diffrent-kind-of-knight

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Are you taking requests?

I AM ALWAYS HAPPY TO TAKE REQUESTS. (SO SEND IN ANY YOU MAY HAVE…. AND I WILL TRY AND WRITE THEM AS QUICKLY AS I CAN.)

ALL MY LOVE, 

CHAR

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Are you taking requests?

I AM ALWAYS HAPPY TO TAKE REQUESTS. (SO SEND IN ANY YOU MAY HAVE.... AND I WILL TRY AND WRITE THEM AS QUICKLY AS I CAN.)

ALL MY LOVE, 

CHAR

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

The House That Lies Built

REQUEST - can you right a fix about dean falling in love with and then breaking the heart of a waitress, because she can't believe what he does for a living.

A/N, this is the first fic I have written fully in months, I keep getting brain freeze, and then running out of ideas, so there is now a hude pile of things im going to finish in the summer, or when I next get a break (yes I post considerably more in the summer, its because I’m a lazy goose, who is always behind with work.) (all request are welcome, but may take a while for me to right, think I just love getting requests.

 Warnings, - probable swearing, heart break, and bad grammar, punctuation and spelling.

 Word count; 1422

Fic – The house that lies built

Have you ever really been in love? I know I have. His name was dean. He was a man more mysterious then I had ever met before, and will ever probably meet again. So here is the tale of how I almost wound up with the most dedicated carpenter ever.

Summer of 07, I was taking a break from medical school. My boyfriend of 6 months had just broken up with me, for someone else. I couldn’t take my family’s pity so I picked up a suitcase packed it full of clothes and decided to start again a few towns over. I knew that was not the brightest move, but with a full tank of gas and $750 to my name, I had no better idea of how to spend the summer.

 I got a job in a bar. The name tag they gave me said my name was Tina. So that who I became, Tina the flirtatious bar maid, who would say anything to get a decent tip. I have to admit meeting dean wasn’t anywhere near as romantic I would like. Hell it wasn’t even that memorable, he walked in sat at the bar and asked for a double shot of whiskey on ice. We somehow got talking after that.

 He was only a few years older, but there was something about him, a look in his eyes that said he was more of a man then any other guy I would ever meet. He came back to the bar every day for a week, I remember my words exactly. I poured him another pint, and said. ‘When are you finally going to ask me out?’

 He looked up from his glass, ‘Tina, would you like to get dinner with me?’ dean grinned. I looked at the clock.

 ‘Well I don’t know dean.’ I teased. ‘Pick me up at 7 tomorrow night.’

 That was it, it was just that simple. Our first date was a fancy restaurant; we talked about our lives, what we wanted for our futures. But then his phone rang, and I new in that moment I was going to be in constant completion with who ever was on the other end of the line.

It was hard to explain to my family that my boyfriend wasn’t ever around because he was dedicated carpenter. But dean came back into my bar every week on a Friday night, with out fail. For 3 months. Saturday was date night, and Sunday morning he was again nothing but the smell of jack Daniels on the pillow.

One Saturday morning he walked me along the beach, the sun rose over the ocean. We stood on shore, hand in hand looking at each other. ‘Your perfect Tina,’ he said. I could of corrected him, I could of told him my real name long ago, but I didn’t want to. I loved being Tina, the girl with no past, no planned out future, no cares and no mother pushing her to have kids. There was something luxurious about that life style.

Instead of telling him I felt the same, a neat white bandage on his arm caught my eye. I didn’t notice it at first, it was covered In the sleeve of his plaid shirt. ‘what happened to you arm’ I blurted out. Deans smile vanished.

‘Oh that its nothing, I nicked my self on a circular saw at the last job I worked.’ I sighed in relief. I pulled him in for a hug, and he sighed in relief also. We were the perfect couple, or so I thought. A few months down the line I met his father, a miserable man, who had more scars then years. Id never met such a beaten up carpenters, but after all dean said it was the family business. His father often joked saying that dean was supernaturally good at what he did. I don’t think his father ever like me much. But then again I don’t think he ever liked anyone much.

Dean and I spent our time together dancing, drinking and dreaming. We bought a house, which he said he would do up. It took him 7 months to finish doing up. I was impressed with how it all came together; he really was good with his hands. I wanted him to stay longer, but he always had some where else, another job, another town.

Dean built a swing set in the garden; he said that our children would play there one day. He always took his boots of at the door, and kept his baby in the shed. We were happy, he always made overly enthusiastic noises when eating my burned/ or under cooked meals. Then again I think he was just glad he didn’t have to cook him self. He proposed to me, on the porch one Sunday night in may, before he went on yet another hunt. Kissing me every time he saw me. He was an amazing man.

 This love affair was enjoyable whilst it was happening but one day it all just stopped. ‘Honey, we need to talk.’ The words that always end my relationships. He looked at me holding my hands. ‘Tina, I have to be honest.’ Dean said.

