#lazy sam board

[iiluvvme]

༚ֹ ₊ ❊ ˖ ֗ ࣭ ⋆ babe , ain’t no denyin’

that i’ve got you in my head ݂ 𓈒 ۫ ✩⃯ 𓂂   ˚

( sam kiszka being boyfriend )

[welcometoqueer]

so y’all remember in season 14 when Dean planned to trap himself inside a Ma’lak box and sink to the bottom of the ocean forever—to be sunk alive with Michael because being buried alive wasn’t safe enough-and had a vivid nightmare about his horrific fate if he went that route???

anyways, haha OceanGate, am I right?

[artyandink]

amoralism | fourteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

chauvinism

The mission had been in the works for two long, grueling weeks, and it still felt like a long shot.

You, Sam, Bobby, and the so-called "Suicide Squad" had spent hours in the Bureau's underground briefing room, a place so buried under layers of concrete and steel that cell reception was a distant memory. The air inside was thick with the smell of stale coffee, sweat, and stress—everyone had been pulling double shifts, and no one was more wired than you. The clock was ticking. Dean’s files were being held under lock and key by Raphael Deacon, the Director of the FBI, and a man with more power than the President on his worst days.

But the files—Dean's files—were the key to everything. They held the proof, the answers. The only way to clear Dean's name or understand why he had betrayed you all. You needed those files, and there was only one way to get them: a heist.

It sounded absurd, like something out of a bad spy movie, but it was the only plan anyone had that made sense. Bobby had been pacing the front of the room, whiteboard behind him filled with diagrams, maps, and hastily scribbled notes as the rest of the team crowded around.

“We go in quick, we go in quiet,” Bobby muttered, pulling the cap off a dry-erase marker with his teeth and slashing another line across the board. “We got exactly one window where Deacon’s gonna be out of his office, and that’s when we make our move.”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, trying to ignore the tension building in your chest. You’d been part of risky ops before, but this? This was borderline suicide.

“You really think we can pull this off?” you asked, glancing at Sam next to you. His brow was furrowed, a hand running through his long hair as he scrutinized the plan for any weakness.

“We don’t have a choice,” he said quietly, eyes meeting yours. “It’s the only way we find out what’s really going on with Dean.”

His words weighed heavily on you. It had been weeks since you last saw Dean, and the encounter had shaken you to your core. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about it—especially not Sam. You swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts of Dean to the back of your mind. Focus. You needed to focus.

Across the table, Charlie Bradbury was furiously typing away on her laptop, her fingers moving faster than you thought was humanly possible. “Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it,” she said, her voice cutting through the room. “I’ve hacked into the security system. We’ve got a thirty-second delay between when a breach happens and when it gets reported. That’s our window.”

John Winchester, his arms folded over his chest, grunted from his spot near the back of the room. He hadn’t said much throughout the planning—just his typical gruff one-liners about security, strategy, and how this was a fool’s errand. But when he spoke, everyone listened.

“And what happens if we miss that window?” John asked, his voice low, but enough to send a ripple of unease through the group.

“We don’t miss it,” Bobby snapped, glaring at John. “We can’t afford to miss it.”

Rufus Turner, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table, gave a lazy grin. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Haven’t done a good ol' heist in years.”

Next to him, Agent Jack Kline, the youngest member of the team, looked more nervous than excited. He had the look of a deer caught in the headlights, but he was trying to mask it with a look of determination.

Mick Davies, sharp as ever in his suit, spoke up next. “What’s our exit plan? We can’t just waltz out of the building with federal files in hand. Deacon’s got eyes everywhere.”

Bobby paused, pacing again, his boots heavy on the floor. “We’ll split up. Create enough chaos that no one knows what’s happening until we’re gone. Charlie, you’ll jam the internal comms, give us time to slip out without alerting the entire Bureau.”

Garth chimed in, tapping his chin. “And what about disguises? We can’t exactly stroll in looking like this.” He gestured down at his casual clothes.

“That’s where I come in,” Mick said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I’ve got some connections. We’ll have uniforms. FBI suits, maintenance workers, delivery personnel. The whole nine yards.”

“Sounds like a damn circus,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your temples.

Bobby shot you a look. “We’re working with what we’ve got.”

