things i'm going to regret in the morning

The 2ps as shit my friends (and family[and me]) have said pt.  2
  • 2p America: Listen bucko I've seen more pussy in my 17 years of life than you ever will
  • 2p England: The first time I tried to cook I caught an oven mitt on fire and burned an orange. Don't ask how because I don't know either
  • 2p China: If you can't remember my name you can call me ling-ling or dumpling, I don't care
  • 2p France: I will literally break your finger if it comes any closer to my face
  • 2p Russia: *pouring 4 packets of sugar into a cup of tea* it's 6 in the morning and I went to bed at 4. I have so many regrets
  • 2p Canada: I'm going to slit the tires on my neighbor's car if he doesn't stop coming onto our land I swear to fucking god
  • 2p Italy: *breaks finger after catching a football**completely monotone* it seems that I'm in a bit of a situation. How unfortunate. Now, if you'll excuse me *goes to the nurse crying his eyes out*
  • 2p Germany: Yeah, I can speak German. Eat meine Dick
  • 2p Japan: The only thing darker than my soul is my hair
  • 2p Romano: *in response to 'you should wear a suit to bed'* you're right, I'll look dapper as fuck while I take a napper as fuck
  • 2p Austria: I can play skrillex on my ukulele
  • 2p Prussia: *nearly in tears* she took my flower crown

i was looking through my gil elvgren art book and i just had to, i don’t know why okay i’m sorry Jimin;;;

  • Pyrrha: Um... Jaune? What happened while you were getting dressed today?
  • Jaune: Same thing that always happens. I have a very specific morning routine: I wake up, put on my socks, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, come back, collapse on my bed, regret my choices, roll out of bed again, get dressed, frantically try to find my homework, frantically try to finish my homework, and then maybe have breakfast if I have time. I usually gain consciousness around breakfast.
  • Ren: So... did you fall asleep in your shoes, then?
  • Jaune: Why do you ask?
  • Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha:
  • Jaune: I'm wearing socks over my shoes again, aren't I.
  • Nora: Yup.
  • Jaune: God dammit.

So my prediction on what’s gonna happen between Sara Lance and Alex Danvers:

Alex is gonna go to the wedding but obviously she’s gonna be sad because her and Maggie broke up and they were suppose to be the ones getting married.

Alex is going to go drink.

She’s gonna meet Sara.

Sara is gonna be her hot as hell, confident as fuck, flirty self.

Alex is gonna go to bed with her.

(I’m gonna be happy as a clam.)

Alex is gonna regret it in the morning and sneak out.

Sara is gonna meet her at the wedding and Alex is gonna be awakward.

Sometime after the wedding Alex and Sara are gonna talk about what Alex is going through.

Sara is going to be understanding and help her work through her first gay heartbreak.

Sara and Alex become friends and someone that Alex can turn to when she doesn’t know what to do about things that involve other women.

(I’m going to stan their friendship forever.)

years down the line, when they’ve both been forcibly dragged into adulthood, and the rush of “i love you i want you i want to stare into your eyes forever” calms down a bit, maintaining the romance gets harder. in many ways, their relationship is better now than it’s ever been - now that isak is more aware of even’s boundaries, now that even has more of a grasp on isak’s relationship with his parents and the internalized homophobia he dealt with for years. they’ve fallen into a routine, and it’s not bad exactly, but a part of even misses when it would take him a few minutes in the morning to remember that’s isak lying next to him, when he’d still get butterflies in his stomach every time isak let himself fully look at him.

still, he’s surprised on their anniversary when isak throws down his fancy napkin at this fancy restaurant and asks, “do you remember our first kiss? fuck it, do you think it’d be less awkward a second time?” his eyes are shining. “let’s recreate it?”

and, well, isak’s not the spontaneous one in their relationship. even’s the one who fell in love with epic dramas at nine and made that his life calling. but after all these years, there are still layers of isak left for him to uncover.

“uh…we may be pushing our luck with breaking and entering a second time,” even says, and since when has even been the responsible one? it’s not a good look on him, but he’d already been chewed out by his assistant for blaming too many of his antics on artistic license. sooner or later, someone would call him out on his bullshit. 

Keep reading

3

I fell pretty hard for my partner, the man you left in my care. And he knows it. He jokes, calling me half-boiled, saying I’m too soft-hearted… because he captured me.

