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@wren-writes617
Hey yâall, here Iâll be posting snippets of things Iâve written, be it fanfiction, or poetry, or other stories or ideas I have, at least, thatâs the plan.
You can find me occasionally (rarely) posting rants and what not about personal stuff on @emotionallystalepotato17 supernatural stuff on @wrenwinchester and me being me on @just-wren617
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
Greetings
Hey all, I'm Wren, I wanted to do a little intro thing. Ig. Idk.
Anyway. I'm in my early 20's, I was first on tumblr in 2018 or so, though I deleted most of my posts from that time. At the time it felt right. And I didn't fully understand tumblr yet, so while this account is (technically) my main, I don't necessarily use it as such, but I am also super attached to it.
I'm a fandom girly and a writer, you will find my fandom posts (including fanfics, headcanons, OC's, and more) on @wrenwinchester And me being just me @just-wren617 and other writing things on @wren-writes617 (don't ask about the profile pic, I was proud of the drawing, okay.)
brief things about me:
mostly into supernatural right now, though I go through various phases of hyperfixation on other shows including psych, bones, and others, always go back to supernatural though.
I write and read and embroider. I'm very much an artsy craftsy person. I'll try anything once. I'm terrible at being consistent in internetting. and I am reading the percy jackson books (the first series) all the way through for the first time.
anyway, this blog is basically my collect all the classic tumblr posts blog. But yeah.
Guys. I have a fic Iâm writing (finally) about the time between season 9 and 10 and Sam going back to drinking demon blood by accident (demon Dean arranged it but shhhhh) and Iâm really excited about it. Iâm hoping to get it posted by beginning of March but itâs also mid quarter and I have grades to get in (teacher life when procrastinator sucks đ) but Iâve already spent so much time on it in the last 24 hours. I love it. The brothers are weird about each other. (No incest.) and Iâve been thinking about this for a long time. And finally decided I had to write the fic. Anyway. I donât know where Iâm going with this, but Iâm grading papers and I want to be writing it. And Iâm sad.
Also i thought it was just going to be a one shot. Now im not so sure.
IT's Time!!!!!!! (it did in fact make it to just being a one shot.) It is barely the middle of March, so I'm calling it a success! Here is the Link:
The Boy King and his Demon Brother - Wren_Winchester - Supernatural (TV 2005) [Archive of Our Own]
wanting ao3 to go against its own anti censorship stance and start banning fics you donât like is like walking into an orgy or a brothel and expecting the place to be family friendly.
tell me you donât know why ao3 was created in the first place without telling me you donât know why ao3 was created in the first place
donât know who needs to hear this but ao3 is not a social media. itâs an archive. a library. please stop treating it like twitter or tiktok
I donât care.
I donât care that youâre not around.
I donât care that youâre not here.
I donât care that you left me broken.
Itâs fine.
Iâm fine.
I donât.
You kicked me while I was down.
You ignored me when I needed you.
I donât care who youâre with
I donât care what you do
Itâs your life to ruin.
I donât care.
Not really.
Not anymore.
But sometimes I still feel the care I once did.
I still wonder if youâre okay
I still notice that you arenât here
I notice youâre absence
Almost as much as I noticed your presence
Some days I look for you in others
Other days I pray I never find you
Iâm glad that youâre gone
That youâre out of my life
But man do I still miss you.
I donât care where you are
Only that you arenât here
That youâll never be with me again.
I donât care at all
And yet I care too much
An oxymoron
And a paradox
You make me contradict myself
Even years later.
I love you
I never want to see you again.
Youâre awful
You had the potential for so much good
I fear I brought out the worst in you
I know you brought out the worst in me.
I tell myself that I donât care
And most of the time itâs true
But, C, the truth is
I wish I hated you.
Iâm writing this fic, and the word processor tried to correct âmore rightâ to ârighter. â I had to check that I wasnât insane. (Iâm not) seriously though. âSpellcheckâ is off the rails.
Me writing like threeish weeks ago: I need a password/invite word to get into this club. Hmmm daiquiri of truth
Me now: Why did I choose that? I donât even remember choosing that. What would that even be. This could be interesting.
Happy new years. My resolution this year? Write 100 words a day, but donât give up if I canât get to it. Itâs a start. And yeah some days I may write more, I know some days I wonât write any. But 100 words not including editing already written words for the wip, or rewriting.
(This is a goal future me, not a requirement, itâs okay to not get everything done in a day.)
In between seasons 5 and 6
"I didn't know where else to go." my voice was soft and strained, My arm tucked under my jacket, clutching my side. It's the first time he's seen me since Sam took a nose dive into hell with Lucifer, Michael and Adam. Sam made him promise to get out of hunting, he'd tried to bring me with, but I wasn't built for a normal life, I found that out years ago. Dean deserved a shot at his apple pie life with Lisa and Ben, even if I wasn't a huge part of that, maybe especially if I wasn't a huge part of it. We still talk on the phone weekly, like I did with Sam after he left for college, and I kept hunting.
