my thumb with her fingers, her golden wedding
ring cold like a fetch between us. “I couldn’t be in Boston right now – I needed
time to think. This is the one place that has been home to me.”
“Are ye still married?” I risked, watching in anguish
as she winced in pain. She sighed – but the movements of my hand in hers seemed
to calm her enough to go on.
“Separated.” She licked her quivering bottom
lip, avoiding my eyes. “It turns out Frank wasn’t the man I thought he was. He wanted to own me.” Claire pursed her lips
in anger. “And when he couldn’t own me, I wasn’t enough. Everyday became a war
between us. A long and tiresome war.”
I gulped, taking in the shrapnel of her destruction.
With a swift movement of my spare hand, I rolled up the sleeve of her sweater,
revealing bruises the colour of mustard and moss, screaming against her marble white
skin – marks of resentful fingers, forceful enough to break vessels and
spirits. A lonely tear streamed down her cheek.
“He hurt ye!” I hissed furiously between
clenched teeth, fighting the urge to maim the husband who had so recklessly
broke the vow to protect her – to love
her. She needed my restraint and I could offer it to her – not another
display of bad temper by a man she had trusted. I hesitantly touched the
bruises, wishing to erase them with kisses, to heal them with the adoration I
would bestow upon her.
“I hurt him back.” Claire assured me, a look of
shame crossing her face – as if I could pay witness to the degradations
inflicted by both during their marriage. “He didn’t want me to leave. Frank
said he still loves me.”
“Does he?” I asked with gentleness, battling
the urge to ask her if she still loved him.
“I don’t know.” The tear track on her face
glistened like a dry river, leaving thirst in its wake. “His love didn’t hurt
like this, before.”
I wanted to ask her details on her failed marriage
– her unhappiness was patent and unbearable – but restrained myself. She must
have spent hours replaying the film of her derailed life, echoing words meant
to harm – there was no cure to be found in saying them once more. I wished only
to placate her pain – to take it all into myself, if I could. I longed to be
the bringer of her smiles and not of her tears.
“I called ye.” I suddenly revealed, half
embarrassed. “I waited too long – ye were gone by then. Maybe if I did…things
would have been different.”
“Perhaps.” Claire agreed, haltingly. “But you
were right – I shouldn’t have settled for less.”
I risked to brush her hair – silky and curly,
so elementally Claire that took my breath away – and she closed her eyes in
enjoyment of the intimate touch.
“What will ye do?” I asked, so afraid of the
answer I could die. I wished for nothing more than to have her in my bed, lying
so close to me as I memorized her, for the rest of my days. And yet I knew I
had no guarantee of intimacy, of another conversation, of another touch – I savoured
them all as a gift, for they were precious and not promised.
“I have to go back to Boston.” Claire
explained, gripping my hand with strength. “I have a life there – a nursing
job, medical school, friends and - .” She stopped, her eyes wide open.
I swallowed hard, fighting against myself to offer her an encouraging smile. “Ye
are still married to him.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, almost sobbing. I
brought her hand closer to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“I won’t tell ye what to do – that is for ye to
decide, mo nighean donn. But I need
ye to know something, Claire.” I touched her chin with tenderness, urging her
to open her eyes. “Ye alone hold all my heart – even before I knew yer name, ye
meant light to me. I’ll wait for ye
my whole live – and gladly so, even if it means that I’ll watch ye from afar,
happy and fulfilled with another man, worthy of ye.”
“Jamie, I – “ Claire started, but I kissed her
hand again and brought her against my chest, where my heart kept pounding,
speaking enough to silence her.
“I’d rather ye dinna make promises ye may not
wish to keep afterwards, when yer heart is less sore. When – if - ye mean them,
I’ll be here.” I pleaded, staring into her eyes – she held my gaze for a while
and nodded back. “Rest now, mo nighean
donn. Let me watch over ye as ye sleep. Let me see ye safe.”
“I’m always safe with you.” She whispered.
