#also yes i went through a CAS remodelation as you can see

[gunthermunch]

8 for the sims playlist prompt <3

she's taking back the number of the beast 'cause six is not a pretty number and A is for the address on the letter for her Alcoholic Friends

[mila-dans]

Happy Horror Awaits: Visit to a Small Planet

Chapter one of “Happy Horror Awaits.”

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2787

Summary: Doing it alone is your life motto, especially when it comes to hunting. Sure it may be dangerous and sure the Winchesters might not like it but you do. Or that is at least until a certain change of events lead you to believe maybe being alone isn’t the best option.

Just So You Know: This is only my second fanfiction series so please let me know how I’m doing! Any comments, words of wisdom, or constructive criticism you have, be sure to send my way. The chapters will vary in length but do know, cliff hangers and twists are my specialty! (Gif credit to the amazing: @jarpadandjensens​ )

Deep breaths. Deep calming breaths, Y/n.

You slowly gain consciousness as you awake out of your dream.

Sweet, sweet dreams. Wouldn’t I kill for just about five more minutes? I never get good sleep. At least not in my time being alive. And that’s been a while.

You start to turn your face as you grip onto the pillow even more. As you start to adjust yourself even more, you feel something. Something on you.

Hm? What the--

You open your eyes under the comforter to see a silk lavender nightgown that you, apparently, are in.

Wh--What? What is this?

You then realize that your hands were on a comforter. A big, white, fluffy comforter. Never in your life have you ever had an actual comforter. You shut your eyes believing that you were still in a dream.

Okay. Okay, Y/n. This is the universe's way of saying, “Go back to sleep You’re still dreaming.” We don’t want to ignore the universe, do we?

You then stuff your face in a soft and luxurious pillow that, once again, you have never had before, and return back to glorious unconsciousness.

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

Sweet, sweet, dreams…

You take your hand up to your bloodied and bruised face as you walk away from the fire.

Okay… So not, sweet, dreams…

You can feel your heartbeat race as the sirens start to sound. Really? You thought to yourself. This is what I get for killing the damn monster. A broken nose and having to run away from cops. This is what tended to happen.

Hunting was a full time job. Meaning, hunting was your life and who you are. This work was no piece of cake either. Take this case for example: A simple haunting, average poltergeist. Or so you thought. Instead it was a difficult poltergeist and a ghoul that was living in the attic. Fun times. After you handled the bone muncher, Casper decided to drop in. Actually, drop in. As in drop into the body of the mailman and have him come after you. Lots of paper cuts. Realizing that the situation was the fact that the ghoul killed several people in the attic, most of which became one big collective poltergeist, the only clear option was to burn the house down. Mailman out of harm's way of course. Up in flames she went. Thankfully, it was being remodeled and unoccupied at the moment. Burn ugly grandma wallpaper, burn.

You headed down the block before the cops saw you commit the arson. You found a little shed back behind a house and stayed inside until the literal smoke cleared. Taking some supplies from a nice little first aid kit, you were able to fix the appearance of your ever so damaged face. With an hour passed, you found your cue to leave the shack and head for the hills.

You decided to take a ride in a silver Subaru as you headed back to the bunker. Boys are gonna be pissed. You knew it. You knew that they would hate the fact that you ran off again. Especially Sam For some reason, he always seemed to be more agitated by your disappearing-solo act. They don’t understand that you like to work alone. Always have, always will. True. Especially the “always have” part. The boys are brothers so they’ve had each other. Even Cas has a whole family tree that he only knows some of. None of them knew what it was like to be alone. Not like you did. You, the ever so vivacious and fun-loving you, were deemed unadoptable at a very early age. Too hot to handle. You told yourself. No family for you. No friends either. After seeing your Aunt Iris get slaughtered by an invisible force, let’s just say no one could top that story at share time. Couldn’t believe it either. No one ever believed. Luckily, one day, at eighteen years of age, you escaped from that hellhole that you were forced to call home, and sought off to find out where Aunt Iris hid her millions and why she just so happened to die ten years later after she acquired it. And a hunting we delve.

You parked the car half a mile back from the bunker and left a little note on the dash saying, “Oops. Thought it was mine. ;) ” You had always wondered what the faces looked like when they read your notes. I mean, I already stole the car, why not try and steal their hearts too? And some people say that you use humor as a defense mechanism. The only people who ever really saw through your charade were the one and only: Winchesters.

