#driving mocs

[rahisaurus]

Finally made an actually coherent set of cars that are my original design instead of being remakes of official sets

[degenezijde]

Anna!!!!

[petrells]

feeling emotional bc its HSR 1 year anniversary and i didnt think i’d be sticking w/ it for a whole year, yet here I am rediscovering my love for turn based RPGs

[thesaurus]

// had been idly looking for one of these bad boys (there's a reallly cool light blue one they make) but all the vintage stores upsell them for more than I was willing to pay for somethign I couldn't touch and feel... and then the other day, in front of this record store by my house, a guy with 3 racks of vintage sold me this for 40$

// do I need another coat? no comment

// do I need to look like a cool soft-goth dad from vermont in the 90s? obviously

[legoejmgoogoo]

Lego LNER Intercity 225 Train MOC

This is a Lego MOC replica of the LNER Intercity 225 train on my design and theme! And its kinda ugly how I built it so I tore it apart sometime later after building it. Getting the front of train is kinda the hardest since the beak shape was needed to be built and its kinda worked out!

Editing Software/App: Google Photos Extras: sta.sh/0nvg8ep7mxw

[kaleldobrev]

Prologue — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 1.5k

Chapter Warnings: Age Gap (15 years) & Self-Loathing Dean

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Thoughts are in italics | Switches between reader & Dean's POV but it's still written in the second person | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

Dean sat on the edge of his bed looking at his surroundings that he hadn’t seen in so long. Although it’s only been a few months, it felt like an eternity to him. Everything was still in the exact same place he had left it; and he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved about that or not.

Being in his bedroom back in the Bunker came with a wide variety of emotions. He was happy to be back in a place that he had called home for the past several years, a place where he was finally able to have his own room again since he was four years old. But yet, there was another part of him that wanted to take his keys and drive off somewhere. He loved Sam, he loved Cas but, it was hard to face them again after everything he had done, and after everything he had put them through. Not only during the months he was gone, but during the short amount of time they were trying to cure him of a disease he strangely enjoyed.

“You weren’t you,” Sam had told him repeatedly as if he was a broken record. But Dean didn’t believe his words for a second. He enjoyed being a demon more than he liked to admit. Being able to kill whoever he wanted whenever he wanted without consequence fueled him. Being able to fuel the Mark was easy, being a demon was easy. Being a demon weirdly came natural to him.

Sitting at your desk, you endlessly scrolled through news story after news story, trying to find any excuse to leave your apartment, as it was a place that was currently not giving you the usual sense of peace it tended to provide you. Your apartment was usually your safe space, a place that you could relax and unwind in after a tough hunt. But ever since your boyfriend moved in, it had become a place that you no longer felt safe and calm in.

You and your boyfriend hadn't been together for that long — roughly a year — but during a majority of your relationship, it has been argument after argument, and the arguments were always about the same couple of things. He was either disrespecting you or upset that you didn't bring him along on one of your hunting trips.

He hadn't been a hunter for long — barely two years — and you met him within his first year. You had met him while on a werewolf case, as the two of you found the same lead and decided to work together since he really had no experience with werewolves. For some reason, the two of you clicked, and had been together ever since.

Whenever you and him tended to get into an argument, you wondered why you were still with him, knowing that you could do better. He didn't treat you right, and often undermined you in front of other hunters, sometimes taking credit for your own hunts. You tried to rationalize it, often saying that he was the best you were ever going to do because there was no way you could be with someone that wasn't a hunter, as you felt being with someone that wasn't one would put them in more harm, and you couldn't risk it. But the words of your mother started echoing in your head now, "It's better to be alone than to be with someone who disrespects you." You knew she was right; she was always right.

As you were about to give up, a news story finally jumped out at you, and it screamed poltergeist — your specialty.

Dean stared up at the ceiling, wanting more than anything to fall asleep; but the events of the last few months kept replaying in his head. "You weren't you," Sam's words repeated again and again.

No matter how many times Sam's words repeated, Dean still refused to believe it, as when he was a demon, he felt more like himself than he had been in such a long time; and that scared him.

The things that he did as a demon he would have done regardless; but the only reason he did the things that he did was because he knew there were no consequences, his conscience wasn't trying to stop him. Sam or Cas weren't there to stop him especially.