 ‘Your breaking up with me.’ I whispered

‘No.’ dean said flatly.

‘Your married? There always married.’ I said pulling away from him. ‘You were always to good to be to true.’

‘I’m not really a carpenter.’ He said. I looked at him blankly.

‘I’m not really called Tina.’ He laughed. I stared at him still, not angry, just confused why would he hide what your job was?

‘What do you mean your not called Tina?’ he said, walked away from him.

‘What do you do then. If your not a carpenter.’ I said. ‘Our whole relation ship has been a lie. You have been off doing god knows what, and I have been here, playing the fool.’

‘I mean I’m not a carpenter, I am supernatural investigator, I kill ghosts.’ He said like it was the most logical explanation.

‘I thought you were serious for a second.’ I laughed. ‘good one dean.’ I smiled.

‘I’m not lying, Its my job, I stop ghost, saving people, hunting things, it’s the family business.’ He said like it was a logical explanation.

‘Are you high?’

‘No. Tina, or what ever your real name is this what I do.’

‘Dean how can I trust you?’ I asked looking at the floor in front of him not meeting his gaze.

‘Trust me.’ He said hurt. ‘I don’t even know what your real name is. And you’re the one with trust issues.’

‘I didn’t lie about anything else. What is in a name anyway, the change to Tina wasn’t meant to be permanent, I was going to tell you. But when you held my head in your hands and said Tina, I love you. I couldn’t I never wanted you to say another name, it just sounded so perfect.’

‘So what is your name.’ he said stubbornly.

‘It’s Y/N’ I replied.

‘Y/N, I love you. ‘ dean said making my heart melt like butter on toast.

‘But that’s a small lie. You cant even seriously tell me what you do.’

That was it, the end of the perfect love affair. I got in the car and kept going till I hit the state border. Dean was my first great love. I went back to our house a few days later. Surprise, surprise he was gone. And with it the future I had imagined. The swing hung motionless and the porch light and blown. After years the house fell into disrepair.

 I look back at the places where we used to be happy, but now there just play parks for broken dreams. He didn’t love me, he made up such an odd reason, to just push me away. I couldn’t believe him, If anything it was only proof he was on drugs.

My new husband is nowhere near as romantic as dean, there is no sneaking kisses, or romantic meals, he never builds anything, and couldn’t wire a plug if it killed him. But he had a steady real job. And I knew he was serious, he wasn’t the sort to go crazy or mad. Dean the delusional as my family quite rightly called him. Sometimes I wonder what would of happened if I had pretended to believe him. But I try and avoid thinking about it. Its best not to live in fantasies.

#Dean #masterlist #spn #Superntaural #supernatural oneshot #oneshot #love #rellationships

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Master list

got asked to make you guys a straight up master list, but there is also a tag list on here as well. hope this makes you all happy.

http://diffrent-kind-of-knight.tumblr.com/spnotaglist

#list #char rants

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

The One Who Slipped Away

Request – please can you write a one shot, where Dean knows the reader is depressed, and accidentally lets her slip through the cracks, and about how he never forgives him self for it.

 A/N, - if your considering suicide or struggling with self harm, please just talk to someone, my inbox is always open, you have so many people who will be willing to help you. I am sorry I haven’t posted in a while.

 Trigger warnings – depression, suicide, self harm, death of main character

Word count – 1123

One shot- The one who slipped away

I was 16 when I got depressed, one year later I started self harming. I wasn’t cut out to be a hunter, I carved in every mistake, every slip up. My arms are an ever-lasting tribute to all the mistakes I have made. A criss cross of lines, marking the lives I should of saved, If I was a little faster of the mark.

I met Sam and Dean two summers ago, when I was on a hunt. I tried to help them on a hunt, but they ended up losing the demon. Which only lead to another few scars. Dean and I were at family home, sat in my old bedroom. When one of the cuts had reopened and was bleeding through my green long sleeved t-shirt. His face was indescribable,  it was a mix of pain, suffering, confusion and sadness. There were so many emotions present in his gaze, I knew I wasn’t going to be aloud to let this one slide.

He with out thinking about it took me by the hand, and pulled up my sleeve, with a concerned look all over his face. He then sighed, and let go of my arm. He turned his back, and the tears started to fall. He grabbed the first aid box from my desk and sat me on my bed. He carefully cleaned each cut, and wrapped them with tight bandages.

Dean spent an hour after that trying to understand why? What had happened? Why I felt that self-harming would help me.  I couldn’t respond. My answers were never going to be good enough. I knew what I was doing had to stop. I knew that I couldn’t let life keep getting to me. My past should be just that my past.

 “Y/N, why don’t you feel like your good enough?’ Dean asked over and over.

‘I cant keep up. Mum always you keep up or you get killed. I don’t seem to be able to keep up. And people keep dying. This is all my fault.’ I replied. I don’t think dean knew how to react; he just sat with an awkward arm around me.

