just one of those days

I don’t really have the words for what I want to say right now. I’m very tired and in a lot of pain. But I’m going to try anyway.

You matter to me.

It doesn’t matter if we met decades ago or ten minutes ago, I care about your existence. And it breaks my heart that so many of you are hurting and there’s not much I can do about it but offer you kind words and a wider audience to boost your cry for help. And I’ll always try my hardest to do both. Some days it’s easier than others, some days I’m barely hanging in there myself. But I do, and I try, and am forced reluctantly to take my own advice that sometimes that is enough.

But even on those days when I can’t reply, when I’m in so much pain I can’t type–you still matter to me, and I read all your messages and I take your words and I hold them close to my heart and offer them up to the universe and hope it grants you peace.

More than that I hope you find stability, contentment, friendship, joy.

I hope so much for all of you, I pray, I carry you with me in my thoughts and send you my love and I know that counts for very little. But I also hope that should you ever need this, you know you’ll always matter to someone. And they are so proud of you for hanging on.

So please don’t apologize for wanting to say hi. Or for needing help, or for not knowing what to say once you do. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me, is you. And you’re going to be okay. I promise.

So someone just dissed the volus in a comment on my youtube channel. I don’t know whether or not to educate their asses on the volus or if I should just ignore it. 

Probably best to ignore it, but…

Insulting the volus? On my youtube channel?

I’ll just leave my passionate defense of the volus here

Just One of Those Days

Warnings: vomiting and general sickness, mild language

Word Count: 2341

Request: “Could you do a Dean and reader fic where the reader is really sick and she falls while trying to run a bath and Dean comes in and helps and helps her wash her hair and stuff like that? Lots of fluff please?”

A/N: Enjoy this protective-cute-boyfriend Dean one-shot!

If there was one thing you hated more than hunting down demons every day, it was being sick.

A state of being where you appear to be doing okay, but on the inside you feel like you’re burning up and freezing over all at once.

Fortunately for you, sickness didn’t come very often as you were so regularly exposed to all kinds of bacteria and odd smells that you figured your body had built up a pretty good immune system.

But despite any bliss you had of not being sick didn’t matter anymore, because, well, you were sick now.

You woke up with a pounding headache which made your brain feel much too heavy for your head to lift. Your vision was more blurry than usual, making everything in your sight hazy and dream-like. Oh boy, you wish it was all a dream.

Groaning, you pulled your bed sheets over your head which only made it worse by insulating your body temperature to an uncomfortable heat. Annoyed at everything, you chucked the sheets from your bed, and curled up in a fetal position in the middle of your bed, trying hard to fall back to sleep and wake up feeling peachy-keen.

After several moments of tossing and turning on your empty bed, you decided that you just needed to get some food into your belly.

Deciding you were too cold, you grabbed your sheets and wrapped them around you, creating your own personal cocoon as you wandered towards the kitchen.

You could hear the sizzling of a fry pan which assisted in guiding you towards the kitchen, as your sickness was putting off your sense of direction.

Finally making it to the kitchen, you had to squint your eyes a little to more clearly see that it was Dean already preparing breakfast.

“Hey gorgeous,” Dean smirked, before looking up towards you and seeing the state you were in, “What’s with the human burrito? If you really wanted a burrito so badly that you had to dress up as one, then you should have gotten up a lot earlier sweetheart.”

You gave a small smile, before pulling up a chair for yourself, as suddenly standing up was becoming more and more difficult. Normally, you would have given a sarcastic laugh towards your boyfriend’s jokes before playfully punching him on the arm. But today you wanted to save any bit of strength you had so you could do all the basic things, like standing, staying awake and breathing.

Upon further inspection, Dean noticed how tired and exhausted you looked even though he knew you had had at least a good eight hours sleep the night before.

He turned down the heat on the stove-top, and left his breakfast preparations to come and kneel down next to you. Pressing his hand against your forehead, you could see his face change as he could feel the lava pool that was boiling away in your head.

“Y/N,” he said with worry in his tone, “Why are you burning up so bad?”

You gave a small shrug, before murmuring, “Just one of those days.”

