#i will get out the cas machine promise

[simulatedtrait]

new local lesbian

[itsphoenix0724]

Save A Horse (Cassian x Reader)

Summary: After a long hard day of work all Cas wants is a cold beer and a pretty girl.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, sexual language about women's bodies

A/N: I love a good cowboy au, and I feel like my boy Cas fits that vibe the best. I'm sorry I've been MIA, but I'm trying to get back into it I promise. Thank you all for your patience. Much love <3

Cassian takes off his hat as he walks into the bar, hair slicked back against his forehead after a long day in the sun.  He appreciates the job Rhys’s father offers him, but he puts him through the wringer every day from sun up to sun down. Friday nights at Rita’s are always packed, and tonight is no exception, especially with the new addition of the mechanical bull. Cassian only has to step up to the bar and a beer is already set in front of him. He takes a sip, letting the drink cool him from the inside out before he turns to survey the dance floor. It’s packed with girls square dancing and some just drunkenly bumping and grinding with the person closest to them. He looks out across the floor watching the buckle bunnies saunter up to every available ranch hand they set their eyes on. Nights like these are some of his favorites, he just lets the girls flock to him so he can take his pick of the litter to get lost in for the night. 

That’s when he sees you, red cowboy boots in all your glory on the back of that mechanical bull.  

The bull is supposed to be impossible to stay on, he knows because he laughed about it with Rita on the first night she had it installed. Rhys, Az, and himself had spent the entire night watching people get thrown into the inflatable pit around it, laughing so hard they almost tipped their barstools.

But you were staying on the bull, and Cas is absolutely entranced. Your hips rock back and forth with the bull's motion, countering every single buck and jerk the machine used to try to throw you. You even had the balls to take one hand off the reigns and Cassian almost fell to his knees right there when you flipped yourself around and started to ride it backward. His eyes wander down to the tight denim of your cut-off shorts, your ass looks good enough for him to bite. 

Every single eye in the bar is fixed on you because no one has ever stayed on the bull this long. 

The machine starts to slow down, the rocking of your hips becoming more sensual as you begin to follow the beat of the country song blasting across the speakers. Everyone watches with rapt attention as the bull finally stops, before erupting into cheers that shake the very foundation of the building. You dismount, bowing with a flourish as you return to your group of friends. Most of the guys in the bar are approaching you, but Cassian is already tucking his hat back on and barreling over. Any other guy who had thought he stood a chance backed off just as quickly when Cassian sent them a glare that could level mountains. 

He didn’t care what anyone said, he had to have you tonight, tonight you were his and his alone. 

“That was incredible.” Cassian rumbles, coming up behind you, a quick wink and smile from him sends your friends fluttering across the dance floor laughing behind their hands. 

“Well thank you,” you drawl, red lips pulling back into a feline grin. “And you are?” one of your eyebrows cocks, eyes lazily trailing up and down his form. 

“Cassian Prince,” he tips his hat and watches as you smirk, “and can I have your name or should I just call you Beautiful?” you laugh incredulously, before rolling your eyes. Cassian’s confidence wavers for a second, that line normally works, but he presses on. “Can I buy you a drink?” You hum in contemplation, making a good show of tipping your head in thought. 

“No thanks, maybe next time Cowboy.” You pat him on the shoulder before sauntering away from him and disappearing back into the crowd. Cassian watches those red boots walk away dumbfounded, but sulks back to his spot against the bar. 

Cassian drinks until closing time, eyes still prowling the crowd but dissatisfied with every potential prospect. Nothing compared to the rush you gave him when you were on that bull. 

Rita’s is emptying, and Cas knocks back another shot of whiskey as Rita cleans the glasses for the night. On the nights he doesn’t go home with someone he usually stays to ensure she gets to her car okay even though he doesn’t think that anyone in this town would be dumb enough to try anything with Rita. 

“Hey Jackass, leave me the hell alone!” It’s shouted across the bar in such alarm that it raises the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck. He moves faster than his brain can keep up with, tipsy feet carrying him to the bar's back corner. Cas finds that the distressed voice he heard belongs to you, and you’re currently facing up with a guy about twice your height, eyes locked on him with a glare that could make the devil flinch. 

“Come on baby, I saw you on that bull,” 

The stranger is pretty big, but Cas still has a couple of inches on him.

“I think the lady said to leave her alone.” Cassian’s voice rumbles, deep and dark like a thunderstorm. Your eyes blaze with lightning in return. The stranger turns and shoves Cassian on the shoulder, his adrenaline spikes, the song in his blood finally happy for a fight. His fist clenches and before he can blink it slams into the stranger's face. Cassian looks at you again as you freeze in shock, the stranger knocked out cold on the floor between your feet. 

“HEY!” Rita’s voice screams across the bar, “Enough! Cassian get cleaned up, I’ll handle this.” She waves a disgusted at the man collapsed on the ground and you silently grab Cas’s hand to lead him into the bar’s tiny bathroom. 

The two of you share the space across the sink, you run his hand under cold water before gently dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles with a paper towel. 

“You know,” you start, a teasing lilt to your voice “no one’s ever punched a guy out for me before.” 

“It’s not gentlemanly to disrespect women” Cassian rumbles eyes watching the way your hands curl around the callous skin of his palm. Maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline from the punch he threw, but the only thing he can think of is that your skin is so soft, hands unburdened by the roughness of labor. You lift your head and Cas can feel the ghost of your exhale skate across his lips. He doesn’t know who leans in first, but your lips taste like the limes and salt used for tequila shots. 

He tries his best to chase the hidden burn as your tongue traces over the seam of his lips. 

You’re surprisingly dominant in the way your tongue traces over his with a sensuality Cassian thinks runs in your blood. Cas lets himself be pulled in like a ship out in the ocean, flowing and bellowing with the tide that is your kiss. Those damned hands start undoing the buttons on his flannel, but he doesn’t let you get too far. “We should get out of here,” he heaves, your chests rising and falling to the same beat, he leads you with a hand to the small of your back out of the bar over to his truck. Cassian opens the door to the driver's seat and lifts you onto the seat before his mouth meets yours again. 

Your hands feel like wildfire as they trace down the hard muscles of his back, his trail sends lightning strikes down the curve of your thighs. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt again, and Cassian can feel himself getting harder every time one gets undone. His flannel drifts down to the asphalt that covers the parking lot and your hands against his bare chest might be the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get. His lips bite dark marks into the curve of your neck, and the moan you release bounces off the curve of the windshield and comes back to rattle his bones. Your hands try to fond Cas’s hair but they run into the wide brim of his hat. The two of you pull apart and the fire in your eyes makes his old jeans get tighter. Your red lipstick is smeared but smile no less wild as you take off his hat and place it onto your head, as triumphant as a queen with a crown. 

“Do you know what that means?” the low timbre of Cassian’s voice sounds more animal than human, his pupils blown wide as his eyes try to swallow you whole. With a laugh, you tip his hat at him and Cas drops to his knees this time. He makes quick work of the belt holding your shorts up, popping the buckle, and sliding the denim down your legs until they hit the concrete below the truck with a metallic thud. He devours you quickly, wasting no time to delve his tongue between your thighs. Your head tosses back with a moan as you begin to grind against his face with the same ferocity that you used to ride the bull earlier. Cassian slips a finger inside of you and lets out a loud groan at the feeling of you clenching around him, he can barely wait to get inside you. You finally release with a broken cry and collapse against his truck's old leather bench seat. You sit up on your elbows, chest heaving up and down with hungry eyes, and Cassian claims your mouth again. Large broad hands drag up your jaw and into your hair, scraping with such delight you almost purr like a cat. Your hands practically rip his belt open, his hips bucking into your hand when you rub hard against his length. Eagerly, you pull Cas into the truck after you and he barely manages to pull the door shut behind you. He kisses his way down your body, worshiping every inch and curve he finds before making his way back up. Lining himself up he pushes himself into you. Your hands claw down his back with a wild ferocity and Cassian loves the bite your fingernails leave. He gives you a few minutes to adjust to him, but when you start squirming underneath him and running your tongue along the shell of his ear, he snaps. He fucks into you with pure abandon, white-hot pleasure shooting between the both of you like a live wire. However, you–like everything else you’ve done tonight, continue to surprise him. You flip Cas over in the seats and ride him until his eyes almost roll back into his head. He never wants to leave this truck, the efforts of your passions fogging up the windows. You tumble over the edge walls squeezing him in a vice grip, and he’s almost embarrassed by it, but with a broken whimper, Cassian manages to lift you off of him and finish all over your stomach. You collapse against his chest, leaving red trailed kisses along the length of his jugular. After recovering, you retrieve your shorts from the ground, pulling them back up your thighs Cas watches with his eyes half-lidded in orgasmic bliss. He tracks the movement of your finger as you wipe away the smeared lipstick from the corners of your mouth. 

“I’ll see you around cowboy.” Your sultry voice echoes out, reigniting the problem in Cassian’s pants when you swing the door to his truck shut and he watches your hips sway as you walk to your own car. 

Cassian has to sit in his truck for another fifteen minutes to recover and its when he runs his hands through his tousled hair that he realizes one thing. 

You’ve walked off with his hat.

[odessa-2]

Titbits and analysis 🖖

As promised, some more titbits from the Con yesterday in Melbourne as well as my interpretations. Prior to attending yesterday, I told myself to keep an open mind and attempt to leave any biases behind (even after having seen the funeral pics). Clean slate. To try and view Sam, the event, questions, and subsequent behaviours objectively.

I'm the sort of person who feels energy and is affected by it and in some ways governed by it. The energy of people, both individually and collectively. The energy of a group. I tend to couple this with objective analysis, which forms the basis of my conclusions about people and situations.

I applied this method yesterday in attempting to understand and view Sam, the OL money 💰 machine and everything else. I also just wanted to go there and bask in the audience and enjoy myself....and....I did like it Jamie.

So first thing I noticed off the cuff was how experienced Sam was in handling questions, and the women, and tailoring his behaviour to suit their desires. He was charming, charismatic, approachable, a skilled professional. I saw the veneer. I felt the veneer. I also saw and felt that he is a pretty decent bloke under that veneer. A man with a solid work ethic, who is mild mannered and working with purpose in his life.

I observed that his handler or Convention agent or whatever he is, Steve, was in full control. He managed Sam's performance in a sense. He asked the questions and even set the directions for some answers. Sam is controlled. I didn't like Steve. I didn't get the best vibe off him. Infact, I got a bad vibe off him. I observed that everything was a performance. Scripted to a large degree. The Single Sam narrative was pushed by Steve. Hard. It was a performance. That much was clear to me.

So Sam chose to mention that he was in Austria skiing 2 weeks ago....blah blah...something about singing a Ronan Keating song. So the script tells everyone nice and early that he is NOT with Caitriona ✅️

Later on in the panel, he mentioned that he "was at the theatre in London the week earlier" watching a play. Huh? Getting his timeline confused? Interesting titbit, I thought. Who would he go to the theatre with whilst in London? Who else likes to go to the theatre? Who have we seen him go to the theatre with before? Ding ding ding!!

One of the first things he spoke about (umprompted) and imo was part of his speaking program, was that Caitriona is back home in Scotland doing prep work and will be directing this season. He said that he spoke to her recently and that she is cold and miserable back home. No one seemed to give a shit. The women were there for their Jamie. Sam read the crowd. He understood.

Sam tried to bring Cait into the conversation again saying something like "Where's Claire?....Caitriona isn't here". Again crickets from the audience.

