#Im sorry but the salt is strong today. I promise Im done now

[claquedick]

What I mean: Blizzard’s Overwatch department has proven again and again to be absolutely clueless about their writing. From the last-minute First Strike cancellation with the reasoning of “not wanting to interfere with fan’s headcanons” to the removal of D.Va’s Starcraft background for absolutely no reason, from the age fuck-ups for Mercy, Brigitte and in some way also Sombra to "What? Gabriel and Jack were best buddies during the Overwatch days! We are surprised that you would think otherwise because all we have given you so far were signs of them hating each other’s guts!”. I realise of course that the lore of the game isn’t that important, it’s not the focus. But is some consistency really too much to ask for? Or at least apologising and admitting that they haven’t thought it through? They’re deleting story bits and then pretend to not know about it when we ask. Just before Brigitte’s release Michael Chu called the younger children in the Christmas comic Torbjörn’s children, not grandchildren, and when fans asked about the D.Va retcon he first accused them of misconception. The fans are creating better stories and fixing the holes of this plot that is a swiss cheese so of course I would expect the people who are actually fucking paid for this to get on their damn level. It’s been more than a year now in which they could have put together what they have so far and correct this and that and try to finally agree on the stories. Yet they are still jumping around from whatever bullshit they make up in one minute to another in the next. What was up with the eye that Sombra was searching for and the fact that Efi’s eye is painted just like it? Will we ever get the characters that were shown in shorts or written about? When will we get some information on Lucio and Symmetra’s past, aside from just some vague cool-sounding inner monologues? In all that time they have given us content that adds nothing to the lore such as Brigitte or Mei’s short they could have fixed this or at least focus a little more on where they were going. But they seem to not have learned a single thing and I was a fool to believe otherwise.

What I say: im fine.

[jay-and-dean]

Tennessee Whiskey

Dean x reader

Summary : The Mark of Cain is making Dean try to drown is demons, the truth is he’s drowning himself. But when a pretty girl offers him a drink, he wonders... Does he really need another whiskey ? So he gets home to the one that waits for him.

Warnings : Fluff, MoC Dean, mention of alcohol abuse, implied Smut.

Wordcount : about 1.5k

Note : This fic is inspired by Chris Stapleton’s song, Tennesse Whiskey.

=> Listen to it while reading Here

***Jay’s Masterlist***

________________________

          You pushed the washing machine buttons, almost enjoying its purr in the silence of the bunker. Heavy, dreadful silence.

           Walking past Sam's room, you sighed, he didn't come home today like he said he might, and you knew he wouldn't tomorrow either, not until he found something. Something that seemed impossible to find.

           How interminable was those corridors really ? Why did the Men of Letters had to make everything so big ? You wrapped your arms around yourself like it could keep you from that freezing loneliness making you want to cry constantly.

           You checked the war room one last time, making sure the lights was on. Getting down those stairs drunk was enough of a challenge to add the darkness.

           He wouldn't come back before a few hours or in the morning. He would smell like whiskey and walk like a man that lost everything... And tomorrow, he would act like he didn't came close to coma the night before, and start drinking at noon.

           You sighed deeply, and decided that you would wait for him again, on that stupid chair all night, even if you had promised yourself you won't do that ever again.

           You opened your laptop and plugged the little speakers you took in every room you went since the Mark became worse. Just to fight that silence...

           Painful, deafening silence.

           But before you could chose what music to play, the door opened in a grating sound and he appeared on its frame. A warm smile appeared on his face the second he saw you were waiting again.

"Dean ?" you frowned, surprised to see him home so early and, from the way he was coming down those stairs, barely worse than tipsy.

"Hey Babygirl."

Maybe more than tipsy.

"Wasn't your evening fun ?" you asked as he was walking closer with a light smile on his face, and his eyes focused on you.

"It was very common" he answered, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. "There was this girl, with a tiny skirt looking at me from the other side of the room..."

A girl now, with a tiny skirt... You could totally see her in your mind, the skirt had to be denim, and she was probably touching her long brown hair with fake waves.

"Great" you just said, a little bitter.

What more could you come up with anyway ? You had done all you could those last few months. Helped him, patched him up, reassured him, looked for a cure, listened, forgave... You had let down your shyness to allow your love for him to shine in every one of your gesture thinking if it could help him though this, then that would just worth exposing your heart... But who were you, huh, compared to a very short dress and shiny hair girl ?

"She came to talk to me" he continued, that mysterious look on his face. "And offered me a drink ! A girl never offered me a drink before" a chuckle left his chest.

"A drink" you repeated, shrugging.

"I really don't need people to offer me drinks..." he muttered and before you could say anything, question him, he gave you a sad but sincere smile, making it obvious that he was remembering something. "But then... They played that song."

He got a step closer, his boot almost touching your chair, and offered you his hand.

           You looked up, unsure. Was he trying to show you something ? To take you somewhere ? His face didn't move, and his hopeful almost enthusiastic eyes convinced you to take his hand and get up. It was rare enough to see him with light on his face lately...

"This song..." his murmured, starting to hum. "It was about you."

"About me ?"

"Yes" he stated, gently wrapping his arms around your waist, careful not to touch you more than you would want to -you wanted everything really-. " 'Made me want to dance with you."

"So you drove home ?" you chuckled slightly, starting to like his kind mood.

"I did. I wish you could hear the song in my head."

You searched his face. He actually looked like a weight had been taken from his shoulders. His eyes were a little brighter and his words were warming the whole place.

           You let yourself enjoy the smell of his skin and the softness of that flannel you loved so much. Dean was close and he had his strong hands on your lower back ; suddenly, any memory of loneliness vanished.