‘Y/N, none of this is your fault. Don’t be so hard on your self.’ He kept repeating it.

 Dean left me that afternoon, but he texted me every day at least twice after that, for a whole summer, and then his communications got less frequent, as he became busier with saving the world. He always reminded how perfect I was, how I deserved better. I told him about how things were letting up. I return his texts, and emails. I always tried to make it sound like I was getting better, even if when I was cutting more. I didn’t want his to feel like he had to come ‘save’ me.

 I will stop cutting I used to tell my self. I will stop slowly, go from once a day, to every other day, to a few lines here and there. But it never worked like that. It changed when my parents were killed in a hunting accident. I was sent to live with my grandparents. They found out pretty soon after I moved in to there house.

 Dean and I spoke very rarely now. I told him about my grandparents, about how they were trying to make me get better. I told him about there plan, about how if I didn’t stop they would have me committed… I didn’t stop. I wasn’t committed. They just stopped caring. One line here and there couldn’t hurt I thought. This was 3 months ago.

 Deans face when he read the new headlines, last Thursday. I hung on in there till I just couldn’t anymore. The news papers called my death a tragedy. I didn’t leave a note. Hell I didn’t even intend to leave. One slip of the knife, and it was to late, I cut to deep, and bled out over the motel room floor. This wasn’t meant to happen.

 Everyone reacted differently to death. Sam cries, bobby throws a couple of punches, my aunt has been known to exclaimed ‘What a waste of potential.’ Before she burst into violent sobs. My old boss was always left speechless. Normally when people kill him or her selves no one knows what to say.

I had a small hunters funeral. Dean pulled a phone out of his pocket, and walks away from the blaze. He can’t watch. He thought all the hours must have helped me. He was searching through every message over the last few months he had said, looking for the point when he should of said ‘Y/N, that’s enough. You have to stop. I’m coming to get you. I cant let you keep going like this.’ He never said it. Not that I would of listened. Dean was so worried that one-day he would over step. That one day he would say something, and I would stop replying. He had no idea, I was waiting for him to say it, and now he will never know.

Dean pulled over on the side of the road later that day. ‘Y/N.’ he said to the empty car. ‘Y/N, you have broken my heart, I would have messaged back more, if I knew that your family had failed you. I would of come and taken you in my self. You were my family, why didn’t you see that? Every word I ever sent. I meant every word. Every time you said you had fallen of the waggon, I wished I could come and be there for you. I just couldn’t, you had your family. I thought I was saving you.’ He whispered. ‘I thought every time I said something nice it was building you up. I was trying to make you realise you were special. That you were needed. I wanted you to see what I saw when I looked at you. I saw potential. I saw hope… if I ever meet anyone in your situation again. I will save them.’ Dean looked at the dashboard. He knew I wasn’t coming back.

I wanted to answer him. I wanted to say Dean, your right. I wanted to tell him that every time his messages came through, I felt hope. That he made me realise I was worth it. I knew he was good guy, I knew he tried his best. I never expected him to care as much as he did, he was almost a stranger, he knew everything about me and I knew so little about him. I wanted to tell him how much he helped me, how he made life a little easier `but I couldn’t. The dead are not known for being chatty.

#depression #dean #dean winchester #spn #supernatural oneshot #Suicide #the one who slipped away #triggering #one shot #chars back xx #masterlist

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

I'm also an asexual. Thumbs up, bro.

this literally just made my day. :) thank you. i hope you have a wonderful day. 

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Hi! I was wondering if you were going to upload anything soon??

yeah i am... i have just got to edit it, :-) it will be up Sunday. latest I promise.

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Hey you're writing is great. I was wondering if you were coming back to this blog? Much love!

hey. i am still alive. not been putting pen to paper much, but life is calming down again, so hey im going to right some fics. feel free to make a request. i will happily write once again. 

i missed you guys. more fics coming soon. 

your anon message made my day. I needed this today. thank you. 

- for any one who is intrested my life for the last weeks, has been a mix of wonderfull, scary, anxiety, happy fear, and boy troubles. i met a guy, i got a uni house, i met my roomates, i quit my job, i went on a kind of first date (at 19,) i told him i didnt think it would work, i dont know how he feels, and now im worried i made it awkward. so in short it was exciting, but i dont want this much stress again any time soon.

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Hola mishamiga! I was wondering if you're taking requests? I have this really specific fic idea based on my "birth defect" and was wondering if you'd be interested in writing it?

hey. yes im still taking requests. if you say what you would like, i will write it for you. 

i havent posted in a while as i ran out of requests. 

so if you think i can do it justice. yes, i would love to right it. 

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Have you ever considered getting a cowriter?

yes. i have. i then realised that i know very few people who want to write fanfics, instead of just read them on real life. and on hear everyone is amazing and its so intimdating. 

