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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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official daine visual archive
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@gankdemonsurlfreed
independent, private, and selective portrayal of kripke era sam winchester from an hbo remastered version of supernatural. with heavy focuses on: the effects of abuse and emotional neglect at the hands of a father, addiction and power given without consent, fighting with destiny tooth and nail, and inner conflict beyond one's imagination. em, twenty7, muse established may 2024. heavily affiliated with @gankmonsters.
follows & asks will come from @tvintedspvrk.
there's a cruel, bitter, jagged chuckle that drift from dean's brims at sam's apology, knowing that sam must not be apologizing for leaving for stanford, but rather how it transpired. admittedly, their father played a hand in the scuffle of their downfall, the night of when their family no longer felt whole burning into his forefront. he remembers his father telling sam that if he leaves, to never come back. he remembers the fire that engulfed in sam's chest when he slammed the door shut behind him in the pursuit of a normal life. envy can be an unforgiving feeling, carving out of dean early on when he felt the gaping absence of sam's presence. maybe because in some way... dean craved that. dean craved stability, a woman at his side, his family no longer having to look over their shoulders for the next monster that knocks on their door. "yeah, you seemed really sorry slummin' it with the normal folks over at stanford." dean says, timbre rough around the edges, masquerading the hurt.
on a level far beneath the surface of a war torn psyche, there is a part of the hunter that knows his brother is right. he isn't sorry. stanford had been a necessary escape; a life preserver amid the ceaseless waves of paternal wrath. "dean, you gotta understand–" ...but does he? is it fair to ask him to? they both know sam would still be away, had everything worked out the way it was supposed to. he has to wonder whether they would have ever spoken again, had jess been spared the tragic reality of a life cut short. he'd been so close; soccer practice and barbecues and a white picket fence waiting on the other side of a law degree. relentlessly as he may fight to try and convince the elder winchester otherwise, dean and john had rarely crossed his mind while he'd been at stanford. brows crease with compounding guilt and agonizing shame, small nod embellishing the stoic nature of both brothers as unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air. "yeah... yeah, alright. let's just go inside, then."
bitch.
"...jerk."
"guess i shoulda known better than to expect you to hang back, huh?" crow's feet crinkle as the huntress returns to his side wielding a machete, with which she's just separated the head and body of the highest ranking vampire in the nest. the request had been in the interest of her safety, nest far larger than any before faced– at least on the side of the winchester. but deep down he'd known @hervelle would never answer to anyone on this, not when she'd set her sights on the kill. blade handed off, he fits it into the impala's arsenal before strong forelimbs encircle the waist of the blonde. "i should probably be upset with you," chuckles warmly, battle-worn brims grazing a blood spattered forehead. "but to be honest, watching you take that thing down was nothing to complain about."
hey but what if this was a starter call what then
it's another premonition.
hey but what if this was a starter call what then
🐝 * ― 𝑵𝑶𝑵-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺. ( some triggering content ahead. add " + " to reverse the action. )
[ wipe ] sender wipes away receiver's tears [ hurt ] sender hurts receiver with words [ lonely ] sender finds receiver alone in a dark room [ wounded ] sender patches up receiver's wounds [ crying ] sender finds receiver crying [ help ] sender runs to receiver when they scream for help [ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare [ dying breath ] sender talks to receiver before dying [ hold on ] sender pulls receiver into their arms [ anger ] sender takes their anger out on receiver [ argue ] sender gets into a heated argument with receiver [ scared ] sender scares receiver [ sick ] sender cares for receiver while they are sick [ palm ] sender places a hand on receiver to stop them from doing something [ fight ] sender gets into a physical fight with receiver [ comfort ] sender tries to comfort receiver [ blood ] sender notices that receiver is bleeding [ collapse ] sender collapses into receiver's arms [ pressure ] sender puts pressure on receiver's wound [ slap ] sender slaps receiver in the face [ panic ] sender helps receiver through a panic attack [ lie ] sender catches receiver in a lie [ sobs ] sender sobs uncontrollably while receiver holds them [ hiding ] sender finds out that receiver has hidden an injury from them [ death ] sender just died, receiver finds out [ chin up ] sender lifts receiver's chin to stop them from hiding their tears [ fears ] sender talks to receiver about their fears [ scream ] sender screams at receiver [ coping ] sender teaches receiver some coping mechanisms [ loss ] sender is there for receiver after they've lost someone important to them [ needs ] sender asks receiver what they need [ bullet ] sender takes a bullet for receiver [ bruises ] sender finds bruises of unknown origin on receiver [ rainfall ] sender finds receiver out alone in the rain [ hospital ] sender wakes up in a hospital bed and finds receiver sitting by their bedside [ intrude ] sender walks in on receiver treating their wounds [ calming ] sender tries to calm down receiver [ inspection ] sender holds receiver's face while inspecting an injury they got [ rescue ] sender carries receiver to safety [ clean ] sender cleans blood off of receiver's body
RUNNING TOWARD HOPE ,
a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel blood over bright haven by m. l. wang. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, violence, alcohol, and religion. change verbiage as needed.