I watch as Dean shakes the shock from his face, and as he recognizes my pained tone. His eyes start scanning me up and down, looking for the source of my pain, eyeballing behind me to make sure I wasn't followed. If I hadn't been bleeding out, I might have reassured him that the thing was dead, and I wouldn't have let a monster follow me to his family. (The fact I referred to them as his family not our family didn't escape my notice even in my mostly delirious state.
"I didn't want to bring this to you, your out, you deserve to stay out. I-"
My voice fails me as my knees give out, and I tense, expecting pain from my knees slamming into the cement beneath me but it never comes. Instead, I feel my brother's arms under my own, catching me with his own body. "Hey, hey, hey, I've got you Wrennie, I've got you," his voice is soft and concerned, but at this reassurance, I let sleep take over. If Dean had me, I'd be fine.
...
My eyes opened in a strange house I didn't recognize, but I wasn't scared. I was home, in a couch I knew well, one that had many memories of my brothers and me. I sat up quickly at the thought, I'm home. We'd never had a home. I didn't have a home anymore. Dean had his family, I was just a burden to him, Sam was... Sam is as good as dead, we have no way to save him. My brothers were my home, but I've lost them both.
"Oh good, you're awake!" The voice was awfully chipper, and eerily familiar, but I didn't recognize it.
I rubbed my side, it ached, and I knew there was a reason, but I couldn't remember why. "Yeah, uh. I am." I'm still fairly out of it from my apparent nap. "Uhh, not to seem rude or anything, but um... who are you?" The blonde lady looked fairly taken aback, like I had slapped her. If I hadn't grown up the way I did, I might not have noticed, but the truth was, I've always been good at noticing others' emotions.
"Millicent, you're joking right?" her voice is so concerned, but I'm just more confused. "How hard did you hit your head?" Okay, so it wasn't just a regular nap, I got knocked out. It's weird that my head doesn't hurt at all, but I just keep trying to place this woman's voice and face. I should know her.
"Hey, Ma, I'm back, how's she doing?" It's a voice I'd recognize anywhere, and yet it's different, less pained, less... tired.
"Sam?" I ask, I must sound excited, my This can't be Sam. Sam's... Sam's in hell. Sam's trapped, and he, he called this woman Ma. "Mom?" Her face, my mom's face, looks relieved as I say it, like it was just a post sleep confusion, and I was truly okay, but I couldn't be okay, Sam's dead, Mom's dead, for me to see both of them, I'd have to be dead too.
Mom looks away from me, towards Sam as he walks into the room, "She's awake, a little confused from banging her head, and even more so. She didn't know who I was at first, but I think she's doing better now, must have had a weird dream." Sam moves in, as I sit up, rubbing my side once more, it aches, and I can't be sure why. I remember being hurt, but I don't remember what happened.
Sam sits next to me, the couch dipping with his weight. "You scared us, sis. Hit your head pretty hard when you fell off the ladder. What were you doing up there anyway? I said I'd clean the gutters for Mom when I got home." He's scolding me as if I got hurt on a hunt, defending him or Dean, over something so trivial, something so... normal.
I shake my head, it doesn't quite make sense. "I... I don't know." Nothing is making sense. I mean... this isn't my life, and heaven was supposed to be memories, and this definitely didn't happen. Mom died when I was two, so I'm just confused. "Where's Dee?" the nickname slips out without notice, it wasn't an uncommon one, but it feels out of place.
"Millie, are you sure you're okay?" Concern grows on each of their faces as I look between them, an air of sadness glazing over their eyes. I'm more confused than before.
"I don't know. I guess I hit my head really hard. What happened?" My mind is racing with worry for Dean, and I barely register that Sam is rubbing my back soothingly, the same way Dean would when we were little in my other life, my real life.
"Mills, he died two years ago." His voice is barely a whisper, and the tone sends shivers through my entire body. Mom leaves the room at this point, I'm not sure what she's going to do, but I am frozen in shock.
"No. That can't be right. I was just at his house, with Lisa and Ben, I went there because I got hurt. I... I was hunting, a- and he caught me, right before I passed out. You... You were dead. You... You jumped in to hell to put Lucifer back in the cage. Dean can't be dead, I- I was just with him." I'm reduced to sobs, Sam just comforts me, unsure of what to do. He holds me into his chest as I cry, and I feel him move as if having a silent conversation with Mom.
If Sam and Mom are both here, is...
"Sammy," I sniffle, pulling away from the comforting hug of my brother. "Where's Dad?" my voice is hoarse from crying.