What do you think, Boss? It usually bothers me, being called that.

But.

I’m thinkin’ that, in this kind of situation, with the two of us now being so close like this… that maybe being half-boiled is alright.

TFLN Sentence Starters (Part 4)
  • [text] Do you ever get high and look at your cat and feel like you know them on an intellectual level?
  • [text] Three of my exes and one of my exes' brothers have hit me up and it's only been a week. I hate semester break.
  • [text] Remember when I got punched in the face on NYE last year? I don't
  • [text] I wasn't going to just ask my parents for a damn vibrator for christmas
  • [text] I put chex mix in your purse for when you get hungry while doing your walk of shame tomorrow!
  • [text] I snuck out three pillows from the hotel i was rolling so hard. They are like little clouds. I regret nothing.
  • [text] Went out with the family last night and some 40 yr old lady wanted to take me home. My mom was not happy with me
  • [text] If it snows I'm making an igloo and getting wasted in it
  • [text] new years resolution: more sex, less car punching, more chipotle.
  • [text] He's interpretive dancing to Crazy by Britney Spears and expressing his feelings for either me or the guy next to us
  • [text] He puked in the middle of it and I still wasn't disappointed.
  • [text] Well I've made a drinking game out of the Wiggles but I think I've got this babysitting thing down
  • [text] You are the jesus of drinking
  • [text] Never underestimate the power of loudly proclaiming you want to make out with someone
  • [text] Pretty much gone. He was in the backseat and kept whispering that his "toes felt like pigtails"
  • [text] Holy shit, add "successfully got stoned secretly at a party where a cop was" to my list of accomplishments.
  • [text] I'm smoking a bowl in my bathtub. I'm meant to be alone.
  • [text] friends are allowed to bang on New Years, I read it on the Internet somewhere.
  • [text] I hope my margaritas pass through security.
  • [text] Go have fun. I'm gonna go shower off the regret.
  • [text] Never again let me pretend to be australian for free booze.
  • [text] woke up this morning with a pool of champagne in my purse. apparently i was saving it for later.
  • [text] just had a flashback of you pouring champagne into my mouth from someones balcony..
  • [text] Unless you can cure my hangover with your penis I'm not interested.
  • [text] They tried to dine n dash at dennys and the waiter jumped on their car and broke their windshield
  • [text] The first thing I did in 2015 was suck a dick.....so.....
  • [text] Woke up with champagne in my hair and honey mustard on my hands. Strangely, I'm okay with this
  • [text] For future reference, don't put tape on your nipples. Ouch.
  • [text] I wish I could take a screenshot of how things literally look from my eyeballs right now
  • [text] I'm gonna write a book. Almost Awesome: all the times I ALMOST got laid.
  • [text] Dude you asked your tattoo if it wanted to go swimming
  • [text] Called my dealer in tears and we talked for an hour until I felt better. That's the way it should be.
  • [text] Mmm. Champagne. Weed. 17 pounds of animal crackers.
  • [text] Just scratched my head and I basically rained glitter.
  • [text] Did the walk of shame past her kids. I'm younger than one of them.
  • [text] its not facebook stalking, its market reasearch
  • [text] I've never been so excited to have my ass in so much pain.
  • [text] Drunk me just left a note for sober me apologizing for all the fucking crumbs in our bed
  • [text] I feel like I was playing penis roulette last night nd I landed on the wrong one.
  • [text] but I'm still not sure how you became more and more fluent in Spanish the drunker you got
  • [text] The vodka told me to go iceskating on my frozen pool. I may have attempted.
  • [text] Remember the girl I had sex with in the dorm stairwell? She got married!
  • [text] I haven't had an orgasm since 2014. So you can see why I'm having a bad year.
  • [text] do you have any idea how expensive it is to have the munchies at Disneyland?
  • [text] I'm drunk in your building find me and we can have sex.
  • [text] Dude. I don't even want cuddles. I just want an acknowledgement that I just had balls in my mouth.
  • [text] I'm getting "congrats on your engagement" shots. I need to get engaged more often!
  • [text] I wanna snuggle with you as we feed each other chipotle burrito bowls and that's just where I'm at right now
  • [text] I don't know. I'm drunk and dressed as a pirate but ill do the math tomorrow morning.
  • [text] woke up to the trail of sugar cubes leading to my bed........was i that uncooperative last night
  • [text] I'm serious-it was like trying to deep-throat a minivan.
  • [text] I would say that that is the last time I ever drink a bottle of jack in two hours, but really who am I kidding?
  • [text] I'm honestly wondering if my vagina did something to offend the universe
  • [text] if becoming an adult is chugging a bottle of wine in your bed and crying about your stresses while your dog watches you, sign me up
  • [text] i cant believe we used adam and eve as a sexting theme last night
  • [text] I'm trying to be sexual and you're sending me smashmouth lyrics
  • [text] I saw your dick pic and thought there goes the last thread of my heterosexuality.
  • [text] I mixed Jack with hot chocolate. This may be the best or worst idea ever. I have yet to find that out
  • [text] Listen. I'm a changed woman. I have no problem using him for sex.
  • [text] do you think your dog feels awkward being in the background of your nudes?
  • [text] his ex girlfriend sent him a pic of her naked in the bathtub so I sent her a pic of me sucking his dick
  • [text] I knew it was time to stop when you guys were playing a drinking game called "every three steps take a drink"
  • [text] You couldve had sex with 2 drunk chicks on an alligator slide.
Heaven’s Call - An Elucien Fic