was that a veiled dig at my intelligence?
leave your tools and weapons. they’re just weight.
while you can still breathe, keep moving. stop for nothing. turn back for no one. not even your own blood.
it must be hard to be you! how terrible to be so singularly talented!
since when do you really care about people who aren’t you?
i take it that wasn’t supposed to happen?
be cold, be hard, and don’t give them an inch, you understand? no matter what they say of you.
when i care how attractive you find me, i’ll let you know.
you’re certainly not going to survive playing against me.
that’s a lot of power.
i already missed my train. i’m going to sleep here.
the world isn’t about love for me. it’s about power.
i think i’ve just had a problem with magic since the first time i tasted it–like some people have a problem with alcohol.
magic is the one area where i can shut myself in a room with my books and my thoughts and come out more powerful than i went in.
the unbreakable rules of magic are unbreakable for a reason.
don’t play dumb with me. it doesn’t suit you.
is there something unreasonable about wanting to do my own work correctly?
brilliant men–even moderately intelligent men–in this city get showered with opportunities to succeed. brilliant women have to fight for those opportunities, and, when we get them, we have to defend them tooth and nail, or they’ll be snatched away.
i’m not married, i’m no one’s apprentice, and i’ll be damned if i let a man find some other way to take my glory from me.
women are always told to be kind, be forgiving, be nurturing. as far as i know, it’s never gotten them anywhere. the men, who have the real power, won’t return the favor when it matters.
if you are capable of everything they are as a group, then who can say you’ve been arrogant or unvirtuous?
if i can’t clear that clouded glass, there’s nothing left to do but break through it.
i never said i didn’t believe your god existed. i just don’t believe he’s the greatest or only deity at work in the world.
a ravine won’t water crops or quench the dying. at some point, there has to be a river, or what good can you really claim? if the man of good intentions never manifests a river, only calamity, should he not go to hell?
this is the balance of the universe. it is only right for the world to bring back upon him what he brought upon the world.
anyone with enough self-delusion can admit himself to heaven. this is nonsense.
it’s much easier to tell yourself you’re a good person than it is to actually be one.
i can’t work with you if we’re not honest with each other.
i’m not trying to twist your words. i’m trying to make sure you mean them.
you want me to be honest. i want the same thing from you, but you can do that without disrespecting me, my discipline, and my culture.
i can be civil, or i can be honest. you can’t have both in their entirety.
my knowledge of magic and history is obviously nothing in the face of yours.
maybe you’re not remembering clearly. sometimes, when an event is too upsetting to wrap your mind around, your memory gets muddled.
you’re that committed to your god of greed? go on, then. serve him. destroy me.
you’re the worst kind of murderer, i think. the kind who won’t even acknowledge their crime.
you never worshiped a god of truth. you worship a delusion.
i lost myself a little. and it took today–took something terrible–to bring me back to reality.
let me pose you a question that’s been troubling me for hours: must i forgo brilliance–no, not even brilliance; must i forgo any sort of intelligence; must i forgo the baseline mental functions that come with being alive–for stability?
you must be the dullest conversation partner i’ve ever met!
they’re either evil or they’re the stupidest people who ever lived!
you have to play along. pretend to buy his cover story. whatever he wants you to believe, act like you believe it and go about your business like nothing is wrong. don’t ask questions. don’t antagonize.
swear to me on your god and your mother’s grave.
i’ll be happy when i see you alive and whole tomorrow morning.
i just want you to be smart. be careful. acting on your every emotion the way you do is going to get you into trouble.
the most powerful minds and hardest hearts have a breaking point.
your head will clear, you will remember who you are, and you will move beyond this.
your devotion has always been to magic. none of that has to change because you’ve uncovered a few skeletons.
it seems i misjudged you. my theories about you were flawed.
for many, the denial must be a necessary shield against the guilt.
we’re surrounded by devils.
someone’s going to bleed and nothing bleeds like a mage’s ego.
things are about to change. the future has to be different. it will be different.
are you really going to do this? is this the mark you want to leave on the world?
i’m realizing how ridiculous it is to demand civility when the world is so disgustingly uncivil upon closer inspection. so, i’m not here to ask for your friendship or your politeness.
mages are detached from reality. they’re obsessive, socially stunted egomaniacs. you know, like me.
good people will turn monstrous when it’s down to their survival or someone else’s.
all i can say is… if you’re going to do this, i don’t co-sign it. don’t do it for me–or for anyone else. be selfish. be arrogant. do it for yourself.
i don’t want to be the reason anyone gets hurt. i don’t want to be the reason you die.
is it better to be safe and broken than it is to be dead?
all this agony for your goddamn ego.
