#Sasquatch Love Spell

[dargeereads]

Sasquatch Love Spell by AC Ruttan

5 stars

This story grabbed from the start and didn’t let me go! The world within our world where our characters thrive, it was so easy to visualize. Aoife and Adam had that instant spark, and the heat just grew from there. Meanwhile, a war is coming their way, and we get to meet all sorts of different characters, good and bad, while these two fall in love. Liked it a whole lot and can’t wait for more Sasquatch love <3

[officialwizardnews]

hhmmmm

is blurry

is fluffy

maybe sasquatch?

you should pet the sasquatch

dubious creature. unsure of my next course of action

[romanceyourdemons]

i LOVE when exorcist characters have scars all over their hands from drawing their blood to use in spells. it adds SUCH a je ne sasquatch

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Swap Meat

Welcome to “A Trio of Teenagers Is about to Find Out: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s5e12: Swap Meat.

Sam walks into a bar alone, orders an umbrella drink, and misses entirely that he’s being hit on by a sexy lady. It’s almost like… he’s someone else. Because he is! A teenaged boy who is tired of his father-prescripted grind to get into MIT has worked a spell to switch bodies with Sam. But whoops! It involves a dark book and a demon, who shows up to possess one of the teenagers so she can deliver the Winchesters to hell. One of the teens finds out by way of getting his heart ripped out of his chest, but the boys manage to save the others. Then Sam and Dean disagree a bit about what they are or are not missing by living the lives they do.

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

Mace:

OMG THIS ONE

Lor:

"I would like to purchase an alcohol please"

Lor:

YAAS

Mace:

Jared is SO GOOD in this one

Lor:

YES

Mace:

He really is stunning

Lor:

he does SUCH a good job with the "something is different/someone else is in him" ones

Mace:

“thank you for asking, Crystal” HAHAHA

Mace:

he really does!

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

"i kinda like this bar"

Mace:

ADORABLE

OMG THE STRAW ON THE LIP

Mace:

YES

Mace:

I feel like this is closer to the real Jared than Sam ever gets

Lor:

"i would love to have the sex with you" HAAAAHAHAHAHA

Lor:

YES

Mace:

HAHAHA

"the whole outfit is new" LOL

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

HE LEFT HIS CHILDREN WITH THE MAID AT THE HOTEL

Lor:

god bless her and fuck John

Mace:

the looks they give each other at “he loved you boys"

YES

Lor:

YEP

Lor:

sounds like they have a cat

Mace:

HAAAAAHAHAHAHA OMG

Lor:

nnnngggg Dean

Mace:

I want DeanDean to promise me something. Anything, really, I just want him to look me in the eye and say it

OMG YES

Mace:

omg the look Dean gives the ‘salad shake'

Lor:

the way he hands him the fork. somehow it's loving AND completely withering at the same time

Lor:

YES

Mace:

“what? no. weird.”

Mace:

DEAN

Mace:

YESYES

Mace:

Dean. You don’t really want a wife, either, babe.

Lor:

oh Dean. it's okay if you want rugrats though

Mace:

indeed

Lor:

I wonder what Sammy is drinking. Dean is 100% drinking Coke. Iced tea for Sam maybe?

Mace:

unsweetened, the weirdo

Lor:

well sure. and they're in Massachusetts. They don't know how to make sweet tea there

Mace:

snork

Lor:

OMG Jared in the dumb uniform

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

okay, now I need to know if the cops in MA wear hats like that. bc I think no

Mace:

HAHAHA

Mace:

poor Sammy

Lor:

RIGHT?

Lor:

okay, guys, this is not drunk behavior. they should be more worried

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Lor:

omg the way Dean takes the bag

YES

Mace:

omg Dean NO DON’T LET HIM DRIVE

Lor:

RIGHT?

Lor:

of all the times for him to be like "sure"

Mace:

also, cmon, you know this isn’t Sam

RIGHT?!

Lor:

yeah, I feel like he should be suspicious by now

Mace:

“I think I got asthma” HAHAHA

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

nice Star Wars shirt, kid

Mace:

SASQUATCH

Mace:

YES

Lor:

Sam. Gross.

Lor:

He's a teenager, leave him alone

Mace:

right?

Lor:

satanic bastard I will allow

Lor:

"leave me alooone"

Mace:

OMG SAM

“Let me guess, I’m amazing at Latin”

Lor:

well this dad deserves to be disrespected at

Lor:

LOL

Mace:

Look, Sam, I love you, but… the kid’s prolly better than you at Latin

Lor:

HAAAAHAHAHAHA probably is

"nice work. I guess"

Mace:

And Sam wasn’t even there to hear it

Lor:

yeeeeah

Lor:

okay Dean. you REALLY should be suspicious now

Mace:

Right?!

Mace:

I love Sam in that striped hoodie

RIGHT?

Mace:

“…yeah….” Dean is DONE

Lor:

YES

Lor:

omg the face right before he falls

Mace:

HAHAHA YES

Mace:

Come on, Dean, get there

Lor:

RIGHT

Lor:

"yeah, I feel like that a lot"

“wow you are drunk” omg Dean

Lor:

"you ARE drunk" ooof Dean

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

pair this up with knowing John wasn't his Dad because he was proud of him, and i mean. just. oooof

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

"have you idiots been talking to demons?"

HAHAHA Sam is their Bobby

Lor:

HA YES

Lor:

yeah, don't be a loser, Trev

Mace:

snork

Mace:

Trev’s a dumbdumb and will likely get just what he deserves

YEP

Mace:

“you’re not Sam” FINALLY, DEAN, JESUS

Lor:

good of you to join us, Dean

Lor:

LOLOLOL

Mace:

Wow, Trev’s Latin is even worse than Sammy’s

SNORK

Lor:

"aren't you just 98 pounds of nothing"

Mace:

YES

Mace:

omg the “DO NOT” look Sammy gives her

Lor:

"a dangerous warlock named Gary"

Lor:

YES

HAHAHAHA

Lor:

how is Trevor this dumb?

Mace:

right?!

Mace:

well that was satisfying

Lor:

"tastes like moron"

Lor:

HA!

Mace:

okay, those messages should be in the kid’s voice, no?

Lor:

right?

Lor:

also the alcohol shouldn't have made Gary drunk bc he's in Sam's body

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

"uh. nothing"

Mace:

kids these days

Lor:

lol

Lor:

lol Dean

Mace:

“So. Gary.”

Lor:

"my bad? my bad ain't gonna cut it"

Lor:

"because we would kill you"

Mace:

Stern father looks good on him

Lor:

it SO DOES

Lor:

omg the wave to Nora

Mace:

SNORK

Lor:

"or we don't know what we're missing"

Mace:

oh Dean

Lor:

right?

Mace:

I’m with Sam on this one. I hate that song

Lor:

LOLOL

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 4

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

-----

“Ramble on. And now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song!” Jensen belted out from the passenger seat.

You hummed along, not as confident to share your untrained voice or speculative lyrical knowledge. However, you had no problem fabricating your own rhythms to fit Zeppelin’s complexity as you tapped along on the steering wheel. You had since stopped for a quick lunch, refueled, and switched seats as I-80 started to stretch into a straight line bordered by cornfields. Since then, you had made it through the first, and now we're nearing the end of Zeppelin's second album. Though you had a short attention span, and generally, the random shuffle on your playlists jumped from Broadway hits to Witch House, you were determined to make it to the end of album four. Haters would say it was the obvious choice and overrated, but screw them and their elitist attitude; it was still your favorite.

The car was beginning to lose that new car scent. Of course, it wasn't a new car, and the rental company used some variant of Febreze to cover up previous use. The pine tree air freshener didn't last long, either. Jensen prevented you from a littering offense just before you were about to throw it out the window by stuffing it in the glove compartment and tossing it at your first stop. With the sun beating down, opened snacks, and drinks in the console, it was beginning to feel like a well-loved family car.

After a few hours had gone by, this fantastical adventure was settling into reality. However, you were still unsure what prompted such an idea from Jensen. It had only been three months since Tennessee, and though he assured you that he was in a much better place now, you suspected the loneliness he talked of still haunted him. Part of you had hoped there might be something more than him wanting to cement the friendship you had built over the past few months. There was obvious and natural chemistry, yet you doubted its existence or that the feeling was reciprocated, thinking perhaps your previous admiration of him falsely conjured it. Jensen’s voice broke the spell of your spiraling thoughts.

"Two Girls and a Cupcake.” He chuckled as he read a billboard.

You couldn’t help but snort. “You're making that up. There's no way that's real."

"Dude, I just saw the sign." He pointed back. "I'm not sharp enough to make up a pun that good."

"What exit?" You challenged, barely believing him.

"A left at this one." He recited confidently.

You pinched your lips together in a smile and pressed down on the gas, hoping to pass a string of cars before the exit, to call his bluff, or end up with a cupcake. A win-win either way. Jensen grabbed the "oh shit" handle from the unexpected burst of speed.