"If you know some words, the title or singer, I could" you smiled, curious, looking at the speakers Sam got you for your birthday.

"I know the title and all" he nodded. "If you open one of your magic things where all the songs are."

You bended a little on your laptop and he only let go of you to type some words, focused, his neck inches away from your craving mouth.

"Loud please" he murmured with a satisfied nod as he seemed to find the song he was looking for.

You turned the speaker volume up and stood straight again to face him. His hand came to the back of your neck gently, fingers shy, encouraging you to put your head on his shoulder.

           The first deep very warm notes rocked you, and the drums matched your heart as you took a deep inhale of his beloved smell, barely believing how tender and intimate this moment was.

           Maybe he was a little drunk after all, maybe this gesture was purely friendly for him, maybe he was just torturing you... Or you were asleep on this hard table, having the best dream of your life. But you couldn't care less as you nuzzled your face close to him, wrapped by his big arms and the smooth heat of the guitar echoing everywhere, finally chasing that damn silence.

But when the deep and powerful voice of the singer invaded the room, the corridors, the entire bunker... Dean started to whisper the lyrics in your ear... And you couldn't help but hang yourself to his neck.

"I used to spend my nights out in a barroom, liquor was the only love I've known..." he whispered and Goosebumps went up your spine. "But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom, and brought me back from being too far gone."

Tears filled your eyes, and his arms held you closer. His hips started swaying really slightly, because this was obviously more about being against one another than dancing.

"You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey" his voice suddenly became a little more than a whisper. "You're as sweet as strawberry wine. You're as warm as a glass of brandy, and honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time..."

Your tears fell heavily on his shirt and your hands grasped the fabric in his back. His lips brushed your temple for a second before he continued murmuring the lyrics of your new favorite song against your burning skin.

"I've looked for love in all the same old places" he said more than he sang, putting another kiss close to your hair. "But when you poured out your heart I didn't waste it 'Cause there's nothing like your love to get me high."

You wanted to say a million words, finally having Dean holding you close to his heart, but the song was rocking you so good, the guitar strings were inside your core and your lips were sealed by emotions anyway.

           He kept swaying his clumsy hips slowly, his palms going down on your ass to crush you on him, making you feel his body begging for more of you. His lips went down from your temple to your jaw, never leaving your skin, in a brush that triggered a blaze in your veins.

"Dean..." you murmured in an exhale.

"I don't need anything out there to be stronger" he stated, kissing your neck. "I just need the woman that gives me the will to beat this at any cost."

You knew he could taste the salt of your tears in your neck.

           When he took a step, caging you between the map-table and his strong body, your arm went behind to lift your hips enough to sit on it. But in your rush, you hit his glass, making it fall and shatter on the floor.

"I'm sorry for your whiskey glass..." you started, immediately cut by his plumb sweet eager lips on yours.

"I don't care about whiskey" he assured you, grabbing your thighs to come between them. "I just want to be stoned on you."

____________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

Forever Tags : @parinarain​ @animegirlgeeky​ @mogaruke​ @masterof-agony​ @rainflowermoon @tftumblin​ @deans-baby-momma​ @roonyxx​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @emeow1496​ @daryldixonandfrogs​ @holylulusworld​  @cocklesbelli​ @sandlee44​@screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx​ @hawaiianohana31 @akshi8278​ @magssteenkamp​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @neii3n​​  @alanegaming​​ @im-a-shrub​​ @sadwaywardkid​​ @hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​ @mrspeacem1nusone​​ @stylesismyhubs​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @jawritter​​ @peridottea91​​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​​ @vicmc624​

[xo-dailypier-blog]

this is not a recap;

     hey cumguzzlers,

It has come to my attention that Lady X took it upon herself to rate the nether regions of the men of Santa Monica. Unfortunately her assessment was BIASED and hardly based on facts. So as a JOURNALIST, I have taken it upon myself to get to the TRUTH. Today will be a Top 9 list of the men in this town, and their BEDROOM PERFORMANCES.

I’m not revealing actual sizes, because I firmly believe that it’s all about the motion of the ocean. And if you think I’m giving a run down on every SCRUB in this town, you’re out of your mind! I WISH I could have made this a Top 10 but most of the guys on Lady X’s assessment, have already been exposed in the fuck hut tapes during Summer Crush, and honestly? Don’t even make the cut for the top 5. Like, we KNOW the #DemonDick is low-key worth the hype (BUT YOU SHOULD STAY AWAY FROM IT BECAUSE HELLO? IT RUINED TWO RELATIONSHIPS IN LIKE THE SPAN OF A DAY! AND IM SURE THE BUCK DOESNT STOP THERE!), and we GET IT, Adam has a massive ROD, and I’m sure (Power Top) Asher, his brother, isn’t that far off. Vic IS well endowed AND can make things EROTIC. And we all know about Jack, who is also well endowed but has, like, erectile dysfunction or whatever. Oh, and don’t forget Daddy Sorrentino is obvs a beast in the sheets, but I’ve been telling you guys that since, like, ever. And I’m honestly on a Jamie/Cunty Sabbatical atm, they’re going through a difficult time after Cunty cheated, so who really needs their dick-info broadcasted on top of all that, ya know? (Cunty deff comes in at an alleged 9 inches, which is bigger than Jamie, BUT he (Cunty) never uses his junk on Jamie because, like Asher, Jamie is a Power Top. (but you didn’t hear this from me). Look, if any guy is left off the list that you have interest in, like, just ask Phobe. I’m sure she’ll know.

But before we get started, Congratulations are in order! You guys voted on Hottie of the Moment, and we have a winner!

