#i would be getting the worst second hand embarrassment if i was sam

[kitheking]

im just now fully processing how dumb tank is😭

how the HELL were they able to carelessly wander onto solaire territory to track a 6 MONTH OLD scent of their ex but they had no clue that he had been following and watching them from a close proximity? and aren’t they blood bound too? plss.

imagine an estranged werewolf is casually trespassing on ur land is like “oh yeah my ex was here. oh? he hasn’t been here 6 months? i can smell him” but down the road the same werewolf is like “he watching me while hiding in the clothing racks at Walmart? i had no idea” ….HELLO?

[pythonees]

✦┊ THREES A CROWD — embry & paul

WARNINGS: none

A/N: I don't even wanna look at when the last chapter was posted... the way I've forgotten completely about this is kinda embarrassing 🙈. Unedited because I just want it to be over. One more chapter left that I'll post eventually.

twelve ˖⋆࿐໋₊

Birds chirp happily outside your classroom window, and you glare half-heartedly out at the surrounding woods, unable to focus on whatever it was your teacher was talking about. You hadn't been able to get any sleep, kept awake with mounting paranoia.

After both Paul and Embry assured you that the vampire wasn't close enough for them to sense, Embry had immediately called Sam. The older man talked on the phone with you for a bit, going into greater detail about what the pack will do to ensure your safety.

They would have one of them posted at your house at all times. While at school, Sam would stay in the woods that surrounded the building, and would follow the bus you take home, waiting there for the one that would trade shifts with him.

You know the boys had been struggling in their classes before this, their late nights spent on patrol gave them no time to do any of their work, let alone time for themselves. You knew this was only going to make things worse for them, but Embry and Paul had assured you that everything would be fine. That they didn't mind. It was their job, after all. It didn't make you feel any better about it, anyways.

Fiddling absently with your bracelet, you let your eyes scan the forest from the safety of your second story classroom. Math, while not your worst subject, was also nowhere near your best. You were going to be very behind once this vampire shit is all over with, but you can't really bring yourself to care.

It's sunny, a rarity in Forks. Not that it brings you any comfort. You have no idea who the other vampire is, what they look like. Hell, what they sound like. It could be a classmate, for all you knew. And since some of them have powers, what's stopping this one from being immune to the effects of the sun?

It's pointless, scaring yourself with what-ifs. You know, because it took nearly half an hour for Embry, Paul, and Sam to calm you down enough before they left you in the protection of Jared.

The last bell of the day rings out, but you only notice when the students around you shoot up out of their seats. You slowly follow suit, collecting your unopened textbook and head out the door.

You feel numb, going through the motions of opening your locker. You don't even know what you put into your bag, stuffing the first thing you touch into it blindly.

When you turn around, you don't even jump when Bella Swan's concerned eyes stare back at you. She looks much better than she did a few days ago, the dark bags under her eyes lightening up. You feel like it had just transferred onto you, eyes drooping with your lack of sleep.

"Hey," Bella starts, hesitating when she notices just how bad a shape your in, "Do you want a ride home? You don't live too far from my house."

"Nobody lives far from anyone," you mumble. Pulling your bag higher up you shoulder, you close your locker behind you, not bothering to lock it. Whoever feels the need to snoop will only find textbooks in there anyways.

"I'm fine, Sam said it's fine if I take the bus."

"If you're sure," Bella says, still hesitant. You can tell she feels out of her element, and you're warmed by her concern. Lifting a hand, you give her arm a squeeze, before brushing past her and towards the bus.

You're the last one to get on, forced to share the seat with a freshman. You don't mind it as much as you normally would have, but you can tell he's uncomfortable. You're basically a zombie, staring at the seat in front of you with unwavering intensity.

Tomorrow you'll probably feel embarrassed by it, but you can't feel much of anything, right now. You feel beyond exhausted, more than you ever have before. And you've had your fare share of sleepless nights, playing games until the sun rises.

The bus jerks to a stop, and you look up, surprised to find yourself at your stop. You stumble from the bus, walking down the street behind your other classmates.

Slowly, they all veer off, going down other streets or into their houses, until it's just you. But you don't panic, because Sam said he would be following you. And for as intimidating as he is, you knew you could trust him.

You hear your name called, and it takes an embarrassing amount of time for you to turn towards the voice. Candice is walking out of her front door, the trunk of her car open, "Doing any better today?"

You hesitate, looking towards you house. Sam said you should go straight home, and avoid being in places that would be hard for them to get to just in case. But for some reason, you find yourself walking over to Candices house.

"No," your eyes drift to the bags in her trunk. The bags are all black, the handles tired off on the top so that you can't see what's inside of them, "do you want some help?"

A slow smile spreads across Candices face, and she tilts her head as her gaze flicks over your shoulder. It's brief, so quick that you don't question what had caught her attention.

"Sure. I would love the help."

You wait for her to grab some bags, taking the last two left in your hands. It's a struggle to close the trunk, whatever was in those bags was heavy, arm shaking as you lift into the air.

As you force your arm down on the trunk, your bracelet gets caught in the handle. One of the charms snap off as you jerk your arm back, and you watch in dismay as it rolls down the driveway.

Candice is waiting for you at the front door, letting you pass her by before she closes the door behind you.

Her house is spotless. That's the first thing you notice as you look around. It's dark inside, the curtains drawn tight. The lights she has are dimmed, only bright enough to make out where everything is.

You toe off your shoes, not wanting to dirty her very white carpet. You can see the dinning room from the front door, the table covered in dark bags. Placing the other bags next to them, you open the bag closest to you to help put things away.

But it's not food inside of the bags. Thick, blue rope stares back up at you, and lots of it. When you turn around, Candice is standing right behind you.

Instead of the blue eyes you remember her having, they're now red. Just like the woman in the woods. Just like the ones you've been seeing. As recognition passes onto your groggy face, Candice lets her smile warp into one of cruelty.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," she whispers, hand coming up to brush against your cheek. It's cold, just like when she had pressed it against your forehead. But now you know it wasn't your mind playing ticks on you.

"Please," you slur, head dipping. It's getting harder for you to keep your eyes open, and your legs can barely hold you up anymore. You lean heavily into the table behind you, knocking one of the tables off the edge, "please let me go."

It makes sense now, this unshakable exhaustion that's been clinging to you. It was her.

"I can't, not after they touched what was mine," her hand drops from your cheek to wrap around your throat, slowly tightening, "their stench all over you, muddling the sweet smell of your blood. I've waited too many years to let them have you."

Your gasping around her tight grip, hands clawing helplessly at her arm, but it's no use. Black pours into the edge of your vision, heart pounding frantically in your chest. As the darkness threatens to consume you, you hear Candice whisper one last thing before you loose consciousness.

"My beautiful blood-singer, I won't let anyone have you."

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.

[watching-sam-and-dean-again]

Supernatural, Season 8 Sam Musings (Ranting):

There are many things I love about Season 8, like The church scene in Sacrifice, or the four (four!) brother-hugs we get throughout the season, or the moments of Dean trying to take care of Sam (even though Sam fights it), or having side characters that I actually like (for the most part … not Amelia), or the good moments of bad-brother-communication (there are some), but what I absolutely hate is the sacrificing of character for "story" that we see in this season.

So, shocking as this will be to the few who follow me or have read my thoughts (rants) before, but I’m a Sam-leaning brothers fan. And as someone who is Sam-girl adjacent, the beginning of Season 8 makes me ragey. Ironically, it was partially the "abuse" of Sam's character by the writers (among other things) that actually confirmed my tilt towards Sam because it forced me to think more deeply about Sam and his motivations. The writers also pulled some shady crap with Dean's character.

So, you can find my ramblings under the cut, if interested …

So, let’s tackle Sam's oft considered worst offense first: Sam not "looking for" Dean. What the actual fuck was this? I mean, I get it in theory; they brought Sam low in the start of the season, making him "betray" and "fail" Dean again, in order to high ten his rise to Savior Sam 2.0, but it was lazy writing, and almost unforgivable in two ways, out of character actions and failure to meaningfully explain said actions.

First, I’m sorry, but it’s just out of character to have Sam—Psychotic Without Dean—Winchester not look for his brother. We have so much canon proof of this that him not looking for Dean in season 8 is almost offensive. In "Faith" when Dean is going to die, Sam finds him to a "faith healer," and when it turns out another life was exchanged for Dean's, Sam obviously isn’t happy about it … but, I don’t exactly see him wishing to undo it either. In "In My Time of Dying," Sam is totally distraught throughout the entire episode because Dean is dying, even willing to embarrass himself in front of Dean by pulling out a "talking board" (or whatever it was called) just to try and communicate with him, and he wanted to save him so badly but didn’t know how. These two episode alone show us that Sam would not be okay with just "loosing" Dean, and that if Sam thinks there is even a hope of saving Dean, he isn’t just going to shrug and walk away. So, at the end of Season 7, if he thought Dean was still alive, the Sam we know should have been exhaustive,y hunting for Dean.

Second, if Sam thought Dean was dead, which I think was what the show was suggesting but could have made it more explicit, Sam should have been going insane, as he’s done in the past. In Mystery Spot, Sam basically becomes a revenge-driven automaton, even stabbing Fake Bobby in hope of getting Dean back. And when Dean is killed by the hellhound in "No Rest for the Wicked," Sam is destroyed. Season 4 shows us that Sam tried to trade his soul for Dean's, just an instant trade, but the demon wouldn’t deal. We see that Sam was full-on suicidal after losing Dean, basically attempting suicide by demon, drinking and taking pills. If Ruby hadn’t intervened (for her own evil purposes, but still…), he would have gotten himself killed, not might have. When none of the immediately self-distractive options worked, Sam once again went into full-on revenge mode. Sam without Dean, or at least Sam without a Dean alive somewhere in the world, is not okay. He is desperate and frightening.

Arguably, he’s not actually okay in Season 8 either, but his distress after losing Dean was too subtle, to the point that it almost makes him look a bit cold. So, to me at least, not seeing Sam very obviously fucked up, in some way beyond dating Amelia, over Dean's disappearance/death is a disservice to the character.

On the other hand, if the writers just needed Sam to not look for Dean because the drama was just too delicious for them … more important than, you know, staying true to character … then they should have bloody well shown us why. And showing us Sam shacking up with a bitchy pain in the ass Veterinarian was not giving him anything like fair treatment or good characterization, or understandable motivation.

Now, the subtext is that there was more going on in Sam's head than, "Oops, I hit a dog and met a rude vet. I guess I’ll just give up wondering if my brother is alive and move in with this woman who isn’t even particularly nice to me." He even said that hunting had gotten everyone he loved killed, and he that just "ran," in the first episode of the season. So, to me, this means Sam definitely thought Dean was dead, but the show doesn’t actually make it explicitly clear, at least I don’t think so. And this matters because there is a big difference between thinking Dean was lost and not looking for him VS thinking Dean is dead and not trying to sell his soul (or something else mystical and dangerous) to bring him back to life. It’s actually breaking the cycle and healthier for Sam to believe Dean is in heaven, and try to move on, but the show frames his actions, through Dean and Bobby as this huge failure of character. Also, Sam choosing running away from hunting (which has gotten everyone he loves killed) VS giving into revenge and basic insanity again, while not healthy in its escapism, is actually better than becoming an obsessive psycho. So, not just the fact that Sam didn’t look for Dean that is the problem, it’s the execution of how and why he didn’t look for Dean, or lack of exploration around these issues, that I’m especially annoyed by.

So, because we got what we got in the start of Season 8, my explanation to make it work, or headcanon, is that when Sam thought Dean was killed (not just missing) in the explosion of dick 😏, he utterly fell apart. As in, he collapsed in a heap and lost himself in his own head for a while. Maybe he even went a little insane again, sure that he was having a terrible hell-ucination again, even though Cas had supposedly taken his insanity onto himself at this point. Maybe he even feared he was still in the cage after all, and living through yet another nightmare scenario. So, Sam shattered. When he finally pulls himself together, he realizes he has two options, lose himself again in revenge and obsession over trying to bring Dean back to life, or give up the life that has brought him nothing but pain (and Dean, but Dean's gone now). So, he goes with the latter, thinking surly Dean would prefer that he try to live a normal, non-hunting life rather than utterly losing himself in suicidal behavior and revenge again … right?

What the show doesn’t bother to address either, and what many fans seem not to consider or care about, is that pre-Season 8 Sam has only had the devil out of his head for a matter of weeks/months at this point, and he’s still chalk full of fairly newly recalled hell trauma from being stuck in the cage with said devil for over a hundred years. Dean still wasn’t okay in Season 5, a season after getting out of his 40 year stint in hell, and the show addressed this pretty clearly, which is good. With Sam, the show doesn’t bother to remind the audience of his trauma or link it in any meaningful way to Sam's decision to give up hunting and not try to get Dean beck.

I think that’s the most unforgivable part of the first half of the season for me, not showing us in a way that, while some fans might still not consider it a good enough reason, the audience can at least understand why Sam made the choice he did. If the writers wanted Sam to make a decision that was not consistent with what we have seen of him this far, then they needed to show us why he acted differently this time. The show gave us a buttload of flashbacks (often not smoothly), so they could have very easily given us a few flashbacks of Sam falling apart, choosing to try to live without going insane over Dean, grieving his brother. We could have seen these things and still had time for him to meet and stay with a woman (not Amelia) for even, say, six months before Dean gets out of purgatory. Dean could even not be satisfied with Sam's explanation, or Sam could get defensive and not tell Dean how bad he was doing at first, so the brother drama could still be in tact, but at least the audience would understand Sam's motivations more. In a show where Dean usually gets the benefit of the doubt due to being our more regular POV protagonist, the narrative, and his protectiveness, it was a poor choice not to flesh out Sam's decisions more.

Season 8 was one of the rare times we actually see things from Sam's POV fairly often, and they wasted it on an unlikable love interest and half-explained motivations. The way the season is structured, it looks like it’s actually trying to argue that Amelia was the reason Sam gave up hunting (and Dean), but then it depicts her as incredibly harsh, annoying, and, frankly, not worth giving up Dean for. Giving Sam this particular love interest, one he has no chemistry with, makes it even harder to empathize with him because we (or most of the audience) don’t like her.