You opened the bunker door and quickly walked down the stairs. Good. No one was sitting in the library or war room. All clear. You then headed to your room, hoping that no parents noticed your previous lack of presence. It's only been three days since I’ve been gone. You assure yourself. You move past Dean’s room and very quietly, try to sneak past Sam's. You take a deep breath as you steadily crack open your door. Phew. You turn around, prepared to jump in the comfort of your not so perfect, perfect bed. Home sweet ho--

“Where the hell have you been?!” You hear a low and angry tone from the chair behind the door. You take a big sigh. So close. You think as you still continue to jump in your bed. “Really? Y/n? Not gonna answer me?” The voice continues to speak with an annoyed tone.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You’re smart enough to know that I was off hunting. Why should I hide it?” You stuff your face into the pillow as you hear the voice stand up and pull your body down towards the foot of the bed. “Really, Sam?” You say as you turn around to face the Winchester.

“Yes, really!” Sam crosses his arms and you just fall back on the mattress. “When are you gonna learn that you shouldn’t go out on hunts alone! You could get hurt and from the looks of it--”

“--I already have!” You continue. “Yeah, Sam, so what? I got hurt so what are you gonna do? Cause you can’t stop me from going out again. You never have been able to in the first place.” You give a sarcastic smile in his direction which gets met by his classic bitch face. “Listen Sam, I--”

“--No! You listen, you have been gone for days!”

“Three! Only three days, Sam! It’s not even a big deal.”

“Three? No, Y/n. How about you try five? Five days you have been gone without leaving a single trace as to if you were okay or where you were going!” Sam takes a seat in the chair.

“Sam,” you say with a stern tone, “I’m not gonna fight you about this again. I don’t need you to protect me. When you met me, you invited me to come with you and help. I did. I do! I’m still here whenever you need me!”

“But you continue to go off and leave without saying anything to anyone! Like where were you this time?! Cuba?! Canada?!” Sam says with a sarcastic tone.

“Haha,” you mock as you roll your eyes. Sam stands up from the chair.

“Seriously though, Y/n. How the hell am I supposed to keep track of you? How do I know if you’re okay or not?!”

“You don’t have to know! No one is asking you to! I am great by myself!” Sam looks at the cut on your face and you shrug it off.

“Y/n, I’m tired of you going out and hunting by yourself. You could get killed! There is a reason me and Dean hunt together. Strength in numbers!” Sam retaliates.

“Well, Sam, I don’t have a Dean. I don’t have someone that’s what like you two are to each other. I never have. I go at it alone and I like it that way!” You army crawl back up to the pillows. Sam once again pulls you by your feet back down to the bottom of the bed. “Would you just--Gah!” You sit back up.

“Who do you think we are, Y/n? The bunker residents? You think we just do our thing and let you do yours? No! We help each other out. We’re a team. A family! Why can't you get it through that thick skull of yours?!” Sam throws his hands up in the air. Thick skull? Thick skull?! You stand up and go towards Sam.

“I do not have a thick skull! You do!” You stand on your tiptoes as you try to meet his eyeline. “Listen to me Sam Winchester,” you raise your voice and cause Sam to start to back up as you press your pointer finger into him, “I do what I want, when I want! And I never will ask for your permission because it is useless! You gave me a roof and a room just over a year ago and I am grateful for that, I really am. But I don’t need to stamp a time card whenever I decide to kill a vamp or go for a joy ride!” You turn back around and back towards the bed, trying to get a handle on your frustration.

“Then why the hell did you move in?” You hear Sam say, starting to regain his composure. “Why are you here if you’re never here?” Sam moves closer to you, seemingly looking for a real answer instead of your usual quick witted one.

“I like to be alone. That’s the way it's always been!” You answer. Sam runs his fingers through his hair.

“Then why don’t you just leave then?! Clearly, Y/n, yourself, and you can’t stand it here. And you also believe for some reason that I--that me and Dean and Cas are just nothing to you. So tell me, what’s stopping you from leaving? Huh? What’s stopping you from just walking out the door right now?!” Sam gives you a look that seems to be unreadable. You stare at him for a moment. Only one thought comes to your mind and it's been your natural response for all your life.

“My cue,” you respond. You stand up and grab your go bag as Sam stands like a statue, loss for words. You pause before leaving and put your hand on his shoulder. “The show’s over.” You pat his back as you walk out from your room. “So long, Sam.” You walk down the halls as a sleepy Dean goes after you.