It’s none other than Miss Fraudi Zirconium herself (@heidistarks​) The queen of bargains has stormed onto the scene in her Wild Fable Couture and has CAPTIVATED the hearts of all Santa Monicans. In honor of her win, I am giving everyone a $25 gift card to Claire’s! If you go to their website and use offer code SharkThot, you too, can get the Heidi Look. When asked about her recent accomplishment she had this to say:

"It's about fucking time." - Fraudi Zirconium Stark, 2019

Congratulations, again Fraudi! You go girl, work that Forever 21 tracksuit, bitch!

NINE - ALEC CLARKE @alecxclarke​

One of the wangs in question that Lady X TOUCHED ON was Alec Clarke. She mentioned that Alec was more than likely LACKING in the his SOUTHERN MEAT DEPARTMENT. So obvs i had a BONE to pick with this assessment because Alec’s fan base is GETTING UP there with Jamie Carter’s so we have to know what he got in them jeans. Sadly ... while his junk is fine. His way around the bedroom is is abysmal, I honestly thought it was a PHALL-ACY but one girl who is one of his past flings, wrote to me after seeing Lady X’s post. She has asked to remain anonymous...

Hey DP (and Lady X),

I saw your post about Alec and you’re wrong about his size. He’s actually pretty girthy and lengthy or whatever. But he is honestly one of my worst encounters. We met on a dating app, that shall remain nameless. So fast forward to sexy time, and once we started making out it was a tragedy! No tongue, no passion. It was like kissing a mcfucking corpse! His lips were like, so dry, but, whatever, that’s not the problem. Once I started giving him a blow jay he just randomly burst into tears, and said he couldn’t do it anymore, and asked if I wanted to play fucking Yahtzee. I left and bought Listerine. I think you should look into if he is like this with all the girls, instead of his size. Bc that’s the real tea. Anyways, Love the Blog! Kisses!

Its always such a disappointment when this happens. OBVIOUSLY our HoneyBun Alec has some issues to work on. I know he has a Crazy life but I didn’t think things were this HARD for him.

Overall Rating: N/A

Favorite Position: Again, N/A. I could hardly find girls who’ve had sex with him ................. INCHresting. (Ok, that was the last one).

Downside: I mean, Hello? He breaks out in tears mid-coitus! He IS the downside!

Alec! Write into us with your side of the story! I prom (half a promise) that I won’t believe the rumors. Love ya, Honey Bun!

EIGHT - SKYLER DAVIS @skylerxdavis​

No idea where Lady X got the idea that he had the biggest LOVE MISSLE in town, but it is absolutely FALSE. And in fact, what I’ve heard about his performance in the bedzzzZzZzZzzzzzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzZzZzzzz ZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Overall Rating: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Favorite Position: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Downside: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Alleged Body Count: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

SEVEN - NOAH SINCLAIR @nhsinclair​

So next on the list is Noah Sinclair. This one will be brief, because it really threw me for a loop. So I’m sorry to report, that Noah has a Chode. I know. I’m actually crying while typing this but this is only the word on the street, so take it with a grain of salt.

“Darla” (fake name) wrote in to my blog to refute Lady X’s claims. She writes:

I’ve had half way sex with Noah one time and when he dropped his pants I literally laughed. Not to body shame or whatever, but I, like, couldn’t have sex with him because the condom didn’t fit. Sorry, didn’t have a Trojan Jr readily available? He’s good with his hands though.

So Noah has made the list in a sad and unfortunate entry. So ladies if you want Noah to DIP his NUGGET in YOUR sauce, you better make your move!

Maybe this is why he got that divorce. Ugh, poor Natasha. Let’s hope this is all a rumor, I would hate for it to be true.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ (The hand thing is kind of important).

Favorite Position: Noah’s Nugget Number (No clue what this means, ask Diana or Natasha).

Downside: There is no downside if you, like myself, are privy to a good Nugget or two. #RanchPlease

MOVING ON!

SIX - LOGAN LANCASTER @loganlancaster​

Our next entry is none other than Long Dick Logan Lancaster. According to Lady X, Logan is average. Well I’m here to let you know that, thankfully, LDL lives up to his name (no nuggets here!). But you guys would have to get with him to truly find out how #blessed he is.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Alligator Fuckhouse, according to sources. (DON’T Google it, live in ignorance).

Downside: The only reason, ya boi has gotten 4 stars instead of 5 is because of the rumors surrounding his hygiene. As we know, there’s been a debate on the internet about washing your legs. And Logan, an able bodied man, doesn’t do that. Nor does he take showers the way that he should. Many girls who’ve been with him have complained of smelling the stinch of onions and mildew while ENGAGING with him. Others have complained of a SALTY taste while going down on him. Most of the girls he’s BANGED have all been in the junkyard of his Auto Shop or whatever so maybe it’s a fetish for them? That’s no excuse for bringing that nasty ass behavior to every other girl in Santa Monica.

Thankfully a bunch of you have been sending body wash to his shop, so maybe we can LanCAST the mustiness away (If this is true).

Logan, please write in, I need to know the truth. But other than that, the dick is BOMB! But make sure you don’t over-do it on B.J. part though, sodium intake is v important and you wouldn’t want to get hypertension suckling on his salty ass COCK.

FIVE - EMRE YOGIOH @emre--yavuz

Ok, so next on the list is Emre Yugoslavia (or whatever his name is). Ok so ... buckle in ladies.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Lion King (I’m serious, don’t Google these things).

