Ok I’m finally getting around to writing this! Thanks to @a-broke-in-heart for the prompt, I’m actually a really big fan (phan) (i’m sorry) of this one and I can’t wait to get started!
Word Count: 1310
~October 15, 2022~
The wedding is in a week. I’m freaking out. A lot. It’s not that I don’t want to get married. Although marriage is really just a social construct, I love Phil, and Phil wants to do it. I don’t need a document or ceremony to say I love Phil, but he thinks we do, and that means we do.
However, if we must have a ceremony, I might as well make it as fun as I can. I proposed to Phil on his birthday in January, and ever since then I’ve been trying to piece together the perfect vows. It’s like a puzzle. There are so many pieces, and so many of them feel like they fit. But only one piece fits in a specific place. I love so many things about Phil, but I can only put them together perfectly in one way. The most important part, however, is that Phil doesn’t know.
Phil really wants this wedding to be perfect, and I’m going to make my contribution: an amazing surprise with the vows I’ve been working on for months. I’ve finally gotten them perfect and I can’t wait to read them to Phil. With the wedding only a few days away, I’m trying to memorize my vows in my room (yet another part of the perfect surprise) when I’m suddenly interrupted.
“Hey Dan, what are you up to?”
I jump at Phil’s abrupt appearance, dropping the index cards with my vows written on them all over the floor. I scramble to pick them up before Phil sees any of the writing, and set them on my bedside table. “Fuck, Phil. You scared me.”
“Working on your vows?”
“What? No. I’m preparing my next danisnotonfire video. I’m just gonna wing it with the vows.”
“Wing it? How can you wing it on something this important!?”
“It’ll be fine. It’ll be better than fine.”
Phil sighs. “Fine, but if you mess up the wedding, we’re getting a divorce.” Phil softly hit me on the arm before walking out. I let out a deep breath. That was close.
~October 18th, 2022~
Tomorrow. The wedding is tomorrow. I’m freaking out even more now. I’ve completely memorized my vows, yet I still don’t feel ready. I read over them one last time in the mirror before going out to the living room. I promised Phil I’d watch a movie with him tonight after my live show. It gives me less time to prepare, but as I said, I’d do anything for Phil.
I walk into the living room still trying to change my head from wedding preparation mode to domestic time with Phil mode. I find Phil pacing the room nervously. “Phil, what’s wrong?”
“Dan, we’re not ready. You haven’t rehearsed vows, I’m a nervous wreck, and the possibilities of things that can go wrong are endless! And nobody’s gonna come. Why did we have it on a Wednesday, Dan? What is wrong with us?”
“Phil, calm down. My vows will be great, you’re going to be fine, the rehearsal dinner yesterday went perfectly fine, and everyone RSVP’d. They’re going to show up.”
“I guess you’re right…” Phil looks like a sad puppy but then the fear returns to his eyes. “But what if someone gets sick? What if they lose the rings? What if-”
I cut Phil off the best way I know how: kissing him. I softly press my lips to his, and he kisses back. After a few all too short seconds, I lean back. “Better?”
“Much.” Phil smirk. “Is that the way you’re going to kiss me tomorrow?”
I grin back at him. “Tomorrow and for the rest of our lives.”
We curl up on the couch, seeming to have forgotten about the movie we planned to watch. “Dan, you always seem to know how to make me feel better. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I run my fingers through his jet-black hair until he falls asleep in my lap. I stand up, gently resting his head on a pillow. I smile down at the beautiful boy sleeping on the couch. “Tomorrow…” I whisper, planting a kiss on Phil’s forehead. He smiles at me in his sleep and I return to my room to rehearse my vows one last time.
~October 19, 2022~
I’m so nervous. Dan’s going to come down the aisle any second. I haven’t seen him all morning, as it is tradition, and it’s making me really anxious. Being without Dan for even a few hours messes with my head. I look around the park. We decided to have our wedding in the park, just like Dil and Tabitha’s. Everything around me reminds me of Dil and Tabitha’s wedding. The only difference is me.
Luckily, Dan was right about people showing up. An RSVP is pretty solid, I guess. Maybe having the wedding on a Wednesday wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. It is a pretty important date. I find it hard to believe. 13 whole years ago today, Dan and I first met in person. And now, we’re finally getting married.
