#I haven’t watched full episode yet I shouldn’t be so quick to judge I’m sorry I’ll keep the faith

[suzypepper]

Noooo I really do think Selena is a good actor I’ve always thought that and I still do but unfortunately for 12 year old me we might have to give up the gaylena agenda 😔 Cara’s like making out with a flat piece of cardboard that’s the straight actress gay character classic

[spnsimpleman]

The Unknowns: Twenty Three

This is a continuation for The Unknowns.  A one-shot turned into a long ass Prologue.  Part One.  Part Two.  Part Three. Four.Part Five.  Part Six.Part Seven.  Part Eight.  Part Nine. Ten. Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen. Fourteen.  Fifteen.  Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty-one.  Twenty Two.

Dean x Psychic!reader

Teaser/Summary: An AU sparked from a songfic challenge, The Unknowns is based on Season One Episode Nine, Dean met reader in Lawrence as a child and they created an unbreakable bond. At the end of The Unknowns, reader decided to stick with her boys because she felt something coming but she holds secrets; one she holds close to her heart and a few that she doesn’t even really know yet.

Word count: 3373

I stared down at the pretty calligraphy. I had snorted the first time I saw it and Pamela only grinned in response. A lot of my father’s family had thought this dream was merely a fairy tale and someone had taken it a step further by writing it down like it belonged in an old book or maybe had been torn from one.

Pamela had warned me multiple times that it had been translated too many times and rewritten to remove some of the flowery nonsense but I could hear her warning loud and clear, don’t waste your life hanging everything on a dream.

I think in some way she still blamed my father for leaving us too early because of his obsession but it might be the one thing that ends up saving my life, our lives. If it helps us in any way, could it really have been that much of a waste?

If I can’t figure it out, it just might. I shook my head and tried to focus.

A fair warning, powers shall bless and curse while some always remain stringently aloof. All will leave marks. To those who have the ability, to read and to choose, not only what legacy they shall leave behind, but what future they will set forth.

The same powers that whispered freedom into the ears of men at the Alamo on that November night when Halley’s Comet blazed high in the sky, a different kind of battle was revealed to an old warrior with spurs already retired. A vision of bloodshed and a solution, but only if he was steadfast with his time, his sweat and blood, and the iron and steel.  

A warrior’s sacrifice will prove fruitful if the solution stays on course and gripped by those destined to wield it against the evil that threatens them. The Marksman, Soldier, and Witness.

Below the text, someone added in a careful hand without the fancy swirls and ink,  

Samuel Colt built a weapon and thirteen bullets to end a war brewing between heaven and hell. The same night brave men lost their lives at the Alamo, the last sigil was carved in the revolver that would end a demonic plot and reign.

Entrusted to a fellow who appeared in the vision and held promise in his own right. Wesley Campbell bore a son that continued the line for generations, the weapon will pass through these hands until finally gripped by those destined to wield it.

The marksman, soldier, and witness?

Scrawled underneath in a familiar messy hand,

Halley's Comet- November 1835.

The Texans defeated at The Alamo- March 6th, 1836

Gun surfaced in 1920 with seven bullets in Chicago before disappearing again.

Marksman- Danny? Soldier- John? Witness- me.

My father had fact-checked what he could and added his own assumptions. Did he ever know Mary’s maiden name? Was it just coincidence that we ended up on that street?

Lips pressed against my neck in a sensual touch and I stretched my head to the side. Dean looked down at the paper as his hands smoothed around under my chest, “still reading over it?” I nodded and leaned back into him. “I thought your dream or feeling was four though. Why did you have something tell you four if this family thing is three?”

“I don’t know. I talked to Pamela about it too. She reminded me once again that it was just a dream and premonitions are not always clear but she did have a few ideas, only one that had any strength though.” He pulled me up, sat down, and yanked me into his lap. I chuckled but settled against him soothed by his energy swirling with mine. Even though he showered, he still smelled like grease and metal. He was so close to finishing Baby and I knew when he left I wouldn’t be able to go this time. My focus needed to be here and away from Sam.

Sam. My brother who could barely handle being in the same room as me.

He squeezed my side and nuzzled his face into my neck, grief and love surging through the bond and blending with mine, “what’s this idea?”