Downside: Ok, so Emre is supposedly into bondage. Which totally makes sense since he’s like, repressed from childhood. The whole missing sister thing really took a toll on his psych, since he’s parents totes forgot about him. Now he YEARNS for control. So the word is that he’s basically Christian Grey but not a literal abuser. He’s into bondage, slapping, SPITTING, choking, flogging, and whips and chains EXCITE HIM. An S&M Daddy! Now the only reason this is in the Downside section is because it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Some girls find it disturbing, and others are totes into it. I’m the latter! Sign me the FUCK up! Choke me with those strong REPRESSED hands.

I noticed he and Olivia have been friendly recently, let’s hope she knows that she’ll be walking side to side after a night with him (no, but like, because of the flogging, not the dick). Once he’s done with those spread sheets at his hoity-toity big boy job, spread sheets take on a whole new meaning once the dawn comes. You go Emre Yahooligan! #callme

FOUR - DEVIN FLORES @devinxflores

First of all, I just want to give a big thanks to all of you for letting me call him Devin TORRES for the past few MONTHS like a complete MORON! I really appreciate you guys letting me disgrace the future KING of Santa Monica in such a terrible way! No really, you guys are the best. I love my fans <3.

Anyways, it’s well known that Devin and his Alaskan Bull Worm have burrowed through the city. Both the men and women alike have survived the DF experience, with ZERO complaints .... well, except for one ...

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Charizard (ONCE again, don’t Google. Just know that it involves fire ... And we aint talking about lighting no candles (which he allegedly seems to enjoy, how romantic!)).

Downside: As we have witnessed, Devin is a complete and total klutz! He is always getting himself into a bullshit that is literally all his fault. Didn’t he glue something to his head a few weeks ago -- actually, you know what? That’s not important. What I was getting at is, the main complaint about DaddyDevinFLORES is that during SACX the klutz JUMPS OUT. He has been rumored to have smacked his head on the headboard whilst switching positions (causing him to go UNCONSCIOUS for SEVERAL HOURS, which completely RUINS the mood). One of his Encounters even claimed that during a Romantic Toast of Wine, he clinked the glass so hard it broke and and SHARDS of GLASS went into his hands, causing him to bleed INSTANTLY. What the fuck, Devin?

How could someone who can handle balls so well out on the soccer court, not be able to handle them in the bedroom without accidentally falling out of a window in the process?

Ladies and Gents, much like Emre, Devin will have you walking Side to Side, but if it happens you might be suffering from brain damage after falling in the shower whilst trying to have sex with him. Please seek professional help immediately.

THREE - BERNBERN<3 @carverberncrd

Coming in at Number 3 is none other than Heidi’s personal play thing! We’ve seen his bulge through his Under Armour spanks, so Of Course I had to do a little research to find out the Lipton on HIS heat-seeker. I’ve reached out to his past flings and came to a general consensus.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The women I interviewed all confirmed he is an excellent LAY, so once again, I was right. BernBern<3 outsold your favs.

Favorite Position: Doggystyle (obvi)

Downside: He’s a Taurus so while he will indeed fuck you into a state of paralysis, it’s only to reach his Hedonistic Quota for the evening. He probs won’t even remember your name once he’s done, let alone learn it in the first place. So don’t get attached<3.

His star sign also explains his relationship with Fraudi. Not only are they both so annoyingly stubborn, but Two tops can rarely make it in a relationship. Just ask Ash — never mind. (Omg, btw Idk WHY everyone keeps asking. YES, the rumors are true! BernBern<3 gets pegged, but only by Heidi, it’s actually a testament to his masculinity and how he’s reached the apex of it at this point. But this is all old tea. So I guess Julian isn’t the only #DemonDick in the Stark Fam, Surprise?). Anyways, I ship them, but they get on my fucking nerves! They can’t even admit their undying love for each other, which is so obvious. But this isn’t about #Berni (working ship name), BernBern<3 has a massive COCK (and heart) and it has landed itself on the Top of the list.

TWO - SINRIQUE @itsenriqueaguilar

This one came as a surprise to me because I have no idea who this is. But yalls asses do! So here we have Enrique Aguilar, coming in at number 2 because of the OUTPOUR of receipts on the TALLY WACK ATTACK that he PACKS.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: You know, there wasn’t a general consensus, he’s a man FULL of surprises.

Downside: No, you don’t understand, there is literally no downside. Look, here is a letter from one of the women he’s slept with. For reasons, you will understand REAL soon, this person has been kept anonymous.

Dear DP,

It’s been approximately 1 year, two months, 9 days, 5 hours, and 46 seconds since I Locked Eyes with Enrique from across a crowded room. That night would go to be on of the most invigorating, tantalizing, and romantic experiences of my life. But when I woke up the following morning HE was gone. I long for the day I see him again. My heart Aches at the thought of him with another women. Giving her the same love that HE gave to ME. I need you to understand that I was a grade A student at my university (4.0). I had an paid internship at an elite institution that OWULD HAVE LED ME INTO A PROMISING CAREER! BUT AFTER THAT NIGHT I BECAME RAVENOUS. I NEEDED MORE. AND IT CONSUMED ME! EVENTUALLY I LOST MY INTERN BECAUSE I STOPPED SHOWING UP! I FLUNKED OUT OF SCHOOL BECAUSE I DIDN’T CARE ANYMORE. I SEARCHED YOU ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA BUT I COULDN’T FIND YOU! ENRIQUE I NEED YOU BACK IN MY LIFE! JUST FOR ONE MORE NIGHT! PEASE I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE! CALL ME AT [redacted]

Obviously Ivy, sent this in ... kidding (But honestly though? They did used to date, which ... yikes ... Good to know Daddy Rique has no standards, maybe we all have a chance. #shade #clapback #scalpt)

Anyways, I’ll have to keep an eye on this one, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders ... AND good head on his shoulders OKURRRRRR!!!