Suddenly, the music starts to play. Since neither of us is a bride, I did allow us to waver from tradition just this once. l smile as the pianist plays Interrupted by Fireworks and Dan emerges from behind a makeshift wall. He’s wearing nothing but black, as I’d expect from him, except for a single blue rose in his suit pocket. His hair is naturally curled, the way only I’ve seen it, and he has a smile wider than even I’ve ever seen.
I find tears falling down my cheeks. The experience is just too overwhelming for me. The love of my life, looking beautiful as ever, is walking down the aisle to the tune of Interrupted by Fireworks to get married to me. It’s so powerful the tears are forced to fall.
The boy stops in front of me and takes my hand, smiling. I stare hopelessly into his eyes. I love him more than I thought possible. All I notice is his eyes, as I almost mindlessly read my vows off the index cards I had hidden in my pocked. Then Dan begins to say his vows. The fear creeps back into my stomach. He’s winging it. I quickly remind myself that he said he’s got this, and I trust him. The fear rooted in my stomach lets up a bit.
“Phil…” Dan looks into my eyes. I try to listen instead of becoming mesmerized by his eyes again. “It’s been 13 years. 13 years since I met you. 13 years since I hugged you. 13 years since I loved you, and I couldn’t love you any more. 13 years is a long time you know. There’s time for a teenager to fall hopelessly in love. There’s time for a young boy to feel alone in the world. There’s time for worldwide travels. There’s time for three houses, two cities, and two dogs. But there’s only time for one love, Phil. And that’s you. Thirteen years ago it was you, today it’s you, and it will be you forever. Today and forever.”
Dan smiles at me and I repeat his phrase back at him, taking his hands in mine. “Today and forever.”
We turn to the priest beside of us that neither of us have really bothered to notice until now. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husbands. You may kiss the groom.”
Dan smirks at me as I lean in and press my lips to his. I can sense the love in this kiss. It’s not the same love as it used to be. It’s a new, undying love. I can tell this is only the beginning for us. Today and forever.
i don’t even know, tbh? kinda sad i guess because tg used to be my favorite thing but i’ve pretty much lost all interest in the story, the characters and everything? it’s been a while since i’ve been feeling this way about :re but these latest chapters just settled it for me. i mean, ishida can do whatever he wants with the manga, it’s his story and characters after all, but eh it just isnt my cup of tea anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Imagine having the Mark of Cain and hurting Dean, but having no memory of it.
Pairing: Dean x Mark of Cain! Reader, The Stynes, mention of Charlie
Lines: #34 I’d never imagined I could kill somebody.
Requested by: @sassysupernaturalsweetheart I’m finally getting back to my 1k celebrationg requests. Forgive me for taking so long. I hope you enjoy it. It’s full of angst and sadness, but you kind of asked for it by requesting that stinking line!
Warnings: Angst, Violence, talk of suicide, canon divergence
Summary: The reader and Sam have been dating for a while and when Sam starts to wanting a little bit more in the relationship a darker part of the reader’s past is revealed.
Pairings: Sam x Reader
Warnings: mentions of abuse, self harm and a heated makeout between reader and Sam, smut implied at the end.
Author’s note: Firstly thank you all so much for a 112 followers. I know it’s not much but I’m glad that all of you are following me! I’ve been suffering from a little bit of writer’s block and I blame it on my new work that has me in a constant state of angst. But tomorrow is a new week and I’ll see how it goes :)
The gifs is not my own but if it belongs to you don’t hesitate to shoot me a message and I’ll be happy to give you credit.
And sorry for the cheesy title but I couldn’t resist.
The Winchesters. You should’ve listened to everyone’s advice about them.
They might be the best family of hunters in existence but getting to close to them always ended up for the worse. Normally nowadays meeting up with other hunters left them questioning you.
Why you were with the boys? Why you were so close with Sam? Is everything okay? Do you owe them anything?
No, you don’t. But a tragic incidence with your own family tree of hunters landed you on Bobby’s doorstep after making it through what felt like millions of foster families and he eventually passed you onto the brothers. It was the brother’s job to keep you busy, occupied, hunting and forgetting about the death of your family members and the troubling past that had consisted of crude foster families.