I cherished her and held her hand until she
fell asleep – finding new reasons to love her while she dreamt. She felt safe
and protected with me – and, for that moment, it was enough.
Even when night came and we were left in
complete darkness, I listened to her breathing, absorbing the symphony of the lover I craved. Once in a while I closed my eyes, making sure I could remember her perfectly
– opening them again to correct a small detail, to drink another drop of her,
afraid I would forget. Tormented I wouldn’t.
In the wee hours of night, I fought against
sleep. I felt raw and tender, heart and body aching, calling me irresistibly to
I must have surrendered at some point. I had
the vague recollection of a chaste kiss against my lips – timid, yet burning.
And I didn’t mean biracial people can’t speak on their blackness or be the speaker for all black people when it’s necessary. I mean, when it comes to mainstream media, can white people stop asking the most lightest or half-white person to speak on blackness. Because it seems blackness is only “interesting” when it’s adorned in whiteness or biracialness. Blackness is often fetishized that way, and I hate it. It also gives off the dangerous notion that us visibly black folks, especially women, are already comfortable in our blackness, so there is no need to ask us what it’s like to black. It’s very harmful towards those who are brown and dark-skinned.
Summary:He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?
shaky laugh from the many glasses of wine after one of the co-workers next to
Luke encouraged him to stand up, he stabilized his long legs and leaned his arm
on top of his chair.
to make a small toast for all as we’re all gathered here tonight.” He clicked
the silverware fork against his glass of wine, waiting for everyone to quiet
down from the small talks around the many tables and took a deep breath from
want to say a huge thank you to every single one of you for showing up tonight
He was interrupted
quickly by the sound of the door opening to the banqueting room, everyone’s
attention drawn towards you who almost timidly walked inside. It wasn’t
supposed to be an entrance like this, you had at least expected everyone would
be too busy with eating whatever was served for tonight.
2 Micheal Kors lip and Perfume Duo- $27.00 each. ($54.00)
2 Brit Rhythm- $25.00 each ($50.00)
2 Calvin Klein Eternity Now- $22.00 each ($44.00)
Ralph Lauren romance - $22.00
Stella Pink- $21.00
Ralph Lauren Midnight Romance- $24.00
2 Marc Jacobs Noir- $28.00 each ($56.00)
Stella Dark- $22.00
2 Dot Marc Jacobs- $25.00 each ($50.00)
2 Dolce & Gabbana Pour Femme- $31.00 each ($62.00)
Acqua Di Giò - $110.00
Marc Jacobs Daisy Dream- $78.00
Calvin Klein Eternity Now- $64.00
Flora by Gucci- $70.00
Polo Red- $105.00
Dolce by Dolce &Gabbana- $74.00
Dolce by Dolce & Gabbana- $117
Stella Dark- $72.00
Stella Dark- $50.00
Total= $ 1.195
2 Sephora Favorites the Ultimate Travel Bag- $29.00 each ($58.00)
3 Black Beauty Blender- $20.00 ($60.00)
2 Blotterazzi- $20.00 each ($40.00)
GlamGlow Youth Cleanse- $39.00
Derma Clear Micro Water- $32.00
Formula X Nail Dryer- $15.00
Josie Marran Milk- $56.00
Total = $300
3 #11- $18.00 each ($54.00)
Anastasia contour light to medium- $40.00
Still Shape & Shade Custom Contour Brush- $38.00
Urban Decay All Nighter- $30.00
2 Urban Decay Gwen Stefani pallets- $58.00 each ($116)
4 urban decay naked pencil- $16.00 each ($64.00)
2 Urban Decay Naked Flushed- $32.00 each ($64.00)
2 Urban Decay Naked Basics- $29.00 each ($58.00)
2 Naked Smoky- $54.00 each ($108.00)
Urban Decay Naked- $54.00
3 False Lashes- $10.00 each ($30.00)
Too Faced Neutral Eyes- $36.00
Too Faced Cat Eye- $36.00
Too Faced Shadow Insurance- $20.00
2 Buxom Lip Polish- $19.00 each ($38.00)
2 Buxom Full-on lipstick- $19.00 each ($38.00)
3 Kat Von D Everladting Liquid Lipstick- $20.00 each ($60.00)
Nars audacious lipstick- $32.00
4 Long Holiday Socks- $5.00 each ($20.00)
3 Holiday Gloves- $10.00 each ($30.00)
Pearl Bracelet- $100
Pearl necklace- $20.00
Fuzzy Socks- $5.00
7 Short Holiday Socks- $49.00
Black Tights- $15.00
GRAND TOTAL =
…You know one thing- not even the main thing, but one- that really bothers me about the whole tolerant left/just because he has a different opinion/don’t punch nazis thing?