The real reason Sam gives up is essentially that hunting cost him too much, and he was too broken to carry on after losing Dean. But, the emphasis on the relationship, even though it’s explained that Sam and Amelia were basically just two broken people pulled together by their pain, doesn’t do enough to actually make it appealing, or to make me buy that Sam even loves her. I get that the show isn’t on the side of Sam living a normal life, and that’s actually fine, but making the relationship so … lame just helps stack the deck against Sam.

Meanwhile, Dean's friend-who-isn’t-Sam is incredibly likable, so we sympathize with Dean giving up Benny for Sam mid season, but most of us have been waiting for the moment when we no longer have to see Amelia being grating all over our screens since pretty much the first time we saw her. Thus, Dean's jealousy, dismissive remarks regarding Amelia, and his casual cruelty in letting Sam think she’s in danger just to get him out of the way, have less weight with the audience because so many of us don’t like her anyway. Whereas, Sam's sudden hate for vampires when he’s always been the more sympathetic brother when it comes to monsters, feels like it comes out of nowhere. And he ends up looking like a dick because the audience knows that Benny is a good guy (vampire), even though Sam doesn’t. Dean is no less jealous of Amelia than Sam is of Benny, but it comes across as more unreasonable in Sam's case. And he seems to be the only one who is often considered to be acting petty.

Here too, I feel the show does a bad job showing Sam's motivations. Sam has an instant hate-on for Benny, and his stated reasons are pretty much … he’s a vampire. And when arguing with Dean, the show has Sam bring up Amy. I mean, sure, Amy was a more recent monster and issue in their lives, but she isn’t a fitting Benny parallel, in my opinion. To me, Benny was to Sam, what Ruby was to Dean. They are both monsters: vampire VS demon. They both saved a brother’s life: Ruby saved a suicidal Sam VS Benny saving Dean in a land of Monsters. Both fought alongside a brother for a shared goal: Sam killing Lilith vs Dean getting out of Purgatory. Both monsters caused jealousy for sort of replacing the other brother: Sam chose to trust Ruby over Dean regarding Lilith VS Dean literally telling Sam that Benny (unlike Sam) has never let him down, and he lies to Sam to protect Benny. Sam should have brought up the mistake of trusting Ruby in their argument, if he thinks Dean is wrong to trust Benny. Of course, if Sam so much as said "Ruby," Dean would probably just fixate on Sam not listening to him back then. The thing is, looking at the Benny issue in relation to Ruby, it’s actually fair that Sam distrusts Benny. Of course, i do I think he’s also jealous and feels guilty.

Anyway, the season then sort of tries to make up for Sam being hard to sympathize with, by making Dean be straight up cruel to him a few times, which I don’t love either.

[wetsocksinbed]

small rant about separating characters from their actors

watching recordings of old panels and seeing the way the crowds acted, and the way they failed to seperate Misha from Cass and Jensen from Dean, makes me very uncomfortable. The Spn fandom is probably one of the worst when it comes to this. Even now, years after these panels happened, I still get such visceral second hand embarrassment. Like we all know teenage girls are at the top of the pyramid when it comes to having obsessive crushes on actors, but the way some of these fans acted about Jensen, Jared and Misha, and the way they bulled and harassed the wives/girlfriends of the actors (and some still do) is insane to me.

on top of that, the way the fandom worships the actors? You don’t know Jensen Ackles. You don’t know Misha Collins. You don’t know Jared Padalecki. The fandom sees them and assumes they’re like their characters. These are actors. They lie for a living. They could be horrible people in real life, but you look at them and you see Sam, Dean and Cass, so obviously they can “do no wrong”. I’m not saying they’ve done anything wrong, but if it came out that Jensen was pro-Israel, or that Misha was a raging homophobe, could you really say you’d make a mature decision and stop liking them? Or would you go “but Dean/Cass would never do that!”

it’s like with Mark Hamill. I love Star Wars, and I like Luke Skywalker, but Mark openly supported Biden and was indirectly pro-Israel. Instead of people going “this person has done a bad thing”, the fandom erupted with “Luke skywalker would never do this” like yes obviously the leader of a rebellion against an oppressive empire run by an old wrinkly white guy would never do this, but this is Mark fucking Hamill, not Luke Skywalker. You’re comparing a real person to a fictional character.

You don’t look at the Joker and go “Heath Ledger would never kill someone!” Because it’s obvious that the Joker is a fictional character and that the things the character says and does is not reflected by the actor. So why is it so hard to flip it around? Why are so many people unable to look at a good character and think “these words and actions aren’t the actors real beliefs”??

[cosmicpearlz]

little love

summary: the three times you acted like a couple and the one time he made it official. (best friends to lovers)

pairing: chad meeks martin x fem!reader

a/n: omg i hit 510 followers and i’m so grateful to all of you!! thanks for even reading what i write <3

-the first time-

being best friends with chad since childhood meant being attached to the hip twenty-four/seven. your friendship was weird to most because of the fact that it was normal to call each other pet names or hug for a little too long but you guys weren’t dating.

“honey! c’mere for a quick second,” chad calls you over from across the room. you smiled hearing his voice and walked over to the reclining chair sam brought that he was currently sat on.

“everything okay?” he looks up at you with his big brown eyes, smiling softly he nodded and grabbed your hand to hold.

“yeah, i just missed you.”

“baby, i was right over there in the kitchen.”

“i can’t miss my favorite girl,” chad tugs your arm to get you to sit on his lap. you laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

mindy let out an exaggerated gag sound and rolled her eyes. “bleh, you guys are so gross. like get a room already.”

“mindy, i don’t want to hear it from you. you and anika do the exact same thing!”

“yeah whatever.”

“she just jealous because anika is in class right now. don’t listen to her my love,” the boy whispered in your ear while giving your hip a squeeze and nuzzling into your neck to place a delicate kiss.

-

-the second time-

you were having the worst day ever. first, your coffee had spilled all over your shirt before it was time to leave for class. having no time to change, you rushed out with a wet shirt. then, your professor called you out in class to answer a question because you were so spaced out. it was embarrassing and you shrunk into your seat for the rest of the class. to top it all off, someone had bumped into you and it made all your papers fly out your hands causing you to chase them around.

overwhelmed with stress, you ran back to your shared apartment with sam and tara to cry in the comfort of your room. you slammed your room door shut and immediately flopped on your bed.

a knock on the door halted your sobs. you tried to contain them by biting down on your bottom lip but it didn’t stop the fast tears.

“hey sweetheart? can i come in?”

“yes,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. chad opens to door to find you curled up into a ball making him frown.

“baby what’s wrong?” he sits on your bed waiting for you to explain to him. you sit up a little and tell him all about your shitty day. as you were explaining, more tears fell against your cheeks but chad was quick to wipe them away.

“i wish i could restart the whole day over.”

chad pulls you into his lap like he does all the time and embraces you into a hug. you cling to him by wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders.

“i got you darling,” he rubs your back and sways the two of you side to side. his presence already making you feel better about your terrible day. chad’s arms were warm and he smelled of the expensive cologne you helped him pick out.

“you feeling better yet?” you lifted your head up from his neck and nodded. leaning forward, you placed a kiss to his cheek.

“you always know how to make me feel better. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“i don’t know what’d i do without you either love,” he kisses your hairline and then your cheek making you smile.

“you wanna get ice cream? i know you like to eat ice cream when you’re sad.”

-

-the third time-

blackmore university decided to host a charity fundraiser gala. everyone had to dress up because it was a black tie event. the charity they were sponsoring was a kids charity. raising money to make sure kids got toys for christmas.

you were dressed in a deep red floor length gown that had an open back. this was one of your favorite charity events because it evolved helping children and giving them an experience that they would enjoy.

“y/n! hurry up and also chad is here,” you hear tara call out for you.

“i’m coming right now!” you put on your last earring and grabbed your bag before heading out your room. chad swore his heart stopped and started again when you walked out.

“woah, you look absolutely beautiful.” the boy’s tie matching your dress color.

“you look handsome baby,” you walked up to him and linked your hand with his.

“okay, let’s go guys!” anika cheered and rushed everyone out to head to the building it was held in.

-

the event was a success. your school raising enough money to reach pass their goal. chad guides you to the dance floor when the music got slower. you could hear your heart beat faster in your ears.

“did i tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“only five times today but whose counting?”you chuckled lightly at chad putting his head down bashfully.

“but it’s okay because i-“

chad leans down to capture your lips with his own. you gasped at the sudden movement but it didn’t stop you from kissing back. he pulls you more into him as if you could get any closer to his body. the kiss was gentle and warm, something you didn’t want to stop but chad was the first to pull away.

“my pretty girl.”

-

-making things official-

the two of you didn’t talk about the kiss since it happened almost two weeks ago. you were starting to get nervous that he thought it was a mistake but you didn’t want to be the first one to bring it up. there was no hiding that you were madly in love with you.

“hey babe, can we talk?”

“what’s on your mind?”

“i want to make us official. we already acted like we were dating but it’d be nice to give it a proper title,” you sit up from your lying position and rested on your elbows.

“are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

“what? that i’m in love with you and want to make you my girlfriend? then yes, i’m saying what you think i’m saying,” he smirks at you waiting for your response. you squealed and dragged him into a hug.

“i love you too! i’ve been nervous that you would think our kiss was mistake.”

“nothing with you will ever be a mistake.”

[sweet-self-indulgence]

A cute prompt could be Mika and Sam watching horror movies together! Maybe she gets scared and he "protects her"

Yes! Love this one! I got a little off-task, but I think it turned out really cute.

If anyone can tell me what movie they’re watching you’ll unlock bonus content (the story that inspired this piece).

The Basement

Is what's lurking in the basement scarier than demons? Probably when you happen to love a demon.

It was all Matthew’s fault. He was the one who had been insistent on going all out for Halloween, including setting up a haunted house as part of the Halloween ball. Then again, it was James who volunteered the basement for the haunted house venue. No one else was aware of its existence, but of course he remembered seeing it on the floorplan. Still, it was Damien who knew which key to fetch from the study to open the door.

Down the narrow staircase they had found a pretty standard creepy old basement. High shelves filled with forgotten boxes housed ages of dust and plenty of spiderwebs. The unfinished concrete floor was patched with unknown stains. Even the musty odor was unsurprising.

At this point in their adventure, Mika was not a fan of the basement. It was dark, dirty, and a little smelly; however, she was considering how the extra storage space could come in handy. That was until Sam found another locked door. At first Damien scrambled over with the key, the group quickly found that there was no keyhole.

Sam tried the door again. It wasn’t stuck but locked from the other side.

That realization made Mika’s stomach do an uncomfortable flip. James managed to convince Sam not to break the house, reasoning that the basement was probably built in parts, and they could presumably get to this door from an entrance elsewhere in the mansion.

Erik, that traitor, suddenly interrupted. Apparently, he had the best idea for a movie to watch.

And now Mika is stuck in the worst movie night ever, contemplating who’s to blame for her predicament.

She’s not much of a horror fan so she didn’t recognize the title and had no idea what to expect. It started out pretty well, two strangers have to share a rented house due to some scheduling mix up. She debated with James over if the man would kill the woman, or if that was too obvious and the lady would end up being the murderer. Then, the characters found a creepy basement with a creepy door and Mika shot Erik a dirty look.

Since that moment Mika hasn’t dared to look away from the screen. She started watching the movie on the center couch cushion, but almost immediately started receding onto Sam’s. She’s wedged herself between her incubus and the back of the couch, but firmly within his arms.

“Ahhh! What was that?!”, she shrieks as something moves quickly in the darkness on screen.

She shrieks again when something suddenly touches her back. A low oof and, “watch it, doofus!” follow her reflexive strike.

“Sorry, Sam! Don’t startle me!”

“Sheesh! I was just trying to rub your back to get you to relax a little”

After getting shushed by Matthew, Mika and Sam find a configuration where Sam’s hands squish her firmly into his side so neither of them can move too quickly.

“Oh fuck! What is that?!”, Mika presses further into Sam, eyes wide with alarm.

Erik and Damien fail to suppress snickers at Mika’s outburst.

“Don’t go back in there!”, she screeches.

“Oh god, that’s so gross”

“Oh god, that’s so messed up!”

After each outburst Sam gently squeezes the girl in his arms.  

Mika visibly relaxes when the basement creature falls limp over the hood of the car, only to scream even louder than before when it is no longer there.

At this point all the demons in the room are giggling openly at her, but Mika is too freaked out to be embarrassed. At least the low rumbling in Sam’s chest is soothing.

Finally, the nightmare is over and the heroine limps away victorious. The second credits start to role Mika bolts up from the couch, “I’m going to go make sure the basement door is locked.”

Sam follows closely behind, mostly out of concern, but also because Mika has a death grip on his hand. Laughter erupts from the living room.

On the way back to the basement door Mika mumbles under her breath, “I’m going to Kill Erik and his stupid Movie, then Damien and his stupid key, and James with his stupid blueprints, and Matthew and his stupid haunted house”

“So, am I spared?” Sam jokes from behind her.

“Yes.” Mika states matter-of-factly, “I need you to protect me should any creepy shit crawl out of this basement.”

Sam guffaws and squeezes her hand.

Mika jiggles the door handle, confirming that it remained as lock as they left it. Her eyebrows knit together, “I should—”

She is cut off by Sam producing the key, “I’ve got it right here.”

Mika nods, but the pinched look remains on her face, “And it’s the only copy.”

“Right…”, Mika glances at the door again and shivers, “let’s just go to bed.”

Sam follows her dutifully. Halfway up the stairs he asks, “We’ve watched horror movies before, why did this one freak you out so bad?”

Mika groans and slides a hand down her face, “I dunno. I guess demons and ghosts are less scary than whatever fucked up shit humans can do.”

“Oi! I think I can be pretty scary!” Sam complains.

Mika laughs, “You know what I mean! I can’t be scared of fictional demons when I live with real ones!”

“Yeah, I do”, Sam grins, “Harold recommended we watch a few movies to understand how humans think about demons. I guess it’s supposed to be scary, but they’re so wrong we were laughing the whole time!”

“Ah so that’s how the horror fixation started”

He shrugs, “I guess. We enjoyed a few movies like that and then it was easier to understand other movies that were similar. And then people start asking you about what movies you like and yeah...”

Safely in her own room, Mika locks the door behind them, and if Sam notices he keeps tactfully quiet about it. The pair go through their nightly routines quickly. Sam finishes first and waits patiently under the covers. When she finishes in the bathroom Mika dives into bed and burrows into Sam’s chest. He chuckles fondly and uses a tiny bit of magic to flick the light switch off.