Four miles down the road, surrounded by nothing but fields and an occasional decrepit barn, there were certainly no cupcakes to be seen.

"Just admit it," you said. "You were thinking about porn."

"How many times do I gotta swear it was real?" He defended. "Maybe I read the exit wrong. Wait, what is that?"

A little one-horse town seemingly popped out of the middle of nowhere solely for his benefit. He pointed ahead to a pink abomination growing ever closer.

"Ha! Told ya!" He gloated as you pulled in.

"Oh, we have to get a picture with that guy." You grinned at the overly tacky pink sasquatch.

"After cupcakes," Jensen demanded, already halfway out the door.

You chuckled and got out as well, taking your time stretching. Jensen showed no chivalry in waiting for you and was already in the shop receiving the rundown on best sellers and personal favorites by the time you joined him. He was leaned over, peering into the display, closely analyzing each flavor and acknowledging the shopkeeper now and then with an uh-huh.

"Okay, okay." He straightened and finally decided. "They all sound amazing, but I think I'm sold on the chocolate creme pie."

He glanced at you for your reaction, and you had to look away to keep from bursting out with laughter from the horrible innuendo.

"And for you, sweetheart?" The shopkeeper asked as they packaged up Jensen's.

"Oh, um. Surprise me, dealer's choice." You couldn't possibly settle on one with such fun and unique flavors.

"How spontaneous of you." Jensen teased, and you responded in kind by sticking out your tongue.

The shopkeeper thanked you on your way out. In a single bite, Jensen devoured half the cupcake. He rolled his eyes and leaned back.

You chuckled. "That bad, eh?"

“Yes, so bad that I better take yours off your hands.” He said and lunged for you.

You squealed and shielded your cupcake. “I will be the judge, thank you very much.”

He chuckled and let you be in peace as you dug in.

“Oh, yeah.” You concluded. “I’m stopping here on the way back. Hey! Where are you going?” You chastised him as he opened the car door.

“Denver?” He questioned, but it came together once you pointed back to the sasquatch. “Oh, you were serious? I will, but only for a bite.” His tongue peeked out between his teeth in a grin.

You contemplated. “How big a bite are we talking?” This was a very debatable matter as he had finished his in three bites only.

He pinched his fingers together, indicating the tiniest amount.

“Picture first.” You demanded.

“Alright. Alright.” He gave in and got his phone out. “Bring it in.”

You embraced the pink behemoth on each side, smiling at the camera. He took a couple, and on the third, you simultaneously kissed the creature on the cheek. Jensen looked through the photos.

“Oh, that's a keeper.” He remarked and forwarded them to you.

You laughed as you viewed them. “Adorable.”

“Aren’t I?” He teased.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “Bigfoot, not you.”

He rubbed his shoulder in jest. “Shoot. If I had known Jared was your type, I would have invited him along.”

“Jared is not my type.” It slipped out before your brain caught up with your mouth.

You blushed, wondering if it came out harsher than intended or, even more so, if it implied something else to Jensen. There had always been teasing and banter that bordered on the edge of flirting. And the first road trip didn’t count in which Jensen had his drunk goggles on and lower standards as he shamelessly tried to pick you up, but since then, it had just been a friendship. The same mental dialogue from earlier repeated, ending with a spiraling mantra to not get your hopes up.

Jensen swallowed a lump in his throat. “He’ll be devastated knowing he’s been passed up. Out of curiosity, what is your type?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. What did that mean? Was he fishing for something in particular, or did he generally want to know? You. You’re my type. Your mind shouted at him as if it could reach him telepathically. Someone who is kind, and smart, and funny, and thoughtful, and passionate… the list went on. It wasn't that Jared wasn't any of those things, but there was something different about Jensen that had always spoken to you. Thankfully, a filter had reappeared since your last slip.

You cleared your throat, realizing too much time had passed without an answer, and you held out your cupcake. “As promised.”

He took it, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was deeply contemplating your lack of response. That was until he took a bite and broke the concentration. He leaned his head back.

“God, how is that even better than the first one?” He shook his head in disbelief and went in for another bite.

“Hey! We said one!” You took it back from him after a brief playful struggle. “Now, let’s get this show on the road before your personal trainer puts a bounty on my head.”

“To hell with them, and self-control, and balance,” Jensen stated before heading back in and ordering a half dozen more for the road.

****

"I spy," Jensen drew out the words. "Something yellow."

"I swear to God, if it's corn again, I will turn this car around." You threatened.

Had one not been privy to the playful banter all day, they may have mistaken your threat as serious. Only three cupcakes remained in the backseat and were in danger of not surviving until night. Just as the trip started to drag, thus prompting the license plate game (in which you had fifteen states down already) and I Spy to emerge, the fourth album came on, bringing a rejuvenating spirit. Your levees broke, as they say, and any embarrassment from singing in front of Jensen vanished as you both sang out the opener Black Dog. Though the inhibitions only lasted so long. As Robert Plant’s voice made love to the microphone and John Paul Jone's fingers sweetly strummed the riff, your mind was transported to a seedy, sweaty motel room where you worked the man seated next to you with as much rhythm and passion. Jensen pulled you out as he grabbed your hand in tune with the lyrics. He let go, continuing to jam, unaware you had turned three shades darker as if through the touch, your thoughts could transfer to him. You wrung the steering wheel in a tight grip trying to think of anything but your body against his.

Despite the music, Jensen seemed determined to hold onto and win this game of I Spy. The problem was the options were limited to gray pavement, green grass, blue sky, or yellow corn. Granted, you could have both been more creative, but other things were taking precedence in your minds.

Jensen chuckled. “It’s not corn.”

“Is it the sun?” You bemoaned.

“Nope.”

“The lines on the road.” It was the only other thing it could possibly be. You hadn’t passed any signs recently, there was one other car on the road, but that was blue, and nothing inside the car looked yellow from your vantage point.

“Wrong again.” He said smugly.

“I give up. You win.” You easily gave up knowing Stairway to Heaven was playing next.

“It’s the corn’s husks.” He divulged.

“That is cheating.” Had you not been driving, you would have shoved him.

“Might I remind you,” He said, marking a tally. You bit back a smile and shook your head, knowing he was keeping score only to provoke you further. “When you said white, it wasn’t the clouds, it was specifically a jet trail, and I let it slide.”

“It’s completely a separate thing!” You argued. “Created by completely different methods and substances. Corn and corn husks are the same entity.”

“Okay, well, next time you have something with corn, I will make sure to replace it with husks, and then we will see how you feel.” He threatened.

You had lost, and you knew it.

“Shut up.” That was all you had to say, and in ending the conversation, you turned up the stereo for one of the most legendary songs in all of rock n’ roll.

“Despite the epicness of all that has come before,” Jensen stated as a few more songs passed to the slower acoustic melody of Going to California. “This is one of my favorites. Definitely in the top five.”

Lost in thought, he placed his hand on yours atop the gear stick, his thumb lazily stroking over your knuckles. Your heart stopped, toes curled, as you contained a scream internally. This wasn’t happening.

“You know, we should just skip over Denver and keep heading to Cali.” He thought aloud.

You gripped the steering wheel with your free hand, attempting to string together any semblance of comprehendible words. “Is that what you want?”

He sighed. “Of course, it’s what I want. What I should do is something entirely different.”

His hand left yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant something more than simply bailing on the convention.

“Like corn and corn husks.” You couldn’t help yourself.

He rolled his eyes in your direction, delightfully unamused, as if he wanted to give you something to really smirk about.

“I mean, if you need me to stage a kidnapping,” You proposed with false sincerity. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I would do that for you.”

He softly chuckled. “How kind of you.”

“So long as you promise not to press any charges.” You added.

“And miss the opportunity to see you in handcuffs,” Holy shit. He said it out loud. It just poured out like he was as inebriated as the night you first met. He desperately stumbled to fix it. “It would be hilarious. Just truly, the peak of comedy. And the mug shot after a week in a car and shitty motels. Oh, man.” He turned to look out the window and hide the blush that had crept into his cheeks, praying you didn’t catch on to where his mind initially went.

It worked. Yes, your thoughts went there briefly, but to you, it was obviously not what he intended. “It is on my bucket list to spend at least one night in jail.”

That shocked him out of his embarrassment. “Should I be concerned?”

You licked your lips, pondering. “Like, not for something nefarious. Maybe for protesting, embodying the Robin Hood persona, overdue library books, all those Limewire downloads coming back to haunt me, something like that.”

“Limewire? How dare you.” He teased. “Priacy is the biggest threat to my industry.” He pulled up his phone. “I’m calling the feds right now. Had I known…”

“Oh, no need; they already know. They deemed the six months I was grounded for destroying two family computers as time served.” Though the feds had not been involved, and other aspects exaggerated, you recalled how infuriated your parents had been. “And here I thought you would have run a background check.”

“Hey Siri,” He talked into his phone. “Remind me next time I decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl I met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.”

“Alright.” The automated voice replied. “When do you want to be reminded?”