He said that he auditioned with a lot of Claire's, but they couldn't find the right fit and that nobody was as brilliant as Caitriona.

It sounded like he genuinely missed her.

He spoke of his audition with Cait, saying they were very physical and were almost wrestling each other. He said he was sweating all over her and that his sweat was on her. The crowd still only wanted to hear about their Jamie. I think Sam relished in being cheeky in saying that she wore his sweat that day.

Someone asked about "how do you kiss and make out with a costar and then just carry-on. Isn't it awkward"? Sam responded generally initially, saying that there's lots of checking in with the person and apologising afterwards (in a joking fashion). Then that prompted him to start talking about Cait saying that he has also "snotted" all over Cait and exchanged many body fluids with her (in an acting context presumably)and that there's nothing really left to do together that they haven't already done. I was like "whoooaa wtf Sam?". Shooketh that he said that really. The silence from the crowd was palpable. They really didn't want to hear about Cait and Sam and their shared bodily fluids whilst 'acting'. He is THEIR fantasy man. Not Caitriona's. Silence from the audience. Sam already knew that the crowd were Sam onlies but he loved telling this story. Relished in it imo. He loved the double entendre. It was an unrehearsed, unscripted conversation as it resulted from an audience question. I concluded it was an act of defiance on his behalf. That's what it felt like to me.

Steve the convention agent guy, was always bringing it back to Single Sam. "I worry how are you going to get a date" said Steve. With Sam understanding the prompt ...."I worry too" says Sam. Bachelor narrative secured ✅️

Steve spruked the Bachelor narrative again to Sam's thirsty and adoring fans....."Sam you remind me of that old show where everyone has to guess which bachelor is going to come out of the mystery door". And that's when I knew with 100 percent certainty that the bachelor talk was a ruse. It was so contrived and performative. I smiled to myself. The women in the crowd were eating it up.

Another thing that stood out to me was when Sam was searching for the right terminology when talking about Cait. "My......co star" huge pause.

"I love you Claire" is the line he randomly chose to say when explaining his acting.

When asked how he has time to foster friendships and spend time with his family he talked around it. Avoided the question and kept it about his friendships saying that they are strong friendships that endure. He diverged and started talking about how he still has his core friendships that he had when he was bunking and sharing an apartment/house with them in London when he was younger. The veneer was up. Inpenetrable.

At another point in the panel Sam asked "How many Sheila's are there here"? LOL. I found that amusing.

Now this next part captured my attention the most. It had a weird feeling (energy) around it . Sam gave off a weird energy. Almost hostile. Again that's just what I felt.

Someome from the audience named Toni with an "I" was selected to ask a question. I can't remember what the question was but Sam made a really big deal about her being named Toni. "There's always a Tony have you noticed"? Why is there always a Tony"? He said. He didn't want to drop it. He placed a little too much emphasis on it. I was laughing silently but Sam's double entendre didn't go unnoticed by me. Everyone else was clueless or at least that's how it appeared to me. Was that an Easter egg dropped by Sammy?

Asked about what does he do for self care, he seemed to struggle answering that too. He talked in circles about his way points hike and how he's learning how to live in the moment. There's that wall again.

There were many other things discussed of course but I thought I'd focus on the things that shed light on his situation and that resonated with me.

So my closing Analysis? Sam is controlled. He peforms. He caters. He's intelligent and in tune with people and aims to please but is private. Sunday just reaffirmed and solidified my beliefs. Caitriona snatched up that hard working gem of a man quick smart!

[ninii-winchester]

You’d never know (Final)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.8k

Warnings : slight angst, fluff, steamy kisses (?)

A/n : just so you know I’m not a doctor.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"I just had a vision." Patience announced.

Claire who had been sobbing in Kaia's arms, looked up at her expectantly. She had been feeling guilty knowing it was meant for her but Y/n had saved her. She hated it, it was always Sam, Dean and Y/n saving her every damn time.

"What? What is it?" The blonde girl asked, looking at the psychic with hopeful eyes.

"She'll live." The moment Patience said that, couple of relived breaths were heard along with a flapping of wings.

Castiel appeared at the boatyard and knelt beside Y/n's almost lifeless body. Dean looked at his best friend with relief and gratefulness.

"I came as soon as Sam called." Cas said placing his hand over the wound, he couldn't heal her completely since he was not at his full potential but he managed to close the wound enough to stop the bleeding, however the wound was still present. Her heart rate had picked up and was beating steadily but she remained unconscious. "You need to take her to the hospital right now." The Angel added.

Dean didn't waste a second before hauling her up in his arms and running out of the boatyard. The others followed behind. While Sam and Cas went to the hospital with Dean, Jody and Donna took the girls back home, with the promise of coming to see her soon.

They arrived at the hospital soon enough and Y/n was taken to the ER. Dean had spent the past hour pacing around the hallway.

"Sammy, thank you for calling Cas. She wouldn't have made it, had you not. God I wasn't even in my senses....I" Dean rambled nervously walking back and forth, waiting for the doctors to tell him something, anything. After an hour or so a doctor emerged from the room.

"Y/n Paige's next of kin?" The doctor called out and Dean's pacing came to a halt.

"It's me." He said walking up to the doctor.

"You're her?" The doctor questioned.

"Husband." Dean nodded trying to look convincing enough. "I'm her husband."

"Well Mr. Paige your wife's condition is stable for now. The stab wound was pretty deep, but it managed to avoid any vital organs or nerve damage. We've cleaned and closed the wound. But we still need to keep her under observation for a few days. And she needs to rest." The doctors words seemed to ease Dean out of his misery. "Your wife is a lucky one Mr. Paige, and one hell of a fighter." That made Dean smile a bit. "A wound like that," the doctor trailed off with a sputter. "God saved her." He added. Dean looked back his best friend, mentally correcting the doctor.

It wasn't God who saved her, it was an Angel of the Lord.

"Can i see her, doctor?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Sure we'll shift her to a private room and then you can see her. Although she might be asleep for a long time." The doctor said before he left.

Sam came behind his brother and patted him on the back. Uncharacteristically Dean turned around and hugged his brother, shuddering a bit as he did so. He was about to lose the love of his life. Had it not been his brother's quick thinking, he would've lost her forever. Sam happily returned his brother's embrace, hoping to provide him with a sense of comfort.

After Y/n was shifted to a private room, Dean went in to see her. He settled on the chair beside her bed. His hand found hers and he held onto it for dear life. He pressed a kiss to get knuckles before he spoke,

"Baby, I'm so fucking sorry. Please just wake up." Dean sniffled a bit resting his head on her hand. "I love you. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Dean didn't know when he fell asleep but he expected Y/n to be awake he woke up. Much to his dismay she wasn't. It was around three in the morning, The machines in the room were beeping steadily, and he had hoped for her to wake up soon. The more he waited the more anxious he felt. Thousands of what ifs creeped up in his mind. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she doesn't forgive me? Hell what if she doesn't remember me?

Three hours later, Dean felt her move. Her fingers brushed against his' as she slowly blinked her eyes open. She immediately closed them back due to the bright lights. She blinked slowly before opening her eyes again.

"Dean?"

"Goodness baby you're awake." Dean sat up straight, relieved as ever. "I'm gonna get the doctor. The doctor checked her vitals and asked her basic questions. After the doctor was sure she was okay, he left the room.

"Do you need anything? Is anything hurting?" Dean asked standing beside her bed.

"Water please." Dean nodded and grabbed her a glass of water, bringing it near her face to help her drink it.

"Why?" Y/n whispered. Dean froze as he was putting away the glass. He hadn't expected her to jump right to it. He sighed sitting back on the chair.

"Sweetheart-"

"Why did you say that Dean? Has that always been on your mind? Do you think that i don't know what a mother is just because i never had one?" She asked quietly and Dean would've preferred her yelling at him instead of that because her small voice just shattered his heart into a million pieces.

"No, not at all baby I'm so sorry, i really am. I never wanted to say any of that, I wasn't thinking straight." Dean said as softly as possible. "I was just too stressed and she wasn't cooperating and you then you jumped in front of my gun. I just..."

"It doesn't justify your actions, Dean. You knew it was a sensitive subject for me and you just had to home." She cried and he sat on the bed beside her.

"Don't cry baby," he said wiping her years with his thumb. "It was a low blow and i would never forgive myself for what i said. I just need you to know I'm sorry. That i love you. And I'm nothing without you." Dean rested his forehead on hers and she didn't lean away from his touch. "I want you to know that my life literally went to shit since the moment we were apart. Got stuck in a goddamn bad place and you had to come save my ass." She chuckled through her tears. "If only i hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't be here, I am sorry sweetheart."

"Dean, you hurt me." She said stating the obvious. "I really want to forgive you but it's hard. I need time. I need some time away." Dean's face fell at her words. He wasn't ready to let her go. Not now, not ever. He'd do anything for her to forgive him but he can't let her leave.

"Away?" Y/n nodded looking away. She didn't want to look at him, not when she's vulnerable and emotional. She knows the minute she looks into those mesmerising green eyes she'll fold. And she knows she'll forgive him eventually too but she can't do it right away. She needs to stand her ground.

"Baby I'll do whatever you want me to do just don't go anywhere. I'd do anything. You can't just leave. The bunker's your home, sweetheart. You need to rest and we won't be sure of your safety anywhere else."

"Dean-"

"Anything you want." Dean bargained pleadingly.

"I'll go back to bunker with you, on one condition."

"Anything."

"You'll give me space." Dean didn't want to. He wanted to refuse out right. He just wanted to hold her in his arms for as long he could.

"Let me take care of you until you heal." He caressed her cheek softly. He was making it harder for her than it already was. She was already putty in his hands and she knew she would forgive him sooner than she intended.

"You're so stubborn." Y/n groaned pushing his chest lightly. "Fine." Dean grinned at her placing a soft kiss at her forehead.

After Y/n was discharged from the hospital, Dean drove her back to the bunker. He had been the complete gentleman, from opening the car door for her to carrying her inside the bunker. He even brought her flowers before they left the hospital. He knows he fucked up big time but he's grateful that she intends to forgive him and he will never take that forgiveness for granted.

It took two weeks for Y/n's wound to heal completely and Dean had been going full on mother hen on her all through that time. All through this time Y/n had been distant and aloof. It did dishearten Dean to no end but he wasn’t willing to give up. He was taking care of her in every way possible.  Reprimanding her for walking on her own, not letting her do anything around the bunker, feeding her and reminding her to take her medicines on time. Not to forget bringing her flowers every time he went out.

Another week had passed and Y/n had been sleeping in own room for the past three weeks. She missed Dean. She knew he was remorseful of his actions. She quickly threw the blanket off her legs and made her way towards his room. She knocked on his door. The door opened revealing Dean, looking soft as ever in just a tshirt and sweatpants, his hair a bit ruffled.

"Were you sleeping?" She asked shyly.

"No." His voice a little gruff and tired. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other was still at the doorknob. She took a step forward.

"I missed you." She whispered before pressing her lips to his'. He was shocked at first but immediately grabbed the back of her head with his hand and kissed her roughly. The hand in her hair slipped down to her back and further down. He moved his arm under the curve of her rear and she jumped a bit wrapping her legs around his waist. He picked her up effortlessly and closed the door. He took her to bed without breaking the kiss and laying her onto the bed.

"Missed you so much, darling." He mumbled leaving open mouthed kissed onto her neck and jaw. Y/n grabbed the back of his head pulling him up for another steamy kiss. Their lips moved in perfect sync as well as their hearts beats.

"I love you." She murmured against his lips.