ONE - SEBASTIAN DELGADO @bashdelgado

That nerd that sat in the back of the classroom brainstorm his next nerdy ass invention with high-watered khakis, and orthopedic shoes in like, the ninth grade (because he was focused on Arch Support???????). That’s him, Sebastian Delgado. And Baby Daddy Bash has DITCHED the NERD LOOK and is now ready to SNATCH YOUR CAT BACK.

I’m sure everyone is just surprised as I am. But hey, they don’t call him “Bash” for nothing (except for the fact that it’s a shortened version of his name). He’s totes Bashing Puss with his MONSTROUS MEAT TRUNCHEON (and Buss?? Sebastian contact me about your sexuality).  

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Missionary, he’s a man of passion and likes to stare DEEP into your eyes. #swoon #romantic #westan

Downside: Well if you HATE Love and AFFECTION, this one is not the one for you. Not only does he have a GINORMOUS, UN-NUGGETED MEAT SEPTOR/LAP ROCKET/VAGINA MINER, which, by the way, last a LONG time, He is EXCELLENT BOYFRIEND Material! He’s caring, patient, kind, resourceful, loyal, and he is well on his way to becoming a multi-millionaire -- which is NOT the reason he is number one! Money is not the goal here ladies (and guys? Seriously Sebastian, I need to know what’s up).  

Sebastian is the complete package and he has ALL of the other guys in this town QUAKING!

So Stan A True Man. Stan .... Sebastian.

And that, my friends, ends the TRUE tea on the wangs in this town. This was fun while it lasted, but I have some COCKtails that need my attention (ok, maybe THAT was the last one).

xo, DP

[faegal04]

It’s Always Been You

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x Reader, (past mention) Sam x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2451

WARNING: Angst, mention of attempted suicide attempt (it’s kind of detailed, so if this is a trigger, please be warned)

A/N: This was written for @nichelle-my-belle and her 4K angst celebration. I picked the prompt “It’s like when I've spotted you in a crowded room, only to see you searching for someone else.” I didn’t use the quote as written, I played with it, hope that is okay! Feedback is much appreciated!

Tagging: @ellen-reincarnated1967 @demondean-for-kingofhell @winchesterprincessbride @jotink78 @winchestersnco @iamdeanfknwinchester @skybinx-blog @16wiishes @s4m-w1nch3st3r5287 @chaoticevilanddowntofuck @pizzarollpatrol @14readwritedraw96 @anokhi07 @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @bigdaddymongoose

Beta’d by: @damn-it-now-im-obsessed thank you sooo much for helping me out! Anytime you need anything let me know!!!!!

One Year Ago

“Dean, I need you to do something for me,” Sam said quietly. He looked over his shoulder to the backseat, smiling softly at your sleeping form. The interior of the car silent, the only sound that could be heard was the wheels riding along the asphalt, it’s rhythmic cadence the one sound all of you found soothing. Sam licked his lips tentatively, “After I triple Lindy into the pit with Lucifer, you have to promise me that neither you or Y/N will find a way to get me back. No deals, no spells, nothing.”

Dean looked at Sam in shock, “Not happening,” he said, voice gravelly.

“Listen to me! We both know this isn't going to be anything like your tour of Hell-”

“Ex-,” Dean tried to interrupt, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

“NO!” Sam all but yelled with a quick glance to the back seat, making sure you were still asleep. “You take Y/N and you run, Dean…Out of this life, both of you, for me,” he continued softly. “I know you love her” he paused as Dean shook his head emphatically.

Sam smiled at his brother, “It's okay Dean. She’s amazing and the fact that you love her makes leaving her hurt less. Because I know she’s safe with you.”

“Sam, ya’ gotta know, I would never, I mean she doesn't know how I feel. I tried not to, you know?”  Dean licked his lips and looked over at his brother with sad eyes.

Sam held his hand up, “I know. You’re the only one I trust with her, with her heart,” he bit down into his lip to keep his tears at bay, exhaling shakily, “Get out of this life, Dean. Take Y/N someplace and heal each other; grab the Apple pie life you’ve always wanted and deserved. Promise me, Dean!”

Present

The minute the alarm sounded, Dean was silencing it. He had been awake for at least an hour already, watching the green digital numbers change slowly. Today was going to suck, he thought dejectedly. He stretched and looked at the wall that separated him from you, the memories of the past year filling his head.

The first couple of weeks had been the hardest. Once Cas had been remade or whatever, he healed Dean, brought Bobby and then you back from the dead. Dean had murmured a thank you, swooped you up in his arms and carried you to the Impala. He looked at Bobby, saying everything he could with just his eyes as he walked quickly around to the driver’s side.

Bobby nodded sadly, raised his hand to both of you, tears sliding down his cheeks. He knew that in that moment, Dean Winchester was done with the family business. Not only had he lost Sam, now he had lost his other surrogate children as well.

Dean slid behind the wheel, his gaze locked onto you. It was tearing his heart out, listening to the gut wrenching sobs fall from your mouth. “C’mere sweetheart,” Dean said, voice wavering. He couldn't break down now, not here, he needed to get you away from this place.

You slid across the seat, clutching his coat, your face burrowed into the space between his jaw and shoulder. Dean wrapped one arm around you pulling you tighter to him, closing his eyes he gently kissed the top of your head. Your whole body shuddered as he murmured, “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

Dean quickly started the car, turned it around and headed out of Stull Cemetery. Once on the road, Dean didn’t have any idea as to where to go with you, he just knew that for both of your sakes it couldn’t be Kansas any longer.