“Ah…. well, driving route 66 to the Vegas convention might be fun, so give or take five months.” He responded.

“Okay. In five months, you will be reminded the next time you decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl you met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.” The monotone voice concluded.

Perhaps out of the stir-craziness of being stuck in a car and on the road for so many hours, you both erupted with laughter.

A while longer, and you were close to reaching your limit. The car was close to needing gas again, the thought of dinner was haunting your stomach, and your legs were pleading to be stretched. The problem was, there was nothing out here. You were somewhere between Des Moines and Omaha. Siri had outlived her usefulness as cell service was shotty at best. Even if there was food or shelter nearby, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. Zeppelin had fulfilled their purpose, and you had rescinded the music rule, letting Jensen shuffle through radio channels, as streaming was no longer available anyways.

Finally, a billboard popped up in the distance, signifying a spot of life. As Jensen changed the station, the words came into view just as a guitar strummed the opening of an unmistakable song. The universe could not have manifested a more perfect unison. Asia’s Heat of the Moment and an advertisement for Iowa’s most mysterious spot collided. Both of you were dumbfounded.

“It’s fucking fate.” You finally managed a whisper.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Jensen was not having it. “That is how people get murdered.”

“It’s not even Tuesday.” You snapped. “And I need to get out of this goddamn car.”

“Do you want to end up a cold open for Supernatural? Cause this is how you do it.” He argued back.

You weren’t having it. You needed the break and fresh air. Ignoring his protests, you made your way for the exit.

“Look.” You pointed to the sign listing things nearby. “There’s a restaurant and motel nearby as well.”

“If we switched and got back on the highway, I could get us Omaha tonight. We’re not that far.” He reasoned.

“And we could drive straight through to Denver.” You argued back, turning down the country road, fields of corn still surrounding you. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the spontaneous one.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He deduced. “It���s not going to work.”

“You are welcome to stay in the car and scout out the town.” You offered. “But don’t think for a second I will tell you what the mystery is. That’s for paying customers only.”

“Do you recall the classic cinematic plot line where cannibals lure unsuspecting tourists to their town with, I don’t know, world-famous apple pie or a mystery spot where physics are defied? And just as the couple has a great time and is leaving the town, one of the locals strings out spikes on the road that pops all the tires; thus, an ensuing bloodsoaked gorefest follows.” He rambled.

“I can’t say I do.” You feigned. “Aside from a few one-offs, Psycho, The Shining, Silence of the Lambs (speaking of cannibals), horror isn’t my thing. So this should be an enlightening experience.” You looked over at him. “Don’t worry, Jensen, I’ll protect you.” The reassuring pat on his thigh sold it.

Now as you pulled up to the lot, it was you who was having second guesses. Whatever this place was now, it was undoubtedly a repurposed carnival funhouse. From the purple paint, the neon trim, and the huge sadistic alien head that loomed over the entrance. Signs were scattered everywhere, bright yellow advertising the astonishments that waited inside. Aside from your car, a rusted-out maroon Corsica was for sale that probably hadn’t been moved since the early 90s.

Though the car was at a stop, the engine still ran as you analyzed the site before you. Jensen’s smugness grew the more he sensed your hesitation.

“No one’s going to call you a coward if you turn around.” He goaded.

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek, and switched the engine off.

“I’m not scared.” You assured him. “It’s probably just a mirror maze that leads to pieces of a broken weather balloon they are pawning off as a spaceship.”

By all means, he seemed to convey with the wave of his hand, be my guest. Flustered, you got out of the car but immediately relished your choice. You stretched and breathed in the fresh air, delighted to no longer be in motion. With a rejuvenated determination that this mystery would be life-altering and reveal the darkest kept secrets in all of Iowa, you made your way up the rickety metal stairs and through the doors.

Jensen audibly sighed while running his hands through his hair, giving it a few minutes for you to turn back around. When you didn’t, he finally gave in.

“Fine.” He conceded to no one other than himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

The doors chimed above him as he entered the stale lobby, whose furnishings and carpet were clearly taken from a closing Blockbuster. The decor was in complete shambles, from botched taxidermy to cheap plasma ball lamps. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without the t-shirts and shot glasses proclaiming the survival of the mystery spot. A black curtain separated the lobby or ‘free museum’ from the rest of the attraction.

You beamed as Jensen found his way in. “Make that two tickets.” You clarified with reversed peace sign and handed payment to the cashier, a teenager so young it was questionable if they were even legally allowed to work or if this was a family affair they were forcibly roped into after school.

With not a shred of enthusiasm, the teen mumbled their way through a scripted spiel. “What you are about to experience has baffled scientists, confused archaeologists, and astonished physicists. Your purchase today has granted you access to a select group of individuals who hold the key to enlightenment. Prepare to be amazed and….”

Jensen caught off the monotone dialogue with the wave of his hand. “We get it, kid, thanks.”

They looked relieved to have been granted permission to stop. “It’s behind the curtain. Follow the arrows.”

They popped a plexiglass case open and flipped a large breaker, causing a loud pop as the building came to life. The sound of motors whirring spun in the distance, and the foundations seemed to rock from the sudden change. Dust scattered through the air from high-up shelves and door frames.

Once you caught your balance, Jensen mumbled, “The only mystery to be solved is how this building is still in one piece.”

You laughed and stepped from the light of the lobby into darkness. The black lights above illuminated the neon carpet pieces and painted edgings of the walls. Sure enough, a bright green arrow made from duck tape pointed you forward. Like children discovering laser tag for the first time, you looked at each other's outfits to see what pieces of clothing were affected by the black lights. You jolted as Taylor Swift blasted over the speakers, then abruptly stopped. Clearly, the teen had the wrong playlist up and running. After a moment, Taylor had been replaced with sounds, cycling through blowing wind, rain, and thunder. A crow cawed, and a voice cackled. A violin softly cried out notes barely audible with the competing ambiance. A fear crept in that you had accidentally signed up for a haunted house and not a mystery spot. You took a step back and bumped into Jensen’s solid frame.

He chuckled slightly and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you forward, one hesitant step at a time. “Oh, there is no turning back now. You’ve just crossed over into the twilight zone.” He said before humming out the theme song’s notes.

“You didn’t even want to do this.” You hissed back at him, still resisting him, as you came up to the first corner, ready for something to pop out at you. The moment he would relinquish forcing you forward, you'd be ready to turn and run out of there, or at the very least make him go first.

“I did try to warn you. Call it just desserts.” He whispered in your ear.

“Bastard.” You aimlessly swatted behind you.

You rounded the corner and sighed with relief as nothing came jumping, dropping, or rushing toward you. Simply another green arrow leading ahead where your reflections bounced off the walls.

“See.” He soothed. “Nothing to be afraid of, just a mirror maze, as you predicted."

You sighed a breath and stepped forward without his prompting.

"Jesus!" He shouted as something flew across the hall.

Simultaneously, you forcefully backed into him. Jensen wrapped his arms protectively around you and took a few cautious steps back. The thing stopped swinging, and as your eyes adjusted to see it in the dark, laughter consumed you both. It was a tattered pinata in the form of a UFO. A piece of gray tissue paper floated to the floor from a growing patch of plain cardboard underneath.

“You were so fucking scared.” Jensen placed his hand over his torso, trying to catch his breath.

“So!” You said defensively. “You were just as scared.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” He lied with enough conviction; he convinced himself as well. “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, not buying it for a second. “Then I implore you to lead the way,” You gestured forward with your outstretched hand. “Oh, brave one.”

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he was getting into character. “Fine.” He agreed. “I got this.” His voice seemed to deepen, and he reached out his hand to you. “You coming, sweetheart?”

The asshole dared to seal it with a wink. And despite yourself, a blush warmed your cheeks, and your toes curled momentarily, but your shyness did not stop you from taking his hand in yours.

As Jensen led the way, he let out a general warning to anyone in the nearby vicinity. “If anyone is running around or jumping out in a green suit, I will not be held liable for when they get punched square in the face.”

You snickered. “I don’t think they have the budget for scare actors, Jensen.”

You came up to the first wall. The mirrors distorted the way forward. One was smudged with fingerprints which made it obvious the wrong path, but for the others, Jensen reached out his free hand and felt the way forward.

It was a short maze, yet you still managed to run face-first into one mirror. After the maze came another jump scare. Both of you held your breath and squinted your eyes as if not wanting to tip the other off it had gotten you, yet the grip on each other’s hands tightened, giving it away. This led to the next section; a room filled with punching bags made to look like rockets that you had to squirm through. It smelled of sweaty socks and Cheetos. You mastered the slanted room, where you had to walk on an angle to traverse, and featured an old aquarium filled with green algae with the shadowed, mysterious blob floating inside.

You both paused at the ladder, plunging into a pool-sized ball pit. Moons, planets, and glow-in-the-dark stars decorated the ceiling above. Foam UFO saucers and blow-up alien dolls accompanied the balls in the pit. There was no way to walk around or over it; the only way was through. And you thought the stench from the punching bags was bad. But you had made it this far. You weren’t going to give up now.