It implies that everything and everyone else we defend is morally equivalent to nazis.
Queer rights, disabled rights, women’s rights, religious tolerance, anti-racism: these are not things we defend because we nonjudgmentally defend everything. These are things we defend because they are right. “Oh if someone did this to a Jewish speaker” yeah well Judaism doesn’t want me dead as one of its defining tenets AND there’s a history of Jewish people being silenced, one that merits fighting back against those who would silence them now. Same for a trans, black, or disabled speaker. None of these identities are inherently harmful and evil the way Nazism and other forms of white supremacy are. None of them have a history of being embraced in our culture in such a way that they have always more or less had a platform. Some things are just wrong. You are not a bad person for refusing to stand up for what’s wrong.
…But then, I’ve never been much of an idealist. I tend to focus on what helps or hurts people. Nazis hurt people. That’s the whole point of being a Nazi. Just… don’t help Nazis hurt people. That seems pretty simple to me.
There is a guild of assassins that operates across Tamriel known as the Dark Brotherhood. Some believe them to be a myth, while others know and fear them greatly. They kill in the name of the Night Mother and the Dread Father Sithis. The Night Mother was the wife of Sithis, who bore him five children, and sacrificed each in his name. She now leads the Dark Brotherhood in spirit form. Sithis is considered the same being as Padomay, also known as the Void, the Darkness, or the primordial force of change–one of two beings who created everything that is.
(a symbol of Sithis)
The Brotherhood is run by the Black Hand, with four Speakers as the four fingers, and the Listener as the thumb.
Anyone in Tamriel who wants someone dead, but doesn’t feel up to doing the dirty work can pray to the Night Mother with their murderous wish. The Night Mother communicates to the Listener, who in turn communicates to the Speakers. The Speakers then decide how to carry out the Night Mother’s word. Each Speaker has their own Silencer, who kill as directed and without question. Silencers are considered the nails or claws on the Black Hand.
(the Black Sacrament, a ritual to call upon the Night Mother)
Like any guild, there are a set of rules, known as the Five Tenets, that the Brotherhood follow. They are:
Tenet 1: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.
Tenet 2: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.
Tenet 3: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.
Tenet 4: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.
Tenet 5: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis.
It is similar to a religion or a cult in the way they worship Sithis and follow the Night Mother, but the impelling factor linking all Dark Brotherhood members together is their fascination and love for killing. One may be recruited as a Dark Brother or Sister if the Brotherhood becomes aware of one’s murderous nature. It is not uncommon to receive a mysterious letter or be visited in the night by a shadowy figure after killing an innocent in Tamriel. The Brotherhood sees all.
Hi, I sent an ask recently to compare the NDP and the Greens. tbh, my friend told me they're voting Green in the upcoming BC election, and I don't think it's a great decision. Could you help me out by linking where to find the Green's recent goofs?
Weaver asserted some families need to choose private school because they have been failed by the public system. He gave the example of his own son, now in university, who the family enrolled in private school following a negative experience in Grade 4. Weaver angrily expressed his personal frustrations with his son’s former teacher, the GVTA, and the BCTF. “This teacher failed my kid, real bad.”