The plan was as convoluted as they came—deceit, manipulation, distraction, and everything in between. There was no room for error. One slip, one wrong move, and the entire operation would be over before it even began. But you were in too deep now. Backing out wasn’t an option.

The day arrived sooner than any of you were ready for. You could feel the tension in the air as the team gathered in the Bureau's underground garage. Everyone was dressed to play their parts—uniforms, IDs, all fake but polished enough to pass a casual inspection.

You tugged at the stiff collar of your maintenance jumpsuit, feeling out of place but determined. Sam, standing next to you, adjusted the lapels on his fake FBI suit, his eyes scanning the group.

“Everyone know their role?” Bobby asked, his voice hard as he gave one final look at the team.

Charlie was the first to respond. “I’ll be in the van, controlling the security feed and hacking the system as we go. If anything goes wrong, you’ll know because all hell will break loose.”

John, dressed as a janitor, grunted his agreement. “I’ll make sure the halls are clear.”

Garth, in his delivery uniform, gave a thumbs up. “I’m your distraction. Trust me, I’ve got this.”

Mick and Jack were already in character, blending in seamlessly with the handful of actual Bureau agents milling about the garage. It was showtime.

The mission began like clockwork. Mick and Jack were the first inside, walking through the front entrance with forged IDs and briefcases in hand. They passed the metal detectors, nodding at the guards with an air of confidence that only agents from another division could pull off.

Meanwhile, you, Sam, John, and Garth entered through the back, where maintenance workers were busy hauling in cleaning supplies and equipment. John’s hard glare kept anyone from asking questions. The man had a presence that made you glad he was on your side.

Charlie’s voice came through the earpiece in your ear. “Alright, you’re clear for now. Thirty seconds until the first security sweep. Move fast.”

Your heart pounded as you made your way through the narrow back corridors, trying to keep your footsteps light despite the rush of adrenaline in your veins. Sam was right behind you, his eyes darting between you and the path ahead.

As you rounded a corner, you caught sight of Raphael Deacon’s office—a heavy wooden door guarded by two agents. Garth was already in place, wheeling a large cart of ‘deliveries’ toward the door. You watched as he fumbled with the boxes, pretending to lose his balance.

“Oh no, shoot! Sorry, fellas, can you give me a hand here?” Garth asked, flashing his best disarming smile.

The guards, caught off guard by the seemingly harmless delivery guy, bent down to help him, just as John slipped past them into the restricted hallway unnoticed.

“Ten seconds,” Charlie’s voice warned. “You better move fast.”

John reappeared moments later, his expression tense as he gave the signal.

The door to Deacon’s office clicked open.

Inside, Raphael Deacon’s office was as imposing as you expected. The walls were lined with bookshelves, legal documents, and awards, but the real prize was the locked cabinet at the back of the room. Dean’s files were inside. Somewhere.

You rushed to the cabinet with Sam while John kept watch. Time was ticking. You grabbed the small lock-picking kit Mick had given you, your fingers trembling as you worked the lock. The seconds felt like hours as you concentrated, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Come on,” Sam muttered beside you, glancing toward the door.

Click.

The lock gave way, and you swung the cabinet doors open. Inside, stacks of files lay neatly arranged, but it only took you a second to spot the one marked with Dean’s name. You grabbed it, stuffing it into your bag just as Charlie’s voice cut through the comms again.

“We’ve got a problem. Security’s onto us. They’re not buying Garth’s act anymore.”

“Time to go,” John grunted, pulling you and Sam toward the exit.

The building was already buzzing with movement as you slipped back into the maintenance hallways, but just as planned, the chaos was enough to keep most of the agents off your trail. Garth had done his job.

Back in the garage, Charlie was already in the van, her fingers flying across her keyboard. “You’ve got maybe thirty seconds before they realize what’s missing. Let’s go!”

Everyone piled into the van as it sped away, the sound of sirens blaring in the distance. You sat back, heart racing, the weight of the stolen file heavy in your hands.

It was a victory. But as you caught Sam’s eye, you both knew this was just the beginning. The contents of the file would tell you everything—or nothing. Either way, there was no turning back now.