Not all of em’ was that bad, but there was a few that left you questioning the whole foster care system due to the things they said to you, made you do, and how they treated you. But that wasn’t a time you wanted to relive, ever, for now you were travelling across America with the two Winchester brothers.
Travelling with the boys had its perks. Always knowing that you’d get the bedroom, always getting majority say in certain situations, having a say in the music, a clean bathroom (as the boys have learned to keep everything neat and tidy when you are around), the protective brothers, and of course, falling in love with Sam.
But it had its misfortunes as well. Having to put up with both brother’s stubbornness and willingness to let you go on certain hunts, arguments about who got to drive the Impala, both Sam and Dean being inconsiderate towards you when you want to check up on their emotional state, Sam and Dean arguing about the littlest of things forcing you to take sides. Even though it made life harder than it was you knew these few things outweighed the massive perk you got about just being in their company. Especially Sam’s.
Dean had called it when you first told him about your crush on Sam. He claimed that the moment Sam laid eyes on you, and vice versa you were already falling for one another. You confided in Dean and he gave advice that made your boots shake in fear,
“Just tell him, Y/N. Sammy will appreciate it if you just come clean with him.” you recalled Dean’s words to you.
And you vaguely recall Dean mentioning that he and Bobby was betting on it. Dean encouraged you to tell Sam and did so in a way of reassuring you that - Sam - felt the same way. And he did.
You have been dating for about 6 months now, and you couldn’t have hoped for anything better. Currently you were in Dallas Texas investigating a house haunted by a murderous spirit. But for now you were relaxing as both Dean and Sam were out for an interview with the owners.
You were seated at one of the desks in the living area, you were lost in the paperback, ‘The Crucible’, a novel that Sam had given to you on your third or so date. You jumped slightly as a tall and lean figure made contact with your back as you inhaled the scent. Sam leaned over and placed a kiss to your temple.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed your heartbeat racing far more than it should’ve. Sam gave a chuckle as he tugged his chin into your neck making you giggle.
“Hey babe,” he whispered in your ear sending shivers up and down your spine. You smiled as your concentration broke away from the book as his immediate body heat disappeared as he made his way over to the kitchenette.
“Find anything of use at the house?” you questioned, standing up following slowly behind Sam.
“No, but the owners said something about attending a ball in about two days” he replied, knowingly looking to you. “And we really need to get back into the house to see what is actually going on there.”
“So I’m guessing your going to send me to the ball and both you and Dean will go investigate?” you sarcastically stated, wrapping your arms around his waist as he was busy flipping through a newspaper.
“You know, you make it so hard for us to actually take care of you.” he retorted easily.
“Yeah, I know.” you laughed into his back.
His laughed bubbled from deep within him and you smiled at the little gesture.
“I’m serious. If you’d just listen to me, and Dean sometimes, it would spare us a lot of grey hairs and excess stress.”
“Yeah, yeah. But it is no fun when I don’t get into some form of trouble” you retorted hopping onto the counter next to him, hoping and praying that the little kitchenette would support your weight. Sam smiled up at you, and looked back to the newspaper he was flipping through and chuckled slightly.
“What?” you questioned, eyes widening, hitting him playfully on the arm. He flipped the newspaper closed and manoeuvred himself till he was in between your legs. You placed your hands on his shoulders as you stared at him.
“Your just gorgeous,” he smiled and your stomach twisted. You forced a smile.
“Yeah, yeah. You too” you smirked slightly, “Where’s Dean?”
“He is with the owner’s of the house’s daughter. She is showing him round town,” he smiled, “Which means we are all-” and he kissed your cheek, “-alone” and he kissed your collarbone and sucked harshly sending spark flying to your toes.
“Sam,” you whispered as he moved from your collarbone to your bare neck. He gripped onto your hips pulling you closer to him. Insecurities screaming at you. Then your brain shut off. You pushed him away slightly,
“You must be starving- go pick us a movie and I’ll order something from the room service menu for us.” you smiled nervously as Sam helped you off the counter.
You disappeared to the bathroom leaving Sam confused and dazed in the kitchen. Your stomach twisting in regret and nausea. Shutting the door quickly behind you before he could catch a glimpse of you.
