Okay this trailer is actually starting to look like a legit movie trailer. I’m thrilled!! Hoping to have it finished tomorrow so I can show y’all :)
The Season 2 Trailer is up and running, and by that I mean a song has been chosen and one scene is set in place. Yes. It’s going.
Dean and Sam - Gone Gone Gone
CONTAINS SEASON 8 SPOILERS UP TO SACRIFICE
This video was requested by Cristina and immediately after listening to the song for the first time, I knew it was perfect for Dean and the way he cares for Sam. And then season 8 continued to give me more and more amazing moments of Dean taking care of Sam.
I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your message, anon, I just didn’t want to publish your whole idea - that’s the problem with being on anon, the only way I can reply is publicly. But I will absolutely do it, but probably tomorrow. Thank you for caring, my love, and your gif idea is beautiful. I can’t wait to make it <3
Not a dumb question at all! It’s a very good question, actually :) They’re difficult questions to answer though. Throughout the show, there are two focuses: hunting monsters and what happens to affect the boys personally. So yes, hunting is still a major part of the show but it’s not quite the same. It’s less monster of the week and more monster of the season, sort of. There still are the weekly monsters but oftentimes there will be an episode entirely dedicated to what the overall theme of the season is, if that makes sense. The later seasons are just as funny as the first, in my humble opinion, but there are also some parts that are far sadder and more heartbreaking. The humor is always there and can surprise you in the darkest moment, but as the boys grow older, they seem to have lost some of their innocence with humor. They have become more serious just because of the things they have seen in the world and what has been done to them personally, but they still try to see the bright side sometimes.
I hope that makes sense, my dear! And enjoy every second of watching this amazing show!! <3
Then God has some seriously lacking taste in vessels, haha. I mean Chuck was a frustrated, sex-obsessed drunk and Kevin is on his last legs, emotionally speaking. It’s a very interesting idea and I really like it - and in fact I love that when we saw Chuck for the last time, he was all cleaned up and handsome. Like God sort of cleansed him. It’s something I would love to see explored!
Sorry for my absence today, my dears, I laid down like 4 hours ago and though I didn’t sleep the whole time, I just couldn’t get up. So I’m gonna skip writing today and just work on a video because I don’t really have to think with that. Hope you’re all having a marvelous day <3
It’s not stupid at all, anon, I feel the same way. My assumption was that every angel sort of had a vessel already because then they could just immediately go wherever they needed on earth without needing to find one first. Or maybe they all sort of have vessel-bodies in Heaven without the need for a human’s body. I wish I had all the answers but I’m as confused as you!
Oh my dear friend, you are wonderful!! This message made me smile so much and ugh what a lovely comparison. I appreciate your sweet message <3
Alright that concludes the glasses spam :) I’m gonna lay down for a bit and then get to some other requests and hopefully get the second part of the First Date written. Bye for now!
littlesoldierthatcould: If you can, could you write the ending scene of My Bloody Valentine as a scene Chuck would have written? Like, from Dean listening to Sam through to the end?
Bobby’s basement was cold, the gentle storm outside not playing into the damp feel of the room. Dean was chilled beyond weather’s grasp. He was chilled beyond Bobby’s hopeful and fake smile. He was immune to “Sam’s gonna be alright”. He was broken in ways that a ‘chin up’ talk could never help.
Sam started talking about an hour ago, maybe longer. Dean wasn’t exactly sure how long ago Sam had walked into the panic room by his own free will, giving Dean a weak thumbs up before Dean closed the door. The talking, asking if Dean was there, soon turned into yelling, and yelling to screaming and panicked cries. Dean kept himself from looking in the small window to the round room, knowing that if he saw his baby brother like that again, he would rush in.
As Sam called for Dean, over and over again, his voice shrieked and frightened, Dean’s eyes closed, his stomach churning. He felt sick. Sick to the point of throwing up because he didn’t know what else to do. He’d felt helplessness before but this day had brought him to a new low. That was his brother in there. The brother he’d been protecting and watching out for all his life and now…
Dean raised the bottle of alcohol to his lips, not bothering to turn when Cas appeared. His approach was silent, as if the angel had been there since this night began. “That’s not him in there,” Castiel stated as Dean swallowed hard, the liquid burning his empty stomach.
Dean slowly opened his eyes. “I know.” He didn’t really. He knew that what was happening to Sam wasn’t really Sam, but the voice, the shrill screams and sobs of a young man being torn apart from the inside was Sam. Dean’s entire body trembled in response to the growing sickness.
“Dean,” Cas begins, his voice as close to sympathetic as it can. “Sam just needs to get it out of his system. Then he’ll be -“
“Listen, I just, uh…” Dean could feel himself losing the battle over his emotions. “I just need to get some air.” Sam’s tortured cries followed Dean as he walked up the stairs and out of Bobby’s house. He hoped that Cas would understand that he wanted to be alone. Half of him was surprised that the angel didn’t reply with something like ‘But, Dean, there’s oxygen all around you.’
Dean kept walking, his steps heavy and slow, until he came to the scrapyard. His legs became like rubber and he slumped against a car, vomit rising in his throat. He leaned toward the grass and coughed, spitting the remaining bile before straightening again. He pulled in a shaking breath, wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve, and walked to the Impala, glancing back to make sure Castiel hadn’t followed.
He lifted the bottle again, but didn’t drink. Instead he looked at it, knowing full well that what was inside wouldn’t satisfy him. Nothing would. He lowered it and set it on the Impala’s hood. The dam he had worked hard to construct around his anger, his fear, his hatred, his sadness, his rage crumpled as his brother’s terrified screams echoed in his head.
Dean began to nod, almost without his doing so. He was giving in. Fine, you win, alright? If this was some sort of Heavenly test, those sons of bitches had won. His eyes drifted toward the sky, small raindrops leaving wet dots on his face and clothes. He was exhausted to the bone, broken in spirit, and desperate as hell. So he quietly called to Heaven.
“Please…” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he was begging. Tears blurred his vision and his voice was thick. “I can’t…”
There weren’t words to explain what was happening. There was no place for this prayer in the titled bins of unanswered prayers that he imagined were left at Heaven’s doorstep.
Finally he considered the one thing that he could ask for. “I need some help.” It covered the bases.
No reply came, no flash of light and great revelation. Not even Cas showed up to give him a helpful reply. Nothing. Just more silence. Just more rain. Just more disappointment.
“Please?” He sounded like a child, a lost boy.
When he realized that no help was coming, Dean let himself cry. The sobs wracked his body and he didn’t fight them. Didn’t tell himself to buck up and get back in there. Because he just couldn’t.