- sorry there has been no posts for a while. i have been busy getting my work done (almost on time.) just had a exhibtion of my work, where i accidently made 2 people happy cry... that was awkward.... my work looks like it has the least meaning. 

- if you wanted to cowrite something with me, id love to. 

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

alpacas are gr8 and sheepies and piggies are gr8 too and ur gr8 :)

I’m Glad we agree. 

no fan fics will be posted for a week. (as im to stressed out to sit and write.... i have to find 30 more artist/ fashion photographers / textile and fashion designers who inspire me.) ,,,, which is terible as i have nothing. (i used all the ones i know.) 

ii have two requests waiting to be written. so also who ever you anons are im working on those too.

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

I just wanna... Like. Wrap u up. In a big fluffy blanket. And stuff a bunch of kitties (or pups or lizards or snakies idk whatever u prefer) and like plop u down. :D keep writing and doing u!!!

THANK YOU!!

shall we go with alpacas, im scared of pups, lizards and snakes, and cats are not my cup of tea. so unless you were palnning of having me die of fear, which i have to admit could of been rather funny. i suggest we go with alpacas or sheep. or pigs.

your so cute, you litterally just made my day.

Char

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

TO SAVE A LIFE

REQUEST - Can youplease write a one short where TFW find out about a readers self-harm but likeit isn't cutting it is hitting themselves/ punching walls/ burning on pans so they can mask it as injuries from a hunt or accidents? I have been struggling with this recently it is easier to cover bruises than it is cuts and I don't know maybe this will help a little. If you feel uncomfortable doing it please don't but yeah thank you in advance :)

A/N. – STAY STRONG. I BELIEVE IN YOU.  I wrote this for you. I hope this fic is okay.

Warnings – self harm, death of a brother, depression

FIC- TO SAVE A LIFE.

Word count; 1767

Who wants to be clumsy? You drop a pan of boiling hot water on your feet, you spend more than hour in A&E, being treated. You trip on a bag. You walked into a wall. You didn’t put on the oven gloves properly and burned your wrist. You tripped on the stairs, the wall jumped in the way of your fist. You were found knocked out on the floor. The knife was hidden under the soap bubbles. You didn’t see it. The curling wand just fell out of your hands. I was not clumsy. These were just some of my excuses. I made it look like an accident. Truth was I never stumbled, I was lightning on my feet. My cooking skills were better than that. And my curling wand, hadn’t been used to curl hair in at least 7 months.

I wasn’t a liability on hunts, just when I was alone in the bunker according to my stories. I never hurt myself when I was hunts. Well at least not in the way I’m on about. I’m on about the sort of hurt, that was intentional, the glass shard the just happened to fall on my exposed leg. The burn from the oven, where I ‘accidently’ held my arm against the metal rack above until I had burned a straight line into my skin. These lies were the only way I had to hide my self-harming habit.

The boys made comments, ‘Y/N is anyone more accident prone then you?’, ‘sometimes I swear you make these stories up.’ ‘It’s a good job, you’re a little stealthier when we hunt.’ The remarks kept coming but I wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t I craved the next release. My arms were a mass of burns and cuts. It’s a good job the boys didn’t inspect my body the map of lines and bruises covered my body. When I looked at what I did to myself I felt so sad, so angry. But I couldn’t stop. I needed this.

Sam and Dean hadn’t seen all the accidents, and I preferred not to have to make up the stories, so when they ask, I would dismiss every one with an ‘oh it’s nothing’. The burns and bruises lined my arms. One more burn, from the scolding pan, I should have been stronger. I should have told him. One more slip with the sharpest knife. I knew I could never save him. He was amazing and who was I? A maid? A servant girl. I was a dead end job. My future was bleak. I learned to kill monsters. I wasn’t made for this life? I pressed my arm on the top of oven. The pain was almost as unbearable as losing my brother. I could have saved him, I just needed more time.  

I was on a hunt when I was captured by demons. Sam and I were on a hunt when we were captured by demons. We were tied up facing each other, in the basement of some building. A demon came at sam with a knife. ‘No,’ I screamed stamping my feet into the floor. The demon just laughed and drew line on Sam’s arm.

The demon turned to me, he pulled at my shirt, tearing it away. Leaving me exposed. ‘There is no point torturing you.’ he spat. ‘You have done it yourself.’ He said cutting sam one more time then leaving me exposed. You could clearly see the bruises on my ribs, and the burns and cuts spiralling around my arms and ribs. Nothing about me looked beautiful. My skin was running out of places to mark. The scars were healed, and swore. Since my brother left, I had turned my body from a temple to a brothel. Any cheap shot I could make at myself, I took.

Sam’s eyes took it all in. he sighed, with what I could only take to be pity. ‘What happened Y/N? And don’t tell me, the potatoes were burning.’ He said with a softness in his voice and slight attempt at a smile.

‘I Can’t Sam.’ I said.