“Three is a strong magic number but Pamela said four is balanced and it would make sense since four always relates to stability. In some old cultures, and you can find it in almost every religion…” He pinched me again and I rolled my eyes, “okay, geez, she focused on Native American culture, the number four is sacred and she said the first thing that came to mind was the four sacred obligations of the Zia people; to develop a strong body, a clear mind, a pure spirit, and a devotion to the welfare of your people. She doesn’t believe in coincidence and she thinks the reason that came to mind is because we could break those four obligations up between the four of us.  Strong body, clear mind, pure spirit, and devotion to your people.” I worried my lip again, “although she spent a good amount of time in New Mexico where the Zia tribe lived so she could be...”

“I don’t get it.”

I blew out a breath and pulled away, ��never mind. It still doesn’t mean anything.” He gripped my sides, not allowing me to leave his lap.

“Okay, come on, dumb it down for me.” I scowled at him and he chuckled, “sorry, I’m not dumb but I’m a little lost.” He pouted and I looked away, frustrated more by my lack of any progress than his attempt to distract me.

“It really doesn’t mean…” He turned my head to face him and his brow rose. His fingers playing against my jawline just skimming my lips. “Fine. Jess is the pure spirit, you are the devotion, I’m the mind, and Sam…”

“Wait, why am I not the body?”

“Seriously? You’ve been devoted to protecting us since we were kids.”

“So have you or did I just imagine a little girl holding up a bat to beat away a demon?” I narrowed my eyes and he chuckled, “okay, but this is just an idea? Because I’m not judging… I’m just...”

I punched him and he barked out a laugh, “we’re grabbing at straws.” I sighed, “I don’t understand why your dad thought it was us that the stupid dream was talking about when I know that Jess is supposed to be with us. That we’re supposed to be four, not three.” I scrubbed my face and pressed the heels of my hands into my tired eyes.

“You know what?” He stood, lifting me with him only to let me slide down his body until my feet hit the ground. He grabbed my hands, “enough of this for today. You need some fresh air.”

He pulled me toward the back door. “What are you doing? I don’t even have shoes on!”

He flashed that smile and despite the shadows beneath his eyes, it was blinding. “You leave them by the door, stop fighting me. You know you don’t really want to.” He stopped and turned as I bumped into him. “Actually, yes, fight me. You said yourself you’re grabbing at straws and we haven’t sparred in too long. You’re gonna get your ass handed to you if I don’t intervene.” He wiggled his brows, gave me a quick kiss, and then dragged me onward again.

My laughter, however scratchy, followed us outside. A good fight with him sounded wonderful, but anything with him was.

~~

I walked into the kitchen stretching my arms over my head. Dean had been right, of course, I needed to get out of my head. The stress had been knotted up my muscles more than I had realized. I smirked. There was no way I wanted to admit it but I knew he already felt it. There was no point in fighting it when it streamed through the bond completely awake because of our time together outside.

I bumped into a solid wall of muscles and winced. I was so busy thinking about this open wave between us that I completely lost focus on the world in front of my eyes. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Sam walked across the room while I glanced around for Jess. No save there. I opened my mouth to say something else but nothing would come out. I snapped my jaw shut and winced at the stupid sound that echoed in the small room with too many acoustic surfaces. I rubbed my arms and moved to the cabinets Bobby kept some snacks in. I didn’t want any, I needed to get in the fridge. I glanced over and Sam shut the fridge door, a glass of orange juice in his hand. The one he would ultimately shove on me missing and completely jarring no matter how hard I tried to forget it.

The room was hollow, an empty void where I stood alone. My heart punched my ribcage, the rushing sound in my ears overbearing. I ached to tell him what I didn’t need to say, what I needed to say but couldn’t. Shouldn’t. There was nothing but empty space, an overwhelming silence that hurt more than anything I could imagine. I watched him from the corner of my eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders and arms, his back far too straight as he turned and strode out of the room without a word or a look in my direction.

My eyes burned and my vision blurred, the shelves in front of me weren’t even there. Memories crashed over me, more torture than relief to a throat too tight, a chest too full.

My laughter filled the room the second I saw my gangly goof. Sam held a glass against his chest with his forearm as he gripped another he carefully poured orange juice into, trying not to spill and incur Bobby’s wrath. “That’s what counters are for, pumpkin. Why do you need two glasses anyway?”

He glanced over and almost spilled the juice. “Shit. This is what I get for looking out for you.”

I laughed again and opened the snack cabinet. “Please, you give oj way too much credit.”

“No, you don’t take care of yourself. Everyone knows Dean isn’t going to help. The only vitamins he knows are flintstones.”

I shook a box of crackers and pulled them down. “I know and eat all the food groups.” I closed the cabinet and Sam was next to me holding out the second glass.