There was little opportunity for the teachers to respond. They tried to de-escalate the atmosphere in the meeting and turn it onto a more productive footing. However, it was not possible to steer Weaver off of his personal narrative about bad teachers and the local and provincial unions. His tone of voice and body language made it clear that he was angry that the GVTA had filed a grievance to try to support their member.“
The GVTA grieves everything. That’s all you do is grieve, grieve, grieve. It’s the wrong approach.” He said that “the BCTF has some responsibility for this because you protect these bad teachers.”
Since posting that article Robin has been attacked by the Andrew Weaver and called, silly, pathetic and hillarious. The BC Greens communications Director called her vile.
Here’s an article that describes a BC Green candidate saying that they’re not concerned if Christy Clark is relected:
Asked if he believed a Green surge might split the anti-Liberal vote and re-elect the Liberals, Olsen said: “I’m not concerned about Christy Clark getting back in. Democracy requires a multitude of voices and ideas.”
Another couple of Greens are ‘paper candidates’ and don’t expect to win. They’re not even planning on campaigning:
The Port Moody-Coquitlam Green Party candidate in the provincial election is raising questions about the seriousness of his campaign after comments he made on social media came to light.
Hours after the party announced Don Barthel would be challenging for the seat currently held by BC Liberal MLA Linda Reimer, he told a friend on his public Facebook page that he is “just a ‘paper candidate.’”
“I’m not expected to actively campaign,” he said. “I’m really just there so that the BC Greens have someone on the ballot.”
In the campaign leading up to the May 9 vote, the Greens have chosen Greg Powell to carry their banner in Richmond’s South Centre riding. But, as reported Tuesday in The Tri-City News’ sister paper the Richmond News, the candidate lives more than 600 km away in the Kootenays, where he is a minister at the Castlegar United Church. He told the media that he intends to campaign via social media.
Also the Greens have the worst gender and ethnic diversity in their candidates. They’re mostly white and male:
Summary: ”Fine. I’ll be picking the girl and you’ll have 5 weeks to take her virginity.” Calum said challenging and crossed his arms. ”5 weeks? I can do that in the matter of 5 minutes, Calum.” Ashton stated with confidence
At least i planned on being productive (superwholock)
I made this up and I’m really proud of it! This is part one (I’m not sure how many parts there will be) and I’m really excited to keep writing!
Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, weeping angels (I know those things freak my out when watching the show so I thought id warn anyone who doesn’t like them).
Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader, Sherlock, John, The Doctor, Clara.
I wake up in the morning to the sound of my alarm clock going off. Groaning I roll over and slam my fist onto the button. The alarm goes silent and I let out a breath.
Why on earth would I put an alarm on? Well I planned on being efficient today.
I woke up again to the sound of my alarm clock going off again. Slamming my fist onto the button once again only to check the time.
Its eight o’clock. I slept for an extra hour.
I should be productive.
I push myself out of bed and go into the library where Sam is sitting running a hand through his hair.
“Good morning.” I mumble collapsing into the chair Dean normally sits at.
“Good morning.” Sam says sleepily. “You’re up early.”
“I planned on being efficient.”
“Doing what?” Sam asks.
“I have no idea.” I mumble as I run a hand through my hair. “I didn’t really think it through.”
Sam laughs quietly and I hear the familiar sound of Deans footsteps as he enters the kitchen and I hear pots and pans being moved around.
“I want breakfast.” I announce standing up. “Want anything?”
Sam nods. “Eggs.”
I groan “Ugh I thought you were gonna say no.”
He laughs and I smile “Bacon?”
“Sure.” He says and I go towards the kitchen.
“Morning.” I say as I walk into the kitchen. “What are you making?”
“Bacon and Eggs.” Dean says “Want some?”
“Sure.” I say “Oh and Sammy wants some too.”
Dean groans “I thought you were gonna say no.” He jokes and I laugh.
“You two are like twins.” Sam says entering the kitchen with a paper in his hands. “She just said the exact same thing.”
Dean holds up a hand and I high five him before getting out plates and glasses.