Sam was hinting at sex for about two months now and still every time he did you shut him down. You didn’t blame him, you had been dating for 6 months now. But giving your body over to Sam. The body full of self harm scars, full of failed hunts, full of hate, full of abuse, full of stretch marks and full of things no guy wants on a girl.
You knew Sam, he was to soft, to loveable, to kind to tell you the truth and you were afraid that he would think less of you, or that it might turn him off, make you less beautiful in his eyes if he was to see them- if he was to see you in the flesh.
You stood and stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked pale in the ill illuminated bathroom that smelled of leather and Sam’s body wash with a hint of cheap perfume didn’t help the nauseated feeling forming in the pit of your stomach.
All the blood had drained from your face so suddenly and you were cursing yourself for being so pathetic about the whole situation. You quickly tied your hair up in a high pony tail as waves of heat hit your body the anxiousness of the situation building in your chest. You clenched onto the bathroom sink breathing heavily.
You were ready for him but your own insecurities over shadowed any mean of you actually thinking straight and pursuing what you wanted. You were on the brink of a panic attack ready to throw yourself in front of a truck much rather than actually telling Sam what you were feeling when a knock on the door made you jump.
“Y/N” Sam’s voice came from the other side laced with concern and worry. You almost being able to imagine the crease in his brow. You quickly cleared your own throat and replied,
“Yeah, I’ll be out now.”
“Is everything okay babe?”
“I’m fine, on my way now” you called flushing the toilet knowing that it wouldn’t fool Sam and with that you opened the door. Sam’s figure staring down at you the worry in his voice reflecting on his facial features.
“You sure your okay?” he questioned again as you stalked over to the little phone book of the motel you were staying at.
“Of course” you forced a smile, “Will pizza be okay?”
A few minutes later you were seated next to Sam on the couch watching some sort of rom-com that was available on one of the free channels. Sam’s arm draped around your figure. You hadn’t mentioned what had happened in the kitchen and you weren’t planning to. You knew you should just tell him but you couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up in a conversation.
‘Hey Sam. I want to have sex with you but your going to think I’m an ugly and revolting person because I haven’t told you about what actually happened during my foster home time and through all this remember I’m a virgin.’
You were going to sound crazy. But you also knew your boyfriend- he wasn’t going to stop until you tell him ‘not today’ or ‘maybe another time’ simple excuses you’ve been using for months.
And not too long after, Sam placed a long lingering kiss to your temple once again. You decided to see how this would play out, maybe you could just do it and he wouldn’t even notice. You knew you were trying to kid yourself but you continued.
Sam gently pulled you down so that your were laying on the couch and almost immediately removed his shirt. He pressed his warm body up against yours immediately taking to your collarbone and neck, every so often nipping at the skin behind your ear- making your toes curl in pleasure. A loose knot already forming in your lower stomach.
His one arm holding some of his weight up and the other roaming your side, constantly stopping to squeeze your hips and you had to bite away the insecurities burning wildly in your chest. He pulled away from your neck and smiled slightly as he placed his lips on yours.
Then you got lost, all was forgotten. Your lips moved in sync and he moaned suddenly into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. His hand traveled up your shirt and squeezed slightly through your bra and your back arched suddenly.
Sam nestled his growing bulge in between your legs and you gasped suddenly as the sudden friction to your already wet sex making the knot tighter in your lower stomach. Sam quickly sobering up the opportunity to prod your mouth with his tongue. You started doing the same and your tongues wrestled with one another.
Then Sam tugged at your shirt, you tensed up and he felt the sudden change in the mood, in you. He slowly pulled away from the kiss.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m not going to hurt you.” he whispered into your neck as he leaned more of his weight on you. You nodded slowly and he slid the shirt of you with your help.
“Fuck your gorgeous, babe.” he whispered attacking your neck again making you moan slightly as he nibbled and sucked.
You have taken off your shirt in front of Sam before but that was about it. He has never seen you naked and that was what terrified you so much.
Sam had worked his way down to the waist line of your shirts as he shifted to your lips one more. You got lost again the knot tightening in your stomach as Sam squeezed your breasts.
Then he tugged at your shorts.