The mission was chaotic, convoluted, and dangerous. But somehow, against all odds, you had pulled it off.

Now came the hard part.

The adrenaline from the mission was still pumping through your veins as the van sped down the back roads, far away from the FBI headquarters. Charlie, behind the wheel, navigated the narrow streets with sharp precision, while the rest of the team sat in tense silence. The stolen file, Dean’s file, sat heavy in your lap, the weight of its contents unknown, but it was the key to everything.

You looked over at Sam. His eyes were fixed on the folder, a mix of worry and determination etched on his face. Bobby sat across from you, arms crossed, looking out the window. John was muttering to himself in the back corner, probably going over every tactical mistake you all might have made. Garth, still in his delivery uniform, was looking out the window with a goofy grin as if the whole operation had been some kind of field trip. Mick, ever the polished MI6 agent, looked almost too calm, while Jack sat quietly, fiddling nervously with his hands.

The van rattled as Charlie took a sharp turn, and you tightened your grip on the file.

“So, what now?” Charlie asked, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “We just crack open this bad boy and hope for the best?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a grunt, shifting in his seat. “But not here. Too many eyes around. We need a safe spot.”

Sam finally spoke up. “We can go to my place. Jess is out of town visiting family, and it’s secure.”

You nodded. “Sam’s right. Let’s go there. We can regroup, figure out what’s in this file, and plan our next move.”

The ride to Sam’s place felt longer than it should have, despite the fact that it was only about twenty minutes away. The tension in the van was thick, and you could tell everyone was on edge. After the chaos of the heist, it was hard to believe you’d actually pulled it off. But as much as you wanted to feel victorious, you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Dean was out there somewhere, possibly on the run, possibly still with the syndicate. Or worse, maybe he was exactly what the files would say he was. The thought sent a chill down your spine. After everything, after all the years you’d known him—had Dean really betrayed you all?

Charlie pulled up in front of Sam’s house, parking the van in the driveway. Everyone piled out, and you all made your way inside. Sam’s place was quiet, almost too quiet, the kind of stillness that made the atmosphere feel heavier than it should’ve been.

Sam locked the door behind him, and the group settled in the living room. You sat down on the couch, the file still in your hands, and the rest of the team gathered around.

Bobby leaned forward, eyeing the file like it was some kind of dangerous artifact. “Well, kiddo,” he said, looking at you, “you gonna do the honors?”

You glanced around the room, feeling the weight of everyone’s anticipation. Your hands shook slightly as you undid the clasp on the folder, opening it to reveal the contents inside.

There were several thick documents, each stamped with confidential seals and the unmistakable insignia of the FBI. You sifted through them quickly, scanning for something, anything that would make sense of this madness. There were surveillance reports, witness statements, memos—all detailing Dean’s activities over the last year.

Your eyes caught on one page in particular, a detailed report from Raphael Deacon himself. You skimmed it, your pulse quickening as you read the words:

"Subject: Dean Winchester – Special Agent, suspected mole within the FBI, believed to be in contact with syndicate leader Lucifer. Operative is highly skilled, with extensive knowledge of Bureau protocol. Unclear how deeply involved he is with the organization, but intelligence suggests infiltration may have been premeditated…"

You swallowed hard, passing the page to Sam. His brow furrowed as he read it, a deep frown forming on his face.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Sam muttered, flipping through the pages. “Dean wouldn’t do this.”

John scoffed from the back of the room. “You sure about that, Sam? People can change. And sometimes, they don’t turn out to be who you think they are.”

Sam shot him a glare. “Dean wouldn’t betray the Bureau. Not like this.”

You stayed silent, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of everything. The reports, the surveillance footage, the classified memos—they all painted a picture of Dean as a double agent. But something wasn’t adding up. Dean was reckless sometimes, sure, but he wasn’t a traitor.

“We need to dig deeper,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “There has to be something we’re missing.”

Charlie leaned over, scanning the files over your shoulder. “There’s a lot of redacted information here. They’re definitely hiding something.”

“Could be a cover-up,” Bobby mused. “Deacon ain’t exactly a trustworthy son of a bitch.”

“Then why’d Dean run?” Jack asked, his voice quiet. “If he’s innocent, why hasn’t he come back?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I don’t believe for a second that Dean’s in on this. Not fully.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. “We need more information. Something solid. These files... they’re not enough.”