He shook his head, dragging himself back to the present when he had heard you start moving around. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed jeans from his dresser and slid them on not bothering to button them. Dean snagged a t shirt from the folded clothes on top of his dresser and threw it over his shoulder as he headed out of his room and to the kitchen.

After he got the coffee going, he walked into the living room heading for the front door. Dean used the small broom and dust pan by the door to sweep the salt line up, old habits died hard after all. In the year that the two of you had stopped hunting, nothing had come after either of you but he wasn't taking chances with your safety. He opened the door and stepped outside, grabbed the paper and waved to the next door neighbor, who was walking their dog. He shut the door behind him and smiled softly when he heard you in the kitchen.

There had been times over the last year that Dean wasn’t sure if either of you would make it. The guilt so strong in him at failing to keep his little brother safe, it made him want to crawl inside a bottle of whiskey and never come out again. Then he would look at you and know in his heart he wouldn't fail in his promise to Sam. That's not to say he didn't fall off the wagon but it was you that brought him back from the edge, crying and pleading that you couldn't survive losing him too.

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen to look at you. He smirked when he realized you were wearing one of his old AC/DC shirts and then his eyes widened when he noticed you had a pair of his boxers on! He groaned inwardly, jaw clenching as his cock started to take notice as well.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said gruffly.

You jumped, squealing unintentionally at being caught unaware. “Jesus Dean! Are you trying to make me pee my pants?”

He raised an eyebrow cockily, “Your pants? Hate to break it to you, princess but those are my pants you would be peeing in.” He grinned at the blush that filled your cheeks.

You bit down on your lip, “Sorry?” You raised your eyebrows innocently. “You know I sleep better in your shirt and I wasn't having a good night, so instead of bothering you, I just grabbed them hoping it would help,” you finished softly, eyes cast to the floor.

Dean crossed the kitchen quickly to stand before you, he put his finger under your chin and lifted your head, “You should have woke me up. You know I don't mind, hell Y/N I sleep better when we’re together.”

You chuckled softly, “Dean, one of these nights you’ll bring a girl home and will be glad that I swiped some of your clothes instead of climbing in bed with you.”

He shook his head, there were times when he thought you knew how he felt about you, times when he thought he saw desire for him in your eyes. In those moments it took every amount of willpower he possessed to not take you in his arms, because every time you looked at him like that he knew the minute Sam popped in your memory from the way your eyes dimmed and your smile dropped.

He cleared his throat, “Sweetheart, there hasn’t been a girl in my bed for a long time now. I would rather be there for you than picking up a one night stand.”

You stared into his emerald green eyes and froze at what you saw. He loved you. How did you not see it before? How could he love someone as broken as you?  You gently laid a shaking hand against his scruffy cheek, gasping when he rubbed his face in your palm.

Dean’s heart froze when you touched him, his eyes fluttered closed. He turned his face into your palm, and laid a gentle kiss against the scar along your wrist. A scar that he had stitched closed with tears running down his face, the memory dragging him under.

He rubbed at his red, tired eyes as he stared at the bed where you laid. He didn't know what to do, you were slipping away and he couldn't stop it. After two days of non stop crying-an act that he would give anything for at this point, you had entered a near catatonic state.

This was the third day of you laying there, not sleeping just staring. He had to spoon feed you and he was able to get you to drink water but that was it. Dean had called Bobby, yesterday to see if he knew of a way to get you back but Bobby had already been off on a new case. As much as he hated to do it, he knew now what he needed to do. He stood up abruptly, the old dining room chair sliding noisily across the floor. “Sweetheart, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going outside for just a minute,” he walked over to the bed, he smoothed you hair back from your face and kissed your forehead gently, “I'm not leaving you, I promise.”

He stepped outside the motel room, leaving the door open just in case and he started praying. He prayed to God, Balthazar, Ezekiel, hell he even tried Gabe, before he called out to Cas. His shoulders started shaking and the tears fell from his eyes again as he felt abandoned. The flutter of wings and the snapping sound of a trench coat sounded behind him and Dean gratefully murmured thank you to whoever.

“Dean. I came as soon as I could. What do you need?” Cas asked.

Dean chuckled cynically, “What do I need? I need my brother back, but since I know that can’t happen, then I need you to go in that room and heal her.”

Cas looked over Dean’s shoulder into the motel. He looked at Dean, bracing himself for the outburst to come, “I have heard Y/N’s pleas over the last several days,” he began, “Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do. I can only heal physical ailments and hers is an ailment of the soul.”

“Bullshit!” Dean growled. “There has to be something you bastards can do. Haven't we done enough? Haven't we lost enough?”

Cas shook his head, “De-”

“No! If you can't help her, get out of my sight! You tell your God and any other angels that we’re done! Get someone else to be the whipping boy!” Dean spat.

He clenched his fists, slamming them down on the trunk of the Impala as with another flutter of wings Cas disappeared. Dean’s chest was heaving and his blood felt like fire as it raced through his body. He had to calm down before he went back inside. He slowed his breathing as he concentrated on what he needed to do to help you.

Only minutes had passed, when Dean thought he heard a noise from inside the room. He spun around with a small smile on his face when he saw the empty bed. He rushed inside, “Y/N!”

He stood at the bathroom door, his happiness turning into concern when you didn’t answer. Knocking on the door, he called out, voice wavering, “Sweetheart, answer me please!”  The only noise coming from the room was that of the shower turning on.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest, paranoia set in when the steam started wafting out from under the door. Terror grabbed him by the throat at the broken sob that rang out. He tried turning the doorknob first but it was locked, adrenaline rushed through his veins as he he threw his shoulder into the door breaking it open on the first hit. The steam and humidity so thick in the small bathroom that sweat broke out on his brow.