You tried to brush it off hoping he would seize but then he undid the button of your short and your brain shut down again. Suddenly noticing how bare you were in front of Sam despite only have taken of your shirt.
You pulled away from the kiss and your heart broke a little seeing Sam’s facial expression.
“Sam, I’m sorry.” you whispered, avoiding his eyes. He silently kissed your cheek as he crawled off you. You quickly grabbed your own shirt as Sam slid his over his head. His facial expression hurt, confused and disappointed?
“No, you don’t have to be sorry .” he stated not bringing his own eyes to yours, “I should’ve stopped.” he stated clasping his chin with his hand. He turned to you,
“I know you don’t want to and I respect that. Just know that I love you and I’ll wait even if that means forever.”
You extended your hand to his as he squeezed it slightly before kissing it.
“Sam, its not that I don’t want to,” you started and his attention averted towards you once again, he but his lip, “Its just really hard for me to tell you because for months now I’ve been pondering over the same thing and trying to determine how you would react and I just-” but he cut you off.
“Tell me, Y/N” he encouraged and you had to inhale and exhale before you could dare answer back.
“Before I met you and Dean and before Bobby. Right after my parents died. I was put through some horrid foster care families.” you blurted, not daring to lock eyes with his.
“They abused me physically and verbally and for a while I was okay.” you whispered, “but then after hearing how pathetic and worthless one is you start believing it.”
“And I did.”
“Y/N…” he stated as his eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“I self harmed.” you choked as Sam’s eyes flooded with shock and terror. “I have scars that should’ve killed me Sammy. Stretch marks that prove I’m not pretty enough. I’m not good enough for you Sam.”
“Y/N stop it.” he snapped silently, “You, don’t you dare.”
“Sam I can’t get past my own insecurities and they are killing me because I love you so much and I want to sleep wit you but your not going to see me the same way you did after seeing all of it.” you whispered and he grabbed both your hands in his.
“You know what, Y/N. I fell in love with your gorgeous and beautiful personality.” he whispered his voice deep and cracked occasionally, “When I said I love you. I meant ALL of you.” he explained putting emphasis on all.
“Your right I’m not going to look at you differently after I see you bare and naked in front of me.” he stated simply as your eyes swam in his sincerity, “I’m going to see those scars and they are going to remind me of how truly strong you are, and I’m going to see the stretch marks and know how beautiful they make you and how YOU they make you.” he explained passionately heaving in frustration because he was bewildered that you couldn’t see it they way he did.
“Sam I-I don’t-” you stuttered and he smiled pulling you close to him.
“I love you Y/N Y/L/N. and if you let me,” he stated “I’ll show you what that means.”
Your eyes locked with Sam’s and you nodded slightly. He smiled as you finally knew no insecurity was going to come in the way of you and Sam’s relationship. They might not entirely go away but with time and gentle care they would seize and stop bothering you entirely.
But for now, it was just you and Sam. Forever was only the start with Sam Winchester and both of you knew it.
Adam Milligan imagine requested by lunarpotion! “Hi! I read your guidelines and I am hoping that this is within your rules. Could I have an Adam imagine where the reader was travelling with Sam and Dean when they pulled him from the pit and reader is really considerate and caring that Adam falls in love because she listens to him and doesn’t try to understand because she knows she can’t?? Fluff? OH gosh I hope this is okay. If this isn’t then berate me and such…" Hope you like it!
It was an impossibility you couldn’t have fathomed when you first laid eyes upon the dirt-covered shell of a man that very first day… but Adam Milligan was well on his way to being whole. He had been broken by the world’s most lethal creations, the light behind his eyes had been extinguished with every passing day, the flame burning lower and lower until there was no substance to the fire at all. The man that now sat before you, his head bent over a paperback book of lore from the local library, was slowly but surely casting sparks over the wick within himself. His sleepless nights had decreased greatly over the three months he spent in your company, though every few nights, you could hear the distinct sound of the breath leaving his lungs, his bed sheets crinkling as he threw himself out of bed, taking care to tread carefully on the motel’s untrustworthy floorboards in fear of waking you. Little did he know that your ear was constantly attuned to his movement. You cared for the man. How could you sleep through a night when he was reliving every action of torture? He had spent thousands of years trapped in a cage with two of the Bible’s most ferocious beings, acting as their personal punching bag. His sanity was your main concern. Thus, you rarely slept unless he did as well.