"He's at work, why?" He's so concerned, and I don't know if I'm relieved or terrified. In this ass backwards world, Dean is dead, Dad is alive, and nothing I've ever done has really happened.
"I don't know. I just wasn't sure I guess. Umm, how did Dean die?" Sam's face contorts, and I know it's probably not something he likes to talk about, and I must seem so confused, having only forgotten about Dean's death, which isn't true, I remember watching Dean die the first time. The first true time. There was the trickster, no Gabriel's tricks of having Dean and I die a hundred times in front of Sam, but only Sam and I remembering, that also sucked.
"Well...." Sam's voice is pained, and I long to comfort him, but I can't, not until I know what happened to Dean in this 'life.' "He died overseas." That's all he says, and his face grows cold after that. I don't push. My heart aches for my brother, he died alone, away from his family, it was our worst fear growing up, one of us would die on a hunt, and the other would never know.
I clutch at my side again, the pain is stronger this time, and Sam notices.
"Hey, are you okay? Did you hurt more than your head when you fell?" He goes to life my shirt a little, like his hunter instincts are taking over, even if that never happened in this place.
"I-I don't know." It's the truth, I barely know what hit me. I didn't even realize I was injured in the hunt until I was back in Baby, oh... Dean was going to kill me for bleeding out on her front seats.
"Mom?" Sam calls out, fear lacing the word as he looks at my side, it hadn't been bleeding before, I was sure of that, but when I look down, there's no doubt that it was bleeding now.
Mom peaked her head around the corner from the kitchen, and she dropped the plate she had been drying before running over to put pressure on the wound with the towel. "What happened?" I just shrug, I feel lightheaded, and even more confused than I was before. Nothing is making sense anymore, and... and...
My train of thought fades, and I lean on Sam for support, even though I'm sitting down. Mom's putting pressure on my side, and Sam's telling her to go call 9-1-1, that's the last thing I remember before it all fades to black once more.
...
I move on the couch, before tensing once more as a sharp pain shoots up my side. It's not the same couch as before. This one is softer, safer. I sit up quickly as my memories sharpen. "DEAN!" I winced, I hadn't meant to yell as loud as I did, but he came running, he always came running. I started sobbing when I saw him.
"Hey, hey, hey. I got you Mills," He sits next to me, gently pulling me into a hug for comfort, his hands brushing hair out of my face. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. I swear." Lisa comes into the living room now, worry lining her brow.
"Everything okay?" She stands solemnly by the door as she asks, not wanting to overstep. I tinge of guilt plucked at my heart, she was in her own home, she should be comfortable, but I don't move, burying my head into Dean's shoulder as I cry. I feel him nod towards her, and he says something along the lines of go back to sleep, but I don't quite hear it, my dream, no nightmare, no, I don't know what it was replaying in my mind, and reality crashing back down.
Dean tries to pull back a bit, worried I'm holding on too tightly, but I can't, I won't let go. "hey, hey, it's okay, I've got you, Wren, you're safe." I could tell Dean had barely left my side by the exhaustion seeping into his voice, and as much as I cared and wanted him to rest, I needed to know he was safe.
"Y-y-you were, you were dead. You died, and I-i-i couldn't have... you were gone." I sobbed into his shoulder once more, my heart breaking.
"I'm right here, Sis, I'm not going anywhere." Dean brushed his hand through my hair, longer in this reality than it had been in the other. His other hand was rubbing soothing patterns across my back, careful to avoid the slice in my side.
"S-sam and M-mom were there, Dad too. They were alive, b-but y-you were gone." I'm not sobbing anymore, but the emotion is still clogging my throat, everything I've experienced in the last couple of hours was overwhelming.
"I'm so sorry, Millie, I'm so sorry." Dean sounds like he's crying too, and I pull away from the hug a little to get a better look, wiping my tears as I do so.
Dean's face is streaked with tears, his eyes have dark circles under them, and I start to wonder... "Dean..." he looks at me with a tear soaked face, "how long was I out for?" His body shakes, and the pit in my stomach starts to grow.
"A week, maybe two... we didn't- I didn't know if you were going to make it. Lisa thought I should take you to a hospital, but I couldn't. Every time we go to a hospital that isn't for a case, someone actually dies. I couldn't lose you too, and I couldn't leave you there. If your fever hadn't broke yesterday, I promised we would bring you in today. I was so worried, I swear, if you ever do anything like that again, I'm going to beat your ass into the afterlife myself." I hold on to him a little tighter, maybe we can glue each other back together. "You really scared me kid. If I'd lost you too..." his voice trails off, but I knew what he meant, I knew where he would have gone.
"Hey, I'm right here, Dee. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." I smile at him, pulling him back into a hug, we both needed it, more than the other knew, too soon, Dean was pulling away, and moving to grab a blanket for me.