Jensen forwent the ladder and jumped straight. You took the more delicate approach, sliding in inch-by-inch as if trying to adjust to cold water. Once you were finally in the pit, the balls came up to your waist. There were probably rogue toddlers lost in here that haunted the place and bit unsuspecting tourists’ ankles.

“This is disgusting,” Jensen complained, wading through with his arms raised as if to reduce the spread of bacteria. “I swear to god, if I step on a diaper, I’m suing.”

“I’m taking the longest, hottest shower tonight.” You agreed, stating that you needed to be disinfected.

He turned back to look at you. His eyes almost glowed as they raked over you.

“To burn my skin off.” You clarified.

Jensen opened his mouth, but then he swallowed and held his breath. He was channeling too much of Dean to make it through this hellhole, and he couldn’t trust what words would come out. Besides, he had already let several comments slide today, and that was when he wasn’t competing with his other half.

“Stop gaping and get a move on,” You threw two balls at him, which he caught with ease. “Or should I remind you what you are currently festering in?”

But then you saw the balls in his hand, and you spit out a laugh, nearly doubling over, but thankfully stopped yourself from going fully under. They were both blue.

He held back his laughter, but only for a second, as he said, “Very mature,” and then chucked them back at you before making a mad dash to escape the pit of disgust.

It just made you laugh even harder at how ridiculous he looked, failing to gain any speed or traction. After a painstakingly long ‘swim,’ you both made it out. After spending a full day in the car, you thought it would have been impossible to feel more grimy. The ball pit had proved you wrong.

As you wiped yourself down and readjusted your clothing, you came up on a bridge through a dark tunnel. The tunnel was lit with blue lights and neon streaks of pink and green. As Jensen crossed the threshold, the tunnel spun in a vortex, and he stumbled. You knew it was going to be a problem.

You took a step forward, and your ankle gave out, and nausea crept in.

“Wait, Jensen, please.” You complained and reached out to him.

He could sense the change in your tone and wasn’t going to give you shit about it. “Come here.”

You took another step forward and grabbed the railing for dear life as your knees buckled. You tensed and shook your head no. There was a greenish look to you, but he couldn’t tell if it was only because of the lights. Jensen came to you slowly and leaned against the rail, struggling himself.

“Put your head down and hold on to me. It’ll be over quickly.” He assured.

You buried your face between his shoulder blades, and despite the day, he smelled amazing, like cedar with a hint of rosemary. Jensen took it one step at a time, feeling the effect too, but eventually, he got you both to the other side. You both took a deep breath at the end.

“You feeling okay?” He rested his hand on your shoulder and took you in, searching for any lasting effects.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You softly said, slightly embarrassed. “I hate those things. Had I known we would have had to cross the seven circles of hell to get to whatever this mystery is, I would have reconsidered.”

He patted the back of your head, relieved to have your snarkiness back. “You’re not admitting I was right, are you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Never.”

In this room, spotlights highlighted text and pictures featuring crop circles and a crash site from the darkness. And in the middle of the room was an opaque silver box with a viewing hole where blue light shone.

“Alright, let’s see what all this was about.” Jensen was the first to peer in. “Oh, you are not going to believe this, Scully.” He stepped aside so you could take a look.

“You are definitely the Scully of this situation. I want to believe.” You corrected.

You stepped back and pinched your lips together, containing a smile.

“Was it worth it?” He asked.

“Every penny.”

****

Though you were ready for dinner, you both agreed finding a hotel and cleaning up was the higher priority. Cell service was still abysmal, so with directions from the mystery spot employee, down a ways and a few turns later, you found the motel that was advertised on the highway sign.

The single-level motel had white siding, green shutters, and a matching green roof. Porch swings hung between every room. A courtyard decorated with mosaic tiles, flowering bushes, and patio furniture suited for a French cafe separated the motel from the parking lot. The property sat on the edge of a lake where trees and shrubs secluded this alcove from the fields around it. A fire pit and kayaks were in the green grass that bordered the water.

“This is actually really nice.” Jensen sighed with delight.

After checking in, showering, and changing, the last thing you wanted to do was get back in the car. Ordering pizza and letting your feet soak in the lake off the dock was the only thing on your mind. Yet the hostess who checked you in raved about a nearby bar visitors had to check out. It wasn’t that far, there was plenty of daylight left, and they featured some local craft beer Jensen was eager to try.

The hostess had failed to mention that this was not only a bar; it was a line-dancing bar. The wooden frame was decorated to the brim with antique farmhouse equipment, country attire, awards, and pictures of dance leagues that had won competitions throughout the year. It was almost as if Cracker Barrel and Dave & Busters’ had a love child. It was packed to the brim with locals dancing and drinking. Your table overlooked the center stage, and somehow they all could interpret the caller shouting out dance moves over music featuring Brooks & Dunn, The Village People, and Alan Jackson.

Though it was loud, it was a great setting for people-watching, and after a full day of conversation, your brain was thankful for the distraction. After the cupcake debacle, Jensen opted for a salad though the cheeseburger was calling his name. He also had a small flight of the local craft brews, his favorite being a wheat ale featuring orange peels and cardamom. There was also a crushable IPA, but other than those two, you agreed the others were just meh.

“You going to give the dance floor a spin after food?” Jensen asked, moving around the food on his plate.

You laughed. “Oh no, I have two left feet and am prone to injuries. Though if you are looking for a partner, there is a girl at the bar who has been strongly admiring the back of your head for a solid fifteen minutes. Don’t look!” But as he did, you reached over and grabbed one of the beers he showed no interest in.

“Ah, she is not my type.” He looked back, playfully scowling at you momentarily as he realized part of his flight was missing.

“And what is your type?” You asked as you sipped on it.

“A question which you never answered,” He pointed out. “Don’t think I forgot.”

“Having a type is so limiting.” You concluded and threw your napkin over your unfinished food.

“I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He goaded.

You leaned back, considering. “I think some of the most important things are someone I can laugh with, but also someone who can deep dive into serious conversation, whether that is personal or academic. Someone who shows interest in my hobbies and passions and someone who pushes me to explore ones I hadn’t considered. It’s way more about the natural chemistry than physical appearance.”

“Indulge me anyways,” He requested. “I’m sure you had a checklist at one point.”

“Of course. What kind of person doesn’t create a checklist at some point in their life?” You asked and he snickered. “Let’s see… I have to go back to middle school… plays guitar was high up on the list, has a car, green eyes, freckles.” You cleared your throat and quickly added. “Dark, long, curly hair, loves animals, has that lower abdomen V thing.” You signaled with your hands, and Jensen laughed. “Shut up.”

“Those are actually very hard to get and maintain.” He commented.

“You asked for the list; I gave you the list.” You defended. When he didn’t say anything further, you questioned, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

“I agree with you. Compatibility and the relationship part matter more than the physical attraction. It’s hard to get out of that mindset sometimes, being in an industry where that is such an important aspect to the point where it sets unrealistic standards. But at the end of the day, when I am looking for someone to settle down with, I expect to get old, wrinkly, gray, and saggy. I’d much rather do that with someone I share a deep friendship with rather than some chick it barely works with but is on the runway now, and we’re together partially because we look good in pictures together.” He ranted.

“While I appreciate and respect that answer, you are totally copping out.” You challenge.

“Ah.” He groaned. “Humor is up there, someone who will laugh with me. Someone who is kind but can also dish it out. Someone who is a good listener but is also open with me. Mutual trust.”

“Again, all lovely, mature traits. Where is your middle school diary?” You prodded, biting your lip.

“Fine, fine. Must love dogs, could ride a horse bareback, drove a Jeep Wrangler, would want to go surfing together, gets along with my friends, and looks like Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell. Satisfied?”

You smiled widely. “Very much so.”

He stood up, “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and come dance with me.”

He held out his hand to you, and this time you did not hesitate or push back. Spending time with the man was the highlight of your life. You’d follow him anywhere and take every opportunity that came your way.

Jensen led you to the dance floor, and as the group reset for a new song, you slid into the back of the line. The floor was filled with old and young alike. This one little place brought the whole community together. Some wore cowboy hats and boots, others in casual wear, and a few of the older women dressed up for an evening out.

As the announcer set up and called instructions for the next song that you wouldn’t have understood even if the ancient sound system didn’t muffle it, you leaned over to Jensen.

“You better not say something cliche like ‘follow my lead’ or something.” You warned.

“Oh, hell no.” He agreed. “You are completely on your own, and it is going to be hilarious.”

You were tempted to resort to teasing violence when the music started, and you both stared at each other in disbelief as others in the crowd cheered with anticipation. You weren’t sure how or why, but Fate did have her hand in this day somehow.

“I hate this fucking song.” You muttered. “You can’t line dance to this song.”

“You can line dance to any song. Especially our song.” He smiled.

“Don’t…” You held out a finger.