You had met Adam Milligan back at Bobby Singer’s house before everything went haywire with the universe. You were working a hunt with the Winchester brothers outside of the apocalyptic spectrum. Time and chance had brought you to become his warden and caretaker. The brothers were off to save the world, as was their usual routine. Bobby Singer was hardly capable of watching a man with the ability to run when he was confined to a wheelchair, and you had Latin notation up to your eyeballs to decipher. You were unceremoniously assigned to Milligan’s side… you never would have expected a friendship to blossom with the broken man. He was less of a burden than you had originally assumed; he only ever tried to run off once, he rarely spoke, he spent most of his time reading quietly… it was high school all over again, and you had landed the easiest babysitting gig of your life. You smiled fondly, watching his eyes glaze over his book, his brow furrowing every few lines, the hazy mist of his irises tugging his pupils as he struggled to comprehend the content of the lore. The studious hunter in question raised his eyes to meet yours, his lips upturning in the corners to find you watching him so intently, the apples of his cheeks burning dimly with the shadow of embarrassment. He was fortunate enough to be graced with a delicate blush, a trait you both admired and envied. You extended your hand, your movement cautious and slow, easing your fingers in his direction to alert him of your intent. He tended to jump when approached, an obvious link back to the tens of millions of unkind hands laid upon his flesh. His eyes dropped to your fingers, his face contorting in muted terror before relaxing. He inched the book into your palm, shifting his chair along the scratched floorboards surrounding the motel’s breakfast table, situating himself closer to you. His shoulder hovered just beside your own, his breath warming your neck as his index finger located the point of his confusion.
"I can’t read this part,” he admitted, his fingernail ghosting over a string of Latin, his hand trembling just slightly. His composure had cracks, that much was a given, but he was doing incredibly well. His very presence by your side must have taken an immense amount of courage. You squinted at the phrase, conscious of his eyes drilling into your temple.
“Ex igne fit in salutem,” you whispered, trailing the pad of your pointer finger underneath the words, the paper thin and brittle from age. You turned to face the youngest Winchester, finding his face closer than you had anticipated, his eyes harvesting the afternoon’s dying light, oceans trapped within his irises roiling with waves of curiosity and trust. His lips parted in question, awaiting your translation. You wrenched yourself from the distraction of his features, clearing your throat. “It means "from the fire comes salvation,” his brow pinched, his eyes flickering back and forth between each of yours. He was still tentative about using words to relay his thoughts. You didn’t have a concrete foundation of what exactly went down Down Under (how could you bring back the memories of such vivid horror to the man who couldn’t sleep through the night? It seemed a bit like torture in itself), but whatever Michael and Lucifer had done to him threatened to silence him forever, if only partially. “Like.. rebirth. From the past comes a new beginning. From the fire comes salvation,” you continued, turning back to the tome, flipping through pages absentmindedly. “What does this have to do with the hunt?” You wondered aloud, your subconscious voicing your thoughts without asking your permission. If Sam and Dean were off hunting a Greek monster, what had motivated Adam to read-up on Latin? There was no correlation between the two, yet he had been bent over this book since the moment Castiel had brought it back from the town’s library. He’d spent hours struggling through dead languages and metaphors… for what purpose? Adam’s hand reached out to close the book, a gentle motion for so sudden a shift, sliding the lore towards his chest atop the table’s plastic surface. He held the volume like body armour, a makeshift breastplate of information he clutched to his body as if it coould save his life.
“Light reading,” he mumbled, his eyes dropping from yours to examine the closed book, focusing intently on the generous flecks of dust coating the perimeter of the pages. Your gaze settled on the binding, or what little of the binding was exposed by Adam’s position beside you, locking on the words “Inventing Hell: Dante, The Bible, and Eternal Torment." Jesus, he was researching his imprisonment. You had sat by, invested in your own research, while Adam had put himself through Hell, literally, all over again? Adam’s eyes followed yours downward when he caught you staring, trailing down to the title of the book in his arms. He flinched the exposed title into the crook of his arm, holding onto his personal research project like a drowning man would clutch a life preserver, his knuckles white with the strength and determination of his hold.
