“Please don’t leave,” he said. I tried my best to stay but my heart could only take so much. His tears were rolling down his face. Like a child I tried to make things light. I cracked a few jokes. For I just wanted him to smile again ,even for the slightest second. But he ended up giving a half meant smirk. So I grabbed my things out the door. And I definitely knew this was goodbye.
But before I left the porch, I stared into his eyes. A pool of sorrow I will forever recognize. As I left he had one last appeal for me. And with a heavy heart I looked at him. “I will always love you,” he said.
I then saw my tears kiss the floor. So I slowly walked away from him. “ I’m sorry,“I replied. He nodded as he picked up his heart and left. And at the airport , I wondered if I made the right choice.
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind, Possessing and caressing me.
How long had you been into him? A quick digging through your memory told you three years, your unconscious said more. Three long years, yet your feelings hadn’t died.
“How late will you be back?” You leaned into the door frame, arms folded across your chest. It was a bad attempt at figuring out how much time you had to rob the storage room under the house and get wasted, without embarrassing yourself in front of other people. That, and you didn’t want your brother to find out about your drinking habits. Some things should stay secret.
Your brother raised his eyebrows, but decided not to ask any questions. Honestly, he never cared what you were up to whenever he was absent. The only thing he cared about is that you were still alive and hadn’t broken down the house. To him, you were nothing but a shadow cast on the wall, contrary to what your parents had taught him. He was rather indifferent to you, which, to be honest, was positive, as you rather had that than him always creeping around so he could watch your every move.
He mumbled something, then shrugged. “When I’m fucked up enough, I guess. Yoongi’ll have to decide when that is.”
1. A library packed with secret doors; every bookcase having its own special book that can be levered backwards to swing out some secret panel or other, behind which you inevitably find another room of the library; that room also being replete with rotating stacks or trapdoors or suchlike. As you travel through, the books become stranger. Here there is a narrow chimney of notebooks in metallic blue, filled out with octal numbers in a neat cursive. A wood-panelled hallway contains a seventy-volume treatise on the scientific illustration of cephalopods. Here a spiral staircase hemmed in on both sides by books so angry that they are barely coherent. At the bottom of the staircase a manhole cover that one may lever up to find a shallow blue pool surrounded by sorrowful memoirs. Eventually one comes to the library’s heart, where all paths but one lead; an unremarkable octagonal chamber lined with unpublished stories by Borges. There is no way out of this room, which is haunted at night by laughter from above.
2. They say trees, who are wont to consider their deaths on occasion over their lifetime’s long dreaming, have two views of libraries. The first library of the dreams of trees is a respectful memorial, sombre and learned. The second is that of untimely tree-death, pulped novels, hateful tracts; a lurid charnel-house of mixed-up tree-flesh. There have been times when the trees decided that some library or other had become the physical representation of the second dream. It is not wise to be in a library when this happens. Trees are slow in their revenge, but implacable.
3. There are also places where the world’s more debatable books flee to avoid being pulped. Vast bookeries of them roost under motorway bridges and in the eaves of power stations. This is where the coverless textbooks of yesteryear flap off to, and software manuals three versions out of date, and the disreputable autobiographies of the long-forgotten, and cracked-spine conspiracy books of all sorts. In the oldest corners one may find great rustling stands of Victorian sheet music. Although they are not actively harmful to humans, they have not forgotten that humanity no longer means them well. And there are other things that bed down with them too, things that have promised to faithfully read them in exchange for protection, and those things are best avoided.
4. One way that one may dispel a dangerous spirit is to catch it in a book, making it into a harmless story. Some of the worst dreams of humankind have been captured in this way. There have been cases, however, when the process went wrong, leaving various nightmares half-in and half-out of books. A small library located five hundred metres below Samarkand collects these books as a service to the world. Should you find the tunnel down to its entrance, you will be able to identify it by the banging and scraping noises, which are audible from a significant distance away. We do not recommend entering.
5. Connoisseurs of sausages may be interested in the small libraries installed in select butchers’ shops for the schooling of the sausage race. These libraries take as input various types of minced meat and casings, and produce as output fully-formed, educated sausages ready for the outside world. It is not certain as to whether books are involved at any stage in the process. It is possible that the sausage we consulted about this matter may have supplied us with a fake CV.
6. Of course there are also those who regard all of you as a book of sorts. Though you are subject to informational decay, the electric knots of humanity’s billions of meat brains constitutes an important galactic information repository. This is why licensed alien abductors have to fill out an inter-library loan form and agree to return abductees to within a millennium or so of when they got them out.