"God sweetheart, I love you more." He panted, pulling away, hovering above her. "I swear I'm never gonna do anything like that, ever again." Though his body was fire with insatiable lust but his eyes were filled with sincerity and adoration.

"You better not or else I'll-" He interrupted her threat.

"Cross my heart, baby." He sealed his promise with a passionate kiss.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

[imtooscaredforthis]

Entrapment

Chapter Twenty Eight: Caught

Mentions of: Murder, Gore, Character Death, Paranoia, Manipulation, and Stabbing

A/N: Kinda rushed but whatever..more coming soon!

Tags: @elentiyaiswriting @dead-bxxxtch-walking

@vandeaad @mama-miya @the-fandoms-georgie

Everything has been settled for a little while. There weren’t any murders or messages left in your car and apartment. You were finally starting to feel safe. You knew you shouldn’t. Not when this many people have been hurt. He’s up to something, you know it.

He’s luring you into a false sense of security, and once you finally let your guard down, he’ll strike. But even with that fear, you had to admit, it was nice, to feel slightly more okay again. You were starting to sleep again, and the nightmares were going away.

“It’s so weird, you know? The town’s quiet. The quietest it has been in a while.” Rachel remarked you, her and Jed standing around the coffee machine. For once, work was slow.

“Yeah, for once there’s nothing for us to write about. Maybe he’s finally gone.” Jed shrugged.

You gazed over at Jed, fearing that if he was even mentioned, he would come back. He would be here. Summoned like the monster he was. You didn’t comment, just gazed into the black pool of your coffee, before pouring some sugar into it and stirring.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

“I mean, like, what if people are onto him, so he’s running?”

“You think the cops are finally starting to figure it out?”

Bullshit. You don’t buy it. The cops were hardly making progress. If they did, they would announce any developments in their investigation. They would show a sketch, and the only thing they had was that damn mask. If anything, you were the closest one to cracking it, and you were hardly making any progress.

Jed shrugged. “I don’t know. But I hope so.”

“Are you okay?” Jed asked, resting a hand on your shoulder and snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What do you think? You think he’s finally gone?”

You wanted to believe it. That you were safe. That everything’s going to be okay. You wanted to lie. But you couldn’t. Not to yourself, and not to them. “No. I mean, he has so much publicity. He wants the attention. He wouldn’t just disappear. Not without sending some sort of message first.”

Jed looked worried but also intrigued. Rachel seemed scared. “Why would you say something like that? Don’t you want him gone?”

“Of course I do.” You replied, fidgeting with the mug in your hand. “I just- I think we should be careful, that’s all.”

“Aren’t you tired of being careful? Of being afraid? He killed my friends, _____. He’s hurt people. So, I’m going to be happy that we’re finally safe again. You should be too.” With that, she walked off, leaving you to call after and feel guilty.

“Don’t, just give her some space.” Jed stopped you. “This is hard on her.”

“It’s hard on me too. She’s acting like this hasn’t affected me either. Like I haven’t lost anyone.” You said, frustrated.

“I know you have, and I know what you’re going through is rough. It’s just…Rachel has grown up here. This place is her home, and everyone she knows and loves isn’t safe, which is terrifying.” Jed tried to reason.

You sighed. “I know. And I know you guys are probably right. I want you guys to be right. But, I have a bad feeling.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure him out eventually. Killers like that don’t have that much publicity and get away with it.” He did have a point. Not to mention how arrogant he was. Ghostface is smart and he knows that, but he thinks he can get away with everything. He thinks he can hurt you, and use you, that he can do whatever he wants, and that will be his downfall.

“No matter what happens, I’ll do what I can to protect you. I promise. You call me and I’ll be there. Anytime, anyplace, just call me.” He took your hands in his, giving them a soft squeeze.

You smiled at him, leaning in and giving his lips a soft peck. “Thanks, Jed.”

Someone else came in, causing the two of you to pull away from each other. It was time to get back to work.

–

Even after what happened earlier, Rachel still invited you and Jed out for drinks. You would reason against it and tell her that it’s not safe, but you knew that would end badly. She was too stubborn. She wouldn’t listen and she’d just get more mad at you.

Instead, here you were, watching her across the bar, making sure she stayed safe. Jed followed your eyes, catching on to your stare. “Are you going to spend the whole night babysitting her?”

“If it means she’s safe, then yes I will.” Not that it ensured anything. You could follow her home and he’d be waiting there for her. He could be anywhere.

“Look, Rachel’s tough. She’ll be okay. I promise, but if you want, I can walk her home for you.” You sighed, slightly relieved at that.

–

“Are you okay? You’ve been in the bathroom for a while.” You couldn’t help but ask Jed, not even two hours later. He looked pale and he was sweaty.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I ate or drank something funny, but I’ll be okay.” His hands were trembling. You were worried. “Jed, you should go home.”

“But what about-”

“It’s fine. I can look after her. Let’s get you a cab.” You walked him outside, letting him lean against you. You wanted to look after him too, now..but you knew that Rachel would be more vulnerable. Going home drunk with a stranger like she always did but what if she goes back with the wrong one?

“Call me and let me know you got home safe okay?” You hugged him and helped him into the car.

“I will.”

You turned away and walked into the bar. Luckily for you, Rachel was just about to leave. You followed her down the dark road, while she stumbled along with the stranger. Soon enough, she was only two blocks away from her house. Nothing had happened. There was no one suspicious, no strange hooded figures, nothing.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you are safe. Maybe he really is gone.

Suddenly, a hooded figure stalked behind them, and just as you could warn them, the man’s throat was slit. You sprinted over, and you were only halfway there when Rachel took off. He caught her easily, stepping on the back of her ankle and stabbing her in the back, before he faced her right in front of you, holding her back by the hair and running his blade across her throat, forcing you to watch as she choked on her blood and the life drained from her eyes.

Foolish, naive, little girl. You should’ve known.

[dollwrites]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ fem!justice league!reader, ghost!hal ( spectre ), angst, mentions of parallax, mentions of death and grieving and suicidal thoughts/tendencies, violence against reader, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan

the coffee was cold and bitter.

but then again: so were you.

you finish the cup and set it on the table in front of you, sighing.

you hadn’t slept since you don’t remember when— at least not real sleep. it wasn’t the same as passing out from exhaustion for fifteen minutes at a time upon a pile of newspaper clippings, only to wake up screaming for Hal.

no, not screaming for him. screaming for him to stop.

you’d wanted to get through to him so badly that you’d put the entire League in peril to do so. you thought that if you could just look into his eyes, you could bring him back to the old Hal. your Hal. instead of this awful Parallax he now claimed to be.

you’d been wrong.

you glance down at your hands as you wiggle life back into your fingers— your knuckles were bloody and bruised; cracked open from too much training and too much vigilante justice. they’d all tried to get you to slow down, but none more than Oliver. Arrow still tracked you, and stepped in when you were going to do something extremely foolish. as much as you fought against him, he refused to let you go.

“They’re getting away!” you remember so vividly screaming it over the sound of thunder crashing and the rain that peppered your face as Arrow pinned you to the rooftop, holding your arms down by the wrists. for as wildly as you fought, his strength outmatched yours.

“Let them go,” he’d barked back, tightening his grip when you’d writhed, “there’s too many of them. You can’t take them down by yourself. You’re not even wearing your gear—“

“Who cares—“

“I care!” Oliver had screamed, pushing you back down when you bucked to get up. you stutter, startled by the break in his voice. you’d known Arrow for as long as you’d been in the Justice League, obviously, but the real bonding had been after Hal’s death. with Barry not around to fall back on, you’d been worried that you’d lean on OlIver until it broke him right along with you, so you’d pulled back. he was a persistent bastard, though, and he never let you get too far. “They’re armed to the teeth. Machine guns. You can’t just punch your way through a militia.They’ll kill you if you go after them alone,” you open your mouth to say something, but when no noise comes out, Queen keeps going, “that may not mean anything to you but it does to me. Hal would never forgive me if I let you do something this reckless.”

you wanted to cry, but your tears had long since dried up. so you choked on the words. “Hal’s dead.”

it hurt Oliver, too, for those words to come out. as you struggled to push them free from your lips, he winced, as if they drove themselves into his heart. “But you’re not.” he countered after a moment of silently pleading with his eyes. he wanted you to feel something so badly, and yet all you felt was guilt that you couldn’t feel anything at all. “Hal was my best friend.” it went without saying that he loved Hal, and so did you, but he uttered the words anyways. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re all that I really have left of the guy. I can’t lose you, too. Not after I swore to him I’d keep you safe. When my time comes, I will look him in the eyes and tell him I kept my promise.”

you stare at him, quiet, considering each word carefully. had Hal been himself enough in his dying moments for Ollie to make such a promise, or had Ollie spoken his intentions into the sky after Hal fell? did it really matter?

thinking about that night on the rooftop with Oliver, you reached up to gingerly caress the power ring that hangs from a silver chain around your neck, most of the time hidden by the neckline of your top, but not tonight. the ring rests right against your heart. you hadn’t even known Hal had given it to Oliver until that night, when he’d placed it on your finger. nothing happened, but Arrow said it was because he’d never attempted to charge it. he was too afraid of the power, he didn’t think he could wield it. you felt almost the same way.

John offered to charge it for you, too, but you refused. it wasn’t yours to wield. it was Hal’s. you wouldn’t try to pick up where he left off. you just wanted something of his to remember him.

right now, you get up and stumble over to the window, kicking old coffee cups and fast food wrappers. you really should take better care of yourself, it was what everyone was telling you, but you rarely found the time or energy to eat at all. it didn’t matter to you what it was, it didn’t taste very good, anyways. nothing did. so, whatever was fast and easily accessible usually won out. there’s a slight limp on your right side, as putting too much pressure down when walking would irritate what you expected was a fracture somewhere between your knee and your thigh— due to falling out of a third story window a few days before.

from your viewpoint, you could see most of the city, and you press your palm to the glass. it was a quiet night, which you hated, now. the silence. it was like it taunted you. at the very least, if you were kicking some bad guy ass, you could focus on the sound of his jaw breaking against your hand, or his ribs cracking under your knee. you didn’t have to think. just punch.

but when there was no one to hurt, no one to bring down, you started to collapse into yourself. think about Hal. try to imagine the way he used to smile when he said your name, as if the syllables themselves were enough to make him giddy. you hated yourself for starting to forget what his voice sounded like.

you’d tried, desperately, to hold on to that memory by calling his phone over and over, just to hear his voicemail.

Hey, you’ve reached Hal Jordan. I’m super busy right now, probably doing something really cool like, I don’t know, saving the freakin’ world so I can’t pick up. If you’ve got this number, then you probably know that already. Leave a message, and I’ll try to find some time to get back atcha, ya know, once I’m done with the whole superhero thing.

you’d heard it dozens of times, but it was never enough. and then, finally, the number was disconnected. as if the final shred of him was erased, and all you were left with was memories.

but memories fade, and you feared his would, too.

a battalion of police cars, all lit up, scream down the highway in front of your building, and the sirens pull you from your thoughts of Hal. staring at the direction the flashing lights mesh into, you bite down on your lip.

you shouldn’t go.

you were still healing from the last fight.