Thank you to the wonderful @sarahviehmann​ for blessing me with her betaing skills and @illyrian-baby​ for cheerleading me through this.

Title: Heaven’s Call

Summary: set post ACOMAF. Lucien takes Elain to the glen and the lake of starlight Feyre visited in ACOTAR, there to two of them fully explore the bond between them. Mating bond acceptance; fluff, angst, sin, it’s all in here. Essentially their chapter 55.

Links: AO3

Heaven’s Call

The moon that hangs above the glen brings the starlight in the pool before them alive in a way it never quite achieves by day; a magic that only truly comes into its full potential in the night from which it was formed. He can see the silver of it reflected in Elain’s sweet brown eyes and he hides his smile as he carefully guides her through the tangled forest towards it.

Elain’s slim, soft fingers squeeze his tightly and he gives them a reassuring squeeze back as he takes her right to the edge of the sparkling, dancing lake, glancing back at her to see that her eyes have gone as big and round as coins. She hovers close to him, her body brushing against his and sending sparks cascading through him every time she does so, her fingers still entwined through his, taking in the scene around them.

They’ve been doing this for almost a month now, seeing one another, slipping out of the crowded, chaotic manor house to steal some quiet moments to get to know one another. He’s shown her all around the Spring Court lands, letting the raw magic of the Court blend with her own, encouraging her with it and helping her to hone and shape it while they explore the strange, ever deepening connection between them.

Every second he spends in her company is one he thanks the Cauldron for. She brings him to life in a way he hadn’t believed possible, makes him feel things he thought he’d long since forgotten and was no longer capable of experiencing. In her soft, warm eyes he’s found the hope that had been so devastatingly torn from him for the past three centuries.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Lucien sends a half a dozen little lights into the air around them, hovering like giant fireflies, bathing them in a rich, comforting glow that illuminates the wonder shining in her face as she stares at the glen surrounding them. Every place he’s taken her has inspired such joy and delight in her. He doesn’t think there’s any end to the light that lives in her soul. As he watches her now and feels something flicker and kindle in his chest at the sight he knows he’d happily spend his eternity doing whatever he could to make her look like that.

They crouch down beside the edge and Elain finally manages to tear her eyes from the shimmering surface to look at him again, “What is it?”

“Starlight,” he answers promptly, without a trace of hesitation.

The pout that creases her pretty face is so achingly familiar to him already that he can’t help the broad grin that tugs at his lips as she gives him a very gentle nudge with her elbow in protest, “Be serious,” she chides him and he blinks at her in mock outrage, as though mortally wounded by her lack of faith in his assertion.

“I am!” he insists indignantly, and she narrows her eyes in suspicion, a look that he’ll never be able to describe as anything other than adorable,” It’s starlight,” he promises her again, his voice and face utterly serious, as she’d requested.

“You swear it?” she challenges him, hands bracing on her hips, a gleam flickering in those earthy eyes.

“I swear it,” he promises her faithfully and she blinks, expression clearing while she bites her lip and considers this, looking back at the pool, clearly struggling to process this information.