Summary: You’re a mutant with the power of dimensional, spatial and time manipulation, meaning you can travel to and from dimensions, spaces and different times with ease. But one day, when you’re coming back from a particularly long mission, you brought something back that should never have come with you in the first place.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that Marvel has created and I certainly don’t own Sebastian Stan.
Warnings: Sickness, fluff, major character upheaval!
Feathered by the
Trapped by the
Deluded by the
Soaring to the
Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while, they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and carresing me…..
d gray man is just one big fucking train wreck like it starts out with this kid who has this weird ass arm and wants to save the souls of demons when everyone else is just worried about living another day and there are some pretty funny parts and then you hit a point and it’s just like wait what’s going on holy shit what i didn’t sign up for this and before you know it you’re sobbing over children with false memories and suppressed identities and confused morals and all you want is for them to be happy but all they get to be are traitors and prisoners and you just end up wondering where it all went wrong
He held him in his arms and smiled a sad smile over his shoulder. Dean knew he should say something, anything. What could he say now though that would make anything better? He needed to know that Cas would be safe. He was the only one he could trust to look out for Sammy. Of course, it was more than that too, and he might have taken that fact to his grave if it hadn’t been for Chuck’s devine intervention.
The world froze with Cas in his arms, and Chuck’s voice was the only thing with any life. “Tell him what you’re thinking. He’ll need this once you’re gone. He’ll need to know that it wasn’t just him.”
Dean looked back at Chuck. Cas was frozen in place giving a hug that Dean had somewhat moved out of. The others were still, focused on other things. “What if he doesn’t think like I do?”
“How do you know?” It was maybe a dumb question in hindsight, but Dean never could quite believe that Cas thought of him, like that.
“I am the alpha and the omega. I know all that is and ever shall be. And my son loves you.”
And with that Chuck faded back, and movement returned to Cas, but none of the others. “What’s happening?” Cas asked as he looked at the still world around them.
“Chuck thought that we should have more time. He thought that there were things you needed to know.” They weren’t quite hugging anymore, but they were close. Dean reached to straighten out Cas’ collar and tie like this was important. A petal drifted slowly down to his shoulder and settled there. Dean whisked it away with a brush of his hand. Another landed in Cas’ hair. Dean reached up and gently pinched the petal and removed it.
“I don’t want you to go.” It was simply stated. Cas’ eyes looked like big pools of sorrow under the bright, spring-time sky.
“We’ve never really had to say goodbye. It’s always just been one of us leaving and the other one dealing. I told myself that when we got you back I’d finally make the time to talk with you, just you.” Dean’s hands rested on Cas’ shoulders. Cas’ hands were on Dean’s hips. There was an intimacy to this moment. Dean knew if he leaned into him, that Cas wouldn’t push him away, and that knowledge almost gave action to a thought. Cas needed words though.
Dean stared into his eyes and leaned his forehead to Cas’. “There were these two guys we met, hunters. They were married, had a horse farm. They got to retire and just live out their days together.”
“Yes.” Cas’ thumbs were distractingly rubbing the edge of his hip just under his shirt.
“I’d been thinking about how much I want that.”
“You want to find a good woman to settle down with?”
“No.” Dean lifted his hand to Cas’ cheek, stroked the edges with his thumb. “I want to settle down with you. I want to know what it is to wake up next to you. I want to know what it is to grow old with you, to get to the end of the line with you.”
Cas laughed a little and said, “Is that a Captain America reference?”
Dean laughed too. “Yeah, I guess it was. Team Stucky.”
“I don’t know that reference.” Cas smiled from a breath away.
Dean smiled back, “Doesn’t matter.” He thought that he might kiss him then, but he hesitated. “You’re the last thought I have at night before I sleep and the first thought I have in the morning. You’ve been it for me for a long time, Cas. Wanted you to know that before I go. You don’t have to feel the same.”
He threw the last part on because he felt awkward all of a sudden. It seemed to move Cas to actions of his own, but not before he said, “Idiot.” Then he kissed him. Cas clung to him like he’d hold him forever. Dean’s eyes closed and he held on too.
His hand slipped back into Cas’ hair. His fingers raked at his scalp there. He opened his mouth a little, and Cas took that as an invitation to enter. Cas’ hands were under Dean’s shirt, pressed to his skin, warm like summer. Dean wanted to feel more of them, wanted them to warm all of the cold places.