“Anything happening today?” Dean asks.
“Maybe.” Sam mumbles. “WE might have a case.”
“Great.” Dean groans.
“Hey were saving people!” I push his shoulder “Cheer up!”
“Id cheer up if it didn’t mean having to run around and get punched.” Dean grumbles.
“That’s the thing its weird.” Sam says “I don’t think its our usual thing.”
“Since when is our thing usual?”
“Here you go.” Dean hands me two plates of breakfast and I take one to Sam before going back to get our drinks and Dean sits down.
Pouring the drinks we listen to Sam. “It seems like people are being killed by something the cops are unable to identify. There are not finger prints and no traces of the killers.”
“That’s horrible but how do we know its our type of thing?” Dean asks.
“One of the policemen say that the tapes don’t appear to be tempered with computer wise but there are a bunch of glitches making parts of the tape, between the person being fine and then the person being dead, gone.”
“Sounds ghosty.” I say “Plus that would explain why there are no finger prints.”
“Lets check it out.” Dean says.
“After breakfast.” Sam says.
“Definitely.” I say and Dean smiles before digging in.
I walk around in my room grabbing my things before throwing on my fake FBI suit and packing away some clothing.
“Y/N hurry up!” Dean shouts.
“Hold up don’t get your pants in a twist!” I holler back and grab the last of my things.
“Took you long enough.” Dean says.
I mimic him silently and Sam rolls his eyes.
“Lets just go.” Sam’s says “Please no arguing.”
“No promises.” I smile cheekily and Dean rolls his eyes as Sam holds back a smile.
I get in the back of the impala and Dean turns on the music and AC/DC’s Back in Black bursts through the speakers.
The garage doors of the bunker opens and we begin to drive. I smile as Dean turns up the music and starts to sing along.
We drive for a few hours because the case is only a few hours over. Sam eventually joins in and for a little while were all singing along to the music.
Once we get to the crime scene we walk over to the yellow tape and step under it holding out our badges.
Dean goes to talk to the police on the scene and Sam and I walk over to the actual scene.
There’s an outline of the body and I don’t go to close. Though I’ve been hunting with my brothers for as long as I can remember it still saddens me when this happens.
“You see anything?” Sam asks as we crouch down to look around.
I go slightly closer to the outline when something catches my eye. “Yeah…it looks like…dust?”
“Dust like I need to clean?”
“No.” I say confusedly. “Dust like from a statue? I don’t know.”
I look around as Sam examines it and I look over behind us to see a fountain with a bunch of statues on it. Four to be exact. There’s one of a two small cupids and a couple facing each other.
I brush the dust that I had on my hands and hold it up to the statues. The color is slightly different but not my much. Then I look at the others and realize there are different shades of stone on all of them.
Brushing the stuff off my hands I look around and look up to see the camera that was faced directly at the scene.
Walking over to my brothers I let out a breath and they stand up.
“Looks like we need to pay the security room a visit and get a look at the footage.”
“Sounds about right.” Dean says “Lets go.”
The office isn’t that big and Sam is tapping away on the video.
“Nothing tampered that I can see. Like something near the actual camera messed with it. Think it’s a ghost?”
“Maybe.” Dean says “I mean what else do you think it could be?”
“I don’t think it’s a ghost.” I say “I mean where would a ghost get dust?”
“Well sometimes they leave traces of what happened to them at the crime scene they commit. Hurting people the same way.” Dean explains.
“I know its just I don’t think it is.” I say.
“What do you think it is then?” Dean asks.
“Sam can I take a look at the footage?” I ask motioning to the chair.
“Sure.” he says and I go through the footage.
“Something is bothering me.” I say “I just cant tell what.”
I play the video over and over. One second everything is normal and the next the screen glitches for barely a second and the person is lying there.
“What the heck?” I ask “why do I have such a bad feeling in my gut?”
“Because your watching a weird ass crime over and over?” Dean suggests “Where we just see the guy ending up dead on the ground after a millisecond of messed up footage?”