‘Y/N, you know you can talk to me about anything,’ he said tilting his head sideways. i knew that. I’d always known that. But I just never thought they would understand. The chances of us dying down here currently looked quite high, so I thought I should probably tell sam

I opened my mouth. ‘I’m really not that accident prone.’ I admitted. Sam tilted his head. Looking at my bod in the dim light.

‘Y/N’ he breathed quietly not sure what to say next. I could hear the cogs wearing in his brain. He took time to pick his next words carefully, like he was trying to defuse a bomb. With a minute on a timer. Fear in his eyes. ‘You did this to yourself? Why?’ he was still trying to get his head around this.

This was going to be like telling a 5 year old Father Christmas wasn’t real. But sam wasn’t 5, and I was pretty sure he knew about Father Christmas long before he turned 5. ‘Sam, I just need control. I need the voice in my head to shut up, every once in a while.’

‘Y/N.’ said soothingly, I’m pretty sure if we hadn’t been tied up he would have at this point given me a tight hug. I have never been so glad that a demon could tie knots well. ‘You know you can talk to the other about this right? Dean, bobby.’ And as the silence continued. ‘Or there is always Cas.’ Sam said awkwardly, I’m pretty sure if I didn’t jump in and say something now he would have just continued listing names dumbly.

‘can’t I just talk to you?’ I asked innocently.

‘Of course I will talk to you.’ he said, as the demon burst back into the room. The demon made a big show of the knife he was holding, as he stabbed it into my middle section, and then just as quickly removed it. I screamed, and squished my eyes shut.

When I opened them again a few seconds later sam had the demon knife in his hands and was finishing of the demon with it. he moved towards me. He pulled off his shirt, to cover me up. He used the scraps of fabric from my t-shirt to make a bandage. Then he held me in his arms and carried me out of there.

I woke up in the bunker. I was alive. I didn’t remember sam taking me much further than the edge of the room. I guess I must have blacked out after that. My arms were wrapped neatly in bandages, and I could only just about sit up. To wake up to an empty room was disheartening.

I had forced myself up into a sitting position. When dean came in. he loomed over me, looking down with what I can only assume to be pity in his eyes. He put his arms around me. ‘You took quite a beating there.’ he said. I tipped my head confused unsure of what Sam had chosen to tell him. ‘Do you remember what happened?’ he said softly. I nodded. ‘Y/N, we need to talk.’ And in that second I knew that of course sam had told him everything. He never let these things go unnoticed.

The conversation with dean felt long. Dean said the words. It’s okay, were are here for you. You can talk to us. More than I care to count. Truth was I didn’t want to talk to him. I wanted to throw a punches at brick walls. I wanted my fist to collide with concrete. I wanted to stand on a million Lego bricks. I wanted the pain. I wanted the release. I didn’t say anything, so eventually Dean left.

Sam walked in when Dean left. He came bearing a tray of food. ‘You told him?’ I said flatly.

‘Y/n, I had to.’ Sam said handing me a bowl of soup. ‘He isn’t stupid. What was I meant to say? You twerked to hard and fell into the oven? Y/n no one would buy it. He just wants to help you. Just give him a chance.’ Sam pleaded.

‘I guess you’re right.’ I moaned, as I tried to spoon the soup.

‘Why did you do this to start with?’ Sam asked.

‘I couldn’t do it anymore. I killed my brother. I kill everything I touch. I just can’t take losing anyone else. I’m stuck here, for hours at a time, alone, with only my thoughts. We spend hours together, not saying a word. I should have saved my brother. I’m so useless, he is dead because of me. I should have been quicker. He never had to die. Sometimes I just feel like screaming, like its all my fault. The pressure just builds and I need a just need to release.’ Sam looked at me. There was so much sadness in his eyes, as he pulled his arms around me, in the tightest of hugs. He got up and left, which was when I realised Dean in the door way.

‘You’re not useless’ he said, sitting down next to me. ‘You move around and make lots of noise in your sleep, but you’re not useless or annoying. You’re our Y/N, if you need us to take a step back, I get it. I know what it’s like to need to scream from the roof top, without wanting to have to explain why. Sometimes it’s trying to explain. You did not kill your brother. I know this may be hard for you to hear. But you did not kill him.’

I looked at him. He got it. He understood. All though I didn’t want him to know. He got it. He seemed to know how it felt to hate your own existence, to just be holding on for those few good days. The self-harm had to stop.

A few months later. I had relapsed more than twice. And each time Dean caught me. He built me up again. He told me my life meant something. He was never too busy. He would talk to me whenever I needed guidance. Although he didn’t like being woken up at 3 am to talk about life the universe and everything. He understood why I need it. and would always talk me out of it. Sam tried. He made me special. He always checked to make sure I was alright, and I wasn’t ever left alone.