“Hey!” Dean calls out. “Y/n! Where are you going? Where have you been?!” Dean catches up with you in the war room. He reaches for your arm and holds you back. He gives you a confused look as he sees the faint bit of water in your eyes. “Y/n,” he says softly, “Look, whatever Sam said, he--”

“--He said that I should probably leave, Dean. So that’s just what I’m gonna do. One last order from Sam Winchester.” You knock Deans hand away and head up the stairs.

“Come on! Y/n! Don’t go!” Dean shouts. Sam joins the party and watches as you open the door.

“Y/n, I l--”

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Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...hhhh...h… Stupid, stupid, dreams.

“Momma!” A voice says.

“Mommy!” A different voice says.

Huh? Wha… what?

“Momma!” The voice says again.

Okay...um...what?!

You rub your eyes as you feel something hitting your back and what sounds like children, calling for their mom. You just take a deep breath and wipe the slobber from your lips.

“Hey,” a deep and familiar voice says, “Come on guys, give your mom a break.”

Hm?

You slowly begin to open your eyes as much as they are willing to when a bright light surrounds the environment. The beating on your back continues.

“Guys! What did I just say?” The deep voice asks. “I said, give her a break. Not to break her!”

A sudden laughter erupts from what sounds like children and the familiar voice.

“No!” The children shout, trying to hold in their excitement. “No daddy!”

“Dadda!” A little girl’s voice calls out followed by a little squeal.

Wha?

Your eyes adjust to the similar sight that you saw earlier: a white comforter. The sun coming from a big window causes the comforter to seem much brighter than you deem necessary. You notice the window and a white wall.

Why so much white?

There appears to be some picture that you can barely make out hanging next to the curtains. There is also a nightstand by the side of the bed that you are on with an assortment of goods. A coffee cup with “Y/n” written on it. Some green books about green things. A little potted plant. A rose gold watch. And an alarm clock that reads, “8:34 A.M.” You look in the bottom corner and it says, “Tuesday. February, 28th.”

No. No, no, no, no. Nope. No. Nu-uh. It is Monday. I hate Mondays, but I know for sure that it is indeed a Monday.

You start to focus your attention back on the noises and motions that you feel on the, extremely, soft, bed. The little hits on your back have stopped but the laughter continues. As does some motion on the surface.

“Dadda! Momma!” A child, as you’ve determined, calls out.

“Shh,” the familiar voice replies, “Let her sleep, jellybean.” The motion on the bed shifts back onto you. You feel a creature crawl up on your back and pull down the covers. You shut your eyes praying to God himself that this was all just some dream. The small creature makes its way up to your head and puts its small hands on your face. You feel what you think is a toddler’s hands on your cheeks.

“Momma,” the child whispers. “Momma!” The little girl again whispers. Her hands go all over your face and to your eyes. She brings her tiny fingers to your eyelids and slowly opens them. You stare at the little girl. She appears to have hazel, hooded eyes, light brown hair and the smallest set of teeth that you have ever seen. She must be about two years old. “Momma,” she speaks again. She smiles at you and brings her hands to your forehead as she kisses it.

Uh--U--Wha--Huh--What?

She continues to smile at you until a big hand scoops her up and takes her behind you.

Okay. Okay. Jus--just stay calm. This has just got to be a dream. I mean, what else could it be? I didn’t get drunk last night. Right? Wait, did I? Wh--what? Why can’t I remember?

“Alright guys,” the familiar voice says, “Let Momma wake up on her own.”

“But Daddy!” The other child complains.

“No ‘but!’ Just go downstairs.” The children huff but you hear their feet scamper off. “Jack, keep an eye on Charlie!”

Jack? Charlie?! What?!

You remain in your still as you feel the child scooping hand rub your shoulders and back.

This is a dream. This is a dream.

The hand makes its way up to your arm. You feel a big body move closer to you. Your heartbeat rises as you become very aware of the fact that you are only in a nightgown and can feel that whoever this man was, he was muscular and shirtless. He moved his fingers to your hair and slowly brushed it away from your neck.

Um…

He leaned his head down just a bit as he kissed your neck, leaving no part untouched by his extremely soft lips. “Good morning, Baby,” he whispered in your ear. You practically forgot to breathe as he started to kiss your cheeks.

Um… Wh--What? No, seriously, what the hell?!

You decided that now was the time to face whatever dream or planet or reality that you were in. You turned your head ever so slightly as the man’s lips perfectly hit your own. You closed your eyes as the man continued to kiss you and you, unwilling to take the situation for granted, kissed him back.