The Mark started itching again, getting hot with need. I need to kill something, he thought.

Getting off the phone with you, Sam sighed, looking at his slinged arm. There was no way he was going to be able to help you with this case, but it was far too late to call you back now; not after he already agreed to help you. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you, as you were a big help to him while Dean was gone.

Sam was impressed by you to say the least, as despite your age, you were a damn good hunter with a decent amount of experience under your belt. He hadn't known you for very long — meeting you within the last couple of months — but you had quickly become someone he had grown to deeply trust; and he was incredibly thankful for that, and thankful for you.

Placing his phone back into his pocket, he grabbed his duffel bag and started packing some of the essentials. The case you asked him to join you on was one that was pretty straightforward, so he assumed it wouldn't take more than a couple of days. That's when his mind started to wander, wondering why you had asked for his help in the first place, as poltergeists were one of your specialties and it was the type of case that you could do in your sleep, but yet, you asked him for help.

Closing up your laptop, you grabbed it bringing it over to your bed, before going underneath it and grabbing your duffel. You started packing all of the essentials for a case that would only take you a couple of days. The case was an easy one, one that you could easily do in your sleep, but yet, you called Sam Winchester to help you. There was a small twinge of regret after you got off the phone with him, and you debated back and forth as you packed to call him back up again and tell him, 'Never mind, I got this Sammy.' But deep down, you wanted the company; you wanted to be with someone that treated you like an equal unlike your boyfriend.

"Going on a case?" Your boyfriend asked from behind you.

You turned to look at him for a moment, and he was leaning against the doorway, staring at you as you packed. "Yes," you said, plainly. Even if you weren't going on a case, you felt like you didn't need to explain anything to him.

"Where's the case? I can join you," he offered. But his offer wasn't a genuine one, as the only reason he offered to go with you was to try and make up the argument to you in some way. But you weren't in the mood for any of his gestures.

"Tulsa," you said. "I already called another hunter to help me."

"What hunter?" He asked, making his way to the bed so he could sit down on the edge like he usually did whenever you were attempting to pack for a case.

You looked at him again, annoyed that he kept interrupting your packing. He didn't need to know what hunter was going with you, and he didn't know where the case was going to be. But yet, you felt like you needed to tell him in order to get him off your back. "Sam Winchester," you said simply, and you saw his eyes grow wide.

"Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with Sam Winchester?" You asked, curious as to what he had to say about him, as you knew he had never met him. But there were times when you and him would be spending time with fellow hunters, and he would claim that he knew Sam; a bold statement that, whenever said, you tried to hold back a laugh.

“Nothing it’s just…the Winchester’s tend to get a lot of their partners killed,” he said. Your brows furrowed, not only because you were confused on where he heard that, but you’ve hunted with Sam a few times already, and your boyfriend never brought that up to you before.

“I’ve hunted with Sam a few times now, and I’m still alive,” you said, zippering up your duffel. “He’s a great hunting partner, very careful.”

“For now, you’re alive and for now he’s being careful. What happens when he bails on you to save himself?” Your boyfriend asked, his tone excitable now.

“I don’t know because I know for a fact that won’t happen,” your tone was serious and stern, defensive. Despite not knowing Sam for a long time, you trusted him more on hunts than your own boyfriend. “I trust Sam.”

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 1

Tag List: | @roseblue373 | @snakebxtez | @deanwanddamons | @missy420-0 | @hannahisthebanana | @madzzz0797 | @livingordeadwhoknows | @grx-deanslovr | @nancymcl | @jacklesbrainworms | @savagemickey03 | @deanbrainrotwritings | @rachiem4-blog | @syrma-sensei | @justletmereadfanfic | @deans-daydream | @midorimachisenpaii | @anamiad00msday | @beansproutmafia | @queenie32 | @deansbbyx | @deans-spinster-witch | @ficmesideways | @frozenhuntress67 | @coldspoons | @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden | @androah | @zulema222 | @k-l-a-w-s | @the-achievementhunter | @k-slla | @mrlonelycat | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @ladysparkles78 | @jackles010378 | @zepskies | @mrsjenniferwinchester | @globetrotter28 | @missscarlettangel | @foxyjwls007