For a moment Mika thinks she’ll fall asleep peacefully in Sam’s arms, but a sudden spike of fear jolts her upright.

“Woah, hey”, Sam follows her up and holds her face in his hands.

“Ugh! I know it’s stupid and illogical. I don’t really think that some freaky inbred wannabe mother is going to bust in here!”

“I know”, Sam soothes, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Mika shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes, “My nerves are just on edge.”

Sam nods and runs his fingers slowly through Mika’s hair.

After a moment Mika adds, “But the basement is really creepy! I mean who would have a door that locks on just one side like that?!”

“Do you want me to go break it down so you don’t have to worry about it? We don’t have to listen to James, it’s your house.”

“No.” Mika calmly holds Sam down, both of her hands wrapped around his bicep, “Because then you’ll get murdered. And I’ll have to find a new boyfriend.”

Sam barks out a surprised laugh, “Well I wouldn’t want to make you go through all that effort!”, he teases.

Mika giggles, “Yeah, the dating scene is what’s really scary!”

After another bout of laughter that definitely disturbs the other residents (but screw them for laughing at me earlier, Mika thinks), she lets Sam pull her back into bed. Most of her tension is gone and Mika finally feels tired.

Sam rubs slow circles into her back as Mika nuzzles into his neck, occasionally mumbling another complaint about the movie into his skin. He whispers, “I’ll protect you from anything” softly into her ear.

Mika’s body immediately relaxes and she’s just able to mumble an, “I love you” before succumbing to a peaceful slumber. She doesn’t hear Sam’s voice, choked with emotion from her display of trust, repeat the words back to her.

[jwritestuff]

older brother behavior

warnings: drinking mention (nothing graphic)

- summary: younger gn!reader meets a pretty girl, dean and sam are protective!

also: this is my first fic. i have no clue how to do this. feedback is appreciated!

dean and sam go to the bar every friday. i don't know, tradition? but i stay back. i'm not a drinker honestly. i would much rather stay at the bunker curled up with a good book. that’s definitely my kind of night.

my brothers practically begged me to go to the bar with them. they need a ‘good luck charm’ for their pool game, or whatever they call it. so i went. they don't listen to the word ‘no’.

i’m knee deep. knee deep in a new book i'm reading. exactly 237 pages in. dean and sam are playing pool, shouting whenever possible. they are definitely drunk. mid sentence, i feel a hand on my shoulder.

"hi."

oh my god.. she's so.. she has black curly hair and deep brown eyes.

"hi." i mutter. taking her in. (how do you calmly greet a hot girl?) 

"i'm charlotte" she looks at me so intensely. like we could for sure kiss right now. 

"i'm y/n." i smile, trying my best to flirt. "come, sit" i point to the seat across from me.

"what are you reading?" she asks.

and i love her already. "oh! um.. its a book about a teenage alcoholic, not my usual genre but i love this auth-" dean comes up next to my chair.

he wraps an arm around me. "hey kid! who is this?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

I give him a pleading look that says, ‘please dont embarrass me’. 

"dean, this is charlotte. charlotte, this is dean. one of my brothers" 

"hi!" she says so sweetly may i add. i look at her for a split second, mouthing ‘im sorry’ and giving her an apologetic smile. she waves me off like it's nothing and my oldest brother isn't about to humiliate the fuck out of me.

"ah, charlotte. so what are your intentions with our y/n?" charlotte, thankfully, laughs at this.

"dude shut up" i lightly slap his arm. "go back to pool, i think sam is moving the balls around!" that gets him.

"oh shit. ok well, y/n stays right here. don't take them anywhere i can't see them" he bumps my shoulder and winks at me. i (half) playfully roll my eyes.

he finally walks away. i give charlotte a desperate look. "oh my god. i am so sorry. him and sam, my other brother, they're insanely protective when it comes to me. especially when it comes to me and girls."

she laughs. "don't be sorry! it's really sweet how they care. have you had bad experiences in the past or..?"

"not really. they kinda get all parental when i'm sad. they've seen me heartbroken three times now, so i think they're trying to avoid another one of those meltdowns."

she looks apologetic. "heartbreak is the worst."

"cheers to that" i say. holding up my.. water. but, she laughed, so i'd say thats a win.

right when i look up. i see sam. 

"hey kiddooooo" he draws out. oh god. he's for sure drunk. 

"just needed- just wan- to see what you're reading!" he's doing his best to pretend to be interested in my book, but i know better, he just wants to be sure my choice of woman is acceptable. looks at charlotte then looks at me. this goes on three more times. he mouths 'good taste' and gives me a thumbs up. i roll my eyes. "okay you can go now! thanks for checking in, i'm fine sam."

he walks away. he also winks. jesus christ get me out of here. 

"that's sam, i assume?" charlotte takes me out of my head for a second.

"uh.. yeah. again-"

"do not apologize. please. it's really adorable." so she's already picked up on my need to apologize for anything and everything. wow.

"okay." i look down, blushing. she breathes and i feel like i'm having a stroke. how is she so perfect?

"give me your phone." she says.

so of course, i hand her my phone. she says, "i'm putting in my number and following myself on instagram. that okay?"

i wanna kiss her so bad right now. just realized im staring at her lips. "i.. yes. that's perfectly okay."

she hands me back my phone. "i'll be sure to text you." she gets off the chair and comes extremely close to me. holy sh-

i'm staring at her lips again. she definitely realizes that by now. i just nod, speechless at this point. (how does she do that to me?)

she tucks my hair behind my ear and cups my face to kiss me. i kiss her back. obviously.

so yeah, i just died!

she pulls away after a minute or two. 

"see you y/n." she smirks. SMIRKS.

"bye charlotte." i say. (i've never been so red)

i turn back to my book, taking a breath. what just happened?

i was going to continue reading (not really, just think about charlotte) when i hear dean and sam whistling at me. i put my finger to my mouth, because, why are they so loud. they come back to give me a high five. i gladly accept their gesture this time.

"can't believe our little sibling got to makeout with a girl in a bar. their first time being in one. and they brought a fucking book." sam looks at dean with wide eyes. i can't say i don't agree, i didn't bring a book here to kiss a girl. but if that's what works, i'll take it.

"proud of you kid. no dates until i properly meet her. and that doesn't include you guys sucking each others' faces two feet away from us." dean says. i get off my chair and start to walk out with both of them. i'm starting to like bars.

[liskantope]

I have a lot of mixed thoughts nowadays about the "threat to democracy" angle to Trump's potential re-presidency.

On the one hand, Trump has made it abundantly clear, from long before the period of the 2020 campaign season when he began priming his base to expect the election to be rigged against him, that he has a fundamentally antidemocratic mentality, that for him, the concept of "democracy" is what it means to a (not particularly bright) second-grader: a fancy word for something that in the US we say we value all the time but which doesn't mean anything of significance. He has instilled a similar mentality among his cult following, and it's eroding our collective sense of what it means to be the United States and our once robust underlying trust (across political ideologies) in our system of elections. It already culminated in the events of January 2021, which made our country an embarrassment to the world and suggests that more violence and strife is in our future as long as he's on the political scene (even if Harris wins in November, I'm dreading how the Trumpists are going to react).

For me on a gut level, the deepest pang of insult and disgust (among very many!) associated with Trump getting into the White House again comes from the idea that he's unqualified not only in his inability to competently handle object-level issues but on the meta level of having no respect whatsoever for democracy, which to me represents the error-correcting mechanism of supreme importance in any system and the primary feature that, uh, makes America great (and revolutionary, back in the 18th century).

But then, at the same time... let's say he wins again. Where does his disrespect for democracy lead, exactly?

Trump has very deliberately undermined trust among his base in elections, and this time around he'll do better with appointing people in crucial positions who will fix elections for him, but what will this mean, concretely? It seems to me that the worst I can conceive of, without inventing scenarios that go completely off the rails, is that Trump manages to find the energy and knowhow to fix the results of a number of 2026 midterm elections and then get through more legislation in the second half of his term than he would have and maybe this includes an abolishment of term limits so that he could run again and fix the results to win again. This does seem quite bad, but it's also pretty far-fetched that he'd actually be able to do all this (starting with doctoring the visible results of a great enough number of midterm races to make a real difference), and anyway, the damage done would be severely hampered by (1) the fact that he'll be getting into his 80's and seems quite likely to drop dead quite suddenly, and (2) his lack of actual focused ideological beliefs (like what's he actually going to try to accomplish with one or two more terms?) -- he's seeking to get back into the White House basically because campaigning is fun and power and attention feel good and it's a way of screwing around and keeping the law from catching up with him.

Maybe I'm lacking in imagination on this, and I do remember Sam Harris having someone on his podcast who described a very concrete scenario of Trump eroding democracy if back in power that sounded pretty scary the way it was spoken at the time, but I can't remember the details now. Meanwhile, the recent Supreme Court decision about presidential immunity seems murky and up to interpretation and like it would maybe require a pretty contrived situation to allow Trump to get away with something truly dictatorial.

I think it's good that Democrats are reminding voters over and over again how incredibly offensive Trump is with regard to his attitude towards our democratic ideals; it seems that a lot of Americans care about this (rightly) and it will help Trump get defeated. That said, I don't know that it does any favors to throw around such vague and dramatic phrases as "will destroy democracy" though. First of all, what does that mean? Secondly, to the extent that it exaggerates the situation, it sounds hysterical, which is something the other side can always capitalize on. I suspect it has, at least in that Trump himself has noticed on some level that he can use desperate and freaked-out-sounding rhetoric from the other side as fodder for trolling.

It really bothers me the way the anti-Trump side has completely taken the bait in moments like Trump's comments about how he'll be a dictator on day one only. It would be one thing to be upset and offended because Trump's cult has flaunted the democratic process and the perception of it in serious ways and so it's in extremely bad taste for him of all people to be flippant and joking about it. It's another thing to hear the "I'll be a dictator but only on day one" comment and conclude in a serious tone, "See? He just admitted right out that he wants to be a dictator!", as if we shouldn't all have the collective psychological intelligence to understand that speaking that way is a form of mischievous, irreverent, trolling-while-projecting-a-strongman humor that Trump has always specialized in (and is indeed what makes him so refreshing to so many people).

I'm similarly really annoyed at the reactions -- including from such smart and sensible commentators as David Pakman -- to Trump's recent remark to a Christian audience about going out and voting just this one time and then he'll "fix" it so they won't have to vote again. I heard that the first time, and it was fairly obvious to me that there were several more likely explanations as to what he meant in context apart from "I'm going to make myself dictator for life" -- the first one that came to my head was "the main reason why a lot of Christians vote is the abortion issue, and Trump is implying that he'll 'fix it', meaning get an amendment passed banning abortion everywhere". Then I saw in an clip from a Trump interview afterwards (I only saw this because it was played by David Pakman I think, though he professed not to understand any sense of what Trump was saying) that Trump's explanation for the remark had to do with Christians not voting in very large numbers. ("I know you don't always care enough to vote, but do it just this once and then you won't have to again" actually sounds very close to the usual line, popular on the liberal side, about "this is the most important election of our lives", with my own personal addition of "vote to resoundingly defeat MAGA so that maybe the each subsequent election won't continue to be the most important of our lives.") I found out today from Matt Lewis' weekly podcast episode with Bill Scher that the context of Trump being concerned about low Christian voter turnout was in fact plainly acknowledged in earlier parts of Trump's same speech, although Scher says that the oft-cited notion of Christians not voting is a myth. Trump's confident claims that he'll "fix everything" are characteristic of him (and one of his main recognized demagogic rhetorical faults he's ridiculed for!) and a much less athletic explanation for his comment than "I'll change the country so that there won't be any elections", a thing that he's never said or implied.

Of course, if Trump cared a shred about truly assuring people that he has no dictatorial inclinations, he would be careful not to make comments that could even remotely be interpreted as such, and one could argue that in that context his "vote for me now and I'll fix it so that you won't need to again" comment was offensive. I'm not sure whether he maybe even intended that comment to be misinterpreted by his opponents this way so as to rile them up, although I seriously doubt that he was being that clever. I just wish people would stop feeding the troll and walking right into the trap of interpreting as much as possible in terms of "destroying our democracy" and treating every remark Trump says as a way of taking the man much more seriously than he deserves, even while at the same time we could simultaneously call attention to the seriously threatening aspects of Trump and Trumpism.

[kayleighwinchester]

Pilot (Part 2)

Dean leaned against the side of the car, staring up at Sam’s bedroom window as they waited – as the youngest Winchester went back inside to pack his things and grab Kayleigh's bag – and the silence was deafening. She sat on the trunk of the car, picking under her nails with a knife she'd snagged from the organized chaos of his mobile arsenal.

"You cut a finger off, I'm not takin' you to the ER, you hear me?" Dean shot her way, not taking his eyes off the window. "That thing's sharp, you know." 

"Wow, Winchester. Never would have fuckin’ guessed." Kayleigh shot back, lifting her hand up toward one of the nearby streetlights to inspect her nails. He scoffed quietly, shaking his head. 

"You wanna tell me why you were camped out on Sammy's sofa?" Dean asked after a few moments of tense silence, his tone just as sarcastic as ever. "Last I knew you were livin' the good life in Oklahoma." He glanced her way, watching her posture go stiff, her expression sour as he added, "What, Prince Charming leave you high and dry in your pretty little condo? Had to start couch surfing?"

"Jasper died back in April." She said shortly. "Been back in Sioux Falls with Bobby – I just came out here to celebrate Sam's LSAT score, moral support for the interview, all that good shit." 

Dean was silent for a moment, his stomach dropping. "Sorry to hear that." He finally offered a bit begrudgingly, shifting his weight against the car, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He was, uh –...” That one, he didn’t have a good word for. He hardly remembered meeting Kayleigh’s fiance that evening in Oklahoma, hardly remembered showing up on their doorstep unannounced. Hell, he could barely remember what Sammy had told him that dinner was for, though he seemed to remember it being something about Leigh’s job. He remembered Sam had said that he was going — and he’d been in the area on a job, and made, arguably, the worst decision he could have, a few too many drinks in.

He did remember, at least, that Jasper had been the reasonable one in that entire, shitty situation — how could he forget? He could never forget the white-hot rage and embarrassment as the other man had calmly, jokingly told Sam, “Looks like he pre-gamed this a little too hard - Leigh and I both have to be up early in the morning, so maybe you ought’a take him back to the motel. We weren’t planning on drinking.” He let the silence drag on for a moment, before he spoke again.

