I looked over at the empty bed, rubbing my hands together as I contemplated her last words.
“Dean, you don’t love me. You love the idea of me, and that’s why I have to go.”
Those words cut me like a knife, mostly because she couldn’t have been more wrong. Y/N always had a way of thinking she knew what was best. For everyone.
She’d make an executive decision when she thought she needed to. She always thought she was doing the right thing. Nine times out of ten, she was right. This time, she was wrong.
I guess we have that in common. Sam has told me on more than one occasion the same damn things I’m thinking about Y/N.
We are so much alike it scares me.
Maybe that’s why she thought I didn’t love her. Maybe she saw all of her flaws in me and that scared her. Maybe she didn’t love me, but the idea of me.
That idea scared the hell out of me because I needed her. Especially after everything we had been through together.
I picked up my phone and dialed her number. Straight to voicemail.
“Listen, Y/N. I know you think you’re right. You usually are,” I sighed, running my hand over my face before continuing. “But this time, you’re wrong. I love you. I need you. Now more than ever. I’m going to find you. I’m not letting you run away this time.”
I hung up the phone, grabbed my bag and headed for the Impala. I wasn’t letting her get away this time.
You looked at the phone as it mocked you. One voicemail. You knew exactly whose voice would sound through the phone the minute you listened to the voicemail, but it didn’t stop you for hitting play.
“Listen, Y/N. I know you think you’re right. You usually are,” he sighed, and paused before continuing. “But this time, you’re wrong. I love you. I need you. Now more than ever. I’m going to find you. I’m not letting you run away this time.”
You threw the phone across the car.
“Dammit!” you screamed, gripping the wheel tight, tears streaming down your face. Dean couldn’t really love you. You weren’t someone who deserved anyone’s love. Especially Dean’s.
He’d left that message two days ago.
You sat in the empty parking lot of a disgusting motel, your eyes squeezed shut as you thought.
A knock on your window made you nearly jump out of the seat.
You turned and there were the green eyes you were running from. The green eyes you were trying desperately to save. After the two of you had come back from Purgatory, you’d felt so lost.
Running had seemed like the right choice. You needed Dean too much after everything in Purgatory. You couldn’t depend on any one person as much as you did Dean. That usually only ended one way, and that was losing that person.
But you stared into Dean’s eyes, and for a brief second forgot why you had run in the first place.
“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, running your fingers through your short Y/H/C hair as Dean opened your door. You weren’t sure what was going to come of this confrontation, but you couldn’t keep running.
Dean would always find you. Especially if he loved you like he said.
“What the hell, Y/N?” Dean growled.
He grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly against him, his lips crashing to yours, and you let him. You couldn’t promise you wouldn’t run again when you came to your senses, but for now, you let Dean’s arms comfort you.
For now, you let yourself stupidly believe that maybe, just maybe, you were safe.
Message submitted from@chaos-and-the-calm67 when she sent the gif: I saw this and I’d thought I’d send it in *hides face*
“I must have dropped it, in all the excitement,” I said. “Just as well; I’ve no idea what to do with it. I’d likely have stabbed myself if I’d tried to use it.”
Ned eyed Jamie censoriously over his half-spectacles.
“Ye gave her a knife and didn’t teach her to use it?”
“There wasna time, under the circumstances,” Jamie defended himself. “But Ned’s right, Sassenach. Ye should learn how to handle arms. There’s no tellin’ what may happen on the road, as ye saw last night.”
So I was marched out into the center of a clearing and the lessons began. Seeing the activity, several of the MacKenzie men came by to investigate, and stayed to offer advice. In no time, I had half a dozen instructors, all arguing the fine points of technique. After a good deal of amiable discussion, they agreed that Rupert was likely the best among them at dirks, and he took over the lesson.
He found a reasonably flat spot, free of rocks and pine cones, in which to demonstrate the art of dagger-wielding.
“Look, lass,” he said. He held the dagger balanced on his middle finger, resting an inch or so below the haft. “The balance point, that’s where ye want to hold it, so it fits comfortable in yer hand.” I tried it with my dagger. When I had it comfortably fitted, he showed me the difference between an overhand strike and an underhanded stab.
“Generally, ye want to use the underhand; overhand is only good when ye’re comin’ down on someone wi’ a considerable force from above.” He eyed me speculatively, then shook his head.
“Nay, you’re tall for a woman, but even if ye could reach as high as the neck, ye wouldna have the force to penetrate, unless he’s sittin’. Best stick to underhand.” He pulled up his shirt, revealing a substantial furry paunch, already glistening with sweat.
“Now, here,” he said, pointing to the center, just under the breastbone, “is the spot to aim for, if ye’re killin’ face to face. Aim straight up and in, as hard as ye can. That’ll go into the heart, and it kills wi’in a minute or two. The only problem is to avoid the breastbone; it goes down lower than ye think, and if ye get yer knife stuck in that soft bit on the tip, it will hardly harm yer victim at all, but ye’ll be wi’out a knife, and he’ll ha’ you. Murtagh! Ye ha’ a skinny back; come ’ere and we’ll show the lass how to stick from the back.” Spinning a reluctant Murtagh around, he yanked up the grubby shirt to show a knobbly spine and prominent ribs. He poked a blunt forefinger under the lower rib on the right, making Murtagh squeak in surprise.