[shadystranger]

The way dean's love transforms sam, and how it's not always for the better. The shift he forces in sam's ideals, how sam tried so hard to avoid his predetermined fate of leading an apocalypse yet ends up kick-starting it for dean not once but twice with one failed third attempt and another time uncaring to stop it if that meant he loses dean. Sam was in that church and he turned his eye away from the end of the world practically unfolding before him because he heard dean call his name, because he was relieved that maybe after everything dean still loves him. The way he so meticulously nitpicks every wrong choice dean had done and sees the best in it. How he straight up believes and even enables dean to be stripped of guilt for widely immoral ill-thought acts he should be held responsible for.

Just the way sam basically takes this role of a corrupt lawyer defending the worst scum on earth because he sees himself in it. 'he must have had a good reason' demon!dean wrecking havoc and killing people in cold blood 'tell me it was you or them' moc!dean losing his moral compass as he turns into a bloodthirsty maniac 'you did it for me' dean letting au!Michael in their world who everyone and their mother knows will eradicate humanity 'you'll never hear me say that you -the real you- is anything but good' dean summoning sam to kill him but sam seeing it that he summoned him because he wants to be saved and knows sam'll do everything in his power to protect him.

Just the way sam lays his neck under dean's guillotine, the way he drives sam crazy with worry, the way he shatters sam's self in minutes and puts it back together in another, the way sam turns into this lost despondent and desperate man at the end of the world when dean is not there. How he turns a shell of himself forever wandering and waiting for dean to be beside him again before his person gradually ceases to exist.

And worse of it all, the loss of control over his life that he fought so hard for because he has let dean in, sam has changed for dean, but did dean change for him? Dean thought he wanted this, but did he really?

[hellverse]

what really drives me crazy about the moc dean and cas fight is that cas explicitly said “i don’t want to have to hurt you” and then didn’t even try to throw a single punch or nothing. arms up in the air, asking dean to stop, covering his face, his body, all defensive, all pleading. but not a single action made to actually fight back.

[xmimikyuusx]

Breaking my oath to not post myself, because I'm really feeling it lately. But it's frustrating how much of the anti-transmasculinity and anti-transandrophobia arguments hinge on this weird world of exclusivity.

I've been admiring lately how on the positive side of things, the transandrophobia discussion also brings to the table the discussion of other marginalized groups who are often dismissed or actively pushed out of the conversation because it doesn't fit the white cis feminism that people have been clinging to (and reinventing to include Trans women in the most surface level way). Bringing up the issues that cis MOC face, or disabled or intersex men and many others, we are not the pioneers of these conversations whatsoever but the discussion of the marginalization Trans men and mascs face is an open door to these other conversations. (I.e relating across identity lines, seeing other groups and acknowledging their suffering and looking for solidarity)

On the other side of this, denying transndrophobia or even the idea that a Trans man/masc can face marginalization, whether be it even from his masculinity or his transness, is a closed door. No one's suffering matters except their in group. If you're not a woman or woman aligned in some way, you simply cannot be important to the conversation, because you're the bad guy. You're the oppressor. You're too uninformed and stupid to understand what oppression REALLY looks like. You need to shut up, even if it's on your own post, your own blog, words out of your own mouth, because speaking about your experiences, when those experiences don't line up with women being the victim and men being the perpetrators, is just another sign of how evil you are.

Or iterations of this. It hurts me even worse when it comes from another Trans man /masc. I remember a post a while ago in the tag, from a Trans man retelling a story about how a Trans man in his community was brutally murdered, dismembered, and he attended his funeral. And in the same breath, he was telling us how even when this attrocity has happened, we just do not have it as bad as a woman would. We just would not understand.

It boggles my mind. How much worse does it have to be? What does worse look like after sky high rates of murder, sexual assault, abuse, and suicide? And why does it have to be this bad before it's recognized that there's a problem?

