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a few years ago, i wrote a comment on a fic that i regret making. it was a heat-of-the-moment thing (i wasn't familiar with ao3 tagging conventions and walked into a fic that i was not mentally ready to read) and i apologized later, but the shame of leaving the comment at all has haunted me for years. i want to get rid of it. should i delete the comment, or should i not cover up my past?
If it’s bothering you so much that you’re still thinking of it years later? Delete it. Free yourself from it. You’ve apologized, now let yourself move on. If that requires getting rid of the comment itself then do it. What you were then is not the same as you are now, and deleting a comment on a fic is not “covering up your past.” It’s saying, “I don’t think this way anymore.”
I left a comment like that when I was 11 and didn’t know what “slash” meant. (It’s how I know I didn’t admit I was bi until I was 12—I reacted to that story with outrage and disgust but it started a process of personal realization)
A lot of us have bad or cringeworthy moments in our past. Trying to do better is more important than wearing them forever as a testament to your shame. Delete it.
As long as they’d apologized I would essentially view it as fair enough. If asked I’d even remove any response I may have made to it, if those still show after a comment is deleted (I’ve never tried on AO3), in order to make it as though the comment were never there, and we could both go on about our ways.
I'm a writer and I hate seeing old mean comments. It hurts every time we read them even if they are old. So there is not only no harm in deleting it, but it will make the writer possibly feel better. So just delete it and don't feel badly anymore.
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You are a hunter and this is the tale of how you’ve met and banged both Winchesters at different times. Who do you end up with?
There’s nothing particularly special about me. I spend most of my time hunting. My home base is nonexistent. I do what other hunters do- I go where I’m needed. I usually stay in one place for a few months and clean it out of whatever monster problems it has, while getting a job at some crappy dive bar. When I’m not doing that, I make money the usual way we all do- good old fashioned fraud. I mean what can we do? We’re protecting humanity; I’m not going to worry too much about monetary integrity when it comes to big banks.
Why am I telling you this? No real reason, I guess. Except, you know the Winchesters? I know you do. All Hunters know the Winchesters. The vessels for Lucifer and Michael. The subjects of those god-awful Winchester Gospels. We all know them. Some people love them. Some hate them. Well, through a weird set of circumstances, I’ve met and slept with both.
Not at the same time, don’t be weird. And not even on purpose, though I suppose I wouldn’t have said no had I known they were brothers beforehand.
Now I know you want to hear the story, since we’re here and we’re tipsy. I guess I’m going to tell you. I was always going to tell you.
Part 1: Dean
October 2018
“You need some help with those?” A voice behind me startled me, jolting me upright and away from my vantage point on the hill overlooking the ramshackle house. I dropped my binoculars as I reached for a knife, but quickly relaxed, seeing that the intruder was only a man, not a monster.
“Sorry to scare you.” He nodded his head down towards the house. “There are a lot of them in there. You aren’t thinking of going in alone are you?” He had sandy, dark blonde hair, bow legs, and was wearing about ten layers of clothing. He was nice looking, in a grizzled, “I’ve killed a lot of shit” kind of way.
“I was going to.” I stepped back to where he was, behind a tree and out of sight of the house, in case any of the occupants happened to be near a window. I didn’t think they were. “I got faulty info. There was only supposed to be one. There are three, as far as I can tell. I can’t take three.”
“We can take three though.” He shrugged.
“How did you know I was up here?” I asked. I’d thought that I was hidden pretty well.
“I didn’t. It seemed like a good vantage point. Found you by surprise.” He held up his own pair of binoculars. His were camouflaged. Green. “I’m Dean by the way.”
“Y/N” I said, extending a hand. He had a good hand shake, firm. “Nice to meet you.”
He nodded. He noticed the machete at my side and the gun tucked into my waistband. “Not your first rodeo?”
“Hardly.” I grinned. “You don't look like it's your first either.”
“Oh God no.” He let out a laugh. “You ready to do this?”
* * * *
“That was easier than I thought. You’re good at this, Dean.” I said thirty minutes later, as we dropped the last vampire body onto the fire. “It would have taken me a lot longer to ambush them one at a time. I’m glad you came along.”
He tossed a few more branches onto the blaze and turned towards me. “No problem. I’d rather not spend more time than I have to on this either.” He looked at his watch. “Now that that’s over, it’s whiskey o’clock for me. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You staying in town or are you headed out right away?”
“I have a room in town. Probably heading out tomorrow. No point in leaving tonight.”
“So how about coming out and having a celebratory drink? On me?” He cleaned off his machete on the long grass, stood up, and looked at me quizzically.
I shrugged. “Sure. I want to get cleaned up first though.”
He nodded, indicating a large blood stain on his pants. “I probably should too. No need to freak out the bar clientele.” He smirked. “There was a decent looking place on Route 410 on the way into town. Meet there in two hours?”
I knew the spot he was talking about, and it was not decent looking; it looked seedy as hell, but I was pretty used to places like that, and he looked like he was as well. He looked like he was born in a place like that.. “Sure. Two hours.” I gave him my cell number, and took off for my hotel.
* * * *
“I have some whiskey here. Interested in just coming to my hotel?” I blew out a pent up breath and hit SEND on the text. I was being forward, I knew, but why not? The whole drive back to my place, I’d been thinking about him. The way his muscles moved as he fought off those monsters. The hint of torso I’d seen as he took off his flannel when he got sweaty from digging the hole to set up the fire. It had been a while for me, and he fit the bill. He was strong, and tough, and nice. And if he said no, well, I wasn’t any worse off now was I?
A response text came back almost immediately, and I held my breath as I read it. “Definitely.” I smiled to myself, typing in my hotel information. I was already showered and presentable, and I did actually have a bottle of “Writers Tears” whiskey in my bag. I set it out on the small table along with two plastic cups provided by the motel, and waited. The knock came twenty minutes later.
I opened the door, and found Dean standing there, hair still damp from his own shower. He was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets.
Does anyone want me to post some of my old Supernatural fanfiction? I'm thinking of editing it and putting it on here. There's even a multi chapter one.
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Does anyone know russian fluently? I need help with two or three phrases for my novel. Youll get a shout out in "acknowledgments" and i can venmo you a couple bucks too. I just dont know enough to fogure it out
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