“This is the spot in back— either side. See, wi’ all the ribs and such, ’tis verra difficult to hit anythin’ vital when ye stab in the back. If ye can slip the knife between the ribs, that’s one thing, but that’s harder to do than ye might think. But here, under the last rib, ye stab upward into the kidney. Get him straight up, and hell drop like a stone.”
Rupert then set me to try stabbing in various positions and postures. As he grew winded, all the men took it in turns to act as victim, obviously finding my efforts hilarious. They obligingly lay on the grass or turned their backs so I could ambush them, or leaped at me from behind, or pretended to choke me so I could try to stab them in the belly.
The spectators urged me on with cries of encouragement, and Rupert instructed me firmly not to pull back at the last moment.
“Thrust as though ye meant it, lass,” he said. “Ye canna pull back if it’s in earnest. And if any o’ these laggards canna get themselves out of the way in time, they deserve what they get.”
I was timid and extremely clumsy at first, but Rupert was a good teacher, very patient and good about demonstrating moves, over and over. He rolled his eyes in mock lewdness when he moved behind me and put his arm about my waist, but he was quite businesslike about taking hold of my wrist to show me the way of ripping an enemy across the eyes.
Dougal sat under a tree, minding his wounded arm and making sardonic comments on the training as it progressed. It was he, though, who suggested the dummy.
“Give her something she can sink her dirk into,” he said, when I had begun to show some facility at lunging and jabbing. “It’s a shock, the first time.”
Imagine face-timing the Doctor, Amy, and Rory, just to whine again about how the Doctor refused to take you on this round. Imagine actually having on your end what they needed at that exact moment to save the day, and afterwards the Doctor lectures you about trusting him, even though you knew he had no idea that was going to happen.
“OH HI PERFECT TIMING!”
“What? What’s going on? Why didn’t you take me, old man?! I’m so bored!”
“LISTEN THAT BOOK, THAT BORING LOOKING BOOK I RIPPED THE LAST PAGE OUT OF?”
“YES YES THATS IT! WHO WROTE IT?”
“Uhh I don’t know, why?”
“WELL FIND OUT!!”
(IM NOT DEAD HI. I honestly have no excuse, I just suck at schedules. IM TRYING I PROMISE. BUT YOU SQUIRTS ARE AMAZING WE JUST HIT 800 AND WE’RE ALREADY NOT THAT FAR FROM 900 I CANT BELIEVE YOU AMAZINGS! ILY ALL I HOPE YOUR DAY DOESNT SUCK, LONG HUGS AND SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE
I just watched the White house correspondent’s dinner and got so sad at the idea of him leaving even though I’m Canadian. I’ll miss Obama, how funny he is, how he doesn’t pull punches, and how he gave hope to so many for what once seemed like unattainable goal. He wasn’t perfect but he was better than the previous and really that’s all you can hope for in politics. In Canada we have yet to see how good of a leader PM Trudeau will be but so far he is already better than the last guy. And that gives me hope.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year… (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
…and both Rin and Sou are more than ready for another great year to celebrate their favorite week! Samezuka Academy will be a shark fest all week long once again. But what’s this? (o゜ー゜o) It seems someone has decided to invite themselves and join the celebration! ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ♪ These sharks have no idea who this peculiar oddball could be… it’s a mystery that will have to be solved during this week! (๑ • ₃ • ๑)
Just like last year, it’ll be a free theme! Send them a message, share your own shark related items or art–anything pretty much goes! Shark related posts along with my own works will be all you see this week and nothing else (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و
I will be tracking #samezuka shark week and #samezukasharkweek or you could always tag me~ (っ˘ω˘ς )
Ye be warned, the celebration starts June 26th-3rd! RAWR! ( •̀ o •́ )
I would just like to say, especially if this is her last competition, that I am so honored to have been represented by Aly Raisman. When you send athletes to an Olympic games they don’t just represent themselves they represent an entire nation. Sometimes they are the only idea of what people from a certain nation are like that people really get to see (like nk athletes for example). How they conduct themselves can reflect on an entire nation and I am so glad Aly represented the USA. She is a model of sportsmanship, captaincy and kindness. She mentored her team and was gracious to her competition.
When aly first became a senior in don’t think anyone could have predicted what she would achieve. I remember thinking that she was an ok gymnast who would probably be better suited to ncaa (lol) then elite. Boy was I ever wrong! She was even better at this Olympics than the last one and has consistently improved the longer that she continued in the sport. She was so composed and I am just so happy that this Olympics was successful for her. Have a pizza with Gabby and Simone Aly, you deserve it.
“But now it’s my turn to take the lead, and all of you can watch me from the background!”
So, I decided to expand my horizon as we all should once in a while, and for me that was animating. As a simple guy with a drawing tablet and a licence for Photoshop, Paint tool Sai, and Manga studio, I didn’t have any Idea how to go about doing this, except just go at it and make frames and put them together in a GIF. So that’s what I did.
I don’t know how many hours this took, looking at my last upload, it was about damn time for a new upload. <3