#Supernatural #dean #sam #self harm #one shot #loss #winchesters #depression #masterlist

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Nah nah nah let me tell you something. You eat that pie. You eat that chocolate cake. You eat whatever you want because you deserve it. No self loathing. Cause ur like my tumblr crush and I don't like it when ur sad cuz then it makes me sad so don't be sad. (Side note: I suck at making people feel better but I tried because ur awesome and I want you to feel better) ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hey, its okay. i felt bad. so i just ate more. upside there is no hope of my jeans falling down soon. id like to know who you are, but at the same time. its nice to have someone with an air of mystery about them stalking my tumblr. (prehaps stalking is not the right words.) 

im still writing the fic.. i got distracted… and began to draw… then i remebered i cant draw, so i moved back to writing a fic, but not the fic has become over complicated with ex’s and talking patio furniture…. so im like better make this normall… but at the same time the lawn chair is like ‘no i like, how messed up this is.’ ….  im losing the plot. 

(side note: you are awesome at making me feel better. and this responce makes it sound like im crazy where as the truth is i have had a long day of shopping and painting, and reading this, really made me feel amazing. and then i drank a few to manny ciders and tried to write a responce. which is how we got to talking patio furniture.) 

i guess what im trying to say is, thanks you guys for being so patient. i will post my latest fic again soon. YOU’RE ALL AWESOME!!!!!!! 

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Can you please write a one short where TFW find out about a readers self-harm but like it isn't cutting it is hitting themselves/ punching walls/ burning on pans so they can mask it as injuries from a hunt or accidents? I have been struggling with this recently it is easier to cover bruises than it is cuts and I don't know maybe this will help a little. If you feel uncomfortable doing it please don't but yeah thank you in advance :)

 DEAR ANON

should be posted by wednesday night,,, if not tomorrow. 

im working on it… sorry i kind of got distracted by life, and pie, and a big chocolate cake. im sorry i didn't right this sooner. on the bright side at least I’m fat now and full of self loathing. 

#Anonymous

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

Self harm and an eating disorder

Request-please can you right a one-shot about TFW finding out about your anorexia andself-harm after you collapse during a hunt.

 A/N – so this was sent in By a really nice requester, and I didn’t really know what to write for them. so this happened. I want them to stay strong, they can get through this. there amazing, funny and have so much to offer the world. If anyone wants to tell me that I got something wrong, or something wasn’t quite right my ask box is always open. (hope this is what you wanted) 

Warnings. – Self Harm, Anorexia, bad grammar. 

Word Count – 1568 

Fic – Self harm and an Eating disorder.

 I grew up quick witted, sassy, intelligent, fast thinking and strong. All of which were quality's no man would ever look for in a wife. - Or at least that’s what my mother told me. The only advice she ever gave them me that was for my own good, was to drink less alcohol, it rots your liver apparently. Then again I can't say I took that either. 

At 18 I got into a college, and left home. Sadly that was over taken by hunting and traveling. When I got there however, I was so worn down by critics, I had started to believe them. I was more than a little unsure of myself. I had built up an impenetrable wall around my heart. I didn’t let any man in. sure I had friends, but I had a new voice in my head. The one that screamed, 'don’t eat that. You will get fat. Then your mother will be right. Do you want your mother to be right? No, now put the carrot down.' this voice was hard to ignore. When I would hear it, I’d try and think 'so what I like being a bigger girl. So what I can have a carrot, I can eat that, I have earned my right to eat.' but more often than not, I’d go hungry.

 Starvation wasn’t my finest hour, and yet it I’m not sure it was my worst. In all of my not eating and self-hate, I became depressed. With every food craving I acted on, I drew another permanent line across the river in my wrist. Self-harm was a release of everything, trying to act stable and emotionless was hard, so I cut, sliced and carved at my body with a knife. The weight was going, two cuts. Binged on food. More lines. Whatever I did, the marks kept raking up. Nothing was going right.

The boys didn’t know. They didn’t know how I hated every inch of my body or how I cry to myself. Never wanting to where size 12 jeans again. I wanted to be slim. How did I let myself get like this? I miss when I was a kid and it was a completion to see who was the heaviest. I can’t think of time I didn’t win that one. It was a hot summer, and I was living on a bite of food a day, but some days I got greedy and had a bite and half. The key was to drink plenty.

We were on a hunt. Demon nest. 2 angle blades one knife. The day was hot, with no relief from the wind, in the empty falling down ware house. The demons came at us thick and fast. I stabbed 1, after another. Twisting and pulling the knife in and out of them. It didn’t take long for me to grow tired. I couldn’t move fast enough, I was seeing double the amount of demons then there really were, and could move at least 3 times as fast as me. One demon grabbed my right arm, I heard aloud crack. Then black.

Sleep was a better alternative. In sleep I could gorge myself on a chocolate fudge cake. No guilt. No remorse. And my jeans would still be as tight. Waking up was hard, a low growl in my belly with 3 men gathered closely around my bed side. One arm in a cast, the other in tight bandage. My head pounding, with something cool pressed against it.