On some instinct her hand reaches out to it, drawn to the magic of the lake, then, apparently thinking better of it, she withdraws sharply as though burned. Lucien smiles and dips his hand into the liquid, caressing it, savouring the way it slides past his skin, like the finest silk he’s ever felt, like her soft hair gliding past his hand when they kiss, to show her that it’s safe.

“You can touch it,” he assures her, grinning playfully as he withdraws his hand then flicks it towards her, spattering her with the warm droplets that had clung to his fingertips.

She looses a soft little growl at him that shudders through his core then inches closer, “What does it feel like?” she whispers a little breathlessly and the smile he gives her in answer is broad and inviting.

“Why don’t we find out?” he lets his voice drop into a rich purr that he watches tremble through her.

A daring smile edged by that spark in her soul he’s delighting in encouraging her to explore spreads across her lips, “Why don’t we,” she murmurs, the heat of her breath warming his lips due to their proximity.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he breathes back to her.

Then he kisses her, soft and sweet. They’ve shared so many shy, chaste little kisses over the past few weeks that he’s lost track. The pretty flush of pleasure it inspires in her cheeks still makes him smile. Centuries could pass between them and he doesn’t think he could ever tire of that – or of kissing her. The feel of her gentle mouth against his, the taste of her, the scent of her filling every inch of him and making the bond between them sing in his blood. If the Cauldron allows him the chance he’ll happily spend each and every day kissing her- his mate -and count each one up as a blessing.

Drawing away, cheeks still rosy, that faint smile he suspects is just for him lighting up her features, Elain begins to fumble with the ties on the bodice of the light, loose red dress she wears. Reaching out, his fingers brush the back of her hand, tentative and questioning. She blinks up at him, pausing as he’d wanted her to do.

Lucien swallows and says a little hoarsely, “Let me,” he watches the tremble quiver through her delicate body at his words, at the implication laced into them.

Her eyes meet his and he sees her read the want in his eyes and could swear he sees a flicker of hunger stirring in her too before she smiles and shoots back, “Only if you let me, too.” Her fingers bump down gently from button to button on his green tunic as she speaks to make her meaning quite plain.

Delight sparks through him at this thoughtless playfulness and he catches her fingers in his hand, lightly brushing them with his lips and says, before she can think too much and become self-conscious of her instinctive reply, “Deal.”

Shifting in closer to her he sits in the downy grass, cross-legged in front of her and reaches out to her. His fingers lightly brush the tops of her soft breasts and he dares to let them linger for just a moment, feeling her breathing hitch at the scrape of his rough calluses against her delicate skin. Glancing up at her he pauses but her eyes are already waiting to meet his and there’s a hunger flickering in them, a smouldering ember that stirs there. He smiles and, having given her the chance to stop him which she firmly refused, continues.

With sure, deft fingers he unties the knots at the top of her dress and then reaches down and tugs, pulling the lace slowly through the hole it was threaded through. With his other hand he undoes the opposite lace. Down and down he goes along the crisscrossing ladder of ties that keeps her dress intact, shuddering with the anticipation that builds and builds as he moves towards her navel.

She keeps perfectly still the whole time, her hands braced lightly on his knees, balancing herself, her eyes on his, never breaking his gaze. As he finally pulls the silk free and discards it on the ground he allows his eyes to drift from hers for the first time, taking her in. He inches a little closer to her, rising up on his knees as he opens up the now loose corset around her chest and peels the two halves apart.

The loose red silk of her dress pools around her, baring her to him and his breath catches as he drinks in every stunning inch of her. Her pale skin glows in the light from the shimmering lake behind them and the lights he had conjured that float above them, smooth as marble gilded with oil, unblemished, utterly perfect.

A shiver runs through her and she raises her hands to cover herself, a deep blush staining her cheeks. His hands shoot out, the tips of his fingers gently brush her arm, “Don’t,” he says softly, “Please.”

Cautiously, she lets her hands drop away, letting him in, letting him see her and the glen around them feels utterly airless as he takes her in. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, simple, unadorned words, without any of the flowery finery he usually lets fall from his tongue when attempting to charm but it makes her smile for him in that way she does.