“Malnutrition is not only a third world problem.”

I glanced down and the juice didn’t sound half bad. “If I drink that will you leave me alone?”

He chuckled, “nope. Without me, how are you ever going to be as strong as you dream to be?”

I fought back the laugh, “okay, coach.” I narrowed my eyes, “but I’m not running 5 miles today.”

He grinned, “we’ll see about that.”

I closed the cabinet and turned. I needed water and a beer for Dean but my feet were so heavy. I rested my hands on the counter, my arms shook and I cursed myself. This was my own choice. This was what I had prepared for. My lungs screamed and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I snatched the water bottle out of the air, “hydrate.”

“I know,” I chuckled as he poured half of it over his head. He glanced at me and I knew that look in his eyes but didn’t move fast enough. He shook his head and I shrieked, “gross, Sammy! Damnit, get away!”

His laughter echoed in my head but didn’t match the man that couldn’t be around me, that couldn’t look at me without seeing the person who lied to his face, who allowed him to hurt for so many long months. This was mine to bear. I knew this would happen when I made my choice.

A searing pain in my chest had me leaning on the counter, my legs too shaky. I was strong enough. I had to be for him.

I was yanked off the counter and spun around before crushed in a familiar embrace. “Breathe, damnit!”

I knew what would come if I gave in to that desire, what I would unleash. “Y/n,” Dean’s voice cracked, “please. Just breathe. We’ll get through this.”

It was too hot in here, too heavy. Get me out of here.

BREATHE! His voice shocked through my system with an actual electric jolt.

I sucked in a breath and the sob was smothered by his chest. He lifted me up and moved. I couldn’t tell where and couldn’t care. I just let go while hanging onto him for dear life. Trusting him to tether me while I drowned.

“Not drowning. I got you. I’m right here. This will pass, we’ll get past it. Just keep breathing. I protect you, y/n. Always.”

The tears continued, my chest heaving out sobs I couldn’t control. I slipped into that place where his energy blended with mine, weaving through it and curling around it. I didn’t deserve escape but I couldn’t survive without him. At least I’d always have him.

“He’ll come around too. Just like you said. It’ll take time.” He whispered into my ear, his breath hot pulling me toward the surface.

I curled inward tucking further into his swirling green. The one thing I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to give any piece of reality to, slipped out, he hates me.

Never. You’re family.

But I knew Sammy. I knew his worst, most vulnerable thoughts. I knew how he felt about John during those years when things were tortured and crazy and things were just too much.

“I hate my own father, y/n. What kind of person does that make me?”

I touched his face, those eyes screaming and echoing the strong emotions churning with my own. “Human, pumpkin. It makes you human.”

“You’re different from him and you know it. We’ll always be different.” We weren’t moving anymore and he had me tucked into him somewhere soft or maybe that was just him.

I gripped him tighter and didn’t answer. I couldn’t because I didn’t have one.

~~

I believe there's a moment that everyone comes upon once or multiple times when they feel a future event coming. They call it gut instinct, women’s intuition, or sometimes a sign from above, but no matter what they call it or what rationale they give it, they all know that something’s coming, it’s going to happen no matter what and it's going to hurt. In spite of all that, they do it anyway because they also know it's the right thing, that it's supposed to happen. For better or worse. We just hope to hell it’s better. Or they don’t think they can change it because it’s already been written.

I don’t know which one is a better way to look at it.

I haven't had many moments where my intuition told me it was something I couldn't change ahead of time, but there have been a few. When I saw John at the motel the night Dean left me in bed; it had solidified a feeling I'd had the whole drive there but I ignored it because Dean was there and I was too excited to see him again. I could blame my sex drive but I have blocked things plenty of times because I didn't want to think about it.

But tonight, tonight I wanted to savor every inch of him, commit him to memory. I wasn’t clingy so much as I kept close within range so I could touch him at every chance. Sitting next to him on the couch finding any space for skin to brush, at lunch and dinner our hands sharing touches underneath the table, and then as we headed to bed, we moved together to the bathroom. We brushed our teeth, took a shower much like we had before but the touches were different, they weren't rushed or heated but slow, purposeful in a completely different tone. He dried me off, I dried him, and we pulled our towels around us for the walk to the bedroom.

Once behind the closed door, I thought we might lose that calm for frenzied action but we didn't. Dean peeled the towel away, each movement deliberate as if opening an unknown package. Before he touched me, I did the same to his. We stood naked in front of each other, taking in the person standing there. I could feel his melancholy, his longing, and that steeling; an armoring process he started when we were kids just before we had to leave each other. We knew tonight would be our last night for a while.