“Yeah but I mean something’s wrong.” I say “And don’t make a smart ass remark Dean Winchester.”
I turn to glare at him and he holds up his hands in defense before making a zipping motion with his mouth.
I glance at Sam and he nods at me to keep going.
I turn back to the screen when something catches my eye.
“Sam can you zoom in on the screen?” I ask giving him back the chair.
“Sure.” He says “Where?”
“The right side. The fountain.”
“Okay.” He says then confusedly “Why the fountain?” “Shh.” I push him out of the chair lightly and he stands up so I can look at the screen better.
“Holy shit.” I say “There are five statues.”
“So?” Dean asks “What’s the big deal?”
“When we were outside and I went to look at them there were only four.” I say leaning back. “There’s a statue missing.”
“So what they stole a statue too?” Dean asks.
“No I don’t think so. I mean there was dust at the scene. It looked like dust from the sculptures.” I say. “See in this picture it’s the man the woman the two cupids and a angel that appears to be crying. But outside the angel isn’t there.”
“Do you think it’s a shape shifter?” Sam asks.
“A shape shifter turning into a statue?” I ask. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s because its not a statue.” A voice sounds from behind us and I jump and turn around. Dean lifts his gun as well as Sam only two see two men standing there. That didn’t mean anything though.
“Woh woh.” The shorter one puts his hands up. “No need for guns. Were just here to see the footage.”
“Who are you?” I ask hesitantly.
“The names Sherlock Holmes.” The taller one with dark curly hair says. “And this is John Watson.”
“Sherlock Holmes.” I say “The famous detective from London?”
“You know him?” Dean asks.
“Sort of.” I say “He’s this amazing detective. Solved so much stuff.”
“Yes well that’s what I do.” Sherlock steps forward and the boys put there guns down as Sherlock takes a seat.
“I apologize for his behavior.” John says “Its nice to meet you.”
Before I can say anything as I shake his hand Sherlock spins in his chair to look at us skeptically.
“Who are you?” Sherlock asks folding his hands together.
“Agents Stone, Floyd, and Gregory.” Dean says and we hold up our badges.
Four seconds later Sherlock narrows his eyes “Fake.”
“Excuse you?” Dean asks shocked.
“Those are fake. The numbers have shifted ten digits and two letters have been mixed with the end of the year.” Sherlock says and I raise my eyebrows putting my ID away as well as Sam and Dean.
Sherlock turns back to the computers and begins tapping away.
“So if you aren’t FBI who are you?” John asks curiously. He eyes Sherlock then us and seems to relax appearing as though he does not consider us a threat, at least as long as Sherlock doesn’t appear to see us as one, anyways.
“The names Y/N.” I say
“Y/N.” Sam says sternly.
“Look I’ve gone through that tape multiple times and trust me its not tampered with.” I say.
“I could tell the first time I watched it.” Sherlock says “I just have to check something.”
“Show off.” Dean mutters and Sherlock ignores him.
“Like I said who are you?” John asks.
I glance at Sam and Dean who look hesitantly at each other.
“The names Y/N Winchester. These are my brothers Sam and Dean.” I hold out my hand and John shakes it.
“So what are you guys really doing here?” John asks.
“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Sam says.
“Ill give it a go.” John says “Trust me its probably not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Were hunters.” I say “As in we hunt the Supernatural. Wendigos, werewolves, vampires, ghosts. You name it we’ve hunted it.”
“That’s insane.” John says “You’re lying.” “Were not.” Dean says.
“Well.” John says “I don’t know if I believe you but its definitely not the craziest thing I’ve heard.”
“So what is?” I ask but Sherlock standing up immediately and the chair rolling back slightly surprised us all and I jump.
“NO!” Sherlock shouts then slams his fist on the table.
“What is it Sherlock?” John asks as he walks towards the computers.
“It’s the statues.” Sherlock says.
“Told you.” I say sticking my tongue out to Sam and Dean.