“Sorry, Ollie.” you whisper to no one but yourself, as you limp over to your gear across the room. he would have to get tired of chasing you around eventually, trying to be your safety net all the time. he wouldn’t have to tell Hal anything, because you’d decided you’d reunite with him first. you’d explain everything as soon as you were safely in his arms.

you were zipping up your combat boots when you hear his voice, and you freeze. “Let the cops handle this one.”

you stare down at the toes of your boots, worn and mud-covered. you’d stopped keeping your gear as clean as you used to. that’s not all. your feet were not the only two you were looking at. focused on the second set, those heavy, brown boots that you knew so well. they’d been left forgotten by your bedroom door much too often to forget. now, they meet faded denim jeans at the ankle. “H—Hal…?”

you didn’t want to look up, terrified that you would be alone. terrified that you were simply hearing things. seeing things.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he answers, and a familiar sensation of his hand slipping under your chin, fingers curling to tilt your head up, overwhelms you. they’re the same shape as Hal’s, but they’re freezing cold. your lower lip tremors as you force yourself to look up. “I thought it would only confuse you or hurt you. I just really wanted to see you. I’m sorry that I’m selfish that way.”

he was here.

Hal was really here, standing in front of you. he wasn’t clad in his Green Lantern suit, or that horrible Parallax costume. he was standing before you in his jeans, a faded blue button down, and his dad’s brown pilot jacket. the one he always wore.

“Hal.” you could only say his name, because other than that, nothing mattered. you didn’t care why he was there or how it was possible— you only cared that he was. “Hal...” it’s a cry as you fling yourself into his arms, bury your face in his chest. he was solid, because he caught you and wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close to him. he wasn’t an illusion.

“I miss you,” he whispers into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I miss you holding me like this.”

for the first time in a long time, you feel a lump in your throat, and a tickle against your tear ducts. “You can’t stay.” you mutter. he didn’t have to say it, you knew Hal. the way he squeezed you extra tight when he didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” he admits, pulling back. he presses his cool forehead to yours and urges you to look up at him, “bad things happen when I’m around. I can’t control it. There’s this… thing inside of me, calls itself The Spectre. When I’m here, I hurt people.”

“Here.” you repeat the word, looking up into his eyes. they looked like Hal’s deep, mahogany eyes. you couldn’t imagine anything malicious lurking behind them.

but then again, you’d faced Parallax.

Hal looks around the humblest of apartments, and you can feel the concern radiating from his baritone as he murmurs, “Baby…” his gaze traipses every discarded coffee cup before it falls back on you, and he reaches up, caressing your cheek, “When’s the last time you slept?”

you melt into the caress— you didn’t care how cold it was, and clapped your hand over his to keep it there. “I don’t know,” you admit, sheepish. “I might be asleep right now. Dreaming all of this. You’re probably not even here.”

Hal frowns, and takes a step backwards, grasping both of your hands to urge you to follow, so that he can ease on to the couch. “It’s real,” he assures you. you follow him, scrambling to stay close until he can pull you on to the couch. you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his midsection underneath his jacket. the smell of leather that always greeted you when you hugged him was no longer there. he didn’t smell like anything. “Hard to explain, but real. I’m a… a ghost, I guess.”

“You’re cold.” you pout; you were trying to cuddle into him, but now matter how deep you burrowed against his chest, how fervently you tried to rub your warmth into his body, he wasn’t retaining any of it. it was like cuddling a block of ice— not your personal heater that Hal used to be.

“I’m sorry.”

you knew the apology was for more than just your shivering. you could feel the tips of his icy fingers as they trail along your spine, they stop to brush against a rough patch of scar tissue along the small of your back underneath your top. you remember, so vividly, the look on his face when Parallax had driven a construct blade through your belly. the force behind it had swept you off your feet and hoisted you into the air, where your blood dribbled from the corners of your mouth and rained down against his wicked, toothy grin.

what were you supposed to say? ‘It’s okay’? ‘No worries’? you opt for nothing at all, and press the side of your face against the expanse of his chest. maybe part of you hoped you’d hear the subtle thumping of a heart, and you could make sure he knows how much of a jackass he was for playing this awful, awful practical joke on you. but no such luck.

whatever was inside of Hal’s chest wasn’t beating. it was almost as if he were completely hollow.

for several moments, you lay there in silence, letting him hold you. he kisses the crown of your head every now and then, but mostly stays still, too. finally, as your eyelids start to feel heavy, you grip his jacket tighter, fighting your own drowsiness.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay to go to sleep.”

“No,” it was almost hard to whimper back in response. “Because I know you won’t be here when I wake up.”

he’s quiet, and you know that you’re right.

“I’m drowning, Hal.” you admit with a sniffle. it’d been the first time you had conjured tears in months. “I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.” you dig your chin into his chest and look at him, but he’s staring far away, guilt plastered over his features. “Please don’t leave me again.” you swallow again, around the thick lump in your throat as your tears cascade over the apples of your cheeks, “If you love me, you’ll stay here. Help me. Please. Make it stop hurting so goddamn much—“

you’re silenced as a swift thumb swipes the tears from one cheek, and he looks down at you. his countenance is mournful; apologetic. “I wish you were smiling.” he whispers. you wonder if he’s unable to cry in this state. if he were still alive, would he sob with you? you felt that he might. instead, the air around the two of you felt heavy with sadness and regret. “Coming here had been a mistake I was willing to make because I would get to see you smile again, but I can only see how much pain I’ve caused.”

“Please,” you whimper, even as he purses his lips to gingerly soothe your crying, “I need you here with me. Just s—stay, I won’t tell anyone.” bargaining desperately, you grasp at his hand again. you didn’t care about the Spectre, you just wanted Hal.

“I wish that I could, but I’ve hurt you enough.” he laments, “And the pain that I’ve caused, I can’t make it go away for you.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

a sorrowful smile etched his tiers into a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Of course you can.” you were shaking your head no even as he speaks, as if refusing to hear him out. “But you have to ease up,” he flips his hand over to hold yours, gently running his thumb over your busted knuckles, “stop trying to get yourself killed, stop being reckless. I want you to heal.”

you look away, humiliated, and consider jerking your hand from his, but you don’t. you stare at the wall, wishing your tears would dry up again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he continues, kissing each, battered digit, “there’s still so many people that need you.”

and what about the people that need you? what about me? the questions are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t ask them.

“Promise me, baby. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

you really don’t want to.

you want to hold your own well-being hostage so he’s no choice but to stay, but when you look back into his eyes, you crumble.

they’re so desolate.

“I promise.” you croak weakly, and he pulls you back against him. you crash against his chest and cry there, your tears leaving no wet patch on his shirt. it was bizarre, but you didn’t stop to ponder it. “What will happen when I fall asleep?” you ask. truth be told, you were tuckered out from crying and the lingering insomnia. you didn’t want to hear him say he’d leave, but you didn’t want him to lie, either.

damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“I’ll have to go.” he answers honestly, but you don’t want to fight any longer. it hurts too much knowing that you’ll lose no matter what. “But I’ll hold you until the Spectre forces me to leave.”

you close your eyes, and grip his shirt in tightly balled fists. you were falling into unconsciousness, even though you wanted to stay awake with him.

“It’s okay.” he croons.

but it wasn’t. there was still too much to say that you’d not been able to. too many times to kiss him, and you would never have the chance to again. “Just…” your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, your voice thick with impending sleep that was well overdue. you knew that you’d hurt in the morning, but you could fight it no longer. “Say it… please… Hal…”

“I love you.”

[destieltaggedfic]

Based on Movies - Part 2

Luckily I remembered about this before I got up because I've got another full day of touristy stuff to do and wouldn't have been able to post for at least 12 hours.

Holidate – Kitmistry   Ao3

AU.  Strangers Dean and Cas meet in a bar on Christmas Eve having disappointed their families with not being in relationships.  They agree to be each other’s fake date for future holidays and along the way they get to know each other.  Loosely based on the Netflix film The Holidate

Word Count: 35k                              No Sex

Devotion - FriendofCarlotta   Ao3

AU.  When angels travel back in time to kill the human resistance leader Dean before the start of the great angel war.  Cas quickly follows to try and save him in this Terminator AU.

Word Count: 29k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

Mr&Mr Smith - MalicMalic  Ao3

AU.  Dean is a retired hunter and Cas is a fallen angel who are happily married.  The thing is neither of them know that about each other until their pasts come back to find them.  Will their marriage survive when they learn each other’s secrets? Mr & Mrs Smith AU

Word Count: 67k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

Michael Singer & the Heroic Happily Ever After – DarcyDelaney   Ao3

AU.  Author Cas Shurley has been kidnapped by a man believing that Cas’ father wrote real legends into his stories and wants the eternal life promised in one of the books.  Cas’ unlikely rescuer is Dean, the man who has been the cover model for all the recent book releases.  The Lost City AU.

Word Count: 33k                              No Sex

House on Maple Lake – AnobleCompanion   Ao3

AU.  Moving out of his house, Cas leaves a letter for the next tenant, but when he visits the property again, the response he gets seems to be from 2 years ago and the person who writes it claims to be living in the house.  As Cas and Dean get to know each other via letters they fall in love but how can it work if they are separated by time?  The Lake House AU.  (The images seem to be broken at the moment so here is the link to the Wayback machine so you can read their letters.)

Word Count: 55k                              No Sex

[ireallyamabear]

i'm finally cooking what you guys told me to cook and i promised you a recipe, so here it goes:

Franconian Lentils (Fränkische Linsen)

you need:

1 big pot with a good bottom for browning meat

ca. 250g pork, can be any cut but preferably one with a lot of fat

a bit of butter

500g dry brown lentils (Tellerlinsen)

4 to 5 carrots

celleriac (didn't have one today, imo you can leave this out)

one big white or yellow onion

1 stick of leek

chicken or vegetable stock

salt, pepper, oregano (Majoran), a bay leaf

some mustard, tomato paste, white vinegar, Worcester sauce

To prepare: 2-3 hours before: put the lentils in a bowl and cover with water to let them soak 1-2 hours before: pull the meat out of the fridge, salt it on all sites and let it rest on the kitchen counter to get up to room temperature and tenderize

Put your pot on the stove and let a bit of butter melt, when the pot is hot put in the meat and let the fat render out - basically let it brown and crisp up a bit on every side or 2-3 minutes, don't move it around too much. If you have a lean or tough cut of meat, then you have to put a bit more butter.

While the meat is going, cut up your onion, carrots and leaks (you can use a kitchen machine for this step to make it easier!) (you can also use other vegetables). Cut it to the size you like, i like quartered carrots.

Put a bit more butter in the pan, where it should mix with the pork fat. Add pepper, dried oregano (or other herbs you like) and let them cook out a bit (don't let it burn!). Then add the vegetables and give it a stir. Put on the lid and let it cook down

While the vegetables and meat cook down, mix the mustard, tomato paste and a splash of Worcester Sauce and a splash of vinegar together. Take out the meat at this point, push the vegetables to the side and add a bit more butter (:D), let that blob of butter get hot, then put in the paste you just made and let that cook out a bit - for exactly the time it takes to cut your meat into chunks. Add pork back into the pot where the paste is just cooking, toss it all and mix with the vegetables and let it all fry down for a couple more minutes

Add about 500ml of stock, bring it to a boil. Drain the lentils from the soaking water and add slowly. Add more water until everything is about covered. Add salt to taste and a bayleaf. Bring it all to a boil, then turn the heat down and let it simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the lentils still have a bit if bite.

The consistency should also be nice and schlonzig, which I think is a self explanatory word.

Eat with your favorite carb. You can also add Wiener sausage for more authenticity. Also, you can freeze this easily!