Dean looked down into the tub and inhaled sharply. You were sitting under the spray, your pale flesh turning rosier by the hot water. The image that seared into his brain though was one of your blood swirling together with the water turning it a pinkish hue.

“Fuck! Baby, what did you do?” He reached down and turned the water off and picked you up bridal style from the tub. He grabbed one of the cheap white towels from the rack as he carried you out of the room.

Gently he laid you down on the bed, he found the razor blade in your left hand, the palm of which was bloody from the grip you held on it. He blinked back tears as he wrapped your right wrist with the towel. “I need to stitch this up, sweetheart,” he said softly.

He grabbed his duffel from the floor, pulling the first aid kit out. He was laying everything out on the bed when you spoke for the first time in five days.

“D-D-Dean? H-Hurts.” You said, your voice scratchy from non-use.

“I know it does, baby. I'm going to fix it though, I promise,” he said shakily.

 Dean sat down next to you, he took your right arm first, hissing to himself when he poured the whiskey over it, slowly he started sewing the gash closed. He had to stop often as the tears fell from his eyes.

As he laid his lips against that scar, he felt you shudder and breathe out a small sigh and knew the time was right to tell you how he felt.

He opened his eyes to stare at you, “Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. I don't know if you’re ready to hear it, but I can't go another day without telling you.”

You blinked slowly, then nodded, mentally preparing yourself for him to say he was leaving. Your mind convincing you that that was what was about to happen.

Dean licked his lips, “Baby, I know that you still love Sammy and that you always will. I also know that when I spot you in a crowded room, I can see you searching for someone else-for him, but what I really want you to see is me. I'm standing right here in front of you wanting to love you.”

Slowly, he takes his hands and cups your face, “What do you say, Y/N, will you let me love you?”

[viralhottopics]

YA author Mindy McGinnis returns to the book world with new epic fantasy novel ‘Given to the Sea’

Image: Penguin Young Readers

Sometimes the best way to follow a hit novel is to switch things up and try something completely different.

Or at least that’s the case with YA author Mindy McGinnis and her latest book, epic fantasy novel Given to the Sea.

SEE ALSO: ‘All Our Wrong Todays’ is your next fast-reading, mind-expanding, science fiction romance

The novel follows four intertwined characters Khosa, Vincent, Donil and Witt as each struggles to confront fate and loyalty in the warring kingdom of Stille. At the center of the story is Khosa, a girl destined to sacrifice herself to the sea to save her village. After surviving an attack on her village, Khosa is taken to safety at the royal palace in Stille where she finds herself enmeshed in a love triangle or probably more apt, love square that could alter not only her own fate but the fate of her kingdom.

“I had this idea that writing fantasy would be easy because I get to make up all the rules, no research required. Not true,” explains McGinnis. “In fantasy, nothing is a given, nothing is assumed. I have to do a lot of explaining… and keep that interesting. I’ve written post-apocalyptic, historical, contemporary, and now fantasy. Fantasy is by far the hardest.”

The book comes fresh off the heels of McGinnis’ 2016 contemporary YA novel Female of the Species. The novel followed Alex, a teenage girl who seeks vigilante justice on the sexual abusers in her town. Female of the Species was much acclaimed at the time of its release for its exploration of feminism, sexual violence and justice. (The MashReads Podcast actually recommended it. Twice.)

It’s this juxtaposition contemporary YA to fantasy that may shock McGinnis’ fans picking up her latest book. Yet McGinnis teases that Given to the Sea contains something for all types of readers.

“There’s something for everyone here – romance, gruesome deaths, magic, sword fights, scary animals, and inevitable death.”

Given to the Sea doesn’t come out until April 11. In the meantime, check out a sneak peek of the book’s first two chapters below.

Image: Penguin Young Readers

Chapter 1Khosa

It is in my blood.

It is in my bone.

It is in my brain.

One day my body will betray me, dancing into the sea, my mind a passenger only. The water will close over my head and I will drown, my death bringing a reprieve for those who are not me. This is what Ive been born and bred for. The food passing into my mouth, the clothes covering my body, every breath I drawthese are smaller offerings, each a promise that I will endure, bear my own cursed daughter, and then succumb.

How that will happen I do not know. My mother suffered the touch of another at least once, long enough to fulfill her duties and bring me about. I know it was badly done. I see it in the faces of my Keepers, these people who care for me without caring. I hear the small things in their voices. They worry I will not be pleasing to the sea, that my mother and her chosen mate created something less than perfect. I understand their concern, but cannot share it. Why should I care if the tides rise again, if I am only a corpse riding the waves?

To live aware of your own doom is no easy thing. I spend my days at lessons, my body fulfilling the expected duties, though my mind is elsewhere. The Keepers are worried that I have not prepared well, have not set my face in the appropriate response to their commands. Happy, for instance, is an emotion I cannot be expected to parade, but they tell me it is necessary. Melancholy I excel at.

My mother and grandmother had other lessons, ones to please at table and dancing. Proper chewing, proper speaking, proper walkingonly expected, of course, when we are in control of our limbs. My lessons have taken a different course, my other instructors quietly dismissed once I learned all that was expected.

All except how to contort my stone face appropriately.

The Keepers have tried, their emotions chasing through their faces so quickly I cant keep up, my own trying to mirror what I see. They say to me, Pleased, but look nothing like it themselves, and I am easily confused on this point. So I often retreat, my mind escaping the room where I learn to mimic emotion, returning itself to some well-ordered facts absorbed from a musty book, its scent still lingering on my fingers, a source of comfort.