But the speaker began the count “5, 6, 7, 8” as Neil Diamond began to sing about his sweet Caroline.

In a panicked flurry, you watched the others in front of you and tried to mirror their steps. The terms being called out, such as walk, sugarfoot, and rock-recover, had no meaning to you. Jensen picked it up easily, adding a certain air of swagger to just the basic moves. It seemed once you had a pattern down, they changed it on you. You bumped into Jensen and then the person next to you. Realizing you were not going to master the steps anytime soon, Jensen grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, and swayed with you, generally keeping up with the direction of the room but lost in your own little world.

After another round of drinks increasing your confidence, five more songs where you became somewhat familiar with the caller’s instructions, and plenty of laughter from stepping on each other’s feet, you finally called it a night and headed back to the motel.

Taking advantage of the last rays of daylight before the sun set over the horizon, you lazily sat on the porch swing. The haunting and lonely call of a loon echoed over the lake. With your nose in a book, you gently push back and forth with one foot.

“Watch ya reading?” Jensen asked as you felt the weight of the bench shift as he sat down next to you.

Literally, men always picked the worse part of books to interrupt. Nearing the end of the chapter, you turned so he could see the cover but that you could continue reading.

He sounded out the title “Remarkably Bright Creatures” and then asked, “Is it any good?”

You slipped the postcard you used as a bookmark back into the book and set it down. “It’s so cute. This octopus named Marcellus is helping this older woman solve the murder of her son. Think A Man Called Ove meets Finding Nemo meets Poirot.”

He softly chuckled. “I really only know Finding Nemo, but that sounds like quite the combination.”

You looked out over the lake and saw a large family, or perhaps even two, who started up the fire pit and began roasting marshmallows for smores.

“You wanna get cozy by the fire?” You nodded in their direction.

“Nah. Probably turn on a game or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then settled his arm on the back of the bench, grazing your shoulder. “I just came to check on you before I turn in for the night.”

His soft green eyes caught the last bits of sun before it finally set, and the sky was left a hue of pink and purple. The porch lights flickered on. A kid screamed with excitement as a game of tag ensued near the water's edge.

“So,” You started. “First day of the road trip. Success?”

“Way better than I could have hoped for.” He beamed.

“Mystery spot and all?” You reminded him.

Mystery spot and all.” He confirmed.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Agenda? Wherever the road takes us.”

You nodded. “I can live with that. So long as we have a few adventures like today. You truly had fun?” A bit of insecurity was bubbling up.

“Y/N.” He called your name softly.

His gaze danced between your eyes and lips. That sensation of him wrestling between what he should and shouldn’t do struck you again as it had several times already today. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and your heart thudded against your chest. He had the slightest scar just above the cupid's bow. His hand wove through your hair as he leaned in. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, his eyelashes brushed against your skin, and still, your soul ascending with his to another plane of existence. It lasted mere seconds. When he pulled away, the loon cried out in the distance.

“Good night, Y/N. See ya tomorrow.”

And just like that, he got up and left for his room while you sat paralyzed, heart fluttering inside your chest.

---

Part 5

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Knocking on Heaven's Door

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rdeZoQs by RayvenWoods Dean is bored. Sam is on a research trip with Garth and if he's honest, that's the best place for him right now as they are not in a good place. Castiel is still in Purgatory and Dean is feeling all kinds of guilty about leaving him behind. He needs a distraction. He was thinking of sinking a couple of beers but instead he gets a much bigger distraction than he was expecting... Words: 27544, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Guardian Angel Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Baby (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Baby, Castiel & Baby, Sam Winchester & Baby, Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anatomy lesson, Fragile Dean Winchester, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, Temporarily Human Castiel (Supernatural), Loss of Virginity, Drink Driving, Dark Castiel/Dean Winchester, Moose and Squirrel as Nicknames (Supernatural), Voyeur Castiel (Supernatural), Possessive Dean Winchester, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Switching, Feral Castiel (Supernatural), Massage, Shower Sex, Biting, Begging, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Enochian Dirty Talk, Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Necrophilia, Praise Kink, Religion Kink, Spit As Lube, Rimming, Non-Consensual Bondage, Mind Meld, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Wing Kink, Functioning Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Non-Functioning Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Sasquatch Mode Activated, Angel Beast Mode Activated, Territorial Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Car Sex, Exorcisms, I'm English so is my spelling, beta read by me read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rdeZoQs

[paranormals-of-ilvermorny]

Name: Furnell Oflyn Pope

Title: Headmaster

Age: 85

Faceclaim:

Furnell Pope was born to parents Nemiah (a half-blood) and Delonda (No-Maj) on May 14, 1912 in Barbados. On his mother’s side he can relate his heritage back to Tituba, the first woman and enslaved person to be accused of witchcraft during the Salem trials. Due to their lineage, Delonda was fearful of Furnell and his younger sister Tilisha’s magic falling into the wrong hands, and therefore restrained their magic use at home. During his years at Ilvermorny, Furnell was sorted into Horned Serpent and struggled greatly with making friends and often spent time alone studying or making beaded bracelets like his mother taught him. He once tried to create a Weather in a Bottle for potions class, which only ended up creating a violent thunderstorm that forced everyone to evacuate.

During a third year trip to the wizarding city, Furnell met and began to befriend witches from the Salem Witches’ Institute. When his parents found out about his new friends, they forbade him from taking and hanging out with them, causing Delonda to disclose her family's history. He learned of how Tituba escaped the witch trials of Salem, and how her hatred of Non Magic’s led to her performing heinous acts and spells against many innocent lives. After hearing of what his maternal grandmother did, Furnell felt ashamed of his family history and believed this was the reason he didn’t have any friends.

1926 saw the attack of New York City and the involvement of Newton Scamander, how his knowledge of magical creatures helped the American wizarding community. It was this pivotal moment that grew the already sparked interest Furnell had in magizoology, leading him to want a career in the field. Furnell had such a talent for magical animals he was able to track down a Giant Squid and was able to make contact and mingle various sasquatches. This love of nature brought the attention of D’lynne Porter, a fellow Ilvermorny student, later leading to a romance between the two. During his seventh year, Furnell’s sister Tilisha chose to study at Salem Witches’ Institute, only fueling the fire that he should hold hatred for his lineage and has driven a wedge between the siblings.

After Ilvermorny, he married D’lynne who birthed a son they named Tonell in 1939. Years after working from home to stay close to his family, Furnell joined the Magical Congress of the United States of America, becoming a new member of the Body for Protection of Magical Species, where he would get to work in an office and travel the country protecting magical creatures and maintaining their habitat. While serving the position, Furnell came across the former pet Chupacabra of the villainous wizard Grindelwald, Antonio, later adopting and giving him the best possible life. He was later asked to personally fill the role of headmaster of Ilvermorny by former headmaster Lambkins, who remembered the bright eyed students he was when he walked the castle’s halls, and felt his presence and character would be a good fit for the school.

Physically, the headmaster has dark skin, thanks to his Barbadian roots, and has scattered wrinkles from his many years of magic. His once long dark hair has turned gray, even leaving an M-shaped baldness to his head, and sports a matching salt and pepper goatee mustache. With brown eyes and fine eyebrows, it's not hard to believe that the current headmaster was once a very attractive man. During his many speeches to the school in the dining hall, his baritone voice is accented by his native accent, adding a welcome sound for the students. Although not the toned young man he used to be, headmaster Pope keeps his figure somewhat trim, allowing himself extra indulgence of his wife’s baking during the holiday season. Standing at a towering six foot, he tries his best to dispel any fear his students or staff might have when coming to him with a question, trying to make all those around him feel at ease.

As a young child, Furnell was insecure because of his lineage, but as he got older he learned to overcome this fear and became less ashamed of the mistakes made by those in his family. It was through this growth that he was able to mend the bridge between him and his sister, forgiving her for joining the Salem Witches. The headmaster can be quick-tempered, pessimistic, and impatient, but never outwardly shows these feelings to students or staff. He is mainly liked as headmaster for his perception that every student has good qualities and can make the most of their life through their studies and experience.

Whenever he finds freetime between completing his duties as headmaster, Pope can be found learning a new language, listening to his favorite jazz band Berryblue’s Orchestra, playing a card game or meditating in his office.

His wand is made from maple wood with a unicorn hair core and measures 14 ¾ inches.