Dean’s face softened, as he stood up before bending down his head to gently kiss your forehead. His lips were cool to the touch, but warmth quickly swamped back to your forehead as he pulled away.

“So what can I cook up for you?” he said cheerily, “I can make you a burrito if you really want me to.”

You shook your head as you gave a half-hearted smirk, “Bacon and eggs sounds perfect.”

“Alrighty then, but just go back to bed and then I’ll bring them to you when they’re ready.”

You shook your head again, “Trust me, I like the view in here a lot better.”

Dean gave a smug smile towards you, as he began to prepare your breakfast, even though he knew you really should be lying down and resting. He just wanted you to be comfortable and to get better as soon as possible because he hated seeing you in pain.

As Dean worked away in the kitchen, doing his thing, you had your elbows on the table putting your head in your hands in some attempt to relieve the constant throbbing in your head.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there for when you felt a gentle rub on your back.

“What’s up, Y/N?” you heard Sam’s voice ask, “You all good?”

Looking up you met Sam’s eyes who were looking at you with a great deal of sympathy. It didn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that you weren’t feeling 100%.

“Yeah, I’m fully sick,” you mumbled giving a thumbs up to Sam. He laughed as he reached into the cupboard, grabbing a sealed up salad and taking a seat opposite you.

You heard Dean exclaim to his brother, “Salad? Are you serious, Sammy? It’s nine o’ clock in the morning!”

Sam just ignored his brother’s snarky remarks as he continued to eat through his salad, meanwhile you were feeling way too overheated and moved the sheet that was over your head around your lap, letting the refreshing cool air absorb into your skin.

It took a few more minutes after that for Dean to finish making your breakfast and to set it in front of you. He then took a seat next you wrapping one arm around your waist, as you both began to dig into your meals.

“You know, I almost forgot that hunters can get sick,” you stated, with a mouthful of bacon, “It just seems whenever we need medical attention is because something got the jump on us, not because our bodies are fighting bacteria.”

Both Sam and Dean nodded and gave a small laugh at your words of truth as they hadn’t been really sick in a long time.

Almost forgetting about your sickness for the first time that morning you continued to eat your way through the plate. It was when you were reaching your final bites that you felt a swirling in your stomach.

You paused, hoping the sensation would pass. Unfortunately for you, it only continued to follow further and further up your body, until you knew that there was no stopping it from reaching your mouth.

With great speed you threw the sheet from your lap and immediately began to run down the hallway, your hand covering your mouth. When you reached your bedroom you quickly made your way to your bathroom over towards the toilet.

A horrible wretching sound came from your throat as you emptied the contents of breakfast, and what appeared to be last night’s dinner and dessert. Your hair was dangling in front of your face, catching bits and pieces of what came out.

When the main haul had left your body, you knelt with your head in the toilet, panting as you tried to regain your breath. You heard the sound of footsteps grow louder as they boomed down the hallway and finally reached you.

Dean knelt beside you placing his hand on your back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. Do you need to…”

He was cut off when you began to start all over again, but because of the emptiness of your stomach all that came out was bile which felt worse than before.

Dean rubbed soothing circles on your back as you struggled to hold anything in. It lasted for a while longer before ceasing, and you could feel that it was done for now.

Your emotions overwhelmed you as you sat back from the bowl and began to cry. You felt horrible, and there was nothing you could do besides just wait this sickness out.

Thinking that Dean would just comfort you verbally as to not be covered from all of your sick, you brought your legs up to your chest. But they were soon moved down again when Dean pulled you into his embrace. He didn’t care about the tear stains on his shirt, or the smell that lingered in the bathroom. All he cared about in that moment was doing anything he could to make you feel better.


Nighttime came around quicker than you expected. After your incident in the morning, you went straight to bed, replacing your clothes and tying your hair up. You slept for about two and a half hours, but just stayed in bed the rest of the day as you felt like you didn’t want to cause any more drama for either of the Winchesters.

Luckily your headache had become a more mild pain that you just became used to, and you just felt heavy all the time so you didn’t really even have the strength to get up and do much anyway.