Community doesn't come from exclusions. It doesn't put Trans women's oppression in jeopardy if a Trans man is also struggling just as much. Comparing how much one group is struggling, in these abstract ways, to try and prove a point, to try and drive a stake between genders like it'll somehow matter in the end, is pathetic. It's not helpful. Unfortunately, it's some people's outdated, vitriolic version of feminism that is very difficult to distinguish from a terf or a radfem. This unhinged reactionary jump we get from any corner of the community to protect their status as the victim, that someone else's suffering somehow diminishes their own, it's disgusting.

I don't want to rant anymore, but I know the day when we move past this will be amazing. We deserve better than trying to destroy our own community from the inside out.

[frattystuff]

[rahisaurus]

I made Timak a car too

[angelsdean]

the thing tessa uses to try to sway dean to die and go with her? the fact that if he stays behind as a spirit he'll eventually be driven mad and possibly become a vengeful spirit that could hurt people.

"You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

that's the thing that gets him. and it's the thing that almost gets him to leave with her, until john makes his deal at that very moment and suddenly dean is back in his body.

but the thing that appeals to dean is the fact that if he stays he could become something that hurts innocent people. dean's whole thesis for hunting is that they can save people. when he's not battling in clutches of john's monster rhetoric of "a monster is a monster" dean's personal monster code is "a monster is someone who hurts / kills innocent people" and under this code humans very much can be monsters too (like the Benders. the traffickers that moc dean kills. the faith healer's wife. etc)

anyway, dean does not want to become that. the thing that haunts him the most about hell is not the 30 yrs of gruesome torture inflicted on him, it's the ten yrs where he had to do the torturing. he hates himself for it.

and when he's got the MOC he tells cas to promise to kill him if he loses control. and when he's worried he won't be able to contain michael for much longer he makes plans to lock himself away in the ma'lak box. he deeply does not want to become someone who hurts innocent people.

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

Chapter 1: The girl and the werewolves

||The Prophecy Series||

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10 Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Warnings: the usual SPN, language, violence, blood, injuries

Episode mapping: The end of episode 4 of season 10 "Paper Moon"

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

It's official… I hate the States.  I have been driving for over half an hour and there is nothing around.  NOTHING!  Here you can just disappear and no one will ever know. Long distances, distant people, crappy coffee…  I really miss the coffee…  Well, at least, the food was decent most of the time… I'm impatient to go back home, so I'm overdramatic. Moreover, I haven't really spoken to anyone for more than two weeks… that alone drove me crazy and irritated. Thank God this mission is over now! Take a deep breath and make a plan. That always calms my nerves. First, I have about three or four more hours of driving until I get to the private airstrip where the plane is waiting for me… that's insane… how is everything so far apart here… Deep breaths… Then, about a ten hour flight to Prague.  I'll probably sleep the entire time…  Or I can write my report…  First I’ll write my report, then I’ll sleep. After landing, I'll have my debriefing… and real coffee. Then… go to my apartment… pack a bag… and go to the airport… I have been waiting for this vacation for so long. To see my family…

I'm entering a small town and I see the local diner on my side of the road. Going through my plan in my head has improved my mood significantly. I always function better when I have a detailed plan. But I still need coffee. So with a dream of a latte or cappuccino in my mind, I park the Jeep and walk into the diner to get whatever excuse of a coffee they have. Five minutes later, with a to-go cup in my hand, I'm climbing back in the monstrous car. I really love this car. It's always funny to see the looks I'm receiving. I'm not the shortest woman in the world, but I'm no more than 1.70m (it's about 5 '7) and this Jeep is enormous. But I like driving it. And, I like all the modifications I've done on it over the years. While driving out of the town and the buildings are more and more apart from each other, a cabin catches my attention. Well, not the cabin itself, but the two figures going inside. Just before they went inside, their faces shifted. What day is it? It's not a full moon, right? I count the days in my head. It is a full moon. Great! Werewolves. I hesitate only for a second, before I stop my car down the road so they will not see me coming. Driving a car like this has some disadvantages after all. I push several buttons on the car's dashboard screen, to check my armory and a weapon is produced for me to use. When the central console on my right opens, I reach out to take the gun. I scowl at the Beretta 92 that is inside.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Of course!" I mutter under my breath. "I can't even use my own guns here!" I remind myself that I'm not supposed to raise any suspicions or to give any clues about who I am and who I'm working for. It's hard when you are a person of details and when you like things in a certain way. Unfortunately, my custom guns are locked in the car safe, until I'm boarding the plane to Europe. I take the standard US law enforcement gun and two spare magazines with silver bullets and I'm on my way to the cabin. "Fuck… I haven't even finished that coffee!" Engaging in those kinds of situations is not really in the scope of my operation here. Actually, it is way out of it. But I can't just walk away, keep driving and pretend I haven't seen anything. Not when there are innocent people in danger here… probably… 'Probably' is the key word… So I decide, I'll just look at what is going on in there and if, indeed, there are lives being threatened, only then I'll get involved.