i can’t believe i ever called you my family.
the forces of darkness are nothing to the light of god.
sorry about your reputation.
you could’ve been something great.
as far as the public is concerned, you will be forgotten–all your skill and innovation.
i never helped you for glory. i did it because it was the right thing to do.
i’m not your glory. i’m your penance.
we have done a great evil, and you’re smart enough to know that, deep in your soul, no matter what lies you spin around it. and i’m your attempt to get out of that feeling, aren’t i?
we all bear the burden of knowledge in different ways. some of us endeavor to do good.
have i dragged you anywhere you weren’t determined to go by your own power?
if i was to be your penance for what you have done, is it working? do you feel absolved?
you want me to throw away honesty in exchange for my life?
i don’t know what you’re capable of.
i think it’s important to be honest with the people you care about.
i don’t want your protection! do you hear me? do you understand? if you harm any of those people down there, it’s for yourself, not me.
you still have a chance to do the right and honest thing.
you have a long way to go yet before you’re half the monster i am.
if i’m going to die, i want to go knowing i left you safe and right with yourself.
if this is the last night of the world as we know it, i want to spend it with someone who can appreciate that with me. i want to spend it with you… if that’s alright?
don’t stay because you’re hoping to talk me into your plan over the course of the night.
honestly, i don’t know why i indulge your pessimism.
remember all this grief and terror–and try to do something good with it.
Okay, Sparky. And you know what? After we kill it, we can go to Disneyland.
Supernatural S2E17 Heart
Supernatural S1E01 Pilot
inspired by one of the tags in the notes of that gif set........ kinda wanna let sam keep the scar.........
Supernatural S1E16 Shadow
𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 / 𝑰 𝑨𝑴 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 . starters taken from the 2021 album 'i was / i am' by noah kahan . adjust pronouns as necessary !
𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆
i think i forgot the things i've done .
it's just good to be alive .
i could stay grateful for the sun , though it's getting in my eyes .
now you let your heart get filled with someone else's love .
now you let your head get held in someone else's arms .
you were only a little bit of light .
you were only a minute of my time .
i miss the way you made me feel like i lost part of me out there .
even through the pain , i can't recall your face .
i got so close to love with you , my dear .
but i don't miss you ; i miss the way you made me feel .
there was something in the air as we drove your parents' car .
i scream the words inside your head and hope you feel me .
the moment i chase is a race that i've already lost .
you were only afraid from fear of being alone .
feeling the ache is better than nothing at all .
𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍
it's an empty shell i live in ; the doors are always closed .
i spend my weeks losing my head , resting my bones .
and they say that nothing's given , so i guess i'll get nothing at all .
i'll accept defeat , 'cause you can't swing when the fight's lost .
can't see the grass getting greener , 'cause out there ain't nothing but blue .
the high helps a little .
but everyone you meet's just passing through .
white lies take all of the color from you .
most nights you don't sleep at all .
is there any wonder no one ever really tries to call ?
sometimes i feel like an animal .
i climb so high just to feel the fall .
look me in the eyes ; am i someone else ?
i always have a vision but i always watch it go .
it's too much and it's too close .
𝒄𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔
we've been running in place .
whole year's been one of those days .
i know we're close to an end .
i don't wanna be blamed .
i know you hate to cause pain .
i hope the silence will end .
we hold onto this for whatever reason .
we're too far to fix it up .
i know you're ready to move on from me .
but you stay and you stay and you stay .
and we wait until one of us caves .
long game but none of us win .
we keep on playing pretend .
the fear's a rope on our wrists .
those years of life that we missed .
she watches him pet the small creature, blue eyes focused on his expression. she almost jumps at the feeling of his fingers against hers, warm, almost inviting. " oh, you're alrigh', darlin'. " she's glad for the firelight, hopes it hides the slight blush on her cheeks. touch is something a little more foreign to her. it's easy to shuffle closer to him, lithe fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull him back to his ministrations. she turns to scratch small creature under chin then, a wide smile spreading on pink lips. " i think harold. you look like a harold. " words almost whispered, tone feather soft. " did y'know humans like alliteration because it sets the scene, or builds a mood? i think harolds mood is cozy. "
breath hitches softly as the huntress moves closer, further still as slight digits encircle his wrist– surprise and relief intermingling about generally stoic countenance. "y– yeah," he murmurs, timbre barely audible above the crackling of crimson flames. "definitely looks like a harold to me." dimples crease profoundly as he takes in the scene; tents occupied for the night by his siblings, space beside him occupied by far preferable company. "uh, so... nice to get a break, right?" hard swallow pronounces the outline of his adam's apple as he wracks a scrambled brain for suitable verbiage. "i just, y'know, s'cool to spend a night without the whole impending doom feeling." hues of pale bourbon shut tight into a self deprecating grimace, soft clearing of his throat allowing a moment with which to regroup. "are you having a good time, odie?"