It’s something she’s heard often he doesn’t doubt, but from him, from her mate, those two words speak to all of her, to the body he’s bared, to the deep, rich eyes that whisper through his dreams, to her fine hands and the life they’ve coaxed from their cruel, stubborn world, to the soul that glimmers beneath her skin, calling to his through their bond.

Moving in a little closer to him, she places her palms flat against his chest and meets his mismatched eyes as she says with a faint kick at the end of her words that undoes him, “My turn.”

****

She feels the shudder that murmurs through him in response to her words but he sits back, bracing his hands behind him, opening himself up to her. With a shy smile she lets her fingers fumble at the bright silver fastenings of his forest green tunic. She manages to get into a steady rhythm, the kind borne of the sewing skills her mother had drilled into her when she was younger. She had taken to them best of her sisters, Feyre had been too young and wild to be content with the activity and Nesta too impatient but she had found comfort in the patterns and repetitiveness and she relies on those habits now as her hands begin to tremble. But before she quite knows it she’s reached the bottom.

Biting her lip she inches even closer to him until she can feel the heat radiating from his skin as she slips her fingers beneath the lapels of his tunic and slides it slowly from his shoulders. His skin is a faint gold, tanned by the warm Spring Court sun he spends his days beneath. She can’t help herself from reaching out and letting her fingers skim over the crafted muscles of his chest, moving down and down until she reaches the hard planes of his stomach.

His skin burns beneath her touch and she can’t seem to get enough of it, can’t tear her hands away from him. It’s as though there’s a magnetic pull between them that she can’t fight against and can’t draw back from and doesn’t want to. As she takes him in her fingers begin to find the scars, the rough tears in his skin from brutal cuts and wounds that he’s taken over the centuries.

Her fingertips feather lightly over each one tracing the catalogue of the violence and brutality that he’s endured like she’s mapping constellations in the night sky; hesitantly she lingers on a particularly deep, ragged one that begins at the base of his chest and ends just above his bellybutton. She can’t comprehend what kind of wound he, with the healing power that flows in his immortal blood, must have endured to leave such a lasting impression upon his body. But she shudders at the thought of it, of anyone harming him so badly.

Her eyes scan each scar on display slowly. They tell a part of his story, the part that’s been written in blood and etched into his flesh. The part that speaks to the darkness that haunts his russet eye when she catches him with his walls down; the walls he puts up to keep her from seeing the demons that swim in the hollows of his soul.

Her hand settles over his heart and feels it beating beneath his ribs. It’s that part of him she wishes she could touch. She doesn’t care to read the stories written in his injuries, not now – now she wants to reach into him and find the gentle parts of him that have remained untouched for too long. She wants to draw them into her and savour each and every one, wants to find the light that still lives beneath his battered skin.

Lifting her eyes once more to his she encourages him to stand before her then rises up on her knees. Her hands are perfectly steady this time as she undoes the ties on his trousers, barely even looking at what she’s doing, keeping her eyes on his instead as he watches her with wonder, his lips slightly parted. He steps out of his trousers as she eases them down his legs, leaving them both in nothing but their underwear. She lightly presses her lips to his thighs in a way that makes a soft laugh huff out of him then she widens her eyes and nods pointedly towards the lake.

Still chuckling, Lucien reaches down and helps her to her feet, rubbing noses with her before he gives her a wolfish grin and turns away from her, bracing a hand on the bank as he jumps straight into the pool, sending the starlight within sloshing up over the bank and lapping over her feet.

But she barely feels it. And the laughter that was bubbling up inside her own chest dies the moment he turns his back to her. The top half is a mess of churned, ravaged skin, long, deep stripes overlapping one another in a brutal, crisscrossing pattern that could leave no-one in any doubt what had happened to him.

He had told her about it, the whipping he’d endured Under the Mountain. The whipping the brutal High Queen Amarantha had forced Tamlin to give him after he had called out a warning and saved Feyre’s life in her first task. They had spent a night in a meadow that extended out to every horizon and had seemed to her to fill the whole world and he’d explained everything.

Lying together on the blanket he’d brought he had pointed to the wheeling heavens above them and told her the names of all of the constellations and how they and the stories behind them differed at each court and how he had learned them all when he’d travelled between them as a boy and then later as Tamlin’s emissary.