Of course there are lives in stake. When I look inside the dimly lit building, I see the silhouettes of two men being tied to the pillars. Three werewolves are inside with them, the two men I saw earlier, and a younger blond woman… girl actually... It looks like she is in charge or has some authority over the others. I take in the layout of the place and make a map in my mind, all the people, the exits, the pillars, the piles of junk, the old furniture... Every little crack, every window and every beam…  And I make a plan…  And a backup plan…  And a backup plan.  I have it all laid out in my head, a perfect tactical assault mission.  In reality, this takes only a couple of seconds. My mind works in a strange way, but that's one of the things that makes me good at my job and has helped me climb the ranks quickly. I go in from the back door and immediately shoot down the two men. The girl with the long blond hair is standing in front of one of the hostages tied to the columns and puts her claws to his chest when she sees me.

Created with Microsoft Designer

"Put down the gun, or I will gut him!" - she says to me. Another blond girl barges in and stops abruptly when she realizes the situation. "Tash, what are you doing?" she exclaims, looking at the girl threatening one of the victims. "Kate! Come here and help me!" - the girl says. Now, when I have a better look at her she looks really young, maybe just finished high school. I take advantage of everyone being distracted, and shoot. The girl hits the ground. I turn around, aiming my weapon at the second girl. "No, no, no!" - the two men yell in unison. I lower my gun and the girl runs to the body of her dead sister. At least they look like sisters.

I holster my gun and take the knife from my boot turning around to cut off the ropes of the two men. No, no, no, no…  I definitely fucked up…  What the hell…  I NEVER fuck up!  I was not supposed to make any contact with them. I was here to observe and report. Fuck, fuck, fuck… Shit! Ok… I'll just cut them down and then I'm on my way to the airstrip. I start cutting the rope tying up Dean's hands above his head. I have to stand on my tiptoes and I barely can reach the rope. "Hey, shortstack, do you need a stepping stool or something?" Sam teases and I snort at his comment. "Short or not, I'm not the one tied up by a highschool girl…" Fuck! Those boys are really tall up close!

I'm almost done when Sam yells "Watch out!!!" I press the knife into Dean's hand, so he can finish cutting the rope himself and pull out my gun while turning around.  Sharp pain stings my abdomen before I'm able to pull the trigger.  The gunshot rings in the air of the cabin followed by a heavy thump. I clench my stomach. That's bad.  That's really, really bad.  How did this all happen?  Where did he come from?  How did I miss him?  Maybe he came after the second woman… girl… My mind is racing, trying to analyze every little detail and every possibility. But it doesn't matter right now.  This must be the unluckiest day of my life! First, I stumbled on my targets, and now this!  I know this will not kill me.  This is not the way I'm supposed to go and now is definitely not the time. But it hurts like hell, nonetheless and for a moment, panic sneaks in my mind.  I haven't been in such deep shit in a long long time. I have been in far more dangerous situations, but I hadn't screwed up like this in years. Deep breaths… make a plan… "Hey! Are you ok?" Dean asks me when he is done untying his brother. "Yeah!" I say through my clenched teeth and without even turning to them I start walking to the front door. I'll just have to go to my car, stitch this up, and then…  My head starts spinning.  Shit, I'm losing too much blood. I'm not going to make it to the car…

The woman had barged in, shot all of the rogue werewolves in a matter of seconds and without saying a word was now walking to the front door. "Wait a minute! Where do you think you're going?"  I yell and run after her.  Just when I'm reaching to grab her arm to stop her, she collapses and I manage to catch her at the last moment. "What the hell!"  I mumble but then I see the gash in her stomach. It's deep and she is losing blood too fast. "Sam! Find the first aid kit and get the car! NOW!"

Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated >>

||The Prophecy Series||

[hitchell-mope]

I’m going to be mean here.

Chuck. Did not. Win. If he had. Then Dean and Sam would’ve been in hell, separated and tortured for eternity. Not in heaven, together and driving around in the impala for eternity. Your bullshit headcanons and moronic theories are nothing. Canon is canon. It’s been nearly four fucking years. For the love of Christ. Get the fuck over it.

If I had been in charge of season ten. Dean would’ve been worse. I would have written him properly. Dean should have be stoic. But detached. The writers wanted to make him worse? I would have fucking committed to it. Dean should’ve killed innocent people under the mark. He should’ve slipped up and called Sam “Collette” at least once. Maybe even fed Sam his blood when he was a demon. I don’t know. I haven’t figured it all out quite yet. But one things for sure. I would have made MOC!Dean worse. As he should have been.

Aside from that I’ll never fucking understand why they made Dean be all buddy-buddy with Bradbury. I didn’t give a fuck about her. In fact. I laughed when she died. But Dean is CLEARLY the type of heterosexual man that sees lesbians as entertainment. Like Stinson and Tribiani before him. And I’ll never understand why they brotp’d them up when Sam was right the fuck there. Make it make sense. That’s all I’m asking really. Just make it make sense.

TL:DR; Chuck didn’t win. Hellers theories are, as always, shit. Dean should’ve been worse under the mark. And I may not give a shit about Bradbury. Sam should’ve been closer to her than Dean was. And as always. These are my opinions. So if you don’t like them. Then please just block me. It’ll save you, and more importantly me, a helluva lot of time.

[kaleldobrev]

Getting Back into the Swing of Things (1) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester & Unnamed Hunter Boyfriend (OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Chapter Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (4x), Age Gap (15 years) & Minor controlling behavior

Authors Note: A prequel series to the Old Man Universe (OMU) on how Dean and reader met | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | Don't worry, as Dean and reader meet in the next chapter! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⇠ Go Back & Read the Prologue

Dean tossed and turned, still unable to fall asleep despite what seemed like hours trying. He smelled blood in his nose, felt it on his lips and tongue; smiling with pure bliss. He could feel his hand gripping the First Blade, and he could hear the heart beats of people fading fast as he looked into their eyes. His throat felt dry all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he mumbled to himself.

Removing the covers from himself, he swung his body, his feet flat on the floor as he rubbed his face. Letting out a huge sigh of frustration, he got up from his bed and made his way to his bedroom door; deciding that maybe a few drinks could make him get a bit sleepy. But he knew deep down that wasn’t going to work — he just needed an excuse to get up and walk around.

As Dean started making his way toward the kitchen, he noticed that Sammy’s door was open halfway, the light of the room still on. A puzzled look appeared on Dean’s face, surprised that Sam was still up. He figured after curing him, he would be knocked out for the next couple of days, or at least taking it easy.

He heard drawers opening and closing, not remotely quietly. Standing in the doorway, he saw Sam packing some clothes into a duffel bag, slightly struggling as he did so, as he was down an arm. “Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked, after knocking on the doorway.

Sam looked up, barely smiling. He looked almost half asleep. “Uh yeah. A hunter friend of mine asked me to help her with a poltergeist case. Should be only a few days.”

“A poltergeist case uh?” Dean questioned, intrigued. “Where at?” He scratched the back of his head as he walked into Sam’s bedroom, trying his best not to sound too excited about the case.

“Tulsa. It’s about a five and a half hour drive from here, and I promised Y/N I’d meet her at the motel in town,” Sam said, zippering up his duffel.

“You sure you’re good to go Sammy? I mean, your arm is still broken,” Dean said, pointing at his arm. “Why don’t I go instead? I could use a nice and easy case to get my sea legs back.”

Sam looked at his brother with a bit of hesitancy. “I don’t know Dean…” his voice trailed off. Even though Sam had talked to you about Dean, he wasn’t sure how you would react to Dean showing up instead of him. Based on the short amount of time he had known you, he feels that you and Dean would get along really well as your hunting styles were scarily similar at times, and your personalities rivaled each other. But yet, you didn’t know Dean, and he knew you’d rather hunt alone than hunt with someone you didn’t know.