[skydinzeal]

🌝 GIANTS! (Part 2) Zoom in + LOOK closely @ these Ancient AMERICAN Cave Paintings! Why do these GIANTS look exactly the same as they were in the Middle East? ⭐ 🔭🌠💜 To me the GIANTS were no different than giant reptiles the giant plant life and insect life. European scholarly accounts described them as essentially 'cave people'! Why are dinosaurs ok but titans are not? Add our ancient legends and you have a recipe for your immortality! Your time, your actions, your soul is precious, divine and royal! Continued... 🔥⚡👽🌟🦋👑🌷 ⭐When I COMPLETED my SILVERWARE set it ROCKED the Manhattan block-size building where I dwelled! I had not eaten for 20 days in order to receive the dexterity to craft and poetry to inscribe this magical set! Their form is riddled with spells to free the soul from gluttony. 🔭🌠💜👽✨🌠💜👽✨ I hand-make talismans, paintings/sculptures for you or your loved ones!🌷All of my creations are made of 100s of ancient, powerful symbols! I've tested and taught Spiritual practices via my classes at NYCs Edgar Cayce Center for 10 years. 🌷🔥🌟💥⚡☀️✨ I have been trying to rebuild all my jewelry & art that was stolen when I was assaulted & robbed (10 times past few years) I am looking for a quality SPIRITUAL STORE or ART GALLERY to TRULY help with sales/marketing their work & mine! I am a rare, tireless entertainer, salesperson and psychic. I have huge internet reach and can work day and night continuously! I don't even need to eat. I have got by on hard work & skill alone, not cheating & it shows! If you would like to make a connection happen contact me. If it works out I will pay you! 🌟 A very modest GoFundMe here! Please spread the word! https://gofund.me/82ac1c5b Thank you!🌟💜🗽💜🎿💜❄️💜🦌 . . . . . #Nephilim #titans #giants #anunnaki #alienart #norsemythology #frostgiant #zechariasitchin #ancientaliens #nibiru #spiritualjewelry #instagram #giantsofAmerica #sasquatch #redheadedgiants #lakechamplain #bigfoot #lochness #sighting #celticgiant #instaart #strangefacts #paranormal #disclosure ilian #mythological #mythsarefact #psychicart #yeti #conehead #giant http://dlvr.it/SwGXWq

[ibtk]

Book Review: Witches of Brooklyn #4: Spell of a Time by Sophie Escabasse (2023)

4/5 stars

(Full disclosure: I received a free e-ARC for review through NetGalley.)

The summer has sadly come to an end, and Effie and her friends are about to start middle school (junior high?): Berrit is studying drama, while Oliver is enrolled in school that offers robotics classes. Effie and Garance are off to the same school, one that emphasizes sustainability (and magic?). For these two undercover witches-in-training, their twelfth year is especially significant: this is when young witches consult a seer to evaluate their potential for developing dangerous magic. It's witch law, after all.

Effie's evaluation goes sideways pretty quickly. Her seer, Becky, is a mermaid - which catches Effie off guard, especially so since she just heard the seagulls at the beach gossiping about a mermaid's return. (Ever since she accidentally awakened a dragon in S'MORE MAGIC, Effie can understand some animal species. Nbd.) As it happens, Becky's sister Iruna went missing a month ago, not long after the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island. Becky implores Effie, Selimene, and Carlota to investigate - and lends Effie the talents of her turtle friend, Professor Sir, to aid in her communication with the gulls. The path to Iruna is paved with heartbroken illusionists, combat magic, and time travel (!).

I've been devouring the WITCHES OF MERMAIDS series, and SPELL OF A TIME might be my favorite one yet. (Although, how do you compare dragons to mermaids? It's a toss up ... until you throw in time travel, that is.) Escabasse manages to introduce one new mythical creature in each installment, and I can't wait to see what she comes up with next. (Sasquatch, maybe?)

I don't love that the kids are mostly scattered this year, but hopefully Escabasse will devise plenty of hijinks to throw the Scooby gang back together. As always, Effie, Selimene, Carolta, Garance, Francis, and Lion are an engaging, eclectic group, and Escabasse expands the 'verse with the addition of Becky, Iruna, Walter and - of course! - the very boopable Professor Sir.

She also introduces a darker, more worrying element in the form of Effie's evaluation, which should be an interesting avenue to explore in future volumes.

I especially love the environmental bent this series has taken; the caper kicks off when Effie and her classmates are cleaning up the beach, which leads her and Garance to wonder about using their magic to rid the ocean of microplastics. And Effie's ability to communicate with animals is especially promising, doubly so in light of Carlota and Selimene's vegetarianism.

https://www.librarything.com/work/30508434/reviews/236360918

[darkestxdreams]

No, Tristan had not needed it spelled out, but he loved that she had just the same. Giving a low chuckle, he said, "And here I thought you wanted to do a crossword puzzle." The light brush of her lips against his was just enough of a tease, and he could not help but be enticed. Suddenly he now found coming to the flower show had been a damn good idea. As she stepped back, he took another drag on his own cigarette, contemplating where it would be best to go. His house was a good ways away, but the Sasquatch was not. Nobody would be in the bar now--everyone was at the festival, which made it a perfect choice. Snuffing out the cigarette, Tristan bowed slightly and reached out to take her arm. "Right this way, madam." Leading her to the bar, he was a bit surprised to see a woman coming out of the building, having expected no one to be there. Thus Tristan made a point to open the door and look around before being certain it was now empty. "Don't worry, I'm a bartender here," he said as he lead her inside, "I know the ins and outs of the place." Moving in closer, he breathed, "Now I just have to get to know the ins and outs of you."

Zarina returned the smirk, her hand still clutching his shirt as she took another step forward, clearly pleased with the reaction it elicited from him. At first, she considered answering with the same subtext that they had already been volleying back and forth, but what would be the fun in that? Tilting her face up, she inched even closer until her lips were only a hair's breadth away from his. "I'm saying that I think we should fuck," Zarina whispered, the movement of her lips causing them to brush lightly against his. Letting go of his shirt, she took a step back and had another drag of her cigarette, smiling seductively. "Well? Are you going to lead the way, stranger?"

[bi-gfoot]

i’ve realized my knowledge overall of cryptids is embarrassingly low so if any of y’all want to send me your favorite lesser known cryptid i would literally die

[theequeerstrian]

Lifelong tomboy, as a child i once asked myself something along the lines of "could I actually be a boy? I don't THINK I'm a boy, so I guess that makes me a girl?" Absolutely HATED IT when my chest grew in. Ever after puberty I occasionally had dreams where I had a penis, always woke up disappointed that I didn't still have it. OH, and I fucking hated my name my whole life, I always wanted to go by nicknames (anything was better than my deadname, ANYTHING, some bullies at school called me sasquatch bc I was tall and didn't shave my arms/legs and I wore that with pride). Always LOVED when girl characters had androgynous names like Alex or Sam or Logan.

Went through a phase in college where I tried to femme it up as a pushback against internalized misogyny and bc I thought I was undateable, hated that in ways I absolutely could not describe, finally gave that up for the most part but just figured I must be a kinda soft butch bisexual but that just felt wrong for some reason. Started going by a different name both at work and among friends, it has since been retired but it had somewhat of an ambiguous gender if it wasn't spelled out (Dawn, but often people heard it as Don- I was always pleasantly amused by this, said it reminded me of Don Quixote).

Got a tubal ligation in 2018 as a remedy to my overwhelming fear of pregnancy (a manifestation of yet undetected gender dysphoria) despite having never had penetrative sex at that point in my life (majorly in part to the dysphoria + fear of pregnancy)

Realized I was nonbinary in July of 2019 following the release of Good Omens and subsequent discovery of the concept of gender EUphoria and a seemingly throwaway line to a coworker that I'd cosplayed a male presenting character (Crowley in his modern apparel) at Magic City Con and had really enjoyed the way that felt (cue lightbulb oh moment and several seconds of BSOD as I tried to recalibrate my whole life while holding up an overweight geriatric poodle so coworker could shave his paws)

Decided I wanted to try they/them pronouns shortly after, started going by Anthony not long after that.

Was content in the "shallow end" (for me- for others this is the whole pool) for a while, toyed with the idea of going on Testosterone and getting top surgery, didn't think I'd want bottom surgery.

Can't remember exactly when I did it, but cut my hair short winter-ish 2019/2020, it was definitely before March 2020 though.

Worked to make my wardrobe more and more androgynous-to-masc presenting, this paired with the hair cut started netting me more "sir-uh, ma'am?" and related gender-mysterious moments. Reeeally liked the way he/him/his/sir/etc felt.

Started T October 6th 2020. Got more and more incidental assumed he moments. Liked it. Eventually told friends I'd like to use they/he.

Time stamps over the last couple years have been more of a blur than usual for my time-blind ADHD brain Because Of Reasons, but it was a gradual transition along with my lowering voice and masculinizing appearance from they/he to he/they to these days really just being he/him with still accepting they/them.

Still feel like gender is a scam, and if pressed I'll describe myself as agender, but I enjoy being read as male, am working on raising funds for top surgery, and have hope that I might someday be able to get bottom surgery. At work and otherwise non-queer-centric spaces I just let people assume I'm a man. Sometimes I even pass.

[neo-culture-taste]

Subscribe! - Another clothing haul video (sexy edition)

Pairing: Johnny x Reader (fem)

Genre: AU, romance, comedy, fluff

Word count: 3182

Summary: A YouTube inspired drabble series where you and your boyfriend upload videos catering to the couple tag.

Author’s Note: Felt a bit nostalgic. This one practically wrote itself. I apologize in advance for all the cheese  - D

For other members, see masterlist.