The moment lasted and lingered like it wasn’t the end of the world, like it wasn’t always the end of the world. A hand came to Dean’s shoulder that wasn’t Cas’, and Dean broke the kiss. At first Cas chased his lips unwilling to be done, then he saw Chuck.
“Sorry, but it’s time.” Chuck stepped back to where he had been. Cas pulled Dean into a hug that seemed to be gearing up for a fight against the inevitable separation. Time moved again, and the others seemed to note no difference.
Cas said into his ear, quiet, just for him, “To the end of the line.”
Dean smiled, the same sad smile he had before. “Yeah.”
He stepped away, and Cas said, “I could go with you.”
Dean looked at him, and felt all of the love he never got to fully share with him. He denied him the death he had just asked for. He gave him a mission instead, ‘protect Sammy.’ It was all he could do. When Chuck snapped him away, the last thing he saw was Cas’ face, the taste of his lips still on his own.
“Here Comes the Sun” – “Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter” “Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here”
“I Will” – “Who knows how long I’ve loved you, you know I love you still, will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will” “And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air”
“The Fool on the Hill” – “Well on the way, head in a cloud, the man of a thousand voices is talking perfectly loud” “He never listens to him, he knows that they’re the fools”
“Hey Jude” – “Hey Jude, don’t make it bad, take a sad song and make it better” “For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder”
“Don’t Let Me Down” – “Nobody ever loved me like she does, oh she does, yeah she does” “I’m in love for the first time, don’t you know it’s gonna last? It’s a love that lasts forever, it’s a love that has no past”
“Dear Prudence” – “Dear Prudence, let me see you smile, Dear Prudence, like a little child” “The sun is up, the sky is blue, it’s beautiful and so are you”
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” – “Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly, a girl with kaleidoscope eyes” “Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers that grow so incredibly high”
“Blue Jay Way” – “There’s a fog upon L.A. and my friends have lost their way” “Please don’t be long, please don’t you be very long, please don’t be long, for I may be asleep”
“Only a Northern Song” – “If you’re listening to this song, you may think the chords are going wrong, but they’re not, we just wrote them like that” “It doesn’t really matter what chords I play, what words I say or time of day it is”
“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” – “I don’t know how someone controlled you, they bought and sold you” “With every mistake we must surely be learning, still my guitar gently weeps”
“Strawberry Fields Forever” – “Let me take you down ‘cuz I’m going to Strawberry Fields, nothing is real” “No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low”
“Across the Universe” – “Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind, possessing and caressing me” “Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe”
…and it was then he saw the girl standing on the other side of the dirt road, her eyes pools of absolute sorrow, her light brown hair glowing in the splinters of sunlight that forced their way through the trees. It was as if he had seen a ghost, some kind of apparition, which haunted him through that night.
Song Inspiration: Terrible Things by Mayday Parade
Summary: The Reader and the Winchesters finally meet up after having no contact for seventeen years. Their childhood memories together are fond, and the feelings that Dean and the Reader once harbored for each other are reignited, causing a relationship that could either be something beautiful, or something tragic.
A/N: This is going to be a new series that I’ll be writing. I hope you enjoy the first part!
You were fifteen when you first met Dean Winchester. He was a year older than you, arrogant, kind of an asshole, and a ladies man beyond one you’d ever seen, but you put that all aside because his father was housing you until you could find a place to stay after your parents were killed by demons.
Or, at least you tried to.
When you heard the saying, “If a boy is mean to you, it means he likes you,” the first thought that came to your mind was bull-shit. If a boy was being mean to you as a kid during recess, you’d hit him back ten times worse. That’s how you thought of it.
Dean was never exactly mean to you when you lived with him those few months, but he wasn’t what you’d describe as nice. He’d snap at you when you asked a relatively simple question, he’d make fun of your little quirks—things that you were self-conscious of—and he’d give you light, “playful” shoves when you were sitting on the couch and he was walking by.
So, yes, when you lived together as teenagers, he was kind of an asshole.
But at the same time, he always made sure you were safe, just as he would with Sam. He’d make sure that you always had enough to eat, that you were never uncomfortable with them, and on the few occasions that you went to school, he made sure you were never being bullied.
“That’s my job,” he once said when you asked him why he defended you from a group of girls laughing at you in the halls. “It’s my job to make fun of you.” And then, he gave the biggest, most smug grin, and flicked you on the forehead.