"Adam,” you began, extending your fingers with intent to lay them upon his shoulder, a gesture ill–thought through and solely instinctual. He didn’t flinch away from your advance, but you stopped nonetheless when his eyes screwed shut, his forehead wrinkling as his face seized, blocking the world from view as if to banish all oncoming disasters. He inhaled quickly through his nose, his hands shaking against the book’s cover.
“I just wanted to understand,” he began, his words stiff, forced from between his rigid lips, his chest rising shallowly with his every hollow breath. “I wanted to be able to understand so that I could talk to you about it. You’re the only person I know that doesn’t write me off as…” he trailed off, swallowing with great difficulty before continuing his alarming statement, “As some kind of brain-dead chihuahua. You listen, and you care, and I can’t… I can’t talk about… about what happened… down there. I wanted to understand so that you could too. You try so hard to help me, and I love you for that. I do. I wanted to learn so that I could-” he opened his eyes, his voice dropping off with a crackle, his posture becoming even more rigid, if that was possible, as he realized what he had just spoken to you. His eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in mortification. He stammered wordlessly for a few seconds, his mumblings going silent as you processed the newfound information. Your hand inched towards his knee, his eyes flashing to your movement with an unfortunate precision, watching as your fingertips laid against his leg, your palm moving to his lower thigh. A comforting gesture, something innocent, something you both needed in this moment. Your touch acted as a sedative, surprisingly, Adam’s shoulders deflating, his grip on the book softening considerably, as his eyes drifted back to yours.
“You can tell me,” you whispered, his timid smile returning as he scootched to your side once again, inhaling deeply in preparation of thousands of years of storytelling. His fingers brushed against yours like the exhale of a ghost, a brief moment of sparkling hope. Adam Milligan was nearly whole… and you maybe just loved him too.
coffee magazine just hit 10,000 followers!!! thank you so incredibly much to all who have supported me thus far throughout my journey. it really means so much to me. i have received so much love from y’all since the beginning, and i really really really appreciate that. this experience has helped me develop an even deeper affection and an even greater pride in my blackness, and i hope it has only done the same for you. this is only the beginning, and y’all will forever be a part of that.
I could see how easy it would be to fall into loving Bella. It would be exactly like falling: effortless. Not letting myself love her was the opposite of falling—it was pulling myself up a cliff-face, hand over hand, the task as grueling as if I had no more than mortal strength.
Imagine Ruvik holding a running contest. Everytime someone reaches the finish, he teleports them back to the beginning, making them run forever. But only Leslie makes it to the finish because Ruvik thinks he's cute
Why Frank Castle Doesn’t Just Deserve Love—He Needs It
This meta COMPLETELY got away from me and is seriously long, but at @76bloodytrombones’ request, here is why Frank Castle deserves love. Except that my conclusion is not that he deserves love, but that he must find it in himself to love again or he will be gone forever, and only the Punisher will remain.
1. In the beginning, Frank’s grief and guilt have distorted his memories of his family.
In his fantastic book “Man’s Search for Meaning,” Auschwitz survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl talks about one of his patients, a man who had lost his wife, who was consumed with grief. This man stopped going to work, stopped seeing his friends, stopped taking care of himself. He could not move on, he missed his wife so desperately, and he didn’t understand why he lived while she had to die.
Dr. Frankl helped this man to recover from his grief by reminding him that, if one of them had to live and one had to die, this man should want to be the one who lived—because he is the one who must now suffer, who must go on without the person he loved. If their positions had been reversed, it would have been this man’s beloved wife who suffered grief from the loss of her husband. By seeing the truth—that the living bear the pain that the dead have been released from, and that to be the one who lives is not necessarily the winning hand in a game of “who lives, who dies”—the man was able to finally come to terms with his grief.
Like Dr. Frankl’s patient, Frank Castle has lost his wife and his children whom he loved desperately, and he is so consumed by grief and guilt at their loss (while he alone survived), that he punishes HIMSELF first and foremost. For Frank, who is caught in the emotional aftermath of his loss by virtue of both head trauma and self-torture, his penance for living when his family did not is to deprive himself of love, of friendship, of any pleasure of enjoyment that life may have to offer.