‘She’s been out 2 hours now. Shouldn’t she be waking up?’ Dean asked.

‘Patients Dean.’ Cas growled. As if Dean had asked this a million times before. Knowing dean he probably had. I tried to sit, up but my body was too week. I ended up just having slowly shift myself so my back was leaning on head rest of the bed they had lay me down upon.

Dean and Cas were sat on either side of the bed on dining chairs, and Sam was leant against the door frame. I wasn’t sure if he was coming or going, then again I’m not sure he was either.

‘What happened Dean?’ I asked as Dean normally always gave the straightest answer. Not today.

‘Well you kind of slowed down fighting and then you collapsed as you dropped guard, and then your body hit the floor, but not until the vamp had given your wrist a good snap.’

‘I remember that bit.’ I said, trying to feel the pain in my numb wrist.

‘We gave you some pain killers.’ Sam said moving towards me.

‘How bad is it?’ I said looking at him.

‘You won’t be able to hunt for at least another 2 months.’ Sam Said. ‘But we want to keep you out of the game longer than that.’ Sam said as my stomach groaned loudly.

‘Is there anything you want to talk to us about Y/N?’ Cas asked.

‘No. I just want to sleep.’ I said but the answer didn’t satisfy dean.

‘Y/N.’ dean said holding my hand. ‘We know.’

My response was quick, I went straight to the apology.  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean for it to get this bad, I thought I had it under control.’

‘It’s okay, we can get you better.’ Cas said calmly.

‘I didn’t mean to, it’s just I couldn’t continue to live like that. I needed a release, I needed to take back the control. I never meant for you to find out this way. I just needed to cut sometimes.’

Silence. Dean and Sam looked startled. ‘We meant you not eating.’ Cas corrected me, when he managed to lift his chin off the floor. ‘You self-harm?’ he breathed.

‘Where?’ dean said shortly.

‘My arms.’ I said looking at him.  

‘We thought that was hunting scars and what the demons did to you.’ Dean said heart broken.

‘Do you know how dangerous this is? Not just to you but to us as well? we needed you on that hunt. You almost got us killed. You passed out from exhaustion before we had even got close to cleaning up the problem.’ Cas shouted. His voice cold, like the voice in my head. He didn’t know how harsh the truth sounded, the truth was undeniably horrible. I could have killed my best friends. I don’t think I would have been able to live with that.

We sat in silence for a while. Then the questions started.  ‘Why?’, ‘When’, ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘When were you going to tell us?’, ‘you know you can talk to us right?’ – With every question came a longing. Not for food, not for company, but for the feel of sharp a knife against my skin. The feeling of relief, as blood pulses down my arm. The clattering sound as the knife hits the floor and my breath trying to hold steady. I craved to carve more line, to be alone. Just me and the blade.

Dean didn’t get it. Cas was furious, and Sam was a little too quiet.  The band of brothers couldn’t save their friend in time. The jig was up, and the truth was out. The war had begun, and now it was time to try and Get me Healthy. Each meal was spent together, where they forced me to eat a plate of food, and whenever I wanted to cut, someone was always in the same room, to stop me. To talk to me. I had to explain why I felt this way. Doors weren’t allowed to be locked, and it became very much about protecting me from my self.  

I sat on the sofa, a few nights later. Sam was left to effectively baby sit me. ‘You alright?’ he asked looking at me. As I slumped down on the sofa next to him. I nodded.

‘Why? Are you putting up with me?’ I asked. Sam raised an eye brow. As if to say are you crazy. ‘Why Sam I’m really Fat and unhealthy. Why look out for me. I get deans your family so you have to look out for him. But why me?’ His face a mix of confusion and concern.

‘Y/N, you really think you’re not family? You have always been like a sister to us. Family isn’t just about blood.’ Sam said pulling me into an awkward one armed hug. ‘You were never fat.’

I laughed at him. ‘I doubt that, look at me I’m massive.’ I said waving an arm in the direction of my belly.

‘You’re kidding right?’ Sam replied looking at me, ‘there is nothing to you. I’m pretty sure I could bench press you with one hand.’ Sam teased. I looked at him sceptically. ‘Look kid, you are slim, beautiful and total knock out. - not that me or dean would let any man near you.’

‘Sam no guy would want me anyway? No guy’s date girls who are overweight, no guy can look past appearances.’ Sam looked horrified.

‘I think you look beautiful, you always have.’ He said pulling out his wallet. And pulling out a tattered photo. Of a girl in red dress sat on a suit case outside a motel. Her body was beautifully slim, she had a smile on her face. It was from 4 years ago. ‘Like I said you were always incredible.’ Sam said sliding it back into wallet.

#Dean #Sam #Cas #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #not eating #self harm #supernatural #oneshot #spn #masterlist

[diffrent-kind-of-knight]

I'M NOT OKAY.