She had asked him about that, about his role at the Spring Court and he had told her everything she had asked without hesitation or restraint. The story about the scar on his face and his missing eye which had made her stomach twist and an anger she had never known she possessed flare inside her. And then he had gone on to share with her some of the other, more brutal scars that marred his body, to prepare her if they ever reached this bridge they were at now and she found the courage to cross.

But now that she sees it for herself she realises that nothing he could have told her would ever have made her ready to face this. Or the rage that burns so fiercely in her blood that thorn covered vines punch out through the ground beside her clenched fist.

Noticing that she hasn’t yet joined him Lucien turns his head to look over his shoulder at her, his mouth forming a question he never needs to ask, finding the answer to it reflected in her eyes, noting what they’re still locked on.

Her fingers reach out and very gently and, as though the wounds are still raw and bleeding, brush over his back. He shivers slightly at her touch but doesn’t flinch away from her, “It looks worse than it is,” he tells her quietly, swallowing hard as he recalls, “She didn’t let any of our magic heal it so…” he trails off as he meets her blazing eyes.

“I’m glad she’s dead,” Elain murmurs with a viciousness that takes even her aback.

But that woman, that monster, had harmed him, hurt him, scarred him, broken him. Her mate.

The bond that lives within them pulses then, more strongly than it ever has before, connecting them, flaring up her instincts to nurture and protect.

Lucien nods, a wry smile twisting his lips, “There are a lot of people who are glad of that. She was…”

“A monster,” Elain finishes for him as he breaks off with a shudder, unable to find the right words.

He nods and she softens at once at the look on his face. Cupping his cheek in her hand she brushes her thumb gently over the scar that tears through his face, the scar given to them by the violent queen that had ruled them and harmed so many, and murmurs very quietly, “But she can’t hurt you anymore. I wouldn’t let her.” The words that tumble from her lips without thought and she blinks, a little embarrassed, but he smiles and leans in to her touch before he takes a swift, decisive step towards her.

“Come,” he says with a sudden wicked grin that she already knows too well, “The starlight’s lovely,” he says with a playful growl.

She giggles, the tension of the last few moments discussing Amarantha broken just like that. But her laughter turns into loud squeals of surprise when he slides his arms around her waist from where she’d been sitting on the bank and lifts off her feet before bringing her down to him, easing her into the liquid that flows around them, holding her close as he does so, knowing she’s not a very strong swimmer.

She gasps, her eyes going wide as he lowers her slowly down into it and she can’t help herself from reaching out a hand, letting it flow through her fingers. It feels like warm, melted butter, sliding smoothly through her fingers, or perhaps like rich, blended silk, she can’t quite decide. Smiling she lifts her hand and watches in amazement as it trickles back into the pool looking like liquid diamonds that fall from the tips of her fingers.

****

Lucien watches the wonder in her eyes as she beholds the starlight that flows from her fingers, a broad smile on her face. When she turns to look at him again he kisses her. He can’t help himself, with her in his arms, pressed against him the way she is, looking at him like that. His lips find hers and crash against them and her smile widens against him at his exuberance as she kisses him right back.

Her hands hook underneath his shoulders and curl around his arms, pressing in close to him as he deepens the kiss, his mouth encouraging hers to open under his. He could live for a hundred eternities on the taste of her tongue alone. That and the sound of her laughter bubbling through him could sustain him until the end of this world and carry him through into the birth of the next. Her fingers slowly wind through his hair, like the roots of her beloved plants finding a safe anchor point in him and he lets a soft growl of approval lick through them as she gently pulls on it.

Lucien never quite knows how long they remain like that, entwined in one another’s arms, their lips joined, indulging in one another so completely. The dawn might have come and he wouldn’t have noticed. War might have broken out and ravaged the lands and with his mouth on hers he’d never know it. The world could have ended and taken them with it but as long as she remained his, remained in his arms, remained kissing him the world could do whatever it damn well pleased; just so long as it never tried to take her from him or him from her.

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6

2am, time to disappoint my parents

SPN Scorecard: 11.04

Alright, well y’all know by now I’ve been having an awful time about falling out of love with Supernatural ever since 10.21. True to my word, I’ve been leaving s11 behind since the premiere failed to wow me…but goddamnit I’m such a sucker for the alternate POV episodes, what Carver called “concept episodes,” that I had to see 11.04 “Baby.” So to take after my fellow Meta Salooners, here’s my scorecard for the episode. WARNING: This is spoiler-heavy!