Their pages follow me through the day, their words imprinted on my mind. I know the history of my land better than the Scribes, better than the royals who rule it. I can recite the names of my predecessors, from the woman who gave birth to me all the way to Medalli, one of the Three Sisters whom the sea gave back after the wave that took nearly all. Seaweed was pulled from their hair, their locks drying as they worked alongside other survivors to rebuild what had washed away, not knowing they would be taken again, the first of the Given.

The sea waited until the sisters had married and had children of their own before it called for them, the price of its leniency the blood of their line. For the children went too, and their children after them, the first twitches of their childhood pulling them toward the water, the final coordinated movements driving them deep into the waves, the dance of death one their kingdom deemed the will of the sea. And so it continues. Their footprints in the sand not returning, my feet now itching to follow. Medallis linemineremains strong, the other two Sisters falling short, the last names in their column females who did not produce heirs, the ink that wrote them now faded with time.

I rub my fingers together, drawing the scent of the book pages from them as my male Keeper says, Sad. Sad I can perform, closing my eyes and picturing my name, Khosa, the ink slightly darker than my mothers name before me, Sona.

Dont close your eyes, he says.

I open them again to see my Keepers, their faces so easily read.

Disappointment.

Chapter 2Vincent

Im sorry you have to wait, my lord.

Not a concern, I answer the guard, but my eyes are on my hands, the clean nails freshly clipped, the smoothness of my palms interrupted by the lines that Madda insists hold my future.

In any kingdom other than Stille, the future of a prince wouldnt need to be read in his hands. It would be clear in his actions, the preparations taken to ensure he sits the throne well, does his duty, leads his country. Somewhere else I would be wed already, the announcement of my own child eagerly anticipated, the girl I keep on the side politely excused, with her pockets lined for her trouble. Instead I sit outside the throne room at the age of seventeen, awaiting my turn to speak to King Gammalmy grandfatherhealthy, hearty, capable. At his side, my father Prince Varrick, already gray and lined, but still sitting in the lower throne.

I shift on the wooden bench, and the trapman next to me slides farther away, the smell of sea salt rising from his clothes. Im sorry, my lord. Do you need more room?

More than enough room, I insist, patting the space between us.

Hes quiet for a moment, and the lady on the bench next to ours fills the hall with the clicking of her wooden knitting needles. One foot rests casually on the ball of coarse wool beneath her feet to keep it from rolling away as she works. Shes assured, content. As a citizen of Stille, she is entitled to speak to the king, and her turn will come. Eventually.

I look back at my empty hands and the lines that Madda the Seer wrinkles her brow at. Her answers to my questions are always vague and muttered.

Am I right to say my lord? the trapman asks. Is that what youre called?

The words it doesnt matter are half formed in my throat, but I choke them back.

The womans needles continue to click. Her hands are gnarled and work-worn, but her color is good, and the hat she is knitting small. For a grandchild. Or great-grandchild. They are lucky to have her. I tell myself these things every day: Stille is fortunate. Stille is healthy. Stille is strong. Years of peace and prosperity mean that the old linger and the middle-aged flourish, while the young inherit only boredom and aimlessness.

Just Vincent, I say, finally answering the trapmans question. No title necessary.

Youre of royal blood, the woman says, not glancing up from her work. It should not be taken lightly.

No… My voice fades away. I have no words to explain succinctly, only memories from my childhood when I was called the baby prince, and then the young prince, and now theres a hesitation, a slight pause before acknowledging my rank. There is no name for the third in line, one whose hands will wither with age long before they hold the scepter.

Ive come to hate the blank space before my given name, the deferential glance of the servants as they search for a title that represents nothing. So I make it easier for them, and for myself.

Just Vincent, I reassert. The old woman makes a disapproving noise in her throat and keeps knitting. The trapman smiles at me, his teeth even, strong, and white in a face lined with wrinkles.

Im Agga. He holds out a bent hand, gnarled from years of pulling in the crab traps, the lengthy ropes rubbing it raw. Even the trapmen dont go into the water, letting the tides carry out the traps. His skin feels of age and the scars of work, years of absorbed salt water pressing back against the softness of my own hands.

How is the sea, Agga? I ask.

He shakes his head. Eating the beach with hunger. Well be needing her thats given to the sea, and soon.

I will pass that along, I say. I dont add that my voice doesnt carry in the great hall, only echoes back into my ears.

Here to do it myself, Agga says, and I wonder if he followed my thought.

I saw when the last one was given, the woman says. She danced beautifully.

They all have, Agga says.

But their faces, they do… twist, the woman adds, her own mimicking the memory, a brief mask of horror that slides off easily as she counts her stitches.

Do they want to go? I ask.

Agga shrugs. Its their own feet taking them. No one in Stille makes them go. Were not the Pietra, feeding sea monsters with the flesh of their aged.

No. The woman shudders, dropping the first stitch since Ive sat here. Were not the Pietra.

Theres laughter in the throne room. It reverberates under the closed doors, my grandfathers hearty one underscored by my fathers, which has never ceased to produce goose bumps on my skin, even in a lifetime of hearing it.

Im sorry you have to wait, my lord, the guard says again.

Not a concern, I repeat, looking back at my hands, where lifelines extend forever, marching right off the palm.

Waiting is what Im good at.

WATCH: This futuristic tiny home switches rooms by rotating like a washing machine

Read more: http://ift.tt/2ngsB3I

from YA author Mindy McGinnis returns to the book world with new epic fantasy novel ‘Given to the Sea’