Mick spoke up for the first time in a while, his voice smooth but thoughtful. “Perhaps there’s a lead we can follow. If Dean’s gone dark, there must be a way to trace his movements. Off-the-books contacts, safe houses, something he would’ve used to stay hidden.”

Rufus, who had been oddly quiet until now, nodded. “Dean ain’t dumb. He’d know how to cover his tracks. But he might’ve left a trail for someone who knows how to look.”

You stood up, pacing the room as the ideas swirled in your mind. Every second that passed felt like you were running out of time, like Dean was slipping further away.

“Charlie, can you dig into these files, see what’s been redacted and maybe trace where this intel came from?” you asked, knowing full well that if anyone could break through encrypted data, it was her.

She gave you a thumbs-up. “Already on it.”

Sam rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion evident on his face. “We should keep looking for leads, but I agree with you. Something’s off about all of this. Dean wouldn’t just run unless he had no other choice.”

The thought of Dean being out there, alone, possibly in danger, made your heart ache. You hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that there was more to this story. But the mission wasn’t over yet.

The prison was cold. It always was. The kind of cold that seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. As you made your way down the long, sterile corridor, your footsteps echoed against the hard concrete floors, bouncing off the walls in a rhythmic, lonely sound. The guard leading you said nothing, his face impassive as he swiped his keycard to open another set of heavy metal doors.

It wasn’t your first visit here. You’d been coming to see Eleanor, your mother, for weeks now. But no matter how many times you passed through the gates, through the searches and the checkpoints, it never got easier. You felt the weight of it all pressing down on your chest with every step you took.

And today, it felt even heavier.

Your mind was a whirlwind of questions, of uncertainties. The mission had been chaotic, the files had been convoluted, and worst of all, Dean was missing. A mole. An alleged traitor. But none of it made sense. None of it fit with the Dean you knew. You hoped that your mother, with her past connections to the criminal underworld, might be able to shed some light on the situation.

The guard finally stopped in front of a small, enclosed room—a visiting room. "Five minutes," he said gruffly, as though the kindness of a full hour was something prisoners rarely deserved. He unlocked the door, then gestured for you to enter. You nodded and stepped inside.

Eleanor was already sitting at the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her expression as calm and composed as ever. She had that air about her, even in prison. A woman who had lived through chaos and come out the other side unbroken. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, streaks of gray more prominent now than they had been the last time you saw her.

When she looked up and met your eyes, her face softened, just a little.

"Hey, kid," she said, her voice carrying a warmth that you hadn’t expected.

"Mom." You managed a small smile, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down. You placed your hands on the table, feeling the cold surface beneath your fingers, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to figure out how to start.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it never had been with Eleanor. She was patient, observant. She had a way of waiting you out, of letting you come to her when you were ready.

You glanced up at her and took a deep breath. "I need to ask you something."

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed slightly. She tilted her head, her hands still resting lightly on the table. "What is it?"

"It’s about Dean," you said, the words feeling heavy as they left your mouth.

Her expression didn’t change much, but you could see the flicker of concern behind her eyes. "Dean Winchester?" she asked slowly.

You nodded, your heart racing. "Yeah. There’s been… something’s happened, and I need to know if he’s involved with the syndicate."

Eleanor blinked, clearly taken aback. She leaned back in her chair slightly, her eyes scanning your face for answers that weren’t yet spoken. "Dean?" she repeated, almost incredulous. "Dean Winchester is involved with the syndicate? The same syndicate I used to run with?"

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out," you admitted, your voice quiet. "There’s a file, reports… all pointing to him being a mole inside the FBI, working with them."

Eleanor looked at you for a long moment, her gaze unblinking. And then, almost abruptly, she let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, that doesn’t make any sense."

"I know it doesn’t," you replied, feeling a mixture of frustration and desperation rise up in your chest. "But it’s there. His name’s all over the files. They have surveillance, they have witness accounts—everything points to Dean."

Your mother’s brow furrowed, her fingers tapping lightly on the table as she considered your words. "I knew Dean," she said finally, her voice steady, as though she was sorting through facts in her mind. "I worked with a lot of people who were mixed up in some dark stuff, but Dean? He wasn’t one of them."