“Sammy, your arm is broken. No offense, but how much help are you really going to be to her? She might as well just do it by herself,” Dean said, and Sam knew that his brother had a point. He was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

Sam sighed, almost defeated. “Alright, alright. You’re…you’re right,” he said, slightly swinging his casted arm. “Just let me give her a heads up first okay?”

You looked out straight in front of you as only darkness could be seen for miles and miles. Your hands had a tight grip on the wheel to the point that your knuckles were almost pale and white. The loudness of your windshield wipers drowned out what you were currently listening to — The Clash.

There was no traffic, no cars— just you, the rain, and the complete darkness except for your headlights. You sighed, thinking about your boyfriend, how conflicted you felt about the whole thing. On one end, you were tired of the bullshit and were ready to call it quits with him. Why be with someone who makes you miserable? You heard your mom’s words echoing in your brain, so loud as if she was sitting right next to you. On the other end, you wanted to give him another chance as people who understood the hunting life was few and far between.

You didn’t necessarily want to be alone, but it was something that started to look more and more appealing. You were 22, still young and had time to find someone. But who? Another hunter? A civilian maybe? No, no civilians, you thought. Too risky. You needed someone that knew the life.

As if snapping you out of your current thought, your phone started ringing, the buzz of it slightly vibrating your seat. Since there were no cars on the road, you pulled off to the side, and answered the phone. "Hey Sammy," you said, "where are you?"

"Hey Y/N, I'm uh...still back at the Bunker," his voice sounded so tired and defeated.

You raised a brow in confusion. "What do you mean you're still back at the Bunker? You're not coming to help me?" You would be lying if you weren't disappointed. Although you had only known Sam for a short amount of time, he was someone that you genuinely enjoyed hunting with; not only because he was a legendary Winchester, but because he treated you like his equal, despite your age.

"Remember when Cas helped me on a case a while back and I ended up breaking my arm?" He said, and you nodded, even though you knew he wasn't able to hear you. But he took your lack of an answer to continue speaking. "Well, it's still broken. And I didn't want to say no when you called for help because you were such a big help to Cas and me, especially me, when Dean were gone."

You didn't want to give the impression that you were disappointed, even though you were. But you understood where Sam was coming from; and the last thing you wanted to do was force him to drive all the way to Tulsa just to sit in the motel room. "I really appreciate you saying yes, even though you're kind of out of commission. It...it really means a lot."

"Listen, I know you can pretty much solve this case in your sleep but..." he paused, sighing, almost as if he was afraid to say the next few words. "Dean offered to help you."

You were completely silent, which was a rarity for you. It wasn't like you didn't appreciate the help, but you were iffy about it as you didn't really like working with people that you weren't really familiar with. Yes, you've heard countless stories from Sam about his brother, and knew he was a good hunter; but the thing that scared you was, when it came down to it, would he just leave you for dead to save himself?

"I know you don't usually work with people you aren't really familiar with but," he sighed again, and you knew if he was in front of you right now, the puppy dog eyes would be in full force. "He's a great hunter, Y/N, and he wouldn't let anything happen to you. If something bad happened to you, he would never be able to forgive himself."

How could you possibly say no when Sam was practically telling you how good of a person his brother was? "Sam —"

"You'd be doing me a big favor, Y/N. I think this case would really help him get back into the swing of things," Sam said. Now you definitely couldn't say no.

You took a deep breath, sighing. "Okay," you said simply, giving in to Sam’s plead.

"Thanks Y/N, seriously," his tone sounding a bit happier now that you agreed. "I already gave him the address to the motel we agreed to meet at. He should hopefully be there right around the same time as you are."

"But you guys are almost six hours away," you stated with a raised brow. "Is he teleporting there?"

Sam chuckled at your comment. "No, no. He uh...he's a bit of a speed demon," Kind of like you, he wanted to add.

"Ah, so like me," you said. Sam couldn't help but smile at the comment, finding it funny that you had thought the exact same thing as he had. "Alright. Um, does he need my phone number or?"

