CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE FACT THAT THEY ACKNOWLEDGED THAT 5SOS PLAY THEIR OWN INSTRUMENTS AND ACTUALLY SAID THEY WERE A BIT PUNK AND DIDNT CALL THEM A BOYBAND AND IT JUST MAKES ME SO HAPPY THAT THEY’RE BEING ACKNOWLEDGED FOR BEING DIFFERENT FROM WHATS OUT THERE RN AND BEING 5SOS AND JUST THE FACT THAT THEY HAD ONE OF THE BIGGEST CROWDS THAT EVEN BEAT 1D’S RECORD AND THEM PLAYING AT THE VMAS IM JUST IM LITERALLY SOBBING I FEEL LIKE SUCH A PROUD MAMA RN
I genuinely love the fact that Feyre is illiterate. (okay let me clarify, I’m not delighted her mother/sisters ever thought it worth the bother of teaching her how to read. that was bad) but it gives her a failing. Feyre is incredibly intelligent, very resourceful, determined as all heck but she’s not perfect. She has gaps in her knowledge and in her abilities. She can’t do absolutely everything for herself and I love that.
She’s an incredibly strong character and a wonderful protagonist but she’s not invincible. Sometimes there are things she can’t do. Sometimes there are things she can’t understand (like Amarantha’s riddle) and sometimes she needs help. This is okay. This is good. This makes her far more human and realistic and relatable and I love it.
“You look like shit,” Sam says
cheerfully as he comes into the kitchen, clapping a heavy hand onto Dean’s
Dean takes a sip of coffee to
conceal his scowl.
“Yeah well, at least I don’t wear
plaid that looks like clown puke,” he says, harsher than anyone ever needs to
be about plaid.
Sam raises his eyebrows as he
heaves an entire pig’s worth of bacon onto his plate.
“Okay then,” he says.
Dean sighs, frowning at his mug.
It’s an ugly old thing, something Cas decided he liked at Value Village and
wanted to rehome. The handle is chipped and it’s painted in garish colors that
Dean thinks is supposed to resemble some kind of exotic locale, but really just
looks like-because Dean can never get enough of ragging on his brother’s
wardrobe-one of Sam’s shirts got repurposed into a mug.
Better an ugly mug than all the
actual stray cats Cas seems determined to start a cult with, at least. Someone
has to be the voice of reason on that one, and Dean’ll step up if only because
their giant underground layer is unsuitable for beings who can’t understand
KEEP OUT signs or read labels on mystical powders that could paralyze a man’s
nipple if inhaled. So in exchange for making all of Cas’ furry friends take
shelter somewhere colder (but probably much safer, all things considered)
Dean’s pretty much up ugly crap creek without a paddle, because now he feels
compelled to let Cas buy whatever inanimate godawful crap he wants, along with
leaving saucers of milk and cans of tuna out on the front step every night. Dean’s
had to get creative with his deodorizing to keep the fish smell out of the
How do you think it felt for Beth,changing out of her scrubs and putting on her old clothes in the hospital? Do you think she paused when she saw them? Maybe she ran her hand over the faded blood stains on the yellow shirt and remembered that slightly guilty way he’d looked at her as she’d stripped off the sweater she’d had on top before he’d covered it in blood. Or maybe she brought it to her face and breathed in deep and pretended she could still smell a hint of smoke and moonshine before she put it on. And when she tugged on those familiar boots did she remember the feeling of his hands sliding up over them to examine her ankle so gently as she was sprawled on the forest floor? Did her fingers tremble as she pulled on that chunky gray sweater? Did she touch it and remember his rough voice asking her to sing for him, and the weight of his gaze on her back as her fingers danced over the piano keys? Do you think that as she stood there fully dressed, maybe she remembered the last time she’d worn those clothes and the way he’d looked at her across the table in the flickering candlelight? Maybe for just a moment she closed her eyes and her fingers toyed with the sleeve of her cardigan as she recalled the look in his dark eyes, all that emotion she’d never expected to see from Daryl Dixon, of all people. Or maybe she remembered that soft <i>oh</i>, and wondered if she might finally get to find out what was going to come after that.
Thanks to gallifreyburning, who read this over and provided super helpful feedback!
(Note: I think it’s an unsettling chapter, but that was intentional, for the purposes of this 5 Times exercise, and what I set out to do with it – i.e. make it more like a real life, long-term relationship – but still: heads up!)
It was supposed to be a happy reunion.
She’d been gone for nearly two weeks, a full twelve days away from the Doctor, time zones and jet lag and recycled zeppelin air. The team had barely stayed in one place long enough to eat, let alone long enough for her to talk to the Doctor regularly.
Instead it had been middle-of-the-night texts, a Skype call from the corner of a temporary headquarters, and at least a dozen sorry I missed you voicemails making up their meager communication.