Oh, wow… That was um…

You took a peak at the mystery man as your eyes grew ten times bigger. Smiling down at you, with the sun glowing on his face and eyes sparking hazel-green, he pressed his lips into yours once more. This time, you didn’t reciprocate. “Uh,” you started to mumble as he gave you a confused look. “Um…”

“What is it, Y/n?” You stared at him in shock. “Baby?” You rub your eyes again at the startling sight.

“Uh, Sam?”

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Next chapter out shortly!

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Let me know your thought and theories! Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed!

Tag list (is open!):

@swallow-carrying-a-coconut​ @sl33pybo1​

[mittensmorgul]

6.01: Dean’s year of El Sol comes to an end with a wake up call from a djinn...

You can’t outrun your past.

The whole idea that Dean could just leave his entire life behind, everything he’d ever know, to live that normal life with Lisa, was always destined to fail. (again, sorry, y’all gotta know I’m grinding my teeth to nubbins over the promise Sam forced on Dean...)

(Worst. Thing. Ever.)

(Asking Dean, as his dying wish, to go live the life that SAM had always wanted to live, without a damn care about what Dean might want, about who DEAN REALLY IS AT THE CORE OF HIS BEING. Because that was a huge damn assumption on Sam’s part, that Dean would want the same thing HE always wanted.)

(And we have absolute proof of that after s12. Sam really doesn’t understand Dean very well at all, but at least he’s learning now. Because who Dean is (as we learned once and for all in 12.11) is a hunter. With all his other memories wiped away, Dean’s instincts take over and he IS a hunter.)

There’s so much deception going on in this episode though. Like EVERYTHING Dean has to tell EVERYONE, from his buddy who lives across the street right down to Lisa herself, IS A FREAKING LIE. I mean, what an awful freaking way to live. Never being able to tell the truth to ANYONE, putting on this mask of normality every single day...

Like the opening montage to Beautiful Loser, it all looks like a drudgery that Dean does his best to smile his way through, with flashes to similar acts from his life before. NOTHING HAS CHANGED for Dean, but the setting. He’s going through these motions but instead of beheading a vampire he’s chopping a board, instead of prying a coffin open he’s prying siding off a house he’s remodeling, instead of grabbing beers with Sam he’s drinking at a neighborhood picnic... and he can’t let go of that past because he’s constantly having to redefine it with lies that are painfully close to the truth yet sanitized for this new apple pie life...

(have I mentioned that this was literally the worst thing that Sam has ever asked Dean to do...)

Dean: you been back practically this whole time?! What, did you lose the ability to send a friggin' text message?! Sam: You finally had what you wanted, Dean. Dean: I wanted my brother, alive! Sam: You wanted a family. You have for a long time, maybe the whole time. I know you. You only gave it up because of the way we lived. But you had something, and you were building something. Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off. I'm sorry. But it felt like after everything, you deserve some regular life.

(*gnashes teeth* FUCK NO YOU ARE WRONG SAM. He didn’t want THIS. This is what YOU wanted him to want. Not the same thing, Sam.

And yes I know he’s soulless here and just Does Not Get It, and has zero ability to empathize, and we see later that all his instincts about people are shot to hell without his soul to even sympathize with what Dean might want here, but to me this is the ultimate proof that Dean played “Performing Dean” way too well, and that Sam bought into it all way too well, also.)

(okay this is where I inch way too close to the line of Bitter Dean Girl, so imma back off before my head explodes)

Enter Samuel, who Dean is shocked to also see back from the dead, and the flashbacks to Mary’s original deal with Azazel and Samuel’s original death. And one of the big reasons why we started s12 with the notion that it was going to be a redux of s6. That’s panned out to a large extent, but if you’ve been reading along in my rewatch at all, it’s really an entire series redux. S6 didn’t occur in a vacuum, and was already attempting to Find Another Way, based on the first five seasons. And s6 was the real turning point in that particular journey.

I ADORE s6 for a lot of reasons, because in a lot of ways it’s the beginning of Dean having stepped in front of his destiny just a bit, and it’s the first major test of Dean’s gut instincts, where the story begins hinging on the choices he makes. Even when everything in the universe is conspiring against him, he catches on quick, and he TRUSTS HIMSELF above everything else.

Dean: Do you have any clue what walking away meant for me? Bobby: Yeah -- a woman and a kid and not getting your guts ripped out at age 30. That's what it meant. Dean: That woman and that kid -- I went to them because you asked me to. Bobby: Good. Dean: Good for who? I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked everywhere. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find anything to bust you out. Sam: You promised you'd leave it alone. Dean: Of course I didn't leave it alone! Sue me! A damn year? You couldn't put me out of my misery? Bobby: Look, I get it wasn't easy. But that's life! And it's as close to happiness as I've ever seen a hunter get. It ain't like I wanted to lie to you, son. But you were out, Dean. Dean: Do I look out to you?