The video opened with your boyfriend grinning into the lens as he held the camera high in the air, making good use of the wide angle to reveal the space of your living room with you standing not too far away in the distance. 

“Whaddup Johfam--Oh, shit, wait,”  Johnny stopped himself mid-sentence to laugh at himself when he realized he made a mistake in his introduction. “This isn’t my channel.”

“Gimmie that,” you said as you rushed to his side to swipe the camera from him, which was way out of your reach. “I knew you were going to try and take over my channel one day.”

Still laughing, your boyfriend handed you the camera. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It came out naturally. It’s a habit.”

“Yeah sure it is,” you said suspiciously. “I’m watching you.” You opened your eyes as wide as they could go as you gazed at him. He mimicked your expression, commencing the staring contest. But it was short lived, as you stretched out your face comically, causing the both of you to burst into laughter.

The video cut to you centered in the frame, the camera once again being held up by the long arm of your boyfriend. “Hey everybody! It’s me again. And this sasquatch is here because today we’re doing another episode of...Johnny’s. Fashion. Evaluation!” You said the title of the segment very dramatically and emphasized each word with equally as dramatic poses done by both you and your boyfriend. “You all loved the first one so much we figured we’d treat you all today,” you said through a big smile after straightening up. “Johnny, what we got? Tell them what we got.”

“Today we got four outfits,” Johnny stated like an announcer for a sports game.

“Four,” you repeated, and held up four fingers on one hand.

“Four themes.”

“Mmhmm.” You held up four more fingers with your other hand.

“Four evaluations.”

“Cuatro evaluaciones.”

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh at your sudden switch to a different language. He tried to hold it in, but he was unable to stop the snort that came from his nose as he attempted to hold back his smile. Unable to resist your cuteness, he put his free arm around your shoulders and hugged you close. You took this opportunity to lay your head against his shoulder.

“So I’m going to give Y/N’s outfits a letter grade like we did the last time,” he continued with the introduction.

“And he’s going to say whether or not it’s a smash or pass.”

Johnny’s face twisted in surprise as he turned to face you. “Woah, woah, wait.”

“What?” you asked with a knowing grin.

“We didn’t do that in the first one.”

“Yeah, but these outfits today need those ratings.”

Blinking, Johnny stood in silence briefly as he processed what you were saying, then his eyes quickly lit up and his mouth fell open in pleasant surprise. You simply smiled back at him with a waggle of your eyebrows, prompting him to look into the camera like he had just won a prize.

~~~

The video cut to a view of the entryway of your hallway. You poked your head around the corner, making sure you didn’t reveal the rest of your body to Johnny. “So this is the 'I'm late for my prime time sitcom audition after being rejected five times and the barista spelled my name wrong on my grade iced caramel macchiato with three expresso shots' outfit.”

Johnny laughed out loud behind the camera. “What even is that?”

“It’s the theme, babe,” you explained to him like it was obvious. “You’ll see in a second.” You pulled your head back out of sight, then came out fully to pose in the middle of the entryway like a model in a fashion show. You were wearing a high necked, short sleeved, black and white, horizontal striped cropped top with a tie in the front, matched with a pair of black shorts and a simple black belt. On your feet, you wore socks with the same design as your top inside a pair of black booties. For accessories, you wore a chunky, silver chain necklace, a set of silver bangles on your left wrist, and a pair of black oversized sunglasses over your eyes.

“Oh, nice. Very nice,” you boyfriend complimented, genuinely impressed. He stood up from his spot on the couch and grabbed the camera as he moved towards you to get a closer look. “I like that your socks match your shirt,” he began his evaluation. “And this chain is a really nice touch. The sunglasses are a bit much, though.”

“Really?” You took off the sunglasses and looked at your boyfriend expectantly. “What about now?”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought. “Try putting them on your head.” You did as suggested. “Now that’s fashion. Johnny approves.”

You smiled at him brightly, proud of the ensemble you put together. “What’s my grade?”

“An A- since I had to help you.”

You puckered your lips in acknowledgment. “That’s fair. But would you smash or pass?”

“I mean…” Johnny hesitated, causing you to raise an eyebrow inquisitively at him. “This is like something you’d wear normally, so it’s not like super striking, y’know?”

“So...are you saying you’d pass on me in my normal clothes?”

“No, of course not! It’s you that makes these clothes hot for me, so yeah I’d def smash. But if this was on anybody else, I’d pass. No offense to anyone else who dresses like this. It’s just a normal outfit to me.”

You side eye him, pretending you aren’t fully convinced by his explanation. “Sure. Nice save.”

He chuckled at your expression. “I gave you an A! That means I like it.”

“You wouldn't have taken off points if you really liked it! Just say you think the way I normally dress is boring so we can move on,” you said in mock offense.

He continued to laugh. “Y/N, stop! You’re going to make them think I’m an asshole.”

“Then stop being one, geeez,” you said with a dramatic roll of your eyes, but you were unable to keep the smile off your face.

“Y/NNNN, “ he whined your name.

“Alright, alright! I'm kidding everyone! You all know my Johnny’s a big sweetheart.” You stuck your tongue out at the lens, officially ending your little ruse. “Oh, and go subscribe to his channel if you haven’t already.”

“Yeah cuz I actually am an asshole on purpose over there.”

“Pfffft!”

~~~

The video cut once again to the view of your head peeking around the halfway entrance. “Okay, yeah. The first one was kind of mild. But this one is going to be hot! The theme is ‘a high class woman sitting alone at the bar who keeps getting free drinks from other patrons while she waits for her blind date only to be catfished by them in the end, but she doesn’t really care because she plans to go home with the bartender anyway.’”

“I have low expectations after the first weird theme you made up.”

You scoffed. “Just for that, I’m not coming out.”

“I’m kidding! Come out!”

You walked around the corner and posed dramatically before you began walking the rest of the way into the living room as if you were walking down a runway. You were wearing a tight, dark red mini dress that hugged your every curve. It was a halter neck dress with a very low neckline that exposed quite a bit of your cleavage. You didn’t wear any jewelry around your neck since the straps of the dress were made of gold chains, so instead you wore a pair of dangling gold earrings. On your feet, you wore a pair of strappy gold stilettos.

“Dayuuuuum!”

“Like what you see?” You asked Johnny before doing more sexy poses. 

“You look good!”

“I know I do. Check out the back.” You turned around to reveal the open back part of the dress.

“Oh my g--smash. Hella smash,” he rated the outfit without hesitation.

“Not yet! You didn’t do the evaluation,” you scolded him.

“A+.”

“No, Johnny, focus! You have to talk about the presentation.”

“Oh right,” He picked up the camera and moved closer. “I really like the way you matched all of the gold stuff. The straps on this dress are really pretty and they really accentuate.…” He trailed off as he fully admired the front of your outfit, and his gawking caused the camera to linger on your chest for a bit too long. He cleared his throat once he gathered his wits and remembered what he was supposed to be doing. “Those.”

“Johnny!” You quickly brought your hands to your chest to cover it from your boyfriend’s horny gaze.

“Look, everyone. She’s showing us her matching bracelet and ring set. But they’re kind of in the way of the best part of the outfit.” He attempted to move your hands away, but you swatted him away.

“Stop before I go take it off!” you threatened.

“You stop before I take it off.” 

“John, oh my gosh!” You turned around completely from the camera and looked back at him, playing coy. “You’re going to get my video demonetized.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

~~~

“This one is even hotter than the last one,” you said after the video clipped to the next scene. You weren’t peeking your head in the entryway this time. Instead you were completely hidden around the corner.

 “I like the sound of that,” your boyfriend answered excitedly.

“So this is ‘the boss bitch sitting on top of her golden throne surrounded by siberian tiger statues in her music video for her new chart topping, number one hit single’. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, bring it.” He didn’t even bother acknowledging the convoluted title of the theme you made up.

“You’re not ready,” you told him matter-of-factly.

“C’mon Y/N. I can handle whatever you got.”

“Oookaaayyy,” you sang at him, knowing full well that he wasn’t ready for what you were wearing at all. 

You walked out into the entryway and immediately struck a power pose, causing your boyfriend’s breath to completely leave his body as he stared at you in shock. You were wearing an off-white two piece mini-skirt and blazer set matched with the same pair of strappy heels you wore with the last outfit. The skirt had high splits above both your legs with zippers for optional closure. The blazer also had zippers on both sides, mimicking the openings of pockets, and was held closed by a single button. The button was barely functional, and revealed almost all of what you wore underneath, which was what looked to be a zigzagged patterned, black and grey bralette.

 “Speechless aren’t you?” you asked him before giving him a turn.

He still hadn’t said anything, and continued to look you up and down from behind the camera, licking his lips hungrily at his snacc of a girlfriend.

“I saw that,” you called him out on his lechery.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said rather calmly, although, a smile could still be heard in his voice. After that, he went silent again as he went into deep thought.

“Talk!”

“B.”

“What?!” You were more than taken aback by the grade he gave you. You thought he really liked it, considering how hard he was ogling you. “Why?”

“The bra underneath kind of takes away from it,” he explained. “Maybe if you put on a plain one, it would look better.”

You looked down at the garment being addressed. “Well actually it’s a swimsuit top,” you said with a laugh and looked back up at him. “And this jacket is supposed to be worn without anything underneath.

He gasped loudly behind the camera. “So you came out here and altered the designers original vision?! B-.”

“Hey no! I had to keep it PG-13 for the camera,” you defended yourself. “I’ll show you what it’s actually supposed to look like later.”

“You can show me now. We’ll just censor it in post.”

“No, that’s too much work. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Okay, then I’ll put the camera down and follow you into the hall and we’ll just cut this part out.”

“Ugh, fine.” You gave into your boyfriend’s wishes with a huff, though you ended up keeping this part of the video anyway.

Johnny put the camera back down onto the coffee table and waited for you to call him into the hallway a few seconds later. When you were ready, he followed you into the hallway as planned, disappearing around the corner and out of the camera’s view. Since he was so far away, the camera’s microphone was barely capable of picking up what he said upon seeing the true version of your outfit, so you added a caption in post for his response.

“Smash.”