I shivered, an unfounded fear twisting in my stomach as I allowed my gaze to wander over a body I knew so well, but when I pulled at it, it fell away. The last time we said goodbye like this, darkness had been hanging over us, Dean’s possible death blocked from me. But there was no feeling of impending doom on the horizon this time, but there wasn’t one when he had come close to losing his life because of a damn taser either.

He closed the space between us and pressed his finger to my lips, “shh. Just us. Nothing outside of this room right now.”

I looked up into those eyes and didn’t need to say a word. He took my hand and led me to the bed. I climbed on but before I could crawl to the pillows, he grabbed my waist. I turned and knelt before him on the bed not having to question before his hands were on my neck, his thumbs brushing my jaw before moving up and over my lips. They were soft and tantalizing before moving over my cheeks and into my hair. His lips were next, gently teasing mine before pulling me in and pressing my body against his.

Sometimes it could be too much when he was constantly gentle, not demanding anything but more like gently lapping waves moving and discovering then taking what he'd found, marking it as his own. Tonight, it was perfect. We took turns exploring and memorizing, murmuring through the connection but not rushing the other.

When we finally joined in a slow, smooth stroke, my legs wrapped around his waist and we held each other there pulsing. Our foreheads pressed together, his darkened green gaze staring into mine.

I love you.

Forever and ever.

This was our memory. Our one moment we’d always want to keep the other in. We were both many things, both had so many favorite memories but this was where we always found ourselves. These were always the memories held closest to the heart, when we were joined in every sense of the word.

He finally kissed me and began a slow rhythm. We moved together, rocking, tweaking the position to find another until we found the one that was explosive, but still, he kept a torturously slow rhythm through each orgasm he coaxed.

His hands smoothing up my back, down my sides, gripping my hips. I pushed back into him, kneaded his thighs or his arms, and trailed my hands up his stomach and chest, smoothed my hands over the stubble on his jaw before pulling him down for a kiss. We changed positions, becoming a little more frantic when we felt him getting close and then finally wrapped our arms around each other, crushing our upper bodies into one as our last thrusts sent us reeling over the edge. My cries and his groans mingling in our ears until we fell to the bed, spent and yet still swimming on the high.

He kissed my forehead, my nose, and then my lips. “Perfect.”

I touched his face wanting to say that I didn't want to lose him but I didn't want to make this any harder than it already was. He kissed me again only this time he went deeper. You’ll never lose me because I will never let go.

No matter how hard it gets, I was still the luckiest woman on earth.

Twenty Four

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan , @deanssweetheart23  @torn-and-frayed , @chrisatplay , @mogaruke, @captainemwinchester  , @ashrod98 , @mrswhozeewhatsis , @caitsymichelle13  , @escabell , @thealyana , @michellethetvaddict , @ashch , @rashinyx2002 , @tamtamlov

[radioactivedelorean]

Tagged By @witete

*Sorry if anyone has tagged me in any of these sorts of question things and I haven’t responded to them - I’ve had such a full activity feed that those posts are now long gone!*

Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they are working on. This can be anything!

Oh sweet God, I’ve got a TON of things in the works, so get ready for a long post. And don’t judge me for how much angst there is!

1: I’ve got an Adoption! AU in the works for Back to the Future - The premise is that instead of Doc and Marty meeting by however they met, Doc (still living in his old house - which never burned down) adopts Marty when Marty is like eight or nine years old. Marty’s a fairly bright kid (at least, more so than the trilogy, games and comic books make him out to be), and he catches Doc’s eye at the kids’ home when Doc finds a remote control car Marty modified himself to not only be more powerful, but to have better handling/steering controls, etc. The two get chatting and Doc signs the adoption papers, making Marty legally his son.  Doc insists that Marty calls him ‘Doc’ or ‘Emmett’, but never “dad”, since they both know Doc is not Marty’s biological father and shouldn’t therefore be addressed as such. I’ve got a few rather long one-shots for this, but no consistent plot just yet:

Doc and Marty first meeting in the children’s home

Marty getting into a fight at school when some kid makes a comment about Doc and Marty sticks up for him, ending up with Marty receiving a black eye and a bloody nose. Doc picks him up from school and isn’t impressed

Marty and Doc have a fight (about what, I don’t yet know) and Marty storms out of the house into the woods nearby. Marty ends up stepping on an illegal bear trap which gets stuck around his leg. Doc comes looking for him when it starts to rain and takes Marty home, before calling an ambulance. Marty is rushed into hospital and ends up having his leg amputated (Hey, I said there’d be angst!)