“You knew?” Sherlock turns to me curiously.
“Not really.” I say “But I saw the dust at the scene and one of the statues is missing when your outside. The one of the angel crying.”
“Not quite.” Sherlock says “It’s a weeping angel.”
“what’s a weeping angel?” Sam asks hesitantly.
“Well considering you hunt monsters you will probably not find this shocking.” Sherlock says.
“You believe us?” I ask.
“Not quite.” Sherlock eyes me “But like John says its not the craziest I’ve ever heard.” “So what is it?” I ask.
“An alien.” Sherlock says “A very very dangerous alien.”
“An alien?” Dean scoffs. “Nuhuh. Monsters I know because I deal with them daily but aliens?”
“I know it sounds crazy Dean but is it really that hard to believe?” Sam asks.
“How do we know your not pulling our legs and making fun of us for saying we hunt monsters?” I ask.
“This is murder. Its not something I joke about.”
I nod “Alright.”
“Alright.” Dean asks me surprised. “You really believe him?”
“Its not that hard to.” I say “We hunt monsters Dean. This appears no different.”
“Except they’re from space!” HE shouts “This is unbelievable.”
“I can prove it.” Sherlock says as we all walk out of the building and to the crime scene.
“How?” I ask and Sherlock looks around before the air seems almost deformed a few feet from us. A warping like sound is heard and it begins to color a darkish blue and in the form of a large box.
It fades in and out until it solidifies.
“Hello!” The door of the police box opens to show a man with a bow tie and a trench coat says happily stepping out. “Sherlock! John!” The man turns to us as a girl steps out of the box. Her hair is a dark brown and she smiles as she greets the two guys before turning to face us. “And who are you?”
“Y/N, Dean, and Sam Winchester.” John answers as we stare at the box and I snap out of it first.
“What’s your name?” I ask trying to be polite and calm though I am freaking out on the inside.
“I’m The Doctor.” The Doctor shakes my hand and proceeds to do so with Sam and Dean.
“The Doctor is his name.” Sherlock says before I can ask. I open my mouth again but he answers already. “and because it’s a predictable question.”
I shut my mouth before glaring at Sherlock. “Are you sure you’re not psychic?”
“Everyone says that.” The girl says “Even Sherlock did. I’m Clara by the way.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I say. “If you don’t mind me asking, what, you know. The box thing?”
“The TARDIS not the box thing.” The Doctor turns to face thing.
“TARDIS?” Sam asks confusedly.
“Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” Clara states proudly. “It’s The Doctors time and Space traveling machine.”
“So you’re an alien?” Dean asks Clara.
“Nope!” She says. “Well not me anyways. The Doctor is though.”
“I’m a time lord.” The Doctor says.
“These men claim to be hunters.” Sherlock turns to the Doctor “have you heard of them?”
“I may have.” The Doctor ponders. “I believe I have but I never quite was sure whether you were just a rumour or not.”
“We can prove it.” Dean says finally.
“How?” Sam whispers.
Dean smirks and I realize.
“Castiel!” WE both call and Dean shoots me a grin.
“I was called.” Castiel’s voice rings out from behind us and everyone turns to see him.
“This is Castiel.” Dean says “Angel of the Lord.”
“I like your coat.” The Doctor says.
“Your coat is very appealing as well.” Castiel says monotonly.
“He’s actually a big fluff ball.” I say to Clara as she raises her eyebrows.
“An Angel?” She asks “Like from Heaven?”
“Not like.” I say “Castiel is from Heaven.”
“Where are your wings?” She asks.
“Humans can not handle my true form so I am in a form you can comprehend.”
“Cool.” Clara says. “Well I’m Clara and that’s The Doctor and Sherlock and John.”
“Nice to meet you.” Castiel says.
“Speaking of Angels.” I say then turn to Sherlock “What about weeping Angels?”
The Doctor tenses and turns to Sherlock. “Weeping Angels?”