~~~

“This is the last one and the hottest of them all!” you called out to him from around the corner.

“Don’t get me excited. That last one is going to be tough to beat.”

“The theme is ‘a cosplayer who wore the design of her original character she made for her favorite JRPG to a convention and had to be escorted out of the building because she was too X-Rated for all the horny nerds to handle!’”

He laughed and shook his head at your ridiculousness. He didn’t know how much more of these crazy theme titles he could take. And this one sounded a little bit personal. “Hurry up before the battery dies--,” he started to say, but once you walked out from the hallway, his eyes almost jumped out of his head before he began to laugh hysterically. 

You were hearing another crop top, but this time it was a very, very short, hot pink crop top with long fishnet sleeves. It was meant to show a considerable amount of underboob, but to keep your video from getting age restricted, you still wore the swimsuit top you had on underneath your previous outfit. For your bottoms, you donned a pair of cut-off blue jean shorts, that were so short they might as well have been underwear because they barely covered your backside. Also, they couldn’t even close in the front. The button was just for decoration. To counteract any possible demonetization from those, you wore the matching swimsuit bottoms underneath the shorts, making sure all of your booty cheeks were properly contained. Your shoes were a pair of white gogo boots that came up just below your knees and laced up in the front. To top off the outfit, you wore a pair of blue ski goggles on your head and bright green biker gloves on your hands.

“Why?!”

“You--You--look like a hooker!” he managed to say in between fits of giggles.

“JOHNNY.”

He doubled over on the couch and clutched at his stomach. “Pass, hard pass!”

“Oh my gosh!”

“What is that?”

“This?” You pointed to the swimsuit bottoms. “Yeah, PG-13. Remember?”

“You look so ridiculous. Like you’re trying too hard or something.”

“Try to imagine it without the swimsuit.”

"Wait, wait, okay," he wheezed. "Turn around, turn around." You did as you were told, only for him to laugh harder. "No I can’t! I can’t unsee this! Y/N this is a fail!"

"A fail?!"

"The boots, Y/N! The boots!"

"I actually like the boots!"

"Not with this, Y/N!"

"But a fail, really?"

Johnny straightened up on the couch after regaining most of his composure. "Well, maybe a D since I can see what you were trying to do and maybe if you put like a regular bralette on then it wouldn’t look so bad. But those swim bottoms ruined the entire thing."

"Well, give me a second and I’ll show you how it’s supposed to look." Once again you disappeared into the hallway to take your swimsuit off and called Johnny to come look at your outfit once you were done. The captions that appeared across the screen were as follows:

"Now that’s hot."

"No touching!”

~~~

The scene opened up with the two of you back in your living room. Johnny was holding the camera above you both just like when the video first started and you were wearing your navy silk robe around your body since you were too lazy to change out of your last outfit.

“Welp, that was everything I could come up with,” you said to the camera, putting your arms around Johnny’s torso to hug him closer. “Let me know in the comments which ones were your favorites and don’t forget to like this video and subscribe to my channel if you haven’t already. I put a link to Johnny’s channel and links for all the items I wore today in the description.”

“Where do they even sell clothes like that?” Johnny asked you with genuine curiosity. “Where’d you get the boots?

You said the name of the store you purchased the boots from, but then you suddenly remembered something you forgot to say to your viewers at the beginning of the video. “Oh! This isn’t a sponsored video, in any way! All of the items worn today were purchased by me with my boyfriend’s credit card.”

Johnny’s face fell instantly. “Pardon?”

“Hm?” you answered him, pretending like you didn’t hear what he said.

“You bought all of this with your credit card, right?”

“What did I say?”

“You said you did it with mine.”

“Oh...yes...what I meant to say was with my……..boyfriend Johnny’s credit card!” You let go of his waist and sped away from him, zipping into the halfway at lightning speed.

“Y/N, you better be joking!” he yelled after you, but you didn’t answer him. “Y/N, I swear--”

The clipped jumped to Johnny sitting on the couch and going through his phone, checking his bank app to see if there were any recent charges to his credit card. He scrolled down a little ways and then visibly blanched once he saw the consecutive charges on his card, all in the triple digits. You had walked back into the living by then to see him react, and upon hearing you footsteps approach him, he looked up at you with eyes completely devoid of amusement.

“You’re going to wear these clothes everyday,” he chided.

“Well that benefits you, too, now doesn’t it.” Since you weren’t in the view of the camera, you took this opportunity to untie your robe and open it to show Johnny what the last outfit you had on was supposed to look like again.

Without saying a word, he looked you up and down, rolling his tongue in his cheek.

“You good?”

He silently looked you all over again and then nodded his head in affirmation. “Yeah, sure.”

“You’re welcome.”

Johnny did a double take between you and the camera’s lens before reaching over to stop the recording and turn the device off, officially ending the video.

- D

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Knocking on Heaven's Door

Knocking on Heaven's Door https://ift.tt/Xxn9UaY by RayvenWoods Dean is bored. Sam is on a research trip with Garth and if he's honest, that's the best place for him right now as they are not in a good place. Castiel is still in Purgatory and Dean is feeling all kinds of guilty about leaving him behind. He needs a distraction. He was thinking of sinking a couple of beers but instead he gets a much bigger distraction than he was expecting... Words: 27544, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of Guardian Angel Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Baby (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Baby, Castiel & Baby, Sam Winchester & Baby, Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anatomy lesson, Fragile Dean Winchester, Repressed Bisexual Dean Winchester, Temporarily Human Castiel (Supernatural), Loss of Virginity, Drink Driving, Dark Castiel/Dean Winchester, Moose and Squirrel as Nicknames (Supernatural), Voyeur Castiel (Supernatural), Possessive Dean Winchester, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Switching, Feral Castiel (Supernatural), Massage, Shower Sex, Biting, Begging, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Enochian Dirty Talk, Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Necrophilia, Praise Kink, Religion Kink, Spit As Lube, Rimming, Non-Consensual Bondage, Mind Meld, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Wing Kink, Functioning Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Non-Functioning Alcoholic Dean Winchester, Sasquatch Mode Activated, Angel Beast Mode Activated, Territorial Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Car Sex, Exorcisms, I'm English so is my spelling, beta read by me via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/TdhSnWo October 12, 2024 at 05:32AM

[burnedraventales]

Some New Fantasy handmade items on the store

Now on my store: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/BurnedRavenTales

Its been really hard to keep creating with everything going on at the moment but I am trying my best to keep moving.

Some of these item were inspired by my love for the castlevania games :)

We have:

2 x spell amplifier crystals

------------------

1 x Giant spider eggs jar

1 x Portal in a bottle jar

1 x Succubus love potion

-----------------------

1 x Hag hair specimen vial

1 x unicorn hair specimen vial

1 x Wolfs Bane petals specimen vial

1 x Sasquatch Hair specimen vial

1 x Yeti Hair specimen vial

-----------------

1 x health vial

1 x Mana vial

1 x Stamina vial

[forwhenyouregone]

Love both lists from @skinnydipping-with-sasquatch and @solitarypersephone

and now to spell out my URL name with song titles:

Forever In My Life - Prince

On Broadway - George Benson

Rollin With Heat - the Roots

Way Down We Go - KALEO

Hrs & Hrs- Muni Long

Ex’s & O’s - Elle King

No Love Dying - Gregory Porter

You’re The Only Woman - Ambrosia

On My Way - Andrew Ripp

Ultimate Funk - Bob Sinclair

River- Bishop Briggs

Eye (The) - Brandi Carlisle

Give Me Something Good - Ryan Adams

One Fine Day - Robbie Williams

Nick of Time - Bonnie Raitt

Everybody Knows - Dixie Chicks

@sirneave @foxtrotlatte @gentlemanmusings

Are you up for doing this??