"I kind of...already...gave it to him...sorry..." his words trailed off, almost embarrassed, like you had caught him red handed. You sighed, slightly annoyed. You didn't like when others gave out your phone number without asking you first, but then again, your boyfriend — which was soon to be your ex — was something he did quite often behind your back.

"He still driving the impala?" You asked, but before Sam could answer you, you continued with your thought, answering your own question. "Never mind, that was a stupid question," you slightly chuckled to yourself. "Of course he's still driving the impala."

Dean held the steering wheel tightly in his hands, loving the feeling of the leather at his fingertips. It had been far too long since he'd driven Baby, and it was one of the things that he truly missed while he was gone. "It's just a car Sam," his words rang out; and those words gutted him, because Baby wasn't just a car: she was home.

As he drove, his music was low, not loud like he usually preferred it, as he was currently admiring the simplicity of his surroundings. The rain hitting the windshield and being quickly wiped away, the darkness of the road that was only lit up by Baby's headlights. He felt comfortable and at ease; something driving always helped him to feel. He felt at home right now.

You didn't really know what to feel right now as you were debating back and forth on how your first meeting with the infamous Dean Winchester was going to go. According to Sam, the two of you would get along great, as he's made comments along the lines of, "You sometimes scarily remind me of Dean," which you weren't sure if you should take as a compliment or not.

Some of the stories Sam had told you about Dean impressed you, but then there were some where you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the stupidity. With some stories, you wondered how he wasn't dead already, then again, both Winchester's have died and came back countless times as death didn't seem to stick. You couldn't help but wonder what made them so special. Maybe they are God's favorites, you thought; and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, you let out a small laugh, seeing Dean's impala already in the parking lot. He really is a speed demon, you thought. Wonder what time he got here? You wondered.

As soon as you parked your vehicle, your phone began buzzing, and you looked at the name on the caller ID. Your blood started boiling seeing your boyfriend's name. "You have to be fucking kidding me," you mumbled to yourself.

At first, you were going to ignore the call, as maybe he would think you were still driving. But there was no way you would be able to give that illusion as there was no traffic on the road when you left because of the time. With gritted teeth, you answered the call, trying your absolute best to remain calm. "Hey," was all you said.

"You get to the motel yet?" He asked, his tone implying that he already had that knowledge somehow.

"I just pulled in," your answers were short, as you were still mad at him from before. Although driving was one of the things that calmed you down and made you feel at peace, for some reason, this argument in particular really made you angry.

"You said you would call me when you got to the motel," he sounded mildly annoyed, but disappointed at the same time.

You rolled your eyes. "Fucking hell," you mouthed. "I just pulled in. You didn't give me enough time to even call or text you." You took a deep breath, feeling yourself getting ready to boil over. "This is me telling you that I have reached the motel and may not be able to talk to you over the next couple of days, okay?" You weren't asking him; you were telling him; trying to make it clear that you couldn't talk to him. Of course you would be able to, but you didn't want to, as this case was a way for you to get the edge off. It was a way to kill something without killing him.

"I love you," he said, and for some reason him saying those three little words surprised you. He rarely said them to you, even though it was something that you had said to him regularly. The only times he ever seemed to say those three little words to you was during or after sex, or when the two of you had gotten into a rather nasty argument.

You didn't want to say it back to him, as love was the very last thing you felt for him in this moment. But you almost felt like you needed to, so he wouldn't feel like anything was wrong between the two of you. Then again, you didn't want to gaslight him the same way he always seemed to gaslight you. "I'll see you in a few days," was how you decided to answer, as those were the most genuine words you felt you could say to him.

⤑ Move Forward & Read Chapter 2

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[nattarthetimedragon]

Ignika Toa of death (he/him).As he dived into Codrex, Ignika realized it was too late. The mask was already turning black. He Knew his purpose was the end of life in the universe, but with his new found emotions he managed to hold back the blast of energy that would end all life. The drive to end life was too strong he could not fight that programming. So with sorrow he twisted his form, in hopes that people would see the monster he became, to give them a chance to stop him, but none could. All were ended with his executioner axe. Hope you like my Halloween MOC, have a fun spooky season!!!!