This is a german recipe, so very pork heavy. I bet you can make this a vegetarian dish, but then it's just lentil stew. Which is very good also.

xoxo

[samkat10423]

Some more lots

Didn't get much done yesterday, since I'm lazy. And the weather here has finally left the minus digits and is semi-warm. Plus - our furnace which died right at the beginning of our Artic Winter phase - was finally replaced. Took 2 weeks to get one, but it works so no more freezing our tuchus off.

Anyway, I decided to work on a beach lot to replace that one over by the Wolff house. Recurve Strand - or something like that.

This is another Lili lot that I altered. Where that scuba shop is, she had a bar and some picnic tables. I got rid of that and built the little shop. Then I placed a lifeguard chair and awning - so my stupid sims don't drown. I really don't care if they do - gets rid of the stupid gene from the DNA gene pool - but the local sims all seem to care. Inside those 3 little builds, I made them more functional - as is: I got rid of all the unnecessary crap that was inside and made them into actual changing rooms. Later on, I'll add that surf thingie that EA sold in the store, so my stupid sims can surf. And maybe some yoga mats so they can channel their inner zen. But for now, this is it.

Then I hopped over to where that Lofty Cerulean pool was. My whiney sims complained that they were breaking out in rashes whenever they took a dip - like my city council cares. The local doctors - who attended the meeting - reminded them that they could treat their rashes for an astronomical fee. All they have to do is come to the ER, but they insisted that the pool needed to be upgraded. After all of 30 minutes of deliberation - 25 of which were spent on bathroom breaks - the council came back with their answer. NO. After all - as they told them - if you can come all the way to city hall to picket and throw temper tantrums, you can walk to the town pool.

With that, they bulldozed the old lot and built some tennis courts. They did leave the old building - where they sell booze, because they can. In an effort to save some simoleons, they recycled some old street signs and made some cheap tables and chairs out of them, and used some old crates to make a bar. Plus, they used some old jars and made lights. Progress as Promised! (That's their campaign slogan).

Then I decided to get rid of that live show venue the game automatically loads. This little bar was made a gazillion years ago by someone over on MTS - before the Seasons ep. I don't think he's active anymore since he threw several rants about EA over there. Anyway, it had a fake "glass" domed roof that just let the weather in. So, I got rid of that and added a new frieze to the roof. Then I kicked out the back and sides - so I'd have room for the stage. Plus, I added that roof stuff, used some different plants and added a parking lot. Plus, I gave it some actual doors. (He just used arches).

Inside, I got rid of everything. I think the only thing I kept was the wall and floor finishes. I used Sandy's tropical bar set, then recolored dive bar counters to match it. Those totem poles I just recolored. I think they came with that Island Paradise set. Where the pool table is, there were a couple of arcade machines, but I have an arcade, so I got rid of them. Then I placed some showtime seating so sims actually watch the acts. I mostly used the Tiki sets to do this build. I'll go back in and use the invisible dance floor later to replace the game one. (I just wanted to make sure I had room for a dance floor).

Outside, I used stuff from Island Paradise for the patio. You can't see it, but there is that Late Night bubble bar - probably the only thing I kept from the original build. I also used that smaller stage for this build. I really didn't go crazy with stage decor. I have an acrobat in town, but not much else right now.

Then I went back to Agnes's house to finish taking sims into CAS. This house was built by plumbob for their updated SV save. I have always hated the original, and this one still has a modern vibe without looking totally stupid. They did get rid of the nursery inside, and replaced it with a large guest room. But I fixed that by dividing the room and adding an unfinished space with baby stuff. It's roped off using that roping from Late Night. I moved her niece into the semi-finished area. I figured Agnes was originally going to hire a live-in nanny to help with her baby, which is why the room was so large. I decided to keep the niece at the child phase instead of making her into a teen. Right now, Agnes doesn't like her much - and her father (my town acrobat) even less. But since she is an attorney, she sued for custody. And won. As in RL, simoleons talk.

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~Chapter 1 ~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut (not until the later chapters), language, gore.

Word Count: 1,370

A/N: Hope you guys are liking the story so far. This story is a slow-burn, probably worse than my “Ruffled Feathers” fanfic but it’s worth it I promise. Happy reading! ♥️

Six Months Later:

Dean Winchester wasn't a fan of witches. Hell, after everything they'd been through, he wasn't a fan of much these days—especially not being a babysitter.

Six months had passed since Jack saved his life, since they'd put the final nail in Chuck's coffin, since Heaven had been restored by Cas. It should've felt like the end of the road, the time to kick back and finally live out the rest of their lives. But old habits died hard, and Sam had stumbled across another case.

Witches. Three of them. Siblings.

Dean grumbled under his breath, gripping the steering wheel of the Impala tightly as they tore down the road, two hours from Lebanon. Beside him, Sam was deep into his research as usual, eyes glued to his tablet, scanning old newspaper clippings and witch lore.

"So, what's the deal with this Natalie girl again?" Dean asked, voice heavy with skepticism.

Sam sighed. "Natalie Johnson. She's twenty-seven. The coven abducted her two days ago. No criminal record, no history of supernatural encounters before this. She's a civilian."

"And why would a bunch of witches kidnap a civilian?" Dean's voice dripped with distrust. "People don't just get snatched for no reason."

"Because of her grandmother," Sam explained, his tone patient, but Dean knew the slight irritation was bubbling underneath. "Natalie's grandmother passed away a year ago. Turns out, she had some kind of old spell book the coven's after called the Dark Scrolls. It was auctioned off when the estate was liquidated, but they think Natalie has it. She filled me in on everything before they abducted her, she knew they were after her."

Dean's eyes narrowed as he glanced at his brother. "You believe her?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think she's lying, Dean. She doesn't know anything about the book, and most of her grandmother's things were sold off. Besides, she's scared."

Dean scoffed. "Right. Scared. Or playing us. Either way, I don't like it."

Tracking the witches wasn't the hard part. Sam had pieced together their ritual patterns, narrowing down their hideout to an old farmhouse deep in the woods. When they arrived, the place was covered in sigils and markings, all glowing faintly with dark energy. Dean's skin prickled in response—witch magic always made his gut churn.

As usual, the brothers moved like a well-oiled machine. Dean kicked down the door while Sam covered him with his shotgun. Inside, the air was thick with incense and the scent of rotting herbs. The witches—three of them—were chanting in the center of a makeshift altar, Natalie bound and unconscious at their feet.

"Hey, Tweedledum and Tweedledumber!" Dean shouted, machete gleaming in his hand. "Party's over!"

The witches reacted immediately, hissing in anger as they turned toward the brothers. One of them, a tall, dark-haired woman, raised her hands, sending a gust of wind that knocked Sam off his feet. Dean charged, ducking under another spell, and swung his blade, slicing through the arm of one of the witches. She screamed, blood spraying onto the floor, and collapsed.

Sam regained his footing and fired his shotgun, hitting the second witch square in the chest with salt rounds, sending her stumbling backward. Dean moved quickly, decapitating her with a single swing of his machete.

The third witch—the eldest of the siblings—snarled and vanished in a puff of smoke, her form dissolving before they could stop her.

"Great," Dean muttered, wiping blood off his blade. "One got away."

Sam rushed to Natalie's side, checking her pulse. "She's alive, but out cold."

Dean grunted, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of the third witch. "She's still a threat, Sam. And now we're stuck with her." He gestured to Natalie.

Sam sighed, looking down at the unconscious woman. "We need to keep her safe until we can track down the last witch. She's a target now."

Dean folded his arms, staring at the floor. "Safe? In a world where witches want her for some damn book she doesn't even have? You really think there's anywhere safe?"

Sam glanced at him, an idea forming. "The bunker."

Dean groaned. "Oh, hell no."

Natalie Johnson woke up in a place that seemed half-museum, half-fortress, and completely bizarre. The last thing she remembered was being tied up in that farmhouse, hearing chants in a language she couldn't understand. Then nothing. Now, she was in a sprawling underground bunker, surrounded by strangers who had saved her life.

She sat up gingerly, her head pounding, and looked around. Sam was standing by the door, offering a small smile as she stirred.

"Hey, you're awake," Sam said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," she groaned, rubbing her temples. "What is this place?"

"Safe," Sam replied. "We call it the bunker. It's warded against all things supernatural. Nothing can get in or out unless we allow it."

Natalie blinked, taking it all in. The bunker was like something out of a fantasy novel—shelves of ancient books, maps pinned to the walls, and the faint smell of gun oil and leather in the air. But despite its impressive protection, it still felt like a cage.

"I can't stay here," she said firmly, trying to get to her feet. "I need to go home."

"You don't get it," Dean interjected from the hallway, his tone rough and impatient. "You're a target. That witch is still out there, and if you walk out of here, you might as well paint a bullseye on your back."

Natalie crossed her arms, glaring at him. "So, what, I'm just supposed to hide in here forever?"

"Until we find that book or the witch, yeah," Dean shot back. "You'll be safer here than anywhere else."

Sam stepped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "Look, we don't like it either. But for now, it's the best option. We need to figure out where the book is before the witch does."

Natalie hesitated, her frustration warring with her gratitude. These men—hunters, they called themselves—had risked their lives to save her. The least she could do was stay put and not make things harder for them. But the truth was, being trapped underground with strangers didn't sit well with her.

"I don't even know what this book looks like," Natalie admitted. "I barely knew my grandmother. She didn't leave me anything important. Just some old jewelry and a few knick-knacks."

Dean huffed, pacing the room. "Yeah, well, those 'knick-knacks' might just get you killed."

"Dean..." Sam shot him a warning look before turning back to Natalie. "We're not saying you're in any danger here. We're just... being careful."

Natalie glanced between the two brothers, sensing the tension between them. "I'm grateful for what you've done, really. But this is... a lot."

"You think it's a lot for you?" Dean muttered under his breath. "Try living with it every day."

As the days passed, Natalie settled into life at the bunker—though calling it "settling" was a stretch. Dean was less than pleased about having someone to look after, and Natalie wasn't thrilled about being watched like she was some kind of liability. The tension between them was palpable, but Sam did his best to keep things civil, diving into research to find any trace of the missing spellbook.

Dean kept his distance, eyes always watchful, distrust hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. He didn't like how much she reminded him of past cases—of people they tried to help who ended up dead anyway. And Natalie, for her part, wasn't eager to make friends with the man who barely spoke to her unless it was to question her motives.

Still, they all had a common goal: to stop the witch before she came back for Natalie.

"You really don't trust me, do you?" Natalie asked one night, catching Dean by surprise.

Dean looked up from his drink, his gaze hard and unflinching. "Not really.”

Natalie frowned, crossing her arms. "Well, I don't trust you either, but I'm here. So what now?"

Dean smirked bitterly. "Now? We wait. And hope we're not too late."

[thedeal-if]

Not gonna lie here, but something kinda died inside of me, when i saw that Nathan is pretty much allergic to children(cause i adore them irl), but it made me wonder about two things.

Oh and i can completely understand why certain ROs are just not made to have childeren.

1: I was wondering why can't angels get children, considering that irl there are beeings like nephilim/cambions described in Myths, Tales, Books etc.. Does that mean that in this universe there are no halfbreeds(not meant in a derogatory way), between different species?

2: Following up with the ask about kids, how would the ROs react(those who actually can get children in a biological way), to accidently becoming a parent? Answer only if comfortable

I have to say that maybe I worded it wrong but Nathan isn't allergic to children, dw anon!! He has always had very important things on his plate and it has never left him any time to think about anything else. It's kinda sad but Nathan only began to truly live his life the moment he started to Fall.

When it comes to children, if his partner asked he'd be like "Oh, that's right, those exist" and just *shrug*. Nathan has never given having kids any thought but he could be convinced ^^

He is very much allergic to being responsible tho... But who knows? People evolve, they can change. They can meet good influences, bad influences. Really, who knows?