"You're damn straight, I'm keeping you here under house arrest until that's completely healed." He pointed a finger at me as he said it, like a mother with her child.
"Bu-" I started to protest, but moved to quickly as I did so.
"No buts, you're going to pop a stitch if you move too much, so shut up, and deal with it." His voice left no room for arguing, but I wasn't going too. Dean was right, I needed to rest, and if I was going to be forced to do that under the same roof as my brother, my only blood family left, well, I suppose that was the best way for it to happen.
Pink Flamingo
I thought if you today,
When I saw a pink flamingo.
Thought of dropping by,
And maybe saying hi.
The thought passed quickly though:
Stopping by,
Saying hi.
Those arenât things we do anymore.
We donât call, or text, or write.
I ought to just forget.
Move on,
Be free.
I still love you though.
Through all the pain and hurt.
Some days I love so much I think I just may burst.
You had my back for a time,
But now that time has passed.
You know me more than most,
Though if you knew me at all,
I donât know.
But I saw a pink flamingo today,
It made me think of you.
I saw a pink flamingo today,
I didn't think of you,
I thought of my poem,
How i used to think of you,
but I didn't think of you.
I saw a pink flamingo today,
and didn't wonder how you've been.
I knew right then,
I may not have forgotten,
but I sure did move on.
The pink flamingo a reminder,
only of times that passed,
not of hurt or pain,
but love and loss and gain.
I love you still,
I never want to see you again,
and yet, I saw a pink flamingo today
and i didn't think of you.
To learn through failure is still to learn.
To learn through success is still to learn.
Learning is learning,
no matter how it's done.
Learning through any experience
is still learning no matter the outcome
Learn through failure,
Learn through success,
Whatever you do, Learn.
Learn about others,
Learn about you
Learn about the world,
I don't care. JUST LEARN.
Learn to trust,
Learn to hope
Learn to feel,
Learn to step up,
and to step back
Learn to hold on
and to let go.
JUST LEARN
But most of all, Learn to Love,
Learn through mistakes,
and learn through perfection
and imperfection the same.
Just... Learn.
The urge to write is becoming all consuming, the want is always there. The time is nowhere to be found. The thing that clicks in place when the right idea comes by hasnât yet. I have stuff to do, papers to grade. All I want to do is write my story. Iâm just a girl, lonely and afraid. Afraid of myself, but more so afraid of leaving the safety of home. Afraid of not being needed. I know Iâd be afraid of not being wanted if I hadnât questioned that my entire life. I am at a loss. I need to stop âshouldingâ on myself. I need to accept me where I am, but I donât know how or when or where. I canât get my feet under me, I just keep drowning. I need to write I need to escape. I need to make my story fun. I need to teach I need to manage my time. (I canât I canât I canât.)
Reblog if I can go on your page and write stupid things in your ask box whenever I'd like to.
yes
Love, hate. Often considered opposites,
as are brothers and sisters.
And maybe that is true,
But more than that, theyâre siblings first.
One would not exist as we know it without the other
One couldnât even try.
And plus, you have to care a little, if youâre going to hate.
Hate canât be what it is without first being love.
Or even just the potential for it turned on its head. Life is not as simple, as black and white as it would seem.
We live, we laugh, we hope, we love, but also we despair, we die, we cry, we hate and more. There are two sides to every coin, but sometimes we are dice.
Love and hate are best of friends, and the line between is oh so thin.
I met my younger self for coffee today. I was early, she was too. She got hot chocolate, I got a mocha with oat milk.
She asked if we were okay, if life would get better.
I told her we learn, we feel loved now; things will get harder for a while, but eventually we are free. We learn to let go, to hold on, to love even if they arenât in our life anymore. And thatâs okay.
I asked how she was really doing. I knew the answer of course, but I think if I could have talked about it, maybe it wouldnât have hurt so bad.
She said she was fine, and I let it go. It probably wouldnât change things anyway.
She asked about leaving home, college, and friends, and more.
I told her not to worry or fret, we end up where weâre supposed to be. Friends come and go, but theyâre allowed that freedom. You canât force someone to be your friend, but that doesnât mean you have to hurt them before they hurt you. Or hurt yourself before they can.
She asked about the future, our hopes and dreams and plans. I told her weâre a teacher.
She just nodded her head. I could see it on her face âI knew we would beâ I told her we still live with mom and dad, and she smiled half heartedly.
âWe always joked, I guess it stopped feeling like a joke.â It was my turn to nod, tears forming in my eyes.
âItâs not always perfect, weâre not always okay. But we keep moving forward, learning, and loving.
I met my younger self for coffee today, we sat and chatted for a good long while. She didnât feel lighter when she left, but I could see the comfort in the sag of her shoulders as she walked out the door.
I know sheâll see me soon.