Maybe the more important question was, “Do I look HAPPY to you?” Because yeesh. What right did Sam have to presume that Dean was HAPPY. That Sam told BOBBY that Dean was happy in his new life? Despite the facts that Dean just laid out about how horribly he was coping in that life?

Dean: I should've known. I should've known that if I stayed with you that something would come, because something always does. But I was stupid and reckless and...You can't outrun your past.

(yeah that was the tagline for s11...)

Dean: Oh, yeah. Go ahead, say it -- call me a soccer mom. Whatever. Samuel: "Soccer mom," huh? Well, I'll have to look that up on the "intranet." You know, believe it or not, I...I get it, Dean. You wanted a normal life. Your mom wanted a normal life, too. You remind me of her, actually. The attitude, for one thing. Your brother tell you what we been dealing with the past few months?

Dean getting judged left and right, yet proving that he’s just as good (or better) than all the Campbells  combined. And this does recall Mary’s “call the internet” line from 12.02. But really, Samuel just doesn’t get Dean either.

Yes, Mary wanted a normal life, and she wanted normal lives for their children, but Dean is so far beyond normal anymore, he knows who he is and has made his peace with it. And what he is is in no way “normal.”

But the sheer fact that “You can’t outrun your past,” but with Samuel in s6 and Mary in s12, Dean (and Sam) are having to literally face down these pillars of their past, but it’s giving them a chance to rebuild those pillars so they can become a true foundation for the future instead of a cobbled-together structure they’d been believing in all these years.

The djinn poison shows Dean the exact same scenario playing out with Lisa and Ben that had played out with Mary and Sam when he was little-- Azazel killing Lisa on the ceiling, feeding Ben demon blood, all while Dean lies helpless on the bed.

S6 began this rewrite of the entire Grand Plan. but in this iteration, Dean’s already walking in armed with all of this knowledge about the machinations of Heaven and Hell, about Angels and Demons, about the role he was supposed to play-- DESTINED to play, and yet defied by a judicious application of free will.

He’s starting out the rewrite, the second attempt at the apocalypse, already ahead of the game... with one key missing factor: Castiel.

And it’s all down to the horrifying promise Sam had extracted from Dean in 5.22. That Cas hadn’t been willing to ask Dean to break. And all of that led to the ruination of the next two seasons, which in turn led to the ruination of Dean himself by the beginning of s10...  Can you tell I really fucking hate that promise? All based on Sam’s lack of understanding of who Dean is as a person because he bought in to Dean’s performance and Dean had been unwilling to shatter the performance when Sam was asking this dying wish of him before making the ultimate sacrifice to save the world? Yeah... Hate it all. :P

Which brings us back around to s12... Where Sam is making these unilateral decisions to work with the MoL, to bring about this “world without monsters” so that Dean (and he himself, but Dean) can finally have this “white picket fence” life without having his past come back to haunt him again? All the while Dean is showing him in big and small ways behind the curtain of his performance mask. And Sam is beginning to see the real picture here.

Sam: Look, I practically shoved you at them. Dean: That's a funny way to put it, but all right. Sam: I'm just saying, I really wanted that for you. And when I told you to go, I-I thought... You could have it, you know? But now I'm not so sure. I mean, you got to consider the fact that you'll be putting them in danger if you go back.

Yep. SAM wanted that for Dean. That’s SAM’s dream. NOT DEAN’S. And even soulless, Sam recognizes the fact he screwed up here... And for a brief second, he recognizes just how important Dean’s instincts and influence are on him, because Dean EMBODIES the perfect hunter. Not Sam’s cold, methodical, whatever gets the job done practicality.

Sam: You just went. You didn't hesitate. Because you care, and that's who you are. Me? I wouldn't even think to try. Dean: Yes, you would. Sam: No, Dean. I'm telling you, it's just better with you around. That's all.

And then the real kicker, the one that makes Dean suspect there’s something really not quite right about Sam, he refuses the keys to the Impala when Dean offers them. After it was the Impala that saved the world, and Sam’s attachment to his lifetime of memories associated with it...

But Dean’s still too preoccupied with protecting Lisa and Ben from the nightmares he’s brought into their lives to really see it yet.