“Yes.” Sherlock says “When they called me down to look at the crime scene I was going to decline until I saw pictures. I had to come see for myself.”
“It’s a good thing you called me.” The Doctor says.
“Again.” Dean says “Weeping Angels?”
“A very dangerous alien race.” The Doctor says. “So we’ve heard.” Dean mutters.
“That still doesn’t explain what it is.” Dean says.
“They disguise themselves as statues and whenever no one is looking they may move. That’s how they hide.”
“So they can also mess with footage I’m guessing?” Sam asks.
“Yes.” The Doctor says “If you so much as blink they can move.”
“They can mess with lighting, footage, anything that can help you see them.” Clara says “They’re dangerous.
“Well how do you kill one?” Dean asks.
“You cant.” The Doctor says.
“Of coarse you can.” Dean says “Anything with a pulse can be killed.”
“I don’t think it has a pulse.” Clara says. “We don’t really get close enough to find out.”
“Nor do we want to.” The Doctor says.
“Alright.” Sam says “Well it looks like we have to come up with a plan.”
“First we need to determine why they are doing this.” Sherlock says.
“Normally they are passed as murders here on earth. They aren’t normally noticed and blame it on something they understand.”
We nod. “We get that.” Sam says.
“But when they start showing up like this, which is rare, its like they’re planning something.”
“Have they before?” I ask hesitantly.
“They move to survive and spread. They will just keeping doing this until we can stop them.”
“Well it seems to only be happening in this town so far.” Sam says “So we know they haven’t spread much yet. Its busy during the day so they cant really move.”
“But at night…well…” I trail off “It gets really quiet.”
“Looks like we’ve got some work to do.” Sherlock says and we nod.
I turn to Castiel “you in?”
“Of coarse.” Castiel says.
“Alright.” I say clapping my hands together “Lets kick some statue ass.”
Sooooooooo I really hope you liked it!
Obviously there is going to be more! As mentioned before plus how could I just stop it there!
I’m really proud of this (and it totals to about nine and a half pages so woohoo!!) and I cant wait to write more.
Also thank you for almost 50 followers! I’m super happy and excited!
I also just wanted to mention that part of the reason I’m writing this (Besides knowing these guys have got to have stories together hence why I created this blog!!) is because I don’t think there are enough SUPERWHOLOCK stories!! So if yall write superwholock let me know!
I stumbled across an interesting story about the years-long struggle over the name of Northampton’s Pride march the other day.
In 1988, members of the Valley Bisexual Network approached the Northampton Lesbian and Gay Pride March Committee, requesting that the name be changed to the Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual Pride March.
They didn’t have time to change the name on anything that spring, but in the fall, the committee agreed unanimously to change the name for the 1989 march.
The local lesbian community was divided between people who were totally in favor of this, and people who saw it, essentially, as a dangerous invasion of basically-straight potential rapists into a space that they’d prefer didn’t even have gay men in it.
Members of the anti-bi segment of the lesbian community came to the very first Pride committee meeting the next year to try to get the name changed back. When that didn’t work, they wrote letters to local and even national lesbian publications, rallying people against bisexual inclusion.
“Bisexual” was removed from the name of the 1991 march, in a complete hot mess of terrible Discourse.
Bisexuals were accused of stealing gay and lesbian resources because the speakers, that year that they were explicitly included, were a white bi man and a white straight woman. (The fact that both were white was, evidently, completely irrelevant and not a big deal; the problem was that neither of them was a lesbian.) They were told that bisexual inclusion clearly meant lesbian exclusion, even though every other performer and emcee that year was gay or lesbian.
Bisexuals were labeled as “allies” to the gay/lesbian community, and told they should march as such.
Bisexuals were told they were “parasites attaching themselves to the Lesbian community,” which was “doing all the work.”
Bisexuals were told that they were rapists, or brought rape with them; that as long as the March was not specifically Lesbian Space it would not be any safer from “heterosexual violence” than the recent Take Back the Night March in which someone was raped afterward was.