Glancing at your clock, you noticed it was about 6:30pm and the perfect time to have a long hot bath with lots of bubbles and plenty of shampoo to wash out your hair of leftovers from breakfast.

You practically rolled out from your bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Picking yourself up you rubbed your eyes from fatigue and made your way to the main bathroom (because there was no way you were going near your own bathroom).

Once you reached the bathroom, you shut the door behind you and leaned over the bath tub to turn on the hot water. It immediately began to fill the tub and steam up the room with warm air.

You took your clothes off, throwing them to the side, just thinking about being cleansed with the hot soapy water, making you smile at the thought.

Closing your eyes you took in the serenity and warmth of the room, until you began to feel slightly dizzy. You opened your eyes to have your vision become partly blurry, and a spinning sensation in your head. You couldn’t even think straight as you thought that it was probably the growing temperature of the bathroom.

Attempting to make your way to the tub, you stumbled towards it but only ended up falling to the ground from tripping over a bump in the bath rug. You landed on your back which winded any air from your lungs.

“Shit,” you managed to shout. Taking a deep sigh, you continued to lie on the floor, as you felt you didn’t have the strength to get up.

It only took a few moments before Dean arrived in a hurry, his face full of worry as he took in your fallen state.

“What happened?” he exclaimed, kneeling down beside you before lifting your head up.

“I just fell, nothing serious,” you murmured, almost trying to convince yourself, before clearing your throat and continuing, “I was trying to run a bath for myself but I’m too sick to do anything!”

Dean didn’t say a word as he slipped one arm under your legs and another under your back, picking you up and walking to the bath where he lay you down in it gently. You gave a small smile as he turned off the tap and poured bubble bath mixture into the tub, beginning to swirl it around to create an abundance of soapy suds.

“Let’s get this breakfast out of your hair, alright?” he commented, rolling up his sleeves as he grabbed two of the shampoo bottles from your large collection of hair products, “Shall it be the glorious lavender shampoo for you today, or the saucy apple and watermelon?”

“Did you really just say ‘saucy’?” you laughed. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Hey give me a break, it’s my first time exploring these scents,” he mockingly objected. You continued to laugh as you pointed to the lavender shampoo bottle.

Dean moved around the bath so he was directly behind your head, in the optimum position to wash your hair. He began to gently massage the lotion into your hair, which actually soothed your still constant headache. You took a deep inhale of the smells that floated in the air, which cleared your nose from any scents of sick from that morning.

Dean just worked away slowly, not saying a word as he knew you just needed to relax. Once he finished shampooing and conditioning your hair, he picked up some of your shower gel and began to scrub your neck.

“Hey Dean?” you asked, talking for the first time in about ten minutes, “Why are you the greatest boyfriend any girl could ever dream of?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly, “Maybe it’s because I have the greatest girlfriend to straighten me out.”

You smiled, putting your hand around Dean’s neck and bringing his lips to meet your own. You kissed for several moments, before you pulled away suddenly.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, “I don’t want you getting sick.”

Dean just smiled and smirked, “Why not? Then you can return the favour of everything I’ve done for you today.”

You gave a gasp of objection, as you scooped up a handful of bubbles and threw it at Dean’s face, covering his forehead with soapy suds.

“If that’s how you want to play it…” Dean started off, before he grabbed some bubbles and began throwing them at your face.

What was a playful bubble fight, turned into the splashing of water all over each other and onto the floor. When you both finally ceased the bath warfare, you looked at Dean and took in his sodden appearance, laughing at the sight.

Dean, still kneeling, put his hands on his hips, and said, “Well, you seem to be feeling better. We should get you out and into bed so you can rest.”

You looked down towards the bath that you were lying in; a quarter of the water on the floor and half of the bubbles gone.

Looking back up at Dean, you gave a smirk, “Or, you could just save water by having a bath with me now? Because, hey, you need to get clean.”

Dean leaned forward, kissing you for a few moments, before reaching his arm towards your bright pink bottle of bubble bath.

Went to the gym with some of the girls from my class, and I realized that I was the only one able to do chin-ups and pull-ups, which was actually pretty nice to know, since I had a some what bad body image day 💪🏃