The Good

1. The directing. Holy crap, Tom Wright is neck-and-neck with Ladouceur for my favourite SPN director. The dedication to interior-only shots up until the very last one made it feel cramped, mildly claustrophobic, and most importantly the single most immersive episode of this series since the classic roadside ghost story of 2.16 Roadkill. You could feel the weight and closeness of the car, the fact that she’s relatively huge but also confining in literal and figurative ways. Every shot told us something; nothing went to waste.

2. Dean went cruising and struck out, but Sam went to work and got laid. Funny as hell without being shot in a traditionally comedic way; the humour of that switcheroo stands on its own. Plus, yanno. Sam getting laid. Piper blowing him off afterward. There’s nothing I don’t love about this.

3. “A HUNTER, SOMEONE WHO UNDERSTANDS THE LIFE”

3a. AND THEN WHO DOES HE GET A CALL FROM. ABOUT HUNTING. AND UNDERSTANDING THE LIFE. This is how I die

4. Dean is a nerd, Sam is a nerd, Cas is a nerd, they’re all well-read giant dorks working together even if they’re not in the same physical space.

5. Deleted scene MY ASS, MATT COHEN. @apocalypse-patisserie did I not call it? Okay but you guys, seriously now, not-John’s line about “I never could fool you” is a line with a great deal of familiarity. Let’s think now, who is it that’s come to Sam in dreams wearing someone else’s face for the sake of getting him to listen? Not Michael – Michael’s never spoken to Sam at all. Not God – he did hit Sam in the head with a plunger that one time but Sam never knew him as anyone or anything but a squirrelly alcoholic prophet. I think we know whom that leaves and I am simultaneously SO EXCITED I COULD SCREAM and unspeakably worried that they’ll try and fuck it up.

6. Really intense, violent fight scenes. This is a side effect of the directing: party immersion, partly the very limited views. This entire episode is a shining golden example of “less is more” visual storytelling and it’s shiniest during the fights.

7. “Day in the life” with strong plot, and a glimmer of their old selves. We’ve had season after season of drama and bathos between the brothers that seeing them actually interacting like siblings for a change was intensely gratifying. Dean, full of joie de vivre, coaxing and heckling Sam into doing something ridiculous for the fun of it until they’re both in good sorts. Sam opening up a little to express hope for the future. Tiny bits of their past, like the heartbreaking yet unsurprising fact that Dean had to learn to drive well before he could have gotten a legal license. It felt as though at a couple of points in the episode the last decade’s worth of scars had been peeled back.

7a. “GOOD NIGHT, JERK.” “GOOD NIGHT, BITCH” 😍

8. Dean considering the machete and then eschewing it for a little pink purse. Tom and Robbie, you’re my heroes tonight.

9. Those girls joyriding in the Impala a la Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Because holy shit, wouldn’t you? Bonus points for it becoming plot-relevant.

10. Cas discovers Netflix. Cas watches OITNB. Cas talking Dean through lore (or thinking he’s doing so anyway). Cas worrying about Dean. Sam and Dean worrying about Cas. Castiel BEING PRESENT AND INVOLVED EVEN WHEN HE’S NOT ON SCREEN.  ( ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

11. Several named female characters with multiple speaking lines (IIRC this is Bechdel Test positive), none of whom were called slurs (unless I missed them; I was kinda busy flailing along w/ the rest of the Meta Saloon while watching) or killed.

The Bad

1. EXCUSE ME, HOW DARE YOU TELL US DEAN’S WASHING CARS IN SHORTS AND NOT SHOW US

2. Boys if you’re gonna put nasty shit in your cooler, get a cooler that latches please.

3. Oh gods how long is it gonna take them to con enough money to fix that poor car ( ;A;)

Grade: A+

This is the Supernatural I once knew and loved. This is the kind of tight directing, excellent storytelling, interesting visuals, well-used gross gore, attentive continuity, and engaging characterisation that got me hooked on the show in the first place. If every episode this season were on par with “Baby” I’d never want to put the series down again.

What a breath of fresh air. Though on the other hand, as @deanswingsbothways put it, this episode is like when you give in and sleep with your ex again. Well. So be it. I don’t foresee regretting it in the morning.