You leaned forward, pressing her. "But could he have been involved without you knowing? Maybe something happened after you were arrested. Something that pulled him in."

Eleanor shook her head firmly. "I don’t believe it. Dean’s a lot of things, but he’s not reckless. And he’s not stupid. Getting involved with the syndicate? That’s a death sentence. And it’s not something he could’ve hidden easily, even from me."

You stared at her, trying to make sense of it all. "But what if… what if they forced him? Or what if he’s been playing both sides, working undercover?"

She leaned forward, her gaze sharp now. "Listen to me," she said, her voice low but intense. "If Dean was involved in the syndicate, I’d know. They don’t operate in a vacuum. Everyone knows everyone. And if Dean was in that system, his name would’ve come up long before now. You said there’s a file on him? Well, I can tell you one thing: Dean’s name isn’t in any of their systems."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had been hoping, deep down, that she could give you some insight, some hidden piece of the puzzle that would make everything click into place. But instead, it only raised more questions.

"Then why are they saying it’s him?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Eleanor’s eyes softened slightly. "It sounds like someone’s setting him up. They’re using his name, his reputation, to cover their own tracks. And you need to figure out who’s behind it."

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. Could it be true? Could someone really be framing Dean, manipulating the FBI into thinking he was the mole?

"But why?" you asked, more to yourself than to Eleanor. "Why would they choose Dean?"

"Because he’s good at what he does," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. "And because they know that if you believe he’s guilty, no one will question it. Not even you."

The words stung, but you couldn’t deny the truth in them. If someone was framing Dean, they were doing a damn good job of it. And they knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you doubt everything you thought you knew.

You looked down at the table, your hands clenched into fists. "I don’t know what to do," you admitted, your voice small and defeated.

Eleanor reached out, placing her hand on top of yours. "You do what you always do," she said gently. "You dig. You find the truth. And you don’t stop until you have it."

You nodded, the resolve slowly returning to your chest. She was right. There was still a lot you didn’t know, but you couldn’t stop now. Dean’s life—his reputation—was at stake, and you couldn’t let him go down without a fight.

"Thank you," you said, meeting her eyes. "I’m sorry to have dragged you into this."

She smiled softly, squeezing your hand. "You’re my kid. You don’t need to apologize for coming to me for help."

The guard knocked on the door then, signaling the end of your visit. You stood, feeling the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders. As the guard escorted you out, you glanced back at Eleanor one last time. She gave you a nod, her eyes filled with the kind of strength you always admired in her.

As the doors closed behind you, the coldness of the prison faded, but the uncertainty lingered. Dean wasn’t in the syndicate. You were sure of it now. But that meant someone else was pulling the strings—someone powerful enough to frame him, to make you doubt him.

You stepped outside into the crisp air, your mind still racing. There was more to uncover, more pieces of the puzzle to find. And now, you had to figure out how to put them together before it was too late.

Because Dean’s life depended on it.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

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@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

[titaniasfairy]

omg please feed me stepbro!sam with a knife kink PLEASE

ABSOLUTELY!

sorry this is so short i just had to get this idea out.

18+ MDNI

cw: knife kink, blood!!!, fem!reader

another lazy day in your house, home alone with your wildly annoying stepbrother sam. he’s splayed out on the couch, watching some tv show while you work on making lunch in the kitchen.

you stand over the counter, chopping vegetables and placing them in a pot next to you. you’ve always found comfort in making vegetable soup, it reminds you of rainy days from your childhood.

sam saunters into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring at whatever lies inside.

“sam, are you kidding? i’m making lunch.”

his eyes roll and he lets out a sigh of annoyance, reluctantly shutting the fridge door and leaning up against it as you continue to chop the tomato in front of you.

“i don’t want your fucking soup.”

the knife’s speed increases with your growing frustration. your grip on the handle tightens and anger festers up inside you.