2: A post-finale Gravity Falls fic where Bill returns (wow, such an original idea!) - Stan and Ford are out on the Stan O War somewhere in the North Pacific when Ford starts hearing his brother calling him nicknames only Bill called him (IQ). Ford brushes it off as lingering paranoia, until later when they call the twins via Skype and Mabel calls Stan ‘Fez’. That’s actually as far as I’ve got with writing but I have got a few more ideas floating around for this.

3: I’ve got a few random RickFord one-shots that are sort-of finished:

One with Ford having a bit of PTSD regarding the scars he’s picked up over the years. Rick sits with him on the couch in their apartment and calms him down

One where Ford and Rick go to the Smiths’ place for dinner and Ford ends up getting salmonella (they went to a restaurant the previous day where Ford had chicken), but the symptoms only show up as Ford is eating the casserole Jerry had cooked. Rick takes care of him at the Smiths’ place (he turned the basement into a living space for him and Ford) but ends up contracting the disease from his boyfriend. In turn, Ford takes care of him

A few less-than-500-words one-shots based off random one-line prompts from various topics

A few very short snippets of an AU where Ford is a college professor

A one-shot from the same AU where Ford ends up in a car crash

4: A crossover AU in which there is a glitch with the DeLorean and Marty ends up landing in the middle of Gravity Falls, a year after Weirdmageddon. Ford finds him and takes him and the DeLorean back to the Mystery Shack to try and get it fixed up. Doc wasn’t with Marty at the time, so he isn’t present in the crossover

5: A few one-off Back to the Future one-shots from both my own ideas and one based off an episode of the 1991 cartoon (I wouldn’t recommend watching it - it’s very cringe-worthy and Michael J Fox is nowhere to be found. They make Marty very much a side character and focus on developing characteristics/personalities for Doc’s kids, Jules and Verne. I’d be all for that, if it wasn’t so obnoxiously animated or poorly voiced. Plus the plotlines of some of the episodes are ridiculous! There’s a Biff replica in most, if not all, of the episodes from both seasons! Alas, starved for content, I ended up watching the lot of them).

Doc, Marty and the kids are making a quick escape in the train (no idea from what) when an anti-aircraft cannon knocks them out of the sky and they get stranded

Marty is accused of being a witch and is damn near burned to death at the stake during 1600s America. He ends up with severe burns on his legs, but Doc manages to rescue him before he gets killed (from the cartoon - s1e4 “witchcraft”)

A very old fic that I’m probably going to abandon involving Marty being unable to cope with the new timeline - everything he knows has changed and even Doc can’t help him

Plus a bunch of others that I don’t feel are worth mentioning (mainly just alternative endings to an old fic of mine)

6: A few incredibly old Rayman fics that I have no intention of doing anything with any more (I had inspiration for a full two weeks and then it died)

7: A couple of Antisepticeye fics that I don’t think will be going anywhere. Things like Jack getting kicked out of his body in a Bill Cipher like fashion, generic things like that.

8: A few MEGA old fics/ideas for Team Fortress 2. I actually love that game a lot and the comics are super good. The fics are basically me being a cruel person and using my writing to abuse the characters, so I don’t think I’ll go into detail with these ones

9: A few one-off Gravity Falls one-shots that won’t be going anywhere (considering I was writing some of these when I was halfway through season 1, so with no knowledge of Ford’s existence)

Dipper is left to guard the Shack while Stan goes out and Mabel’s at a sleepover. The Shack gets robbed and Dipper ends up seriously hurt (I wrote this before Ford came into the picture)

A fic exploring what happened to Ford while he was in the Fearamid (basically pure torture for my sick amusement)

An idea where getting Bill out of Dipper’s body during Sock Opera is a little harder than they first thought, and Bipper ends up locked away. Stan works extra hard to get Ford back in the hope that he can help.

A few little one-off ideas for the Guilty Ford AU

10: A few odd rick and Morty one-shots that just exist as ideas and/or notes

11: And finally, last but not least, a fic called Dēbĭlĭto, which is my full-length fic for the Brain Trauma AU. I don’t think I need to go into detail with this one!

Phew! I scanned all of the archives over on my Google Docs account and that’s everything I’ve dug up!

 Not taggin’ anyone :P