Request- I see that you're taking requests and I just wondered if youcould do something about the reader who is completely done with everything and who is just an exhausted mess of emotions and Dean just comforts the reader and stays with the reader? It's a bit lame, I'm sorry..

 A/N – it’s not lame. If that’s what you want, that’s what I will try and write.  sorry it took me a while – I finished it on Tuesday? And I just couldn’t get round to spell checking it.  

 Warnings – Depression, Wanting to give up, bad spelling and gramar

Word count - 1011

Fic – I'm not okay.

 I wanted to be anything but a killer. I wanted out, I wanted to move away and never come back. I couldn’t do that though. I had to stay, I had to see through the storm. When you begin to live life as a hunter, for most of us, there is no turning back. The life is exciting and wild. It is such a rush. But the danger and thrill takes its toll. You check behind doors, under beds, backs of cupboards and behind the shower curtains constantly. Life will never feel quiet again.

 I had been traveling with dean for about 3 weeks now. Life was a lot busier then normal for the both us. It was eat sleep research repeat. Always out on the pavement stirring up trouble. Then there were the days I got to hunt, but washing the blood out my hair, and sponge cleaning my coat wasn’t my idea of a good time. Late nights were always a must, and sunrise always came too soon. I wanted to sleep forever, but we wouldn’t have that long. They were going to find us eventually so I kept on the move.

 It was Friday night, another case was done, but dean had caught wind of another case a day’s drive from here. He had sent Sam on a head, whilst we cleaned up here. Dean and I were back in the bunker cleaning up all our weapons. I couldn’t help but look at a knife, and long once again that the world could slow down. Just long enough for me to get off. Without thinking about it, I traced veins in my wrists with the tip of the knife. I just gently, not putting any pressure behind it, not even trying to break the skin.

 I went back to my jeans. They wear soaking in now tepid water, the blue jeans still had very clear blood stains on them. I liked these jeans, a little too much. I sat on the floor holding the jeans with a scrubbing brush, trying hard to force the stains out, dousing them in detergent, and then scrubbing even more furiously. I sat with my head resting on a wall. And a lap full of soap and dripping jeans. 'Y/N' dean said, looking down. I looked up. 'We can get new jeans.' he said slumping down beside me. 'It’s not like they were our only pair.' he said, trying to cheer me up.

 'I know.' I sighed.

 'Then why are you crying?' dean said putting an arm over my shoulder.

 I didn’t even know I was, I wiped my face with my damp sleeve and sure enough there were tears. 'I’m just tired.' I said, rubbing harder on the fabric.

 'Y/N, you are always tired lately.' dean said putting a hand on mine, forcing me to stop cleaning. 'It's not like you only have one pair of jeans.' he joked and then followed it up much more seriously with a 'tell me what is wrong please?'

 'I just need a break. Like a week of just sleep. I want to sleep forever. I don’t want to be a hunter any more. I don’t feel like I deserve to eat, I fail at this hunting thing, I can’t do it. I feel like I’m drowning, I don’t want be here. When I’m not paying attention I will draw lines on my arms with sharp objects, tracing the lines I would make if I were to slit my wrists and end it. Then I catch myself. And I feel so guilty for wanting to give up. I feel so week powerless all the time. And I expect you to just be okay with a world without me, as I don’t want to be here anymore. I look out at the rain, it soaks my feet, and ruins my hair, I lie down the rain storms. But it’s never enough to drown.' I said looking at a now stunned dean.

 'Y/N you have so much to live for, we will not just be okay without you. We need you Y/N you’re a breath of fresh air, you’re the humour in our darkest hour. You are what makes this work.' he said pulling the soapy trousers from my hands and throwing them back into the sink. 'You have so much to offer the world.' he stood up passing a hand down to pull me up. 'Look this place. This place is a home now because of you. The touches that make it a nice place to come and relax. There’s the kitchen, where all the food is, for at least then next month or so, there is the sitting room, where we have nothing but pillows and blankets, and then there’s your wardrobe. There’s the box in the corner that connects up to the World Wide Web so we can have unlimited films. Hunting is important. But we can take a break. We can stop for a week, if that’s what you need.' Dean offered. 'It’s your health on the line. Just because we can’t see the physical damage yet doesn’t mean it’s not there.' he said pulling me towards the sofa were he pulled me in to comfortable hug.

 Dean rang Sam, and order him home, Sam was confused but when dean explained, he came back no further questions were asked. Dean then proceeded to hold me in a tight hug for the rest of the night. We stayed up to the small hours. He sat and listened to whatever I said, making me feel better about every one of my floors. When I woke up the next morning it was to the smell of pancakes and orange juice, and Sam and signing their hearts out in the kitchen. I rested my head on the arm rest and thought to myself, this is what I was looking for, this is the  sunshine I needed on my darkest day, as in the background an argument broke out as to who was going to do the washing up.

#Dean #dean winchester #depression #supernatural #oneshot #spn #supernatural oneshot #giving up #masterlist