“you know what, if you don’t want it make something your-”

the knife slices against the skin of your finger and leaves a deep gash through the flesh. blood begins to gush out of your finger and seep onto the cutting board below you.

you suddenly scream out an expletive and bring your hand to your mouth to suck on your wounded finger, but a hand grabs your wrist instead.

sam quickly brings your finger (still gushing blood) to his mouth and sucks on it hard, allowing your blood to be tasted on his tongue. he moans around your finger and looks down on your surprised expression.

you wish you could deny the way your cunt clenched and your stomach flipped from the way he sucked the blood from your finger.

“holy fuck sam…”

he takes your finger out of his mouth and looks down at you with those pouty lips of his, your blood staining them. his cock is throbbing in his jeans and you can’t help but stare down at it.

“can i have you for lunch instead?”

tags: @mortalheartache @zapernz @geekforhorror

[hearts4court]

Court's thoughts!

a/n: here are some random thoughts(blurbs) i have of characters from other fandoms that i’m to lazy to make a masterlist for !!

this will be uploaded 1-3 times a week!

Main Masterlist

protective bf!sam (Sfw) > blurb > fluff, Sam Golbach X afab!reader

husband!soap. (Nsfw) > blurb > smut, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish X fem!wife!reader…… pt 2, pt 3, pt 4

Dating Alejandro Vargas aesthetic (sfw)(nsfw) > mood board> fluff, slight smut, Alejandro Vargas X fem!reader

taking care of denki (sfw) > blurb > fluff, Denki Kaminari X afab!reader

Dating Colby Brock aesthetic (sfw) > mood board > fluff, Colby Brock X fem!reader

In secret (Nsfw) > blurb > smut, Phillip Graves X fem!141!reader

Investigating with Sam and Colby (Sfw) > mood board > fluff, bsf!Colby Brock X bsf!Sam Golbach X afab!reader

desperate!sapnap (nsfw) > blurb > smut, Sapnap X afab!reader

husband!toji (nsfw) > blurb hcs > smut, Toji Fushiguro X fem!reader

bf!peter parker (sfw) > blurb hcs > fluff, Peter Parker x afab!reader

Don’t copy, translate or repost any of my work w/o my permission.

[redroses07]

My Masterlist.

Fics!

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank Dating Headcanons

Forgotten Breakfast // JJ Maybank

American Horror Story:

AHS Boys Cuddling Headcanons

Tate Langdon // Enemies to lovers Headcanons

F**k It I Love You // Michael Langdon

How The Evan’s Would Be With A Reader Who Has Panic Attacks

Kit Walker Headcanons

Date Night // Kit Walker

James Patrick March Headcanons

Young Sheldon:

Meeting His Family // Georgie Cooper

The Black Phone:

Real First Date // Vance Hopper

Stranger Things:

Detention // Mike Wheeler

Lazy Summer Days // Mike Wheeler

Nightmares // Mike Wheeler

Finn Wolfhard

The Rock Show

Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert:

Heartfirst // Johnnie Guilbert

Heartfirst // Johnnie Guilbert pt. 2

Guitar Lessons // Johnnie Guilbert Blurb

Agents of Shield:

Day Off // Deke Shaw

Supernatural

Promise // Sam Winchester

General Supernatural Headcanons

Teen Wolf

Just Friends // Stiles Stilinski

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves x Reader S4 Ending Rewrite

Star Wars:

Coming soon!!

Mood Boards <3

Outer Banks:

Rafe Cameron Dating Aesthetic

Jake and Johnnie:

Johnnie Guilbert Dating Aesthetic

Taylor Swift:

The Last Great American Dynasty

The Archer

Agents of Shield:

Daisy Johnson/Quake Aesthetic

Deke Shaw Dating Aesthetic

American Horror Story

Kit Walker Dating Aesthetic

[abarbaricyalp]

Everybody Wants To Be A Cat 😽

Bucky walked into the house and was met with the angry glare of the boat cat. He blinked, but the cat didn't disappear in that time. He didn't figure it would disappear while he set the groceries down either. He tossed his keys on the table by the door and dropped the extra market bag where it belonged and then went into the kitchen to deposit the groceries and get a better look at the living room.

The cat was sitting on the couch and had shifted itself so it was glaring at Bucky over the arm of the chair instead of over the back of it.