“You don’t gotta come with, you know.” He offered, half-hoping that she would take it as the hint that it was. Tonight had already been painfully awkward – he didn’t want to imagine how awkward, how tense, the trip to Jericho would be, let alone any longer than that. Kayleigh had returned to picking at her nails with the knife, albeit more carefully now that she was working with her non-dominant hand.

“Fuck that.” She said plainly. “You’re givin’ me an excuse to deck your Dad the second I see him. ‘Course I’m comin’ along.” 

“Guess he’s got that coming.” He couldn’t help it – he let out a laugh in spite of himself, even if, god, it didn’t feel particularly funny. Maybe it was the confidence behind her words that did it, or the plain simplicity of it. “Gonna be a bit cramped in the car,” He attempted again.

“Not takin’ your car. I drove here.” Her tone dripped mild condescension, like she was saying something incredibly obvious. “You think I wanna get stuck in the middle’a fuck knows where with you? Or your Dad for that matter? Nah. ‘M takin’ my car.” She held her hand up to the streetlight once more, squinting up at her nails. God damn, he’d forgotten how stubborn she was – and he was running out of excuses to keep her from coming along. “‘Sides,” She started, her voice a bit softer now. “‘M not lettin’ you drag Sammy back into this by himself. He’s got a life, Winchester.” 

He exhaled slowly, scrubbing his hands over his face, offering a terse, “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head. “You think I wanna be draggin’ him back out there?”

“You had a choice.” She retorted, as if it was the most simple, obvious thing in the world – which, to her, he was sure it was. “Had a lot’a choices you could’a made, Winchester, ‘n you keep makin’ the wrong fuckin’ ones.” That venom, that condescension, was back in her voice, and he hated it, hated it with a passion. 

“The hell’s that s’pposed to mean, huh, Leigh?” He demanded. “Who was I gonna call? You? Last time I saw you, you pointed a gun at me. Hell, you did this time, too. Doesn’t exactly put you at the top of the ‘in case of emergencies’ list. Can’t call Bobby, that’s your fuckin’ uncle, ‘n he wanted to shoot Dad last time. I don’t exactly got a lot of options here!” He opened his arms challengingly, the volume of his words increasing as he went.

Kayleigh stared at him – stared at him like he was stupid, like he just wasn’t getting it, and it grated on his nerves like nothing else. She practically slammed the knife down on the trunk, and immediately, his eyes went to the paint, just praying it hadn’t left a scratch. “No, Winchester, you don’t got a lot of options for who to call, and that’s your own damn fault. Hell, I was waitin’ for you to call for months.” His arms slowly lowered to his sides as he realized – this wasn’t about now, had never been about now. “‘N I dunno if you were just so far up your Dad’s ass that you didn’t think to, or if you just didn’t fuckin’ care, ‘cause believe me, I waited, but it’s your own damn fault I’m not on the top’a that fuckin’ list anymore.” She hauled herself up off of the trunk. “It’s your own damn fault that ‘m doin’ this for Sammy ‘n not for you.” 

For a moment, Dean was speechless – he couldn’t get a single word out, couldn’t form a single thought – and then the anger was back. The anger that took the place of any sort of logical thought. “That’s what this’s about?” He demanded. “You’re pissed I left? What was I gonna do, huh? Tell Dad he was wrong? He was goin’ back to Montana whether I came with or not. I wasn’t just gonna ditch him and Sammy for some girl!”

He knew, immediately, that he’d gone too far, said the wrong thing, because the anger drained from her face and her posture like a deflating balloon. He hadn’t meant it like that, could never mean it like that, that she was just some girl, but he couldn’t find the words. He wasn’t sure she’d listen even if he could, but he tried anyway: “Leigh, that’s not what I –...” 

She let out a humorless laugh, scrubbing her hands over her face, running them through her hair, staring down at the pavement beneath her feet for a moment. “You really got a fuckin’ way with words, Winchester.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing back up toward Sammy’s bedroom window. “Didn’t know I was just some girl.” The rest of her sentence was loud and clear, even unspoken – she wasn’t some girl, she’d been his girl. The expression on her face was painfully familiar, and for a moment, he could see her there, not even eighteen years old, standing on Bobby’s front porch in a pair of sweats and his Black Sabbath tee shirt, practically drowning in it, having given up on begging Dad not to go, and instead begging him to stay.

You weren’t, he wanted to tell her, but the words wouldn’t come, and he exhaled slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets once more, and once again, he defaulted to the only thing he knew – deflect, deflect, deflect. “‘S been eight years, Leigh.” Her expression hardened, and he felt his stomach drop. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

He was saved by the sound of gym shoes across the pavement, by Sam holding up his own bag in one hand, Leigh’s in the other – the younger Winchester opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Kayleigh strode forward, snatching her bag by the strap, shouldering it without looking at either of them. “You got my keys?” She asked Sam shortly, and he glanced over to Dean questioningly as he fished a set of rather bare keys from his pocket – no keychains, no trinkets, just a single car key and two others – obediently handing them over. She didn’t even thank him, just crossing a few empty parking spots to the Mustang Dean had noticed – and silently admired – on his way in.

“Nice car,” He offered lamely as the lights flashed once as she unlocked it. He was rewarded with a very familiar finger displayed in his direction.

“The hell did you say to her?” Sam demanded, his tone a mixture of awe and horror. “I was gone, what, ten minutes?” He adjusted his grip on his bag, depositing it into the trunk once it was open.

“Just get in the car, Sam.” Dean ordered, slamming the trunk closed – narrowly missing Sam’s fingers in the process – casting a stare over at the Mustang, at Kayleigh, who already had the top down and the radio on, some loud, scream-heavy noise that he hardly thought counted as music. 

For a moment, he almost thought she’d reconsider – she was taking an awful long time to get herself settled in her car, and part of him almost hoped she’d changed her mind, that she was driving back home to Sioux Falls, that he could pretend that the last ten minutes – hell, the last hour or two – was just a bad, bad dream. He could just pretend he hadn’t shoved his foot in his mouth, that he hadn’t said some of the worst things he could have said to Kayleigh, hadn’t driven the knife even deeper into a wound he hadn’t even realized was still open, twisted it and poured salt on it for good measure.

No such luck. She finally seemed to get herself settled and comfortable, resting her elbow on the side of the door, leaning over and waving a hand impatiently. “Are we goin’ or not?” She demanded, her voice raised just a bit to be heard over the god-awful noise blasting over the speakers. 

Dean stared over the roof of the Impala at her, hand on the door handle, and the childish words slipped out before he could even try to stop them. “You gonna put on some actual music or not?” He mocked, earning himself two middle fingers this time. He couldn’t help but grin – even if it was a mildly rueful, humorless thing, sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed.

“You gonna tell me what that’s all about?” Sam prompted, glancing out the window toward Kayleigh’s car. “You really pissed her off. Like, really pissed her off.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Dean pulled slowly out of his parking spot, out toward the street, casting a glance at the rearview mirror, making sure Kayleigh was following. “She’ll get over it.” He wasn’t entirely sure she would, but that was her problem, wasn’t it? It certainly wasn’t his. It certainly wasn’t his problem that she’d held onto that anger for eight long years, that she seemed to have no problem continuing to hold onto it like a dog with a bone.

“Maybe you should talk to her.” Sam offered, leaning his elbow against the window and resting his chin in his hand, eyes darting between the rearview mirror, where he could see Kayleigh in the dim glow of the streetlights, and faintly hear the sound of her music still blasting at full volume, and his brother. His neighbors were going to hate him.

“She look like she’s in a talking mood to you, Sammy?” Dean bit out. “Or was the talking mood when she had the gun in my face?” Sam grimaced, but his brother continued anyway. “Or when she kicked my ass to the curb in Oklahoma?”

“You were drunk.” Sam offered, incredibly unhelpfully. “Like, really drunk – and you were kind of being a jerk, Dean.” Even if he didn’t remember it, Sam had provided the details the next morning in a very, very uncomfortable, very, very angry phone call – how he’d accused Jasper of ‘stealing’ Kayleigh somehow, even though it had been almost six years since they’d spoken last; how Kayleigh had, in true Kayleigh fashion, gone for her gun, because it was one thing to show up uninvited – it was another thing to show up drunk, uninvited, and starting fights, and there was only one way Winchesters ever handled things like that, and even if it wasn’t by blood, she was nothing if not a Winchester. He hadn’t heard from Sam since – save for a text the next morning informing him that Kayleigh wasn’t speaking to him, either, for telling Dean about the dinner.

“Whatever.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, flipping on his turn signal at the last second just to irritate Kayleigh. It worked, if the hand gesture she gave him in the mirror was any indication. “She wants to talk, she can talk. Nothing for me to apologize for.” He knew he was lying, Sam knew he was lying – but this time, the younger of the two was smarter not to argue. “No one’s makin’ her do this, either.” 

“She’s trying to help.” Sam offered quietly, his voice resigned.

“Why the hell would I want her help, huh?” Dean demanded. He was driving far more aggressively than he probably ought to, exclusively for the pleasure of seeing Kayleigh continue to gesture at him from behind, increasingly animatedly. “She’d probably be thrilled if we never find Dad.” Or if they found him in a county morgue somewhere – he shoved that thought down aggressively.

“Dean…” Sam was quiet for a moment. “She’s got reasons. Good ones. You know that.” He hated it, how pleading Sam’s voice sounded, like he was just begging his older brother to cave, to try to understand.

“Yeah. Everybody’s got their reasons to wanna walk away.” Dean shot back. He immediately regretted the venom in his tone, regretted it the second Sam winced, turning his attention to his phone for some sort of distraction, but he didn’t apologize. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, jaw working as he stared out at the highway. “She could’a picked up the phone. Hell, she could’a written me a damn letter, if she was so damn worried –...”

“She and Bobby called Dad.” Sam offered quietly.

That made him pause, made his fingers go still on the steering wheel, his eyes darting back to him. “Yeah? ‘Bout what? To rip him a new one? Big shocker there, Sam.” He bit the words out, reaching for the radio dial, for something, anything, to fill the silence, to end the conversation, to–...

“I don’t think so.” Sam sounded unsure. “He didn’t – Dad would’ve hung up right away. Besides, it was – I don’t know. A few months later, I think. You weren’t there, and he told them that. He, uh – he gave me a few bucks, told me to go get some snacks from the vending machine. He was off the phone when I came back.”

Dean felt something twist uncomfortably in his stomach at that. A conversation with Bobby and Kayleigh was one thing – one that Dad hadn’t wanted Sam to be listening in on was something else entirely. “Probably ‘cause he cussed Bobby out,” He forced himself to give a one-shouldered shrug. “Couldn’t’a been anything too important, didn’t think he needed to loop me in.” Sam didn’t look entirely too convinced – Hell, he had a look on his face that told Dean he wasn’t, but he let it go. “‘Sides, she didn’t feel like she needed to try to call again. Didn’t want to talk to me that bad.” Dean added a bit bitterly in spite of himself. 

“Dean…” Sam started, but fell silent as Dean went for the radio dial once more, this time turning the volume up before he could protest, louder, louder, louder still, until Foreigner was blasting so loudly that Sam could hardly think, let alone try to speak. He tried not to grimace at the irony as Head Games began to play, his eyes drifting back to the rearview mirror, where he could see the faint glow of a cigarette behind Kayleigh’s windshield.

As Dean drove on in cold, bitter silence, Sam rested his head against the window, and just tried to get some sleep.

[marcelllyn]

Unexpected proposal

I think I'm obsessed with Dean Winchester and I don't blame myself for that, because he's so… Maybe this will become a fanfic with more chapters, depending on my mood. Language: English (is not my first language). Synopsis: Colette is an old friend of Dean who is going through an identity crisis. When meeting Dean again at a diner, he ends up making an unexpected proposal. Warnings: Nothing but cute. Nasty review.

I was sitting there in a diner that smelled like old grease, drinking the worst coffee of my life. A cup of coffee and soggy toast with sour jam. Observing the people passing by on the street, every time a person in a suit or dressed in a work uniform passed by, my chest sank. Everything seemed so far from reality, as if I were a leftover piece of the puzzle of life. And let's face it, living off his father's inheritance wasn't going to be a good thing forever.

I needed a job, even though being a waitress, a store attendant, a dishwasher was getting repetitive, I wasn't able to keep a job, and I also couldn't finish any of the three colleges I started, money wasted.

Focused on the street, taking small sips of coffee, the world seemed to slow down when a black Impala parked in front of the diner. My memory wandered to simpler times.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, remembering the memory of driving an old friend's Impala, the way his face looked disappointed when I scratched a little on his car. How could I fall madly in love with someone that day.

I opened my eyes, took another sip of that greasy coffee, -How must he be today? -I thought. I imagine that Sam, one of my few friends from school, must be going to college, now his brother, the feeling that even if he wanted to he would never be able to leave that life. Life I've always been interested in, ever since I met Sam eating alone in the cafeteria when he was twelve and invited him to my house for cookies almost every day after school.

When he and his brother disappeared after spending two months in the city, I remember being devastated and crying for a few weeks before I got over that I would never see them again. Well, I saw them again five years later when I moved away.

I woke up from my trance of memories when the entrance bell rang. My eyes widened when I saw him, majestically well, adjusting his leather jacket, running his hand through his blond hair. I could feel my jaw wanting to drop, his beauty was always jaw-dropping, it's no wonder my sister already had it. My stomach knotted, maybe from the coffee, maybe from the spoiled jam.

Dean leaned against the counter, I wish I could go over there and maybe say hi, but at least I know if he remembers me, and even if he did, what would he talk about? My life hasn't changed much since the last time we saw each other. The only big change was that I was now more like some kind of current nomad.

I stared at the cup, I felt embarrassed that I didn't have anything innovative to say.

—I can not believe. — That charming and mocking voice took over me.

I pictured Dean, smiling like a fool.

— Colette Schmidt!, or rather, Lety! — He leaned on the table. — I could recognize you from a thousand meters away, with that huge nose.

I snorted and motioned for him to sit in the yellow armchair in front of me, and he did so. I could hug him, but I knew he was never a fan of hugs or touching in general.

I narrowed my eyes, taking in every point of her beauty.

— He's older. — I commented.

— And that's the first thing you say to an old friend? - He laughed. — I'm still at my peak.

— And when haven't you been? — My smile was big, he could make me smile like an idiot just by looking at me. — Where have you been?

— Around— His vague answer left me unsatisfied, I lightly kicked his calf under the table. — I was walking around with Baby, no big deal, you know.

— Is Sam with you?

— I'm going to see him at college, can you believe he's really going to college? — He said with a slight frown.

— Sam was always smart, you'd imagine. — I took a sip. — Hunting?

He wrinkled his nose and said:

— Do I need to answer? — He said with a harsh tone.

I shook my head.

— What is the name of the college?

—Stanford University. — He measured me with his gaze. — Did you let your hair grow?

— And I stopped straightening. — I could have run my hand through my curls if my hand hadn't been so greasy.

— It was very beautiful. What are you working with?

I swallowed hard, I shouldn't be ashamed to expose my situation to Dean, I mean, he could never judge, after all, he's not in a position to do so. But I was afraid he would look at me with disappointment, the same way he looked at me when he was teaching me how to drive and I scratched Baby by accident, that look was fatal.

— I'm not doing anything at the moment.

Dean groaned in pleasure when the waitress placed his plate of waffles and some fruit on the table.

— And why aren't you working? — He put a piece of strawberry in his mouth.

— I don't find anything that interests me, everything seems futile. Something common people do, you know? — I provoked.

— Have you ever tried being a stripper? — He smiled with his mouth full.

I let out a satisfying laugh, one that I had been holding back for a long time.

— You know that I wouldn't even be able to do it if I wanted to, you've already seen me dancing.

— As your prom date, I say that you, in addition to being the first person who made me wear a suit, were the first person who also managed to make me end up in the hospital for stepping on my foot.

— Imagine doing a twirl on a stick? — As soon as he said it, Dean started looking at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face.

— And what lingerie would you be wearing, in detail? — His eyes closed tightly as he bit his lower lip.

I took the opportunity to grab a strawberry from his plate.

— A pair of Scooby-Doo panties, a bra with images of severed heads.

He glared at me.

— Ruined the costume, even though the Scooby-Doo panties weren't the worst thing. — He stuffed a forkful of waffles inside. —But the way you are, it's quite possible that you'll hit some innocent person in the face with your heel.

I tried to get another strawberry and Dean looked at me like a rabid dog and patted my hand three times. We were silent for a few minutes, his eyes narrowed. The silence began to become uncomfortable as he chewed like a hungry child.

— It's strange, seeing you like this, meeting you again after five years. — He commented.

— Yes, it's thinking that in the past, well, it's… Never mind. — He shook his head, shaking off his thoughts.

He knew where he wanted to go, but that whole thing should stay in the past.

— I haven't changed much other than my hair and some tattoos.

— That's not exactly what I meant. — His eyes widened. — Calm down, did you say tattoos?

— I made some. — I lifted the sleeve of my blouse. Showing a small tattoo of the Metálica band logo. — It's a little cheesy, but I really like the band.

His face turned white as if a ghost had just walked past me, which would be harmful if it weren't for Dean Winchester.

— Who are you and what did you do with the real Collete? — He held my arm gently. — You hated Metálica!

I smiled like a fool again. His hand wasn't exactly soft, but it was definitely a good session.

— I was very strange.

I let him finish eating, the closer he got to finishing, the more an emptiness began to appear in my stomach, a feeling of abandonment. I would rather never see him again if he were to leave on the same day, on the same morning. At least the last time, Dean knocked on my door at one o'clock in the morning with Sam to say goodbye. The second game was the one that hurt the most, after all they had stayed by my side for a whole year, but apparently their father had decided to leave the city in a hurry. He wiped his mouth on his napkin once he was done.

— Anyway, where are we going now?

My gaze lit up.

— What?

— Take a drive, talk until we get tired of talking.

He gets up, leaving an insulting tip, and we leave that disgusting diner.

♡

Dean then did something unimaginable, he opened the car door so I could get in.

— This is new. — I mocked.

— Don't get used to it.

I got in the car, it felt like time had stopped. Dean sat down on the bench and started the car.

— Where do you want to go?

— I have no idea. — I looked at the back seats. — Is that a pair of panties?

— I swear it's not mine. — He grabbed my face and turned it forward. — I didn't know I would have visitors today.

— Didn't you have time to hide the panties that your lovers leave as souvenirs? — I scoffed.

—exactly! — He put a tape on the radio.

— Wow, do you know it's the 2000s?

— Shut up. — Your hand covers my mouth. — I want to see where you live.

I looked at him suspiciously, he was always a mystery, he was never very open, but there are things that never change.

—Dean. — He said suspiciously.

— Don't be like that. — He pouted. — I just want to see your house, without ulterior motives.

I nodded.

♡

I guided him to my house, a small apartment in an area that looked like Batman would be murdered if he stepped foot in that place.

—No judgement. — I covered his eyes while I opened the door. — And take off your shoes.

— This hallway smells of so many things. — He mocked.

I opened the door and the smell of lavender entered my nostrils like a perfume bomb.

— Everything is so tidy. — He threw himself on the sofa. — A living room with a view of Gotham, a kitchen and a bedroom.

— I don't need much. I don't even spend that much time here anyway.

Dean got up walking down the small hallway, ignored the bathroom and went directly to my room.

— Cute room. — Throw yourself on the bed.

— Dean, those dirty clothes on my bed! — I mumbled, laying down next to him.

— Your bed is more uncomfortable than the seat in my car.

— The sofa is more comfortable, I admit.

He pulls me to him, I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

— Ready for a question bomb?

—Ever…

— Is the rent up to date?

— Yes.

— Falling in love? Or a very close friend?

— No. — That was sad, all my friends were going away or dying.

— You don't have a job and nothing keeping you here, why don't you just leave?

—And where would I go?

— You could go with me to Sam's college and then see if he likes anything there.

I sat up in bed, blinking repeatedly quickly.

— You are crazy.

— I thought you already knew. — Laughed. — Seriously, your company would be good and I hate seeing how unhappy you look.

— Dean, it's been almost five years since we've seen each other and now you're asking me to give up everything I have to go traveling with you?

— You only live once, and, in fact, we could go without seeing each other for ten years and still, when we saw each other, it would be the same as the last time.

— But this is crazy. — I sat on the bed. — You're a hunter, and I have a life, an apartment.

— Lety, you have an apartment, but not a life, that's survival. — He snorted. — You know, fate, even if I don't believe it, may have made me go to that diner that smells of old grease just to meet you again.

— That was the biggest nonsense you've ever said to me.

— I know. — He murmured. - Accept my invitation?

— Promise not to hunt on the way?

— Only in case of emergency. — He sat down on the bed. — Speaking of hunting, do you still remember some of the things I taught you?

— Of course, it’s impossible to forget. — My body shivers with the memories. — I remember everything you ever taught me. — I murmured. — I need some time to think about your proposal.

— It just won't take long, I'm starting to get worried about Baby.

Jumping out of bed, he started rummaging through my closet.

— Where are there towels here?

— Third drawer.

He opened the third drawer, and looked at me with a mischievous smile.

— Stop looking at my panties!

While Dean took a shower, my mind worked on the possibility of going with Dean, but my rational side begged me to continue my mediocre life. How I wanted to say yes, but leaving all my comfort to go to another city and then being aimless seemed crazy.

The noise of the shower stopped, Dean appeared in front of me without a shirt, focused on putting on the belt of his jeans. My mind seemed to be stopping, his tattoo showed on my chest, I remembered that I have one like it on my chest. Through his pure influence.

— Have you made up your mind?

— Why do you want to visit Sam?

— Family thing.

— What am I going to do when I get there?

— There will be things, believe me. Don't worry so much.

— What kind of things?

His face fell and he sighed deeply.

— I'm just worried about not having enough money.

— Your father gave you a lot of money, I imagine, you'll manage.

I sighed. I wanted to go with him, I really wanted to. I loved his presence, it would be nice to spend time with him and Sam again.

— I think that's it. — I shrugged. — I will, but no sleeping with women in the car. I will not sleep on the same bench where you fornicated.

— The car is mine. — He mocked. — No driving, no eating in the car.

— But what if you're sleepy?

— Then I'll stop so we can sleep.

I opened a smile, looking at her belly, I felt a tingling sensation. Get rid of this feeling as soon as possible.

— Help me pack my bag, I’m terrible at organization.

— Unfortunately, as I'm going to drive, I have to take a nap. So, when you're done, let me know and make sure Baby is okay every five minutes, okay?

[winchesterszvonecek]

I See Red 18+

Chapter 13 - I Remember Everything

Word Count: 6470

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

The next morning, not only did Selina wake up with the mother of all hangovers and a headache that could rival any other, but she was able to recall every single detail of what happened the night before. And fairly clearly too, meaning from the second she opened her eyes and was forced to face the world she was overwhelmed with such embarrassment that it made her want to crawl back under her covers and stay there forever. 

Why, oh why, did she have to go and get so drunk when she knew, for a fact, that she would cave from even the slightest hint of temptation? And when Crowley was around, the temptation levels always surpassed one hundred percent as Selina often found herself struggling to keep her self-control in check – if you couldn’t tell by how many times she’d nearly slipped up these past few months and allowed Crowley to absolutely ravish her.

At least those times her conscience stepped in and stopped her from going too far beyond what was considered morally right.

Though, that couldn’t be said for last night – which was by far the worst she’d ever been and she was absolutely certain that her conscience would have been too drunk to have cared about what was right and probably would have allowed her to allow Crowley to take advantage of her had he not stopped her. And she couldn’t have felt more grateful that he did because if he hadn’t, she’d have not only woken up with more regrets than just a bottle of tequila, but she’d have gotten a real eye opener and would probably be reconsidering her feelings for him right about now. 

Why hadn’t she just left her phone at home or given it to Sam when she downed that sixth tequila shot? She never would have been able to send Crowley that selfie, which she was really hoping she looked good in, if she had and perhaps then he wouldn’t have shown up and she wouldn’t have ended up making such a fool of herself that she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. 

What the hell had she been thinking? Throwing herself at him like that? Telling him she couldn’t resist him anymore? She might as well just call him up and confess that she was all but in love with him – which after last night, she was fairly certain that she was and she was not looking forward to receiving the phone call he promised her as she wasn’t fully sober yet and couldn’t trust herself not to blurt it out, thus scaring him away. 

Crowley may not be the demon he once was but he was still a demon, and as far as Selina knew, demons couldn’t love anything let alone a human and she really didn’t need the extra embarrassment of him having to tell her that should it slip from her lips. 

So, for the time being, it was probably best that she let his call go to voicemail until she’d sobered up completely, that way she’d get to keep the last ounce of dignity she had left and wouldn’t have to flee to a different country. Not that that would work as Crowley could literally teleport, but still, it would make her feel a little bit better. 

Here’s hoping that wouldn’t be the case though as she didn’t fancy telling Castiel the truth about why he was dropping her in the middle of the Irish countryside because she wasn’t able to fly there properly. It had never been confirmed that she was on the no-fly list but considering all the times she’d been number two on the FBI’s most wanted list, she couldn’t take the chance. 

Although, come to think of it, a federal prison might be just what she needed to avoid facing Crowley as seconds after her decision to “ignore” him he decided to call her, making her stomach start to churn worse than it already did and her hand twitched furiously out of eagerness to pick up the phone. And she probably would have had it not been for Kit and his well-timed get out of bed and feed me or I’ll bite your toes meow, causing Selina to retract her hand instantly and start smothering the cat with kisses for saving her. 

Until Kit meowed again, wiggled from her hold then proceeded to try and bite her toes through her duvet.

“Alright. Alright. Stop biting me, you menace.” Selina chuckled, curling her toes in an attempt to keep them safely out of reach of Kit and his razor-sharp teeth, that he kept trying to sink into the thickness of her covers. “God, are you a cat or a ghoul?”

Meow – which roughly translates to both.

“Ghoul-cat?” Selina questioned humorously, tilting her head a little and finding amusement when Kit meowed back at her, as though he was answering and it wouldn’t have surprised her if he'd said yes. She chuckled again as she shuffled up in her bed, taking a second to allow her head to settle should she stand up and immediately fall over.

At that moment, as Selina took a silent vow never to touch a bottle of tequila again, a soft knock at the door echoed throughout her room and she lifted her head, causing it to immediately start throbbing beneath her skull from such a sudden, and rather harsh movement. 

Not that she should even feel the pain over the nausea in her stomach mixed with the tightening of her chest and the fact that Kit had burrowed under her duvet and was biting her toes again. 

Was that Crowley who had knocked? Had he shown up to talk to her since she ignored his call? Quite possibly. He did have a tendency to show up unannounced after calls and texts, for reasons that Selina didn’t know but didn’t overly care about because it meant she got to see him, so she wouldn’t have put it past him if he did. 

If that was the case then she could say goodbye to her remaining dignity and hello to shameless desperation as she would absolutely be following through on the events of last night. And with zero regrets too. Selina may not be drunk anymore and her conscience was, for sure, wide awake but that didn’t mean she was about to deprive herself of her one true desire any longer.

It was becoming blatantly obvious to Selina that she couldn’t resist him anymore and if that was Crowley outside in the corridor, then so help anyone who walked past her bedroom because they would be hearing things that would send even the strongest of sinners running straight to church.

Luckily for the bunker’s residents though, and for Selina’s self-image, it was not Crowley knocking on her door and she didn’t think it was either – not anymore, anyway. For starters he hadn’t announced himself, like she might have expected him to and secondly, he hadn’t just come barging in when she hadn’t answered in 0.5 milliseconds as he had the least amount of patience of anyone she’d ever met. Herself included. 

In fact, there was only one person it could be as there was only one person out there who respected her privacy enough to wait patiently for her response and didn’t just saunter into her room whenever he felt like it – even if there was a cat inside that he desperately wanted to play with and that had better stop biting Selina before she banished him to Dean’s room for a while.

“Cat, are you awake?” Castiel called quietly through the door, just as Selina released all the air from her lungs and felt the minor relief, mixed with an ounce of disappointment wash over her body. 

“Yeah, come on in, Cas.” Selina replied, in a quieter tone than this interaction would normally require as Castiel would have heard her regardless of whether she’d yelled or whispered. 

Thank God, literally, for his celestial hearing because Selina did not need any unnecessary noise today and to tell the truth, she was highly tempted to stay in bed all day and not leave unless she absolutely had to.

The bedroom door creaked open and just like that Kit zoomed out from under her covers and disappeared, no doubt heading for the kitchen in search of food and from the smell of bacon that was making Selina feel nauseous again, he was guaranteed to find some.

“Dean asked me to check on you.” Castiel told her, his voice riddled with mild disappointment as he’d been secretly hoping to get some Kit-time in whilst they talked – despite having looked after him the entire time the Winchesters were on their extravagant monster hunt around America.

“Scared I’ll throw another boot at him for disturbing me?” Selina asked humorously, thinking back to the last time Dean had come barging into her room when she was trying to sleep off her hangover only to end up being greeted by one of her, rather heavy, combat boots. 

That’ll teach him to knock first – she could have been doing anything but luckily for them both, she’d only been asleep. 

“That’s a fair assumption,” Castiel replied, stepping further into the room as Selina swung her legs over the edge of the bed and took another second to gather herself as it felt like her brain was still on her pillow. “You do get rather angry when you're hungover… and when you’re drunk.”  

“Yeah, among other things.” Selina mumbled, and Castiel tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in question before she brushed him off as she didn’t exactly want to tell him what she meant as that would mean disclosing what happened last night. 

Instead, she stood up, praying she wouldn’t fall back over again as she was feeling particularly light-headed and incredibly delicate, like one sudden movement would cause her to empty the contents of her stomach – and her stomach itself – into the toilet bowl. 

Selina had never experienced a hangover such as this before – one where she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and feel each and every blink of her eyes. You’d think she would have after having watched both her brothers die and go to Hell at one point but even then it hadn’t been this bad. 

Although something told her it was more to do with what happened with Crowley than it was the copious amount of alcohol she’d consumed.

“Hey, Cas,” Selina said quietly, glancing to her side just in time to see Castiel turn back around to face her. “Would you maybe, um… Would you heal me?”

“Heal you?” Castiel repeated, surprised to say the least as Selina was the last person he’d ever expect to ask him to heal their hangover. Dean did it often, Sam on occasion but never Selina. She’d rather suffer in silence than ever ask to be healed so he could only guess that she felt a whole lot worse than she looked.

“Yeah,” Selina nodded, a sheepish smile rising on her face as she edged her way towards him. “I just feel so rough right now and I really don’t want to have to deal with it. Not when I already have a thousand things on my mind.” 

“Is everything okay?” Castiel asked, his face clouding with minor concern before it twisted and his voice dropped deeper than Selina ever would have thought was possible. “Was it Crowley? Did he hurt you last night?”

“What? No, he didn’t hurt me.” Selina replied sternly, almost offended at the insinuation and she really needed to talk to her brothers at some point about them keeping their mouths shut. “He brought me home and he made sure I was okay, that’s all.” 

Only after I tried to throw myself at him, Selina added mentally. But that wasn’t something anyone other than her and Crowley needed to know. 

Or rather, it was something only Crowley would know as Selina was sticking with her plan of pretending she couldn’t remember anything and she could only pray that he didn’t doubt her on it and ask her brothers. 

“Will you just heal me, please?” Selina sighed, finding herself done with this conversation and in desperate need of a shower as she smelled strongly of alcohol. And shame. 

“Of course.” Castiel nodded, opting not to press her on things anymore as he knew how she could get. He made his way further into the room, raising two fingers which he pressed to Selina’s forehead when he drew close enough to reach her. “Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

No. Strangely, Selina didn’t feel much better than she had done seconds ago, which told her that it was, in fact, mostly Crowley related and not tequila-induced like she’d thought. But hey, at least she didn’t have a splitting headache or feel physically nauseous anymore – just emotionally nauseous and she really wished she could talk to someone about it – unluckily for her though, no one around her could ever understand what she was feeling therefore she had no choice but to keep it to herself. 

“Thanks, Cas.” Selina forced a gentle smile, getting a brief nod of the head in return from Castiel before he turned on his heels and headed for the door, just as Dean happened to walk past with a strip of bacon in his hand and a feline friend at his heels. 

“Oh good, you’re up,” Dean said, poking his head around the doorframe as Castiel made his leave. “Sam and I found a case if you want in… Unless you’re too hungover.” He added humorously, and if they came with soundtracks, he’d have gotten nothing but crickets in response.

“Actually, I feel fine.” Well, as fine as could be anyway. 

“Really?” Dean said sceptically, raising an eyebrow. “Because you were up singing karaoke songs for an hour straight before Crowley took you home.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, thank you.” Selina replied, outwardly annoyed and she could tell it was amusing Dean by the way he was fighting with the urge to grin. “But if you must know, I got Cas to heal me.”

“Damn, you really must have felt rough to allow him to do that.” Dean mumbled, stepping properly into her room and watching as Kit dived back onto the bed, curling up in the space Selina had once laid in. “That mean you’re up for a case?”

“I guess.” Selina sighed, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back against her vanity. She never was one to say no to a case, not when it would offer her a little distraction from the Crowley of it all, and especially when being in the bunker since Henry died just felt so… suffocating. “What is it?”

“Cliff Notes… There’s a few residents in Fall River currently missing their hearts.” Dean replied, not noticing the slight way Selina seemed to perk up at the mention of the city. Why would he? Only Selina knew where Crowley’s base of operations was, therefore he had no reason to suspect anything. “Seems wolf-y but you know how these things go.”

“Alright, just let me get showered and I’ll meet you in the garage.” Selina said, fighting against the urge to smile like a smitten idiot at the thought of working a case in the one city on Earth Crowley currently resided in. 

Dean nodded then left, leaving Selina feeling incredibly thankful that Castiel had healed her as it meant she could no longer hear her heart, which was currently beating so fast she ought to see a doctor, in her ears anymore. 

Perhaps this case wouldn’t offer her as much of a distraction as she might have hoped. But at this point, she didn’t care and for once she actually managed to get ready before Dean came looking for her as half the time he ran out of patience waiting for her.

Only, before she could actually leave her room and make her way to the garage her phone rang, the name on screen inciting such a swarm of butterflies to erupt in her stomach that she couldn’t bring herself to ignore it this time. She picked it up, taking a deep breath and watching as it rang just a few seconds longer, you know in order to not seem as desperate as she felt. 

Eventually though she picked up, and the moment the phone touched her ear it was time to do something she hadn’t had much experience in — playing the role of a forgetful drunk.

Fingers crossed she could manage it without too many slip-ups. She’d had enough of those lately. 

“Crowley, a little early for a social call isn’t it?” Selina never understood that phrase or why it was used so often in movies and TV. As far as she was aware, social calls didn’t have a certain or appropriate time, but she just couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Other than I know you’re a demon and don’t have any feelings but I’m fairly certain I’m in love with you, please consider making me your Queen – in name only, obviously. 

“What makes you think it’s a social call?” Crowley asked, and if he was disappointed that Selina didn’t openly remember last night, he didn’t let that show in his tone. 

“What else would it be?” Selina replied, and she really hoped she sounded as convincing as she thought she did. 

“Well, for starters I could be calling to ask for your help.”

“My help?” Selina repeated, unable to stop the soft chuckle from leaving her lips. “What could the King of Hell possibly need my help with?”

“Oh, I don’t know… But I’m sure I could think of a few things.” Crowley said, blatantly flirting with her and enjoying every single second of it. Especially when the silence that followed was filled with not but the sound of Selina’s breath shuddering at his words and if he thought hard enough, he could imagine the flutter of her eyelids going along with it.

Keep it together, Selina. 

“If you called just to flirt with me,” Selina began breathlessly, ignoring the flutter of her chest as it only reminded her of the words she wished to confess. “Then I’m hanging up.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Selina teased, getting nothing but dead silence in response which told her that Crowley knew she was serious. And that he was trying his hardest not to say anything else that might be considered flirting.

Not that she minded it as quite frankly, she enjoyed his constant teasing — just not today. Not after last night and certainly not when she was still so vulnerable to temptation that should he say the right thing, it would make her summon him directly to her and scar Dean should he come looking for her – which would be any minute now and for once she was praying for an interruption as she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up.  

“I’m guessing you don’t remember last night?” Crowley finally asked, his voice dripping with enough disappointment that Selina’s stomach all but flipped inside her. 

“Not really,” Selina lied, chewing at her lip as her eyes kept constantly flicking to the door in hopes that Dean would come barging in and to her rescue. “I remember you showing up but after that it’s kind of a blur.”

That wasn’t totally a lie. Last night was a blur for her. Only it was more of a someone had changed life’s settings to move at a slower pace than normal, kind of blur. 

“I don’t even remember coming home.”

“I see,” Crowley mused, and again he was outwardly disappointed, making Selina physically bite her tongue so as to not blurt out the truth. “Though I must say, I’m not surprised… You were in quite a state when I showed up.”

“Yeah,” Selina mumbled, glancing down at her feet. “It was our first day back at the bunker since Henry died… Guess it just hit a little harder than I expected it to… Still does, honestly. Must be why I’m so eager to get out of here again.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Crowley questioned, and Selina couldn’t help but smile at his concern. 

“I mean, in a psychological sense, probably not,” Selina said humorously, knowing well enough that there wasn’t a shrink around that was skilled enough to deal with what was going on inside her head. “But physically, I'm okay… Thanks to Cas, anyway. And besides… I’m not one to skip out on a hunt. Not when the residents of Fall River are counting on me.” She added playfully. 

It wasn’t exactly the most subtle way of telling Crowley where she was going but it would suffice.

“Fall River?” Crowley repeated, and by his change in tone, that had certainly perked him up a little. “ My Fall River?”

“Mhm.” Selina hummed, about to give in and do a little teasing of her own before her bedroom door swung open, revealing a rather fed up looking Dean, his folded arms and widened eyes telling her to get a move on without a single word having to pass his lips. 

She knew she had previously been hoping for his interruption but now Selina was just pissed. How he always knew the wrong time to show himself, she’d never know.  

With a roll of her eyes Selina sighed, “Listen, I gotta go but I’ll try and call you later.”

And before Crowley even got a chance to reply Selina had hung up, leaving him to bask in the blissful thought of her coming to Fall River. That she would soon be so close to him that, should she want to, he could have her in his very own home, away from any and all interruptions – especially ones that were over six feet tall and drowning in flannel.

In fact, Crowley thought of that and only that for God knows how long. Minutes, hours, days… Truthfully, he had no idea for just how long he had remained on his throne, spaced out with nothing but thoughts of Selina hunting in his home-town rattling around inside his mind. Oh how he’d give anything to see her right now, covered in blood with some poor monster on their knees begging for mercy from her relentless nature – something he once hated yet now, he’d do just about anything to witness first hand. 

No doubt it would be the most attractive thing he’d ever see and perhaps it wouldn’t be such a good idea for him to actually do it. That didn’t stop him though as before he could even think about the consequences of his actions – and after suddenly releasing that he’d been zoned out for so long that the Winchester’s hunt might very well be over and for all he knew they could on their way home again — Crowley had disappeared from his throne. 

When he reappeared he was still in Fall River, thankfully, standing amidst the darkness and it didn’t take him more than a handful of seconds to spot Selina, who was leaning back against the Impala with enough blood covering her that it told Crowley the hunt had gone well. He took a breath, mentally composing himself before he stepped out from the shadows, drawing her attention almost instantly – as though she’d been searching for him since the moment she arrived in town.  

Little did he know, she had. 

“Let me guess,” Crowley began, edging his way closer to her at a pace so purposely slow that he could almost see Selina’s hands twitch out of frustration. “Your brothers are inside cleaning up the mess and you’re out here… Keeping watch?”

“Something like that,” Selina chuckled, a little more breathlessly than under normal circumstances. 

But these weren’t normal circumstances. They were far from normal and they both knew that, which is why Crowley said nothing on the matter and continued to simply look her up and down, drinking in the sight of her post-hunt and causing such a fire to ignite inside her that she had to remind herself they were in public. And that her brothers were mere feet away from her.

“I must say, darling, red’s a wonderful colour on you.” Crowley said, drawing his eyes across every single inch of Selina’s blood-covered neck as her brows furrowed over his words. 

“I’m not wearing any…” Selina began, and she was about to finish the sentence too before Crowley simply raised his eyebrows, lifted his gaze to meet hers and slowly lowered it back down to her neck in meaning. 

That’s when it hit her. He wasn’t talking about her clothing choice, she should have known that as she was wearing flannel and he often made it vocal about his hatred of it. No, he was talking about the werewolf blood that had splattered across her skin and she wouldn’t lie, that fire inside her seemed to flare even hotter than hell when she realised that. And when she realised that he was a little turned on by it too and was about three seconds away from throwing himself at her… How the tables have turned. 

“Oh.” Selina chuckled, dropping her eyes from him and feeling that heat rise to her cheeks a little as she lifted her arm to run her fingers through her hair.

Only she didn’t quite make it there as on her way up she got hit with the urge to give him a taste of his own medicine and finally do some teasing of her own. She stopped by her neck, a sly smile rising on her lips as she slowly rubbed her hand across her skin, smearing the blood over the untouched parts and simply relishing in the hunger-filled way Crowley was gazing at her, his chest moving that much more heavily that it had done a second ago.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Crowley told her, without so much as a hint of questioning as he did think he needed to ask, not with how she was all but inviting him in for a hell of a lot more than a kiss. 

And before Selina could have responded, with the words please do, Crowley was all over her, practically mimicking the events of her drunken slip-up – just minus the tequila and future regret. However, this time was a lot more heated now that it was double sided and there was nothing holding them back, except the lingering thought that Sam and Dean might come back from burying the werewolves and spoil the mood by offing Crowley. 

But even that didn’t stop them and with every breathtaking, passionate and downright intoxicating moment that passed, the two of them seemed to fall into a world of their own. Lost in the moment of the earth shattering kiss and at one point, Crowley’s hand slipped under Selina’s t-shirt, causing her to jerk her body a little at the sudden coldness of his touch against her heated skin.

“Fuck,” Selina whispered against his lips, after forcing herself to pull back so she didn’t suffocate. 

The moment her lips left his, Crowley dropped his head and began to litter her neck with fiery kisses, uncaring of the blood as in all his long years he’d had worse in his mouth than a little werewolf blood. Selina was all but writhing beneath his hold and from the firm grip she had on his hair, he was fairly certain it wasn’t in attempts to free herself and so he gave her more, sinking his teeth into her neck and causing the sweetest sounding moan he’d ever heard to escape the back of her throat. 

“Fuck, Crowley,” Selina panted, arching her neck to give him better access despite the words she was about to force out. “Fuck, I want this… You have no idea how much I want this but we can’t… Not here.” 

“Say the word and I’ll take us someplace private.”

Tempting, but she didn’t want her brothers calling her halfway through and demanding answers after her mysterious disappearance, thus spoiling the mood. 

“No.” Selina whispered, feeling as Crowley came to a slow stop and lifted his head, his confusion-filled eyes narrowed in question. She raised her hand, lightly cupping the side of his face before adding, “You said we’ll do it right... So let’s do it right.”

Just like that, Crowley’s confusion vanished and a small smile began to tug at his lips. He hooked his arm around Selina’s waist, pulling her body flush with his and allowing him to make out the shape of her piercings that lay pressed against his chest, only making it ten times harder for him to stop as he’d love nothing more than to drag her into the backseat of the Impala and completely ravish her. 

“You lied to me.” Crowley said, in a pitch so deep he could have sworn he felt Selina’s legs wobble and had he not been holding her, they might have gave way from under her. “You told me you didn’t remember anything from the other night.”

“I remember everything,” Selina confessed, dropping her gaze to land upon her fingers as they fiddled almost anxiously with the buttons on his shirt. “I just wanted to keep what little dignity I had left by pretending that I didn’t.” 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling,” Crowley said softly, hooking his finger beneath her chin to gently lift her face up to look at him. His fingertips carried on, ghosting their way across her skin and brushing her hair behind her ear before settling aside her head. “I’m flattered at how much you want me and had you drunk that bar dry I’d have been all over you… but you know I’d never take advantage of you.”

“What if I want you to take advantage of me? Sober me, of course.” Selina flirted, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and seeing the fire flare up behind Crowley’s eyes again. 

“Then I’ll tell you what I told you that night.” Crowley retracted his hand a little, dragging his thumb down her lips before he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss against them and whispered, “You know where to find me.”

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone – which was just as well as no more than five seconds later did Sam and Dean return to the car, covered in mud and looking as grumpy as ever that Selina had once again left them to do the dirty work.

But Selina didn’t overly care about that, and she was certainly not going to listen to Dean ramble on about her pulling her weight the entire ride back to the motel, not when she was still in such a heightened state. And even if she wasn’t she still wouldn’t have paid any attention to him, not when her mind lay entirely elsewhere. 

You know where to find me.  

Did Crowley mean that literally? Did he want her to just show up at the asylum he talked so much about and cause rumours to start circulating once his demons caught wind of them or did he mean it in the sense of if she called him then he would come to her? Surely if he meant for her to call him, he’d have just said that, right? Honestly, who knows? Crowley was cryptic at the best of times and get him all riled up like that and he might as well start speaking in riddles.

The entire ride back to the motel Selina couldn't help but ponder those words. Perhaps he did mean it literally. Perhaps he simply wanted to have her in the place he called home, that way they’d be free from disturbances and would finally get everything they’d both been craving since that day in the dungeon. 

Although, if it was privacy he truly wanted then maybe going to the likes of Paris again would be the best option, at least that way they’d be truly free of any and all interruptions. And Selina wouldn't lie, the thought of her first time with Crowley being in Paris made her quiver in ways she’d never felt before and she was almost tempted to ask him to take her there. 

But at the same time, the idea of it being in his home? With the chance of getting caught by unsuspecting demons? Well, she wouldn’t deny, it awoke a part of her she never knew she had and by the time midnight came, she’d made up her mind.

Selina waited until the soft snores of her brothers told her they were fast asleep then snuck out of the motel room. It didn’t take her long to find a cab and before she knew it she was standing outside Crowley’s asylum, where she could only hope that the invitation for her to join him still stood. 

After climbing the steps, she reached the door and hesitated, unsure whether to just walk in, text Crowley and tell him that she was outside or if she should knock. 

Did demons knock? Did they expect people to knock? Doubtful. They probably didn’t expect anyone to be foolish enough to just willingly walk inside an old abandoned asylum that was probably home to multiple species of rodents – and she didn’t just mean demonic ones. 

The outside of the door was covered in sigils but other than that there was only a cheap lock stopping anyone of a human nature from getting inside. So, before she chickened out, Selina picked the lock then slipped quickly inside, where she came to a sudden stop at what was there to greet her. 

Or rather, what wasn’t.

There were no knocked over wheelchairs, abandoned gurney’s or used needles littering the corridors like she would have guessed. Instead, the interior actually looked… clean – in a mediaeval sense that is as she couldn’t help but think she’d wandered back in time and was about to run into Merlin. And she didn’t mean the BBC version. 

The inside of Crowley’s residence looked more like the interior of a castle than it did an asylum, what with the stained glass windows that she couldn’t see from outside and the flaming torches that lit up the stone walls surrounding her. It wasn’t at all what she had expected but to tell the truth, she was kind of digging it and she had to give Crowley one thing, he did have good taste in decor and she would give anything to be able to decorate the bunker like this. 

Nevertheless, Selina carried on through the halls, keeping a firm grip on the angel blade she had stashed inside her jacket. She may be desperate, but she wasn’t stupid enough to go waltzing into a demon’s den unarmed, not after last time. Although, the further in she got the less she began to think she’d need her blade as there didn’t appear to be any souls around, once-damned or not. 

That was, until she turned a corner and collided, quite literally, with a demon. A demon whose vessel sported a curly white moustache and looked as though he’d just gotten back from seeing a tailor, she might add. Guess it wasn’t just Crowley who favoured a three-piece suit over the usual demon attire. 

“Miss Winchester?” The demon spoke, his tone politely surprised yet his face remained emotionless. And it seemed to stay that way, even when Selina pulled out her blade and pressed the tip to the underside of his chin. “There’s no need for that, ma’am, I mean you no harm.”

Ma’am? Since when do demons call people ma’am?

“You really expect me to believe that?” Selina scoffed, standing firm on her spot whilst glancing over her shoulder should any demons decide to sneak up on her whilst she was otherwise occupied. 

“I suppose not given your history with our kind,” The demon replied, still as carefree as could be despite who was standing before him. “But rest assured, I would not hurt you. Not when the King has forbidden it.”

That seemed to snap Selina out of hunter mode and she unknowingly lowered her blade back down to her side, feeling a strange and particularly warm flutter erupt within her stomach. She raised her free hand, running it over the back of her neck and doing her best to avoid eye contact with who she could only assume was Guthrie – Crowley’s right hand man.

“Forbidden it? He’s, uh… He’s forbidden it?” Selina questioned, flustered being an understatement as she was having trouble believing what she was hearing. 

Would Crowley really risk his throne by deeming her, a hunter who has more than likely killed more demons than any other, untouchable?

“Yes, ma’am.” Guthrie replied casually, clasping his hands in front of him. “Now, is the King expecting you?”

That’s a good question, Selina thought to herself. And she could only hope that the answer was yes. 

“I, um…” Selina cleared her throat, still a little shocked from the whole forbidden thing, which is why she couldn’t seem to make up a lie that was less likely to arouse suspicion. “No. I don’t think he is.”

“Right.” Guthrie said, remaining emotionless only this time, his eyes narrowed a little. “Well, no matter… I shall take you to him. Follow me.”

Selina did so without hesitation, growing all the more certain that she was meant to be here. And a little thankful that she had run into Guthrie otherwise, not only would she still be wandering aimlessly around the halls in search of Crowley, but she never would have found out about the hands off he’d ordered on her – something that only made her crave him even more. 

Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to wait much longer to show him that as when she turned the corner after Guthrie, he’d come to a sudden stop outside a set of dark wood doors, the handles of which would normally have been made from iron but were purposely changed to steel. 

“The King is inside.” Guthrie told her, and the second he did he walked off, leaving Selina alone outside of Crowley’s room with about a million different thoughts floating around inside her head, pinging off one another and bouncing against her skull like the dvd logo on an old TV. 

Would Crowley be happy to see her? To see her here , she should say as his default setting had him always happy to see her. But whether that applied to within the halls of his home… Well, she wasn’t sure about that. 

But she’d soon find out the answer to that as before Selina could do anything to stop herself, she raised her hand and knocked.

Chapter 14 ->

[being-of-rain]

I see from your being your reading all of the EDAs in order -

1. Did you buy a batch, or are you just reading pdfs? (Feel free not to answer this one, I'm just being nosy)

2. How long have you been going for?

3. What would you say have been the best and worst so far, and what would you recommend? Plus, favourite companion?

1. I'm reading pdfs! Living in Australia means that it's expensive to get any wilderness years books, at least whenever I've looked for them. I'm always super jealous of people who talk about walking into a book shop or second hand sale and finding a stash of them 😂 I've only bought (online) one physical EDA so far, which is Seeing I, because I wanted to own a Kate Orman book and it was the cheapest I could find.

2. This is embarrassing, because the answer is around 10 years 😂 I consumed books at a rapid rate in high school, getting through the first half of the series in a year or few. Then my university years grinded to a halt how much I read for fun. I'm trying to get back into reading, but now it's been a few years since I read a new EDA. I swear I'll finish them one day.

3. It's probably a cliche answer, but it's true: the best books have been the ones by Kate Orman & Jonathan Blum, and the ones by Lawrence Miles. I'd definitely recommend them. Some require more context than others; Vampire Science and Alien Bodies are great ones to dive into. My least favourite books are probably the ones by Terrance Dicks and the ones by John Peel, luckily I'm past all of them.

My favourite companion? Tough, I do love them all. I feel close to Sam after she was my introduction to Doctor Who novels... but I think I have to say Fitz. How can I not, he's just so much fun.

[fagsystem]

Personally we block anti-endos far more often for racism, ableism, and misinformation. The amount of anti-endos who have blatantly said that other culture's spiritual beliefs are made-up bullshit, that think psychiatrists are infallible gods and that psychiatric abuse isn't a big deal, and spread misinformation about how DID forms so that they can gatekeep people is wild

pretty sure this falls under *checks notes* being a dick. which i said i block 8/10 anti endos i see for being.

whats your point here?

well

i think i know what your point is

if i just said that i blocked 8/10 anti endos i see for being a dick, you would agree with that

but when i said i also block 8/10 pro endos i see for ableism, racism, and misinfo, you now dont agree with my previous statement. not because we disagree on many anti endos sucking, but because you think pro endos... are better.

which, well, id ask you take a look at this big long post i made about in group and out group mentality. its based on the stuff i was learning in my psych class.

a quote that sums up what i think about this whole thing youve said here is 'if you engage with pro-endogenics you will see the worst of anti-endogenics, and if you engage with anti-endogenics you will see the worst of pro-endogenics.'

i think everyone sucks because i exist outside of this in group and out group mentality. i engage with people, not labels, i dont care whether someone calls themselves whatever stance provided they arent bitter horrible people. which means, i engage with pro endos and therefore see the worst of anti endos. and i engage with anti endos and therefore see the worst of pro endos

the difference between the 8/10 pro endos i block versus the 8/10 anti endos is the flavour of sucking they tend to do. the common thread here? all of these people are heavily involved in discourse, and that generally makes someone pretty unpleasant.

discourse, in group out group mentalities, and group conformity turns people into fucking horrible people. sure, not all of us, but every single person who is so strongly attached to a discourse position that anyone outside of it is horrible and anyone inside of it isnt are the exact sort of 8/10 i block

just

look

i cooked my dad dinner, ate it with him tonight. he told me how he went to a japanese restaurant last night and wants to try some japanese cooking. we made plans to cook together

after he showed me this tech project he did. he was coding some different speeds for fans for my mom's biltong making. it was his first time using the program c, and he showed me the whole process.

he showed me how he was able to convert some ratios in three lines. i found out that the program he used before, assembler i think, was only able to divide and times by two. we had a laugh as my brain broke, trying to figure out how someone would even begin to tackle that problem

after he was done there and he gave a demo of everything he had explained in practice, i went to my nan's attached granny flat. i asked if she wanted to watch 10 more minutes of that sam i am movie she wanted to watch with me. we decided we're going to take it in chunks

i got us some wine and some cheese and crackers and we ended up watching for about half an hour before i had to tap out. i do think its a beautiful movie-- i just get a lot of second hand embarrassment when watching it and its kind of painful. but i love my nan and i love watching it with her

ive gotten into cooking a lot recently. not been able to do it as much as id like, ive been sick, but ive been falling in love with it. i want to start growing my own veggies soon

tomorrow, my brother's disability support worker is coming for the first shift. hes a chef and i asked my mom if he could ever do a shift with me to teach me how to cook. she said not yet when i brought it up first, because she doesnt want my brother to feel like im taking his support worker from him.

and earlier he was freaking out because he has a five hour shift tomorrow with this guy. he doesnt think he can handle being around someone for five hours. so i suggested that the support worker could teach me how to cook if james doesnt want to do something with him

and my brother calmed down immediately, it was a huge weight off my back, and im so so excited for tomorrow.

why the ramble?

because we all live

every single person around you is also just living a life as vivid and complex as your own. even the people i block because i think theyre stupid and they rub me the wrong way.

and i think people are worthy of compassion and respect and care regardless of what judgements you make about them

its not that people cant be bad or you have to have them in your life or that its wrong to debate or argue or vent about what they do. its just

i dont know

i find it kinda ridiculous youre in here defending pro endos by saying you generally see anti endos who are worse. of course you do, youre pro endo, youre surrounded by many pro endos because thats your community. you see a lot more of them than i do, i only really see the assholes that get 5 minutes of fame in syscourse. same with anti endos. theres probably a lot, lot more pro/anti endos that did not make it into my 8/10 statistic because i dont even know theyre pro or anti endo, because it doesnt come up and theyre not insufferable people

i just

i just find syscourse so ridiculous now

[soulsow]

textual frustration

words: 1581 rating: e (18+ readers only)

this one is inspired by the "would your wol take nudes" wolqotd. sorry about it. a few things to note: sam is left handed and this is set in me and egg's university AU!

It hadn’t started out as a particularly remarkable evening by any means, but Sam had been learning a lot—and not from the textbooks that sat forgotten on his desk across the room, shrouded by the darkness that extended past the piercing glow of his cell phone screen.

First off, he learned that sexting felt super weird (and a little embarrassing to start) but also felt super good, if the stiffness between his legs was anything to go off of. Euphie seemed to be into it too, unless she was lying about what his words were doing to her—but what reason would she have to lie?

Normally instead of texting all the things they wanted to do to each other they’d just actually do those things, but Sam had been insistent they spend a few evenings apart as finals week was rapidly approaching. Clearly his plan to study quickly went out the window as he was in bed with one hand on his phone and the other on his cock, too wrapped up in his budding sexual frustration to focus on study guides and notes.

Secondly, Sam learned that sometimes girls do want dick pics.

He’d never sent one before. Sure, he could be oblivious sometimes, but he wasn’t that stupid. Anyone who existed in this day and age knew that unprovoked photos of penises were almost always looked down upon. Besides, until just an hour ago he’d never sexted! He’d never had a valid reason to even think about taking a picture of his dick until now, as he looked back and read and reread the last couple texts he and Euphie had exchanged.

Euphie 💖: are you as turned on as i am right now?

im texting with my right hand…does that answer ur question lol?

Euphie 💖: show me~

He wasn’t about to leave her wanting, though. Kicking the blanket down a bit and pulling his erection fully out of his boxers, Sam aimed the phone in the general direction of his groin and tapped the camera button. The flash went off and the camera app clicked and Sam was presented with…probably the worst picture anyone could have taken of a dick in their life.

Sam didn’t really think that penises looked great to begin with, but this photo (blurry and washed out due to the flash, no less) was doing his member zero favors. Making a slight face at how ugly that first attempt was, he deleted it and pondered for just a moment before pulling up the web browser app on his phone next.

“How to take a good dick pic” wasn’t something Sam thought he’d ever have to Google, but here he was doing just that. Too much reading would make the boner go away, though, so he skimmed a few articles (and went through his texts with Euphie again to harden back up) before trying again.

Reaching over, he turned on the lamp on his bedside table, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the warm light that filled his corner of the room. The blanket was fully pushed to the end of his bed and his boxers followed suit, his t-shirt pulled up to expose his stomach and the happy little trail of hair that climbed from the base of his cock to his belly button.

Speaking of bases of cocks, that’s where one of his hands settled, holding his member up at what he hoped was a more appealing angle than almost laying flat against his body. With all the pieces in place all that was left to do was take the picture—making sure the flash was off this time.

The final product was better than the first, though it was still a little blurry, but maybe it just looked…artistic? Sam wasn’t good at these kinds of things and Euphie knew that, so he assumed she knew what she was getting into when she asked for a nude picture from him.

Attaching the photo to his next message he typed a quick message and hit send.

sorry that took a sec, idk how to take dick pics lol

The typing bubble showed up and for a split second, Sam was awash with an unfamiliar anxiety. They’d seen each other naked plenty of times and Euphie always told him how attracted she was to him, but maybe the picture wasn’t what she was expecting. Maybe she didn’t actually want a nude? His mind raced for a moment until her message finally popped up on screen.

Euphie 💖: oh my god sammie that’s so hot

The anxiety washed away and he was left with an incredibly strange sense of pride, though his face felt a bit flushed. It was a little embarrassing to keep seeing the picture of his own penis on the screen followed by her praise, though he didn’t have a chance to reply before the screen was filled with a photo from Euphie this time.

They had seen each other naked before, many times—but that didn’t stop a pang of need from coursing through him when he saw Euphie’s nude form on his phone screen, the hand that wasn’t holding her phone buried between her legs. His hips thrust forward almost involuntarily before he began to pump his left hand up and down his length again while his right fumbled as he attempted to text back.

fuck

so r u

Not poetry in the slightest, but Sam tended to get a bit of a one-track mind the closer he got to climaxing. Pulling his hand back for just a moment he spit in it (not a moment he’d be proud of in his future post-nut clarity) and continued to jerk off, trying to pretend the wetness from his own saliva could even compare to what it’d feel like to be inside of his girlfriend right now.

Euphie 💖: i wish you were here sammie

my fingers and toys dont feel as good as you

His eyes kept retracing her words as he continued to pleasure himself, thinking about how Euphie was doing the same, yearning for him as much as he wanted her in this moment. Scrolling back up a few messages his eyes locked onto the picture she’d sent, feeling that familiar tension building in his core.

euph im guna cum

(He didn’t care much about typos right now.)

It took only a split second before another series of text messages from Euphie showed up on screen.

Euphie 💖: show me

please

Slowing his hand for just a second he managed to pull open the camera app once more and flick the output to ‘video’ instead of ‘photo,’ hitting record just moments before he finished. Angles and lighting and whatever else be damned, he didn’t have time to try and make this aesthetic.

With one hand on his dick and the other on his phone Sam couldn’t suppress the sound that escaped him when he came, something between a whine and a growl that rumbled in his throat and devolved into heavy panting. As the orgasm faded and the last spurt of cum landed on his stomach, he stopped recording and sent her the video before he could get shy and second guess himself.

It took a bit for Euphie to respond, and it wasn’t with text but a video of her own. It was too dark to see much of anything but there were two things he could certainly hear—Euphie breathing his name over and over and the undeniable wet sounds of a very aroused woman touching herself.

If that wasn’t enough to get him horny again, the sounds she made as she approached and hit her own orgasm certainly were. Sam couldn’t help but play the video a few more times, relishing the sound of his name on her lips as she came. The video was interrupted by a new incoming text, however.

Euphie 💖: i just want you to know i came again but it happened so fast i couldnt record it for you

if it was anything like the one you sent me then i bet ur feeling really good

Euphie 💖: im still shaky and quivery sooo yeah. feeling amazing right now 💗

god dammit euphie, that was so hot im gonna get hard again and u kno i can only cum once lol

Sam was trying to will his rebound erection away to little success. Falling asleep after all this was going to be next to impossible, he just knew it.

Euphie 💖: heehee 😁 sorry sammieee~ guess you’ll just have to take care of it in the morning

might have to skip morning class and have you help me with that

Euphie 💖: what about getting ready for finals, huh??

yeah, because i did SO much of that tonight lol

Reaching over, Sam grabbed a handful of tissues to clean himself off before turning the lamp off and pulling the sheets up over himself once more (the tissues would be properly disposed of after getting up in the morning…probably). The banner across the top of his phone screen read 2 a.m.—definitely later than he wanted to stay up, but the warmth of love and satisfaction that filled the spots in his chest vacated by desire and lust just moments prior made it all worth it.

(And the thought of seeing Euphie in the morning to finish off what they’d started over text. That made it worth it too.)

[samgirl98]

Dammit Clockwork! A Little Warning Next Time?

Wrote this while bored at work and on my iPhone so its not my best

“Come in,” a voice said at the other side of the door. Danny took a deep breath to calm his nerves. It was just his new boss. What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and have to find a new job.

Of course, being in Gotham, finding a job that wasn't Wayne Enterprise would be hard, especially one that offered such a sweet deal, like the scholarship and health benefits he would receive. So, no, Danny couldn't screw this up.

Danny didn't know why the CEO wanted to meet the scholarship recipients/ new employees one-on-one, but who was he to question it? After all, rich people were weird.

Danny took one last deep breath and swallowed his nerves. Everything would be fine.

He entered and came face-to-face with Tim Drake, CEO of WE.

They stared at each other for all of five seconds before Mr. Drake jumped over his desk.

Danny gave an embarrassing shriek as he fell to the ground hard. Ow, that hurt! To be fair, though, what else was he supposed to do when tackled by someone who could be his twin? Or a clone.

Well, maybe biting him hadn't been a good idea.

Danny heard a hiss above him as he bit down harder. There was no way in the Infinite Realms he would let go anytime soon. If this was a clone sent to kill him, Danny had to protect himself. Then he could worry about deprogramming him.

The look-alike tried to shake off Danny, causing him to bite down even harder.

And things had just started calming down, too.

His parents had kicked him out after they found out he was Phantom. He had been homeless on his eighteenth birthday, but honestly, being homeless and not vivisected was better than what he thought was going to happen.

Thankfully, the trio and Jazz had made a plan in case Danny had to run away from his parents. Sam had opened a bank account for Danny with a little over twenty thousand dollars. He was lucky he didn't have to use the fake IDs Tucker had set up. His parents had let him take his papers.

Which was how he found out he was adopted.

Danny had talked to the air in the little motel room he had ended up that night, begging for help from Clockwork. Danny didn't know if Clockwork had pitied him, but the Ancient had appeared. Clockwork had given Danny a vague clue about family in Gotham—Oh, the guy he was wrestling was probably the family he was hinted at.

Dammit, Clockwork, couldn't he have warned Danny?

Danny let go of Tim Drake.

Who was Drake to him? A sibling, a twin?

Danny didn't know yet.

Tim Drake was about to attack again when Danny put his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait!”

The other teenager stopped. Tim was breathing hard from the little impromptu fight they had been in.

Danny was glad that his half-dead status made it hard for him to have to catch his breath. It was impossible to run out of breath when one didn't have to breathe technically.

“Who are you,” the other boy asked.

“Fenton! Danny Fenton. I’m the new hire?”

Danny hated that the last sentence came out as a question.

“You bit me!”

“And you tackled me! Now that we have that out of the way, you're not a clone, are you,” Danny asked warily. After all, that wasn't out of the realm of possibilities for him.

“What? No! I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Why would a rich CEO be afraid of cloning,” Danny asked.

“Why would a small-town guy from the middle of nowhere America be afraid of cloning,” Tim fired back.

“Touche,” Danny said.

Neither of them said anything. They stared at each other until Danny broke the awkward silence.

“So, what now?”

“Now we take a DNA test and try to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Ahh, I'm adopted and was told by mystical means that I have family in Gotham and was going to find them ‘when the time was right.’ I'm guessing now is that time.”

“That explains nothing,” Tim said in a hysteric voice. “What do you mean mystic means, and could you be more vague?”

Danny shrugged again, “Welcome to my world.”

A few hours later, through rich guys' means, Danny Fenton and Tim Drake had a piece of paper confirming they were twins.

Well, Danny’s afterlife just got interesting.

Later, Tim is going to feel pissed that Damian respects Danny but still treats Tim like crap.

They both try to hide their heroic tendencies from each other and fail miserably. Jason bonds with Danny over dying and death jokes. Danny also has to fight off Bruce with a broom. No, he doesn't want to get adopted again.

Sam and Tucker are laughing at Danny’s predicament and Jazz gives Tim the equivalent of a shovel talk not to hurt her baby brother or else.

DPXDC Prompt #131

Danny started his new job at Wayne industries today and he was a little nervous about messing up. His adopted family the Fentons kicked him out after finding out he was Phantom. Danny was a little disappointed but it was better than how he thought they’d react. He knew he had other family and from what little cryptic Clockwork told him they lived in Gotham.

He gets to his new bosses office and knocks on his door. When he’s told to come in Danny does so but then comes face to face by what he can only assume is his twin and the CEO of the company, Tim Drake. Danny had about 5 seconds before he found himself pinned to the floor.

[motownfiction]

pride in a sunflower dress

Lucy breaks out her sunflower dress when she needs help with something, and she’s too proud to really ask for it. She wishes she wasn’t superstitious, but she’s always bought into the whole “lucky clothes” thing. Whenever she has a math test, she wears her bubblegum pink tights. Whenever she has to give a speech, she makes sure she’s sporting purple shoelaces. And when she’s too proud and too nervous to ask someone for help, she wears her sunflower dress, no matter how cold it is.

Today, on a Wednesday afternoon toward the end of March, it’s still pretty cold. Detroit is having a long winter. It doesn’t matter. Lucy’s breaking out the sunflower dress because she needs help, no matter how embarrassed she is to get it. The worst part is that she needs help in school.

No, maybe the worst part is that she needs help from Will O’Connor.

And it’s not that she thinks Will is dumb. He’s not. He’s smart, and he does well in school. He says he tries hard in school to impress her, but Lucy knows better than that. His eyes light up a little too brightly when they have debates in Honors English, and they’re not just lighting up to see her. It’s the kind of spark that only comes with loving what you learn. Lucy usually has that spark for almost anything, except this unit in her mandatory ninth-grade health class. This is enough to make her want to drop out and leave her Ivy League dreams in the dust.

For the past two weeks, the freshmen at St. Catherine’s have been learning CPR and First Aid.

And Lucy is really, really bad at it.

Everyone else seems to love this unit of health class. They think it’s easy and practical. And maybe, for most teenagers, it is. Not Lucy. Lucy would prefer to memorize all the warning signs of heart attacks in men and women. Anything but having to tie a splint for a grade. Whenever she tries, it just falls apart in her hands. She’s a fucking fool.

Will, as it turns out, is the master of First Aid. He says it’s because he’s the second oldest of six children, so he’s had a lot of experience at tending wounds quickly and without many questions. Sam said he was impressive in class, and if Lucy needed a little help, she should put on her sunflower dress and ask.

You know he’s not gonna say no, Sam said. To you or your dress.

So, here she is, standing in the middle of the O’Connors’ living room in her sunflower dress, trying to tie a splint around Molly O’Connor’s left arm. Will stands over her and gives her direction.

“Don’t loosen your hands so much,” he says. “Keep ‘em tight.”

“You wish,” Lucy says.

“Look, do you want my help or not? Because it’s OK if you just wanted to hang out.”

Lucy feels her chest grow warm. She swallows hard and thinks about what she’s going to say. The truth is that this is largely an excuse to spend extra time with Will. They’re friends, and they spend a lot of time together as it is, but they don’t get a lot of time without the twins or Daniel being there, too. Maybe they could if Lucy owned up to being in love with him already. But she’s not sure she’s ready for that. She’s ready for splints. Just not much more.

“Look,” she says. “If I didn’t need your help, I wouldn’t have asked for it. You know how I am about things like this.”

Will looks at her like he doesn’t believe her. Typical. He’s always been good at seeing through her. That’s probably why Lucy loves him so much.

“Right,” he says. “Well, give it another shot. Sorry, Molly.”

“It’s OK,” Molly says. “Do I still get a hot fudge sundae?”

“A promise is a promise, kid. Even if I’m gonna get lazy and wanna break it.”

Molly laughs, and against her better judgment, Lucy laughs, too. She wipes her hands on the sides of her sunflower dress before trying to tie the splint again … before keeping her hands tight, just like Will said she should.

This time, it works just fine.