WHAT IS THIS THING I NEVER WRITE LMAO.
So I'm staying up to see the sunrise, because I don't think the world will end, but if it does I want to see the sun come up one last time. It kind of...inspired me to write and maybe toss around some really dark thoughts on a LULZ MARY-SUE character that has been brewing in my head for the Supernatural fandom. No, she's not with any of the main characters. She's just some hunter chick who has a backstory in my head and I kind of like her but I never write for OC's. And I definitely don't do OC/Dude from a series stories.
Anyway, enjoy! I hope.
“What are you doing?” His voice is a rough sound against the darkness and shrill hum of the hotel's AC unit, blaring away through the night, making the room cold. Always freezing.
And she almost admits to herself that his voice, loud in the predawn calm, makes her jump half an inch. Almost admits it. Instead her fingers grip the faux-wood paneling that frames the windows of their room.
She is facing East, looking for the sunrise. Birds began their morning song only minutes ago - that's how she knew. She didn't sleep well anymore. She didn't think anybody did.
He waits patiently on her answer. She's stubborn and loud, with a head of the brightest orange hair he's ever seen, and an attitude that paled in comparison to redhead stories. Still, he is always patient for her, always waiting and never complaining that it takes her too long to answer sometimes.
She's standing here, eyes brimming with tears that she doesn't want him to see. He can tell by her voice (when she finally speaks, that is) that she's reached a breaking point. It's only when she's silhouetted by the peach-and-gold sunrise that he sees her for what she really is. A woman in the body of a nineteen-year-old girl. He's suddenly ashamed - he's definitely got some years on her. The guilt rises in his throat like bile and he finds it hard to repeat his question or to ask another. She isn't dainty and fragile, and she's definitely not the type to spend the morning having an emotional breakdown. He thinks her emotions spilling from her eyes makes her stronger than any woman he's ever seen, and he feels his heart leap awkwardly in his chest. It's always the moments that she doesn't want him to see that make him fall in love with her all over again.
They both have so many scars - emotional and physical - and he thinks of his past, and then hers. Scrambling under the bodies of your dead friends and family, just to hide and wonder if they'll find you. The fear of never knowing if you're going to live another day. That's become the norm now, and he wonders if she's realized how far she's come. How she's no longer that girl with chapped lips and cracked fingernails, hacking at monsters and setting fire to every evil thing in her path.
He is drawn from his thoughts when the dark shape of her body shudders. She's naked in front of the window, clutching the curtains in one hand and the window pane in the other, white-knuckled and like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to this moment. She finally speaks, and some part of his mind wishes she hadn't.
“I wanted to see one more sunrise, before the end of the world.” She chuckles darkly and stands up straight, a breath rattling out of her, something to ward off the sobs that were threatening her, making her voice thick. “Could you imagine dying without seeing the sun come up over the horizon, one last time?” He can tell she's sneering by her tone of voice. She has a point, he thinks, and watches the colors bleed over the horizon, flushing her skin with fingers of light. He thinks that this is okay, that their world might end and he could be lying belly-up in the blood and bile of three different abominations, but as long as he could think of this woman wearing nothing but the sunrise and honest-to-God emotions, well, that wasn't such a bad way to go.
I love you guys, and hey. if the world ends I'll see you on the otherside. :)
Anyway, enjoy! I hope.
“What are you doing?” His voice is a rough sound against the darkness and shrill hum of the hotel's AC unit, blaring away through the night, making the room cold. Always freezing.
And she almost admits to herself that his voice, loud in the predawn calm, makes her jump half an inch. Almost admits it. Instead her fingers grip the faux-wood paneling that frames the windows of their room.
She is facing East, looking for the sunrise. Birds began their morning song only minutes ago - that's how she knew. She didn't sleep well anymore. She didn't think anybody did.
He waits patiently on her answer. She's stubborn and loud, with a head of the brightest orange hair he's ever seen, and an attitude that paled in comparison to redhead stories. Still, he is always patient for her, always waiting and never complaining that it takes her too long to answer sometimes.
She's standing here, eyes brimming with tears that she doesn't want him to see. He can tell by her voice (when she finally speaks, that is) that she's reached a breaking point. It's only when she's silhouetted by the peach-and-gold sunrise that he sees her for what she really is. A woman in the body of a nineteen-year-old girl. He's suddenly ashamed - he's definitely got some years on her. The guilt rises in his throat like bile and he finds it hard to repeat his question or to ask another. She isn't dainty and fragile, and she's definitely not the type to spend the morning having an emotional breakdown. He thinks her emotions spilling from her eyes makes her stronger than any woman he's ever seen, and he feels his heart leap awkwardly in his chest. It's always the moments that she doesn't want him to see that make him fall in love with her all over again.
They both have so many scars - emotional and physical - and he thinks of his past, and then hers. Scrambling under the bodies of your dead friends and family, just to hide and wonder if they'll find you. The fear of never knowing if you're going to live another day. That's become the norm now, and he wonders if she's realized how far she's come. How she's no longer that girl with chapped lips and cracked fingernails, hacking at monsters and setting fire to every evil thing in her path.
He is drawn from his thoughts when the dark shape of her body shudders. She's naked in front of the window, clutching the curtains in one hand and the window pane in the other, white-knuckled and like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to this moment. She finally speaks, and some part of his mind wishes she hadn't.
“I wanted to see one more sunrise, before the end of the world.” She chuckles darkly and stands up straight, a breath rattling out of her, something to ward off the sobs that were threatening her, making her voice thick. “Could you imagine dying without seeing the sun come up over the horizon, one last time?” He can tell she's sneering by her tone of voice. She has a point, he thinks, and watches the colors bleed over the horizon, flushing her skin with fingers of light. He thinks that this is okay, that their world might end and he could be lying belly-up in the blood and bile of three different abominations, but as long as he could think of this woman wearing nothing but the sunrise and honest-to-God emotions, well, that wasn't such a bad way to go.
I love you guys, and hey. if the world ends I'll see you on the otherside. :)