The cat was a scrappy little thing that lived down at the marina. It scavenged fish and picnics and kept the vermin out of the boats. It was too small and lazy to bother the seagulls, or really anything that didn't swim and had been left out in an ice box. It was fairly beloved, even if it kind of felt like he might pick up a disease each time he petted it. It was allegedly black and white, but it mostly looked grey for the salt and filth on it.

"How are you so high up?" Bucky asked it. "You are not big enough to sit above the arm."

One step past the open way between the kitchen and the living room answered his question. The cat was sitting on a lump of blankets, which had an arm sticking out the top. For temperature regulation, he'd been told.

"That cat can't stay in here," Bucky warned. "It's an outside cat."

The mound of blankets opened like a great maw in a horror story and swallowed up the cat from sight. The cat chirped a surprised little sound but allowed itself to be swallowed up. "He came inside all on his own," the mound argued back.

Bucky rolled his eyes and got to sorting out the groceries and putting them where they were supposed to go. Well, at least the cold stuff. The rest could probably wait. "He's a boat cat. He belongs on the boats."

"He's got a wound on his chest. He had to take it easy for a while."

"The sea salt will be good for it." The cat was always scraped up here and there. It would scrap with anything, including loose boards on the docks or the evil raccoons that roamed around. "He's getting fleas all over our stuff. You're gonna end up with that leather couch you don't want."

"A leather couch is a terrible thing to have with a cat in the house."

A leather couch was a terrible thing to have in this God-forsaken heat too. It was an empty threat. "He's not staying in the house."

The cat let out another meow as the mound of blankets hugged it closer. Bucky didn't need x-ray vision to know that that's what had happened. He knew Sam too well. Knew him too well to really expect an outcome to this where they didn't end up with a cat in the house too. Still, he could try.

"I'm allergic to cats," he said.

"You were allergic to cats. You're not allergic to anything now," Sam corrected. "Did you really think that was going to work?"

"I'm about to become allergic to kisses," Bucky threatened emptily.

Sam snorted and didn't even bother justifying that with a response. It really didn't deserve one.

Bucky had not adjusted to being a pet person since breaking free of Hydra. He'd bought a fish once, on a whim in New York, because it looked terrible in the store, but he hadn't adopted a great fondness for it. He eventually gave it to the kids next door who were always complaining at him that the bowl wasn't big enough every time they snooped in through his open front door.

The idea of a cat was daunting.

"You don't even leave extra bait out for him when we go fishing," Bucky pointed out. "Why is he in the house? Why is he your problem now?"

Finally, Sam yanked the blanket off of his head and sat up. The rest of the blanket fell to his lap and Bucky saw he was still dressed for his morning run. Which did not detour to the marina. Just how distracted had Sam gotten this morning? Sam held up the cat by it's armpits (did cats have armpits?) and jostled it gently.

The cat meowed just as gently and let himself dangle there without objection. "Look at him, Barnes. Look at this face. Look at his tummy."

"There are lots of cute tummies that don't live in our house," Bucky pointed out. He gave up on dealing with the groceries and crossed the distance between them so he could sit beside Sam. Even without any attempt to reach out to the thing, the cat bared its teeth at Bucky and squirmed away. He curled up by Sam's hip when Sam put him down.

"I'm naming him Figaro," Sam decided.

"Like...the opera?" Bucky asked. "You watched an opera?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "First of all, if I wanted to watch an opera, I could totally watch an opera. But, no. Figaro like the cat from Pinocchio."

"You know the cat's name from Pinocchio off the top of your head?"

"Yeah. Unlike some people, I pay attention to the movies I watch."

"Sorry, I was worried about the impending world war last time I thought about Pinocchio," Bucky said drily.

Sam rolled his eyes again and threw in an exasperated groan. "Oh my God, gonna play the 40s card again, huh?"

"Are you a cat person, Wilson?" Bucky teased. Sam would continue to ridicule him about the '40s card'. "You pay attention to the cats in the movies. Know their names and everything."

"I like all animals. Cats are quieter than boyfriends," he added.

"Bullshit," Bucky snorted. "Cats are noisy as hell when they want your attention."

"So are super assassin boyfriends," Sam assured. He leaned into Bucky's space, dropping half of his weight against Bucky's chest. "When those things need attention?" He blew a raspberry. "They're so needy. They've got this little whine