1. Okay, td lore! I'm trying not to mention much and I'm crossing my fingers not to get asked about my worldbuilding because I cave to pressure too easily and will definitely gush lol. Tbh I thought it'd be much more fun for people to realize this as they play, finding out things alongside MC and all that. But maybe some explanations are in order 🕴️

To clarify: Christian/Catholic/Judaism/etc lore is, of course, the foundation of my own, but don't expect me to follow the Bible to a t 🫂 I always meant for The Deal to be a reimagining of religion as we know it, but I've included many more layers in terms of... everything (ex. Lovecraftian lore)! I think it's pretty interesting to take the core of a topic and rewrite some of it to make it more exciting.

Needless to say, I don't mean any disrespect towards religion in any way shape or form but sticking to it blindly has always rubbed me the wrong way as a person who isn't and has never been religious.

Now, the answer to your question (sorry for the rant 😭💕) ik about Nephilim and cambions (as someone who's read superstition a billion times), and Nephilim aren't a thing here. Cambions are tho!

When it comes to Angels... Think of them as one of those automated machines in factories. They fulfill their function and are scraped or thrown away when broke beyond repair. That's kind of how the Gods see Angels.

I've promised myself to say nothing about Genies until MC at least meets Aliyah. But let's just say she can't procreate either.

2. As for the accidental parent scenario I'll leave it below the cut (dw btw I'd say it's pretty hard to make me uncomfortable lol I'll answer anything)

Dante, Lilith, Josh, Victor, and Eden can have biological children! Villanelle is technically on that list but she's very much sex repulsed and won't ever be in this situation🫂

Though Dante isn't stoked at the thought of children this kind of changes when he thinks of that kid as his. He's not that taken aback by surprises—even if they're major ones like having a child—Dante likes taking challenges with a smile. If he feels like it's his choice and his partner isn't forcing the idea of parenthood on him, Dante would accept his role with a very positive outlook ^^

Doesn't mean he'll be a good dad tho lol

Lilith feels deeply troubled by her nature and thinks that it'd be best not to create any more beings of hell. She has ingrained a very cataclysmic point of view about any potential children she might have. To Lilith, motherhood is a dream. But not like that.

She'd be such a good mom tho💕

Josh feels like he's been punched in the gut lol he can't handle unexpected turns of events. If it's something his partner is excited about Josh would try not to bring the mood down, he'd want to see it as a positive thing. Definitely would read parenthood blogs for hours during the entire pregnancy.

Victor would be so excited I think he'd forget about any complicated situations and all his problems as soon as his partner told him. It's always been one of Victor's deepest and most profound dreams, and to have his partner fulfill it— he would never dare to even consider it an accident. Much like Josh he'd be the World's most prepared Upcoming Dad™ lol

Eden doesn't typically panic but he would lose his mind lol. I said he kind of leaned towards preferring not to have children but for the entire situation to be forced on him like that would be overwhelming. If the situations are right, if Eden feels like he has the specific kind of support he would need to parent a child... He might change his mind and not be so negative about it ^^

[mlobsters]

supernatural s14e18 absence (w. robert berens)

DEAN Well, hey, here's to another miraculous Sam Winchester survival. Got to say, man, if Jack hadn't have healed you…

one might say it's getting a little absurd but whatever

i have zero idea how this is gonna shake out, with the kinda accidentally killing mary because she was gonna rat him out to the boys situtaion.

DEAN You know, lately, it feels like we'd be up the creek without that kid. I mean, first, he takes care of Michael and then Nick. SAM Kind of sounds like you're bummed about it. DEAN No. "Get out of jail free" card? I'll take that.

don't think it's the case here really because killing nick seemed pretty darned justified at this point but have noticed when there is a moral quandary to be had over killing someone, it's usually someone else that actually does it these days. if blog search actual functioned, you could get a number of results for quandary :p

so the cas not telling sam and dean about jack being clearly not right has come back to bite him in the ass.

LUCIFER Yeah. I'm your, you know, subconscious or whatever. Y-You whipped me up to help you figure this out.

so does jack get a hallucifer too then? (transcript says nick but it's lucifer)

LUCIFER All right? Buddy, you killed Mary Winchester. You cannot come back from that, and you know it. All right? You've been flapping your wings all around, trying to run away from what you did, and where'd you wind up? Right here, right back to the scene of the crime. JACK No. LUCIFER Yeah. Yeah, because somewhere inside, you realize that the sooner you accept it, the easier it'll be. JACK No, it's -- It was an accident. LUCIFER Okay. Tell Sam and Dean that. I'm sure they'll understand. It's not like family isn't everything to them

subconscious makes points

music while they're searching the cabin for jack/mary/dead nick is good. reminds me of hmm. modern thriller during a spooky/unsettling scene music. lol (it's christopher lennertz and tim wynn on music this ep. confirming yet again i am scores more likely to enjoy lennertz's score vs jay gruska's)

moments like this where it's like i can see the promise of what this show could be. a scene that's genuinely unsettling. slowing down and not focusing on this breakneck knee deep plot machinations, but setting a scene where the emotional tension that we know mary is dead and we're dreading them finding her, and finding this instead. dunno. it was very effective (and the music continued to be appropriate)

CASTIEL I know you know this, Mary, but, um, Sam and Dean -- they're -- they're glad to have you back. Whatever you still have to deal with and however long it takes, you should know they're happy. I mean, finally, they don't have to be so, um, so alone. MARY Castiel. They were never alone.

um, i think that's a bit of a stretch lol. cas was not around that much, and when he was it wasn't always good. they had bobby, lost bobby. have jody but see her even less. they've been hobbling between meager support systems for a while. cas only seems to really qualify in that way visibly onscreen in the past season or two at most? they talked him up but we didn't see it much.

DEAN Might have been Lucifer. Nick was trying to bring him back. SAM Yeah, but Jack said-- DEAN Who cares what Jack said? We don't know what happened! But I swear, if he did something to her, if she is -- then you're dead to me.

well. we know dean gets over shit pretty fast when it comes to the core group all things being equal, so i imagine he'd come around in a moderate amount of time. not like cas is ultimately culpable, not like when he broke sam's wall, for instance. it was a fuckup, but would jack have done something awful inadvertently-ish even if sam and dean knew right away when cas found out he definitely was off? ehh. everyone knew he wasn't acting quite right. but all bets are off when the person getting killed is mary (or heaven forbid, sam)

DEAN No, he knew. He knew something was wrong with the kid. He knew it, and he didn't tell us! He didn't even tell us! CASTIEL I was scared. I believed in Jack for so long, I I believed that he was -- he was good. I -- I knew that he would be good for the world. And he was good for us. My faith in him, it -- it never wavered, and then I-I saw what he did. It wasn't malice. It wasn't evil. It was like Jack saw a problem, and in his mind, he just solved it with that snake. DEAN The snake?! CASTIEL What he did wasn't bad. It was the absence of good. And I saw that in him. But we were a family, and I didn't want to lose that, so I thought I could fix it on my own. Felt like it was my responsibility. So I left. And I didn't tell you. If I could go back and just -- just talk to him right then and there, I would. But I can't, Dean. I failed you. And I failed Jack. And I failed --

cas, friend. you do not have a great track record with fixing stuff on your own. but i get it. but also, if you're trying to keep your family together, gotta communicate!

gonna try to resurrect mary with rowena, ok. i didn't see that coming

JACK I killed Mary. I-It was an accident. I-I didn't mean to. I just -- I just wanted her to be quiet. I just wanted her gone, but only for a second. And I just. I thought it. It all happened so fast. I need to undo it. You need to help me undo it.

you know i was thinking about this last night. and i think about the same kind of thing fairly regularly. mary could see she had reason to be scared of jack after the cruel way he killed nick (which everyone is a lot more upset about than i anticipated but ok). yet she still wouldn't lie to him about not telling sam and dean. an unstable, infinitely powerful child, essentially. and i think about the way that some people respond to people that are being aggressive or whatever. and you know, when you're someone that has been abused (like myself) sometimes you come away with a pretty ingrained fear of anyone acting off to do anything to avoid setting them off. i know that's not everyone's experience, for sure. but that was kind of an essential survival coping mechanism for me that's carried through. it doesn't serve me well in a lot of every day social conflict potential situations, but it is one that i think can sometimes keep you from getting killed 🤪

MARY Sam, everyone here understands what you've been doing and what you've been putting yourself through. SAM Yeah, I know, but Jack's been through a lot -- you know, losing his powers.And I haven't really been there for him.Sorry, Mom. I don't mean to lay all this on you. MARY No. Are you kidding? It's nice knowing I'm not the only one with parental guilt. How much did the two of you go through when I wasn't there for you? And even when Amara brought me back and I got a second chance, things got complicated. I got complicated. SAM Mom. MARY No, I'm just saying parenting is always a struggle.

heard. it's a struggle even when not these extraordinarily complicated and bizarre situations they're in.

SAM Dean, it wasn't just Cas. It wasn't. We knew Jack was dangerous. We always knew. Long before he killed Michael. You more than anyone. I mean, from the very beginning, you knew. But, you know, we fell for him 'cause he had a good heart and a good soul. Then he didn't. And that's on me, too, by the way. I mean, I'm the one who made the call to bring him back. He didn't ask for that. I decided for him. And you warned me. DEAN No, you didn't know, okay? We didn't know. SAM Exactly. We didn't know. But -- he had become our family. You know, after Maggie and the other Hunters died I just left. Just dumped Jack on Cas and left. I knew. I mean, I knew something was gonna I just didn't know it'd be this. DEAN I did it, too. When I talked to Donatello about Jack, he said he was good as far as he could tell. But then he talked about how powerful Jack was and that he could never really be sure. And it was a warning. I just couldn't see it.

i appreciate that they're both taking accountability

well. i guess they get some closure at least, having a body. i think by rights this should be upsetting me, but it isn't? nothing like the this season's absolute disaster of jack dying originally and dean hellbent on committing suicide/eternal torture. that was like. 3 solid episodes of ugly crying my way through them.

LUCIFER Well, I warned you. It's worse -- trying and failing. There's no going back. You realize that now. Cas, Sam, Dean they're never gonna trust you again. And you know what that means. What? You can never trust them.

the flaming hoops this show will jump through to keep pellegrino around!

is that mary with the baby one new? can't recall. they've added a few here and there past several seasons

glad they kept it to just the 3 of them, writer's 2nd draft script linked on wiki

SAMUEL WINCHESTER you better have a copy of that picture elsewhere before you burn it. you have so little of her! see, there you go, that's how you made me upset. thanks, show. push straight into the weepy montage of happy mary moments

?? that felt very... forced. whole scene did to me, but that was the icing on the cake

i liked mary, but never really connected with her i don't think. kind of like bobby, but even less to go on. don't blame samantha smith in the slightest, i think it's how they wrote her. she was great at the emotions. but this episode largely left me feeling 😐

[motherofdragonflies]

A Very Prompty Christmas Day 26: Leftovers

“Jesus Christ,” Dean stared in horror at the mass of Tupperware containers and plastic-wrapped bowls stacked in the fridge, unable to comprehend the mass of food before him.

“How are there so many leftovers?” he asked aloud.

Christmas lunch had been, for want of a better word, epic. The sturdy library tables—pushed end to end and lined with bedsheets from the Bunker’s linen closet—had looked close to collapsing under the sheer weight of food that a fiercely determined group of hunters had managed to coax out of the Bunker’s kitchen. Several hams, a large turkey and a mouthwatering prime rib, four different types of potato, two green bean casseroles, a platter of roasted vegetables, bread rolls, gravy, and cranberry sauce: Dean had never seen so much food in one place, and a part of him wished that he could bundle some of it up and send it back in time to the young boy who had handed over the last of everything—the last bowl of cereal, the last can of soup—to his little brother, even when his stomach was threatening to swallow itself from hunger.

Dean had loaded up his plate with a little bit of everything and made sure that Cas—sitting next to him—tried at least a mouthful of each dish, laughing at the delighted look on Cas’ face when he discovered sweet potato casserole and the way he screwed up his face at one of the green bean casseroles (the first one; the second one had bacon in it, and had changed Dean’s opinion of green bean casserole forever). At the end of the meal Dean had had to surreptitiously pop the top button of his jeans, his stomach too full of food to be comfortably contained within the denim, and judging by the looks of satisfaction and slight regret and the way everyone was lounging back in their chairs, Dean wasn’t the only one.

Somehow, despite everyone eating their body weight in food, the fridge was still full of leftovers.

With a sigh, Dean rummaged through the containers (and who knew that the Men of Letters even had Tupperware) and found one filled with slices of ham. He’d been looking for eggs, but even Dean knew that when it came to leftovers, it was important to try and eat them as quickly as possible. A bit more digging and he found a tub of leftover bechamel sauce, a block of cheese and a jar of mustard his decision was made: not eggs, but Croque monsieurs.

He was just lowering the sandwiches into a hot pan with melted butter when Cas entered the kitchen and came to stand behind Dean, leaning against the counter.

“Claire and Kaia get off okay?” Dean asked over his shoulder, and the screwed up his face at his phrasing. Thankfully Cas either didn’t understand the double entendre or chose to ignore it, and nodded.

“I wish they had waited until the weather cleared,” he said. “But Claire promised to drive safely and text when they reached Jody’s.” Dean turned his head to look and, sure enough, the burner phone that Dean had given to Cas was in his hand, and Cas was staring at it intently.

“Hey,” Dean chided. “Stop that. They’re not even out of Kansas yet.” He held out his hand. “Pass me the cheese, wouldja?”

He didn’t look to see if Cas was going to comply, just wanted, hand outstretched, and sure enough he felt the cool weight of a block of cheese being placed in his palm.

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing the grater and adding cheese to the top of the sandwiches before grabbing the pan and sliding them into the oven. He quickly cleaned the station, moving around the unmoving Cas, grinning when he brushed his body teasingly against Cas’ while reaching around him to wipe down the counter, dancing out of reach when Cas reached for him.

The sandwiches ready, Dean nudged Cas in the direction of the coffee machine while he plated the sandwiches and carried them over to the table. Cas joined him with two mugs of sweet, creamy coffee, and for a few minutes they ate in companionable silence.

Cas put down his coffee and turned his head to the side. “You put the calendar away?” he asked, and Dean looked to see that the advent calendar was missing from its spot at the end of the table.

“Huh. No,” Dean answered. “Musta been Sam. Wonder where he put it.”

Cas nodded, accepting that answer, and held up his sandwich. “This is very good,” he remarked. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean nodded, pleased. “You’re welcome,” he said, hooking a foot around Cas’ ankle and rubbing his heel along Cas’ calf, watching as Cas’ eyes lost focus for a moment and a pink flush spread across his cheeks.

The clatter of feet in the hall had him yanking his foot back and studying his sandwich intently, nodding in greeting at the hunters who entered the kitchen and made a beeline for the fridge. He looked up at caught Cas’ eye, making an apologetic face and internally breathing a sigh of relief when Cas nodded in acceptance of his silent apology. Dean wasn’t hiding him and Cas, wasn’t ashamed of it, but it was so damn new and old habits died hard. As the hunters—Dean thought it was Victoria and…Brad, maybe?— chattered behind them, Dean reached his foot back out, tangling his ankle with Cas’ and returning Cas’ pleased smile.

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

“Hey, Dean, where’d you put the calendar?”

Dean looked up from his plate—turkey sandwiches, this time, slathered with cranberry sauce and slices of brie that someone had tried to hide in the side of the fridge, but Dean had found them, and finders eaters—to see Sam fall into one of the wooden chairs next to him in the library.

“Me? I didn’t touch it, I thought you took it?”

Sam shook his head slowly. “Not me.”

Dean frowned. “Did Jack?”

Sam shook his head again. “I asked him, and he said the last time he’d seen it was Christmas Eve.”

Dean thought back. He hadn’t spent a lot of time in the kitchen yesterday—far too much going on—but he couldn’t remember if the calendar had still been on the table or not. It only had twenty-four doors, so there was nothing to open yesterday, which was why Dean hadn’t paid it any attention, but still.

“Calendars don’t just get up and walk away,” Dean said. “Somebody must’ve moved it during the prep for  Christmas lunch. It’ll turn up.”

But, despite asking everyone, and even sending Claire a text asking if she or Kaia had seen it (and squinting in confusion at the mass of emojis that filled his screen in response), the calendar didn’t turn up.

It was as if it had just disappeared.

Like magic.

Later that night, as Dean absently spooned the last piece of pecan pie into his mouth (and vowed to work out who had made the pie and marry them, Cas would understand) he stared at the empty spot where the calendar had sat, and wondered.

Was it so difficult to accept that a calendar that had come from a mysterious antique store that, as far as Dean had been able to find, didn’t exist, that had doors that opened all by themselves, and that seemed to predict (or direct) Dean’s life for the past three weeks would disappear from Dean’s life as magically as it had arrived? Considering everything that Dean had seen throughout his hunting career, was it so hard to believe that someone had wanted to help Dean and had used the calendar to slowly guide him in the right direction, one day at a time?

And what was the right direction? Was it just a coincidence that the calendar had disappeared the day after Dean had finally found his courage and used his words and told Cas how he felt? Was it just by chance that Dean had told Cas that he loved him on Christmas Day? Or was it fate, the outcome predetermined by a magical wooden box?

A part of Dean should have been outraged that, once again, some higher power had been writing his story for him, that despite defeating Chuck Dean’s life was not his own. But maybe because, for once, he’d been handed a ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ ending, or at the very least, the potential for happily ever after, assuming Dean didn’t fuck it up, Dean couldn’t bring himself to be mad. For once, the universe had done something nice for Dean, and Dean was not prepared to look a gift horse—calendar—in the mouth.

So, yes, Dean decided, chasing the last of the caramel from the plate. He was willing to accept that the calendar was magic and that, its job done, it has disappeared into thin air, going back to wherever magical advent calendars went when it wasn’t Christmas, preparing to appear again next year to whichever poor schmuck needed its help.

Dean got up and rinsed his plate and fork, leaving them in the drying rack for the morning, and headed for the door. Before he turned off the lights, Dean turned and looked at the spot that the calendar had occupied for the past twenty-four days and then looked up, his eyes searching the ceiling, the sky, the universe beyond.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” he said, feeling as stupid as he did when he prayed, but at least when he prayed he knew that there was someone—Cas, Chuck, the angelic Host—who could hear him. This time, Dean had no idea who was out there, or if anyone was listening. “I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean waited, wondering if the universe would send a sign that it had heard him, that it accepted Dean’s thanks, but when the kitchen remained still and silent, Dean flipped the light switch, plunging the kitchen into darkness, and headed down the hall to his room, where Cas was waiting for him. ~

The story continues! Come back tomorrow for Day 27: Candles!I

Day One: Advent Calendar

Day Two: Tinsel

Day Three: Ribbon

Day Four: Shopping

Day Five: Ugly Sweater

Day Six: Candy Canes

Day Seven: Christmas Spirit

Day Eight: Mistletoe

Day Nine: Gingerbread

Day Ten: Eggnog

Day Eleven: Naughty or Nice

Day Twelve: Snow

Day Thirteen: Sleigh Ride

Day Fourteen: Tree Farm

Day Fifteen: Decorations

Day Sixteen: Angels

Day Seventeen: Lights

Day Eighteen: Christmas Miracle

Day Nineteen: Kris Kringle (Part One)

Day Nineteen: Kris Kringle (Part Two)

Day Twenty: Party

Day Twenty-One: Baking

Day Twenty-Two: Carols

Day Twenty-Three: Santa Claus

Day Twenty-Four: Christmas Eve

Day Twenty-Five: Christmas Morning (Part One)

Day Twenty-Five: Christmas Morning (Part Two)

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 15x16 Drag Me Away (From You)

“They’re trying to make the music sound like it came over the speakers, but the reverb tail is wrong for the room” “doctor’s orders?” “does he keep his zombie wife in there or something?” “fkn serial killer or what?” “yeah that’s not healthy” “moral of the story: Believe in everything just in case it can kill you” “everyday we’re closer to man bun Sam” “is that the real reason why they cancelled the show?” “such an unusual pairing idk” “that interior is…I want the family room in the basement to look like that. It’s fantastic” “is he dead yet? Doesn’t look very dead yet” “how the hell would you recognize someone like that? I only know a handful of people I’d recognize after that many years” “don’t we know that’s true since all the demons and ghosts are back?” “just gotta show that clip to every school across the country and no kid would try to steal candy again” “actually don’t show the clip. Make it happen every time” “what was the nod for? Ok fine I didn’t have to ask” “Dean’s awfully sure that he killed it” “we’ve never watched the goonies, have we?” “he’s really going to let her walk into danger like that, huh?” “don’t make promises you can’t keep” “I don’t remember how to play that one” “so who is the one who got killed then? Was it the younger? I don’t understand” “is it a younger dead version of yourself or something:” “don’t bother explaining it” “oh I get it now” “I wanna know more about this memory hole” “love how someone slaps the bottom end of a piano every time Billie shows up” “welcome to the intergalactic 1 percenter club” “what a dick thing to say” “are they each turning independently into bombs?” “she just told Dean to man up. That’s what that means to me, anyway” “Get your house in order grrr” “don’t you normally say something? Or is this stone hanging out in her trunk? Alone?” “that was like a bathroom scream. Not an outside scream” “ah yes the smoke machine under the door” “dead give away” “or just the dry ice thing” “oh never mind. Got me” “that’s funny that was actually pretty good” “what is Dean thinking when he shakes his head like that?” “sure” “the good drugs I guess” “what was that jar? Did you catch it?” “how’d the other lady get there?” “that lady will never be the same” “and after 25 years, they have the same fkn cell number? After how many credit cards and stolen phones?” “what happens to Cas then? That’s the rest of the angel types. I suppose the demons can come back, too. Do they come back?” “hmm”

[rainydawgradioblog]

DJ EMI’s Notes On The Show: Haunting Night(s) With The Garden

An Autumn tour for The Garden is practically tradition now.

About a month ago I trekked downtown to The Showbox to see The Garden on their second night playing in Seattle. The duo from Orange County, CA, has been popular in my personal live show-going history.

The first time I saw The Garden I drove east to Idaho (everywhere else was sold out). This was hands down their best show. It was the 2021 Kiss My Superbowl Ring tour, for their–at the time–new album of the same name (one of their best albums, in my rainy dawg DJ opinion). I had lost my Garden virginity, and the venue was a small one so my friend and I were up close with Wyatt and Fletcher Shears. Good merch, too: I have two stickers I have yet to and probably will never use sitting in a cigar box from this show. 

My second time seeing the Garden was in Portland, OR at the Midtown Ballroom, a beautiful go-to for live performances. The venue was insanely crowded, however, and got pungent. This was fitting, considering the Portland show was a stop on the tour for the Garden’s newest album Horseshit on Route 66. Machine Girl opened for this show, which I was ecstatic about. But, the live show was a bit of a let down–I feel like they forgot to do soundcheck. It was so distorted and loud it was just noise, which now that I think about it, was probably on purpose because we’re talking about Machine Girl, I’m not sure.

The journey to the free water was a trek through a clown-filled haunted house–one where the population is sweaty as hell and shouts profanities when you bump shoulders. 

I think now would be a good time to address the stereotypical Garden fan. They’re under 21, have absolutely no concert etiquette, an average screen time of 15 hours, and listen to nothing else besides bladee or some sort of hyperpop. Sadly I cannot say this isn’t true, although I like to think of myself as an exception here–I am 19, though, but I promise I have never listened to 100 gecs. I am, however, a big fan of The Garden.

Now, for this year, the third annual fall tour. No new albums were dropped, so the setlist was a nice mix of past releases, but it still rocked the Showbox. Show Me The Body opened with a grueling symphony, and the Garden a haunting one. I’m not totally sure who the other opener was because I was only there for about 5 minutes of it, but I was not a fan. Autotuned moans of some liberty-spiked motherfucker in a japanese school girl costume wasn’t my vibe, so in all honesty I loitered in the bathroom until it was over with. 

After one incoherent teen being pulled out of the mosh pit by security, four “HUH?”s uttered because you can't quite hear your friend’s comment, and six classical music tracks played before the Garden comes on (happens every time) later, The room filled with fog (like the fog machine guy needed to get a grip, it looked like we were hotboxing the Showbox) and a ghostly laugh echoed. The voice of the narrator in a spooky story is heard… and The Garden appears through the fog! I got up close despite being an hour late, and had such a good time I only took this shitty picture (below). While the audience kind of sucks, Wyatt and Fletcher never fail to meld their music into an absolutely spellbinding show. After all, what else can they be but jesters?

By DJ EMI

[nityarawal]

Please press charges for $10b at PNC Bank for continually allowing Manager Jerry Sue Haney and staff to discriminate against clients in Idyllwild community on federal, as well as realtor/atty broker bribes to slumlord civilians out of homes and assets/kids with kickbacks for courts/insurance on smear campaign. 

We don't expect federal government to slander us in a bank, nor insurance, cellular or dmv selling data, our bodies & families. This has been a gross war.

Alisa said she filed dispute for my guitar online purchase on 11/22/22 at pnc bank that was fraud last week for $75- attached below.

Luckily I sent a note here because it's still showing pending dispute on 11/28!

She promised 1/2 refund that day! She just bought a new bed! Was that with bribe money? I was going to shop for a black friday sale bed! My back hurts on airbed! Our country sucks! They steal from us and don't even give a Pittance for bed than cellular and banks capitalise on bribes with federal rapists? Beyond gross!

Alisa lied and failed to file dispute twice according to statement & recorded lines for $100 atm deposit when pnc machine broke and also for $74.12 on guitar internet feaud. Do you even penalise websites doung this???

Benjamin promised to change address for 10th time on 11/22/22. I went back to show him it hadn't updated and he refused to give me a November statement to show proof! It still hasn't updated to po box 3662 as of yesterday- see below. Having same issues with insurance, dmv and many other scammers!

Why didn't either of them tell me you canceled debit card? I had to tell them! They Know tmobile doesn't work here!

i went to Dessert pnc  bank to get these receipts for you and Nov statement since Benjamin lied and said he couldnt provide it. Also to prove Alisa never filed promised disputes, nor did Benjamin change my address. Please address this time wasting of clients resources and business!

They all want Jerry Sue Ryan penalised for bank fraud, yet are either stoned stupid high on dope and shouldnt be working there; or have learned her bad habits and are still comitting fraud! This needs to be addressed!

They all promised to let me know when debit card is coming and none of them will answer straight forward question. Banker last night said it could be 10 business days! PNC said 3 days in executive email! 

I should have a damn notification of when it's coming and not have to spend $30 on gas to field lies and abuse daily in your federally corrupt banks! I don't want your digital banking anymore- you have too many liars committing fraud in local branches! They don't send timely receipts and now I'm blocked from ap as well as stranded with no debit card! 

I still need refunds from airbnb for all of my payments since 9/1. Also colony hotel atrached below! You didn't credit for $260 charge or previous ones!

You read statement, since staff is stingy providing us rightful evidence of their fraud & full disclosure laws. We still need transcripts of all calls. I'm a realtor of 29 years assisting legal team since you all have ethics, racists & integrity issues in your corporations.  

Obviously I now need to switch banks! There is several recorded attempts of fraud in one month. 

I even asked you publically on twitter to correct address. 

Your employees have a hidden agenda that is not appropriate to needs for civilians in federal banking. Please collect maximim insurance from BBofA too, Wells Fargo, Fidelity, Amex, Lexus, Verizon, Tmobile & federal officers blackballing civilians from cellular in Riverside courts- murder capital of California -due to in-house domestic terrorism proved on many recorded lines and in writing by Idyllwild employees fraud. 

FOR TENTH TIME MY ADDRESS IS PO BOX 3662 IDYLLWILD, CA 92549

BUT I SHARE PO BOX 1223 with my uncle Eric Berg who also banks with you and we share tmobile account- which he pays and I reimburse for.

We need $2000 in damages from Tmobile for wrongful charges in covid hospitalization rapes plus $10b in damages for selling my data to federal rapists for years and no connection in most of Riverside Mountains! 

Same for Verizon! They sold my phone, home & body to Nazi 911 militia rather than provide tgeir free Obama phone in covid to get groceries from mountainaid.net in winter! I need verizon iphone returned plus $10b for medical abuse with IEHP/blueshield insurance on obamas care court rapes & drugs for divorce detention! Smears are lies and I refuse all Gag orders. 

Get $10b for every officer that touched mine or kids privates & hit me or interrogated me with racism. This is an ethics issue as much as a capitalistic issue. We need this money for mothers private banking, cellular, insurance, homes & cars going forward. Boys club violated rights to do business with us through pedophile scammers at court.

 I need phone back that cops stole and $10b for damages.

Charge apple for iPhone data exploitation, all my aps, Including Rewind and @google for selling my data to x team and failing to allow me to purchase storage. Google & Facebook sold our data to Ignorant murdering lying thieving officers. We need all returned from porn Pedophile junkies now.

Tesla phone should be here soon on Starlink. When?

$10b to be paid by Obama Healthcare & Blue Shield foe selling my data and body to courts. 

Is there an honest financial institution or cellular/insurance plan you trust?

Charge Triple-a $10b for selling data to violent gay officers.

Charge California Ass of Realtors & Nardo $10b each for selling homes to courts.

Charge all of them in those smear campaign. I want all these federally back institutions by nazis charged and backed by private funding going forward. 

Steven Lee- Master Chef & I; "My girl Frida"- -from Idyology also need workman's Comps and home/ restaurant donated from Carmel Benson for community soup kitchen. She Took bribes to bully us with her toy boy gay cops! Daniel Godsnick & Sheriff Jeremy Parsons/Chad Bianco Pathologist liar!

I need all money paid from Leslie Wiedner estate on Tollgate & Emily Pearson's listings; paid for rents in 2019-2021 at 54399 Valleyview and Michael Villanueva's home on Countryclub (murder next door!) and Dennis Campbell Sketchleys thefts with militia refunded. Leslie, Emily and her husband were murdered and iehp therapists Tima Ivanova, Andrea and Tisha Thompson complicity involved in hiding abuse and rightful pathology reports. 

Leslie & I were scammed by her daughter Tina Molina. I need all my things returned. Emily appears to be murdered by her boss Shane Stewart of Idyllwild Realty so you can bully over 400 tenants violently out of homes into thus Nazi Communism! It's disgusting sex slavery to sell moms to officers. He's gay and hates mothers along with most of his militia and bribed police/Sheriff/DA/judges! 

I also need 10b in reperations from Broker Brian Yiu slumlording me from my home on hygeia with a 20% rental increase in 2017 to $3,000 and visits from x"s violent officers there- Mark Milton- who eventually hospitalised me in ICU with beating right after move to mediator Abi Odams in Del Mar.

Batbara Bradford farm needs to refind for abuse from her fanily, dinate springbox and 10m in damages to moms charity. Many lawyers & DA are on here as well as Elon Musk. You all know your role to settle now and avert danger for other families. We did alot of work to #FreeBritney - now Iran and my kids deserve justice. You shoild all be ashamed of your employees and colleagues in pedophile war against moms. Every public defender judge abd cop are epstein in courts field of family law psychology. Its tragic, upsetting and needs to be cleaned up now!

Gratzia!

Nitya Huntley Rawal 

You want to @tiktok_us about @PNCBank_Help @tmobile abuse? Everyone in town says you mess up finances constantly, then gaslight them on phone.

We need more reputable cells/ banks in Idyllwild.

@iehp Failed audits too!

Cal fresh/Obama phone playing address game too! @POTUS  @VP

Government says put "Secretary of State" home unlisted to deal w/ domestic terrorism; SSI & Obama Care insurance is last resort when bullied out of assets- yet they steal data too- requiring proof of address for Obama phone- which means Feds rape & harass community @VP

& Banks! 

Idyllwild/ Mountain Center communities feel discriminated against by cellular companies. @tmobile doesn't work!

Obama phone won't distribute phones to PO box owners!

We don't want to be raped again by @verizon federal colleagues at 911 so have #SOS unlisted homes! @elonmusk @VP

Obama Phone sellers & Idyllwild/ Mountain Center communities feel discriminated against by cellular companies.

They won't distribute phones to PO box owners!

We don't want to be raped again out of @verizon by federal colleagues at 911!

There are certain men classy women don't fraternise with.

Our officers are incorrigible rapists & shouldn't be deployed around women or children.

Walk other way if you see officers. Do not go to court.

They will rape you & your kids in civil war.

DA @VP needs to warn.

She knows. 

Mammas- please do not go to #Obama free phone lots after dark. @verizon discriminates against divorcees they've raped & stolen data/slumlorded previously & won't honor leases or proof-of-bills paid on Bank statements.

Worse-they tag w/ excon drug dealers on fentanyl to rob & spy!

Smear campaign is what @TulsiGabbard aptly calls it. @britneyspears

#WeHeardYou #Nitya4Eternity #LivingFree #HalfPersianLivesMatter #HPLM #FreeIran #PrinceOfPegging #IranianWomenLivesMatter #Nitya4Anjali #Nitya4Nature #Nitya4Kyan #Nitya4Kings #KingsTaster #Qajars #Nitya4Moezzis

We don't understand why social services doesn't light up parking lots in winter were hustling to decline @verizon free Obama cellular phones!

They won't take PO Boxes; discriminate against Idyllwild & most rural communities!

@tmobile tablet scam for $20 but w/ towers! @elonmusk

FOR TENTH TIME MY ADDRESS IS PO BOX 3662 IDYLLWILD, CA 92549

BUT I SHARE PO BOX 1223 with

Uncle & our dear post office was kind to forward over 50 pieces since you started gaslightkng me about new PO last spring! @iehp uses same Warfare with Feds against divorcees to blackball.

This is classic court gaslighting!

PNC refuses to change address! 6 mo of let's chat!

I went to PNC bank-applied for $200 cash - they didn't give receipt nor email as promised-with digital bank fraud on data breakdown. Then got robbed at @verizon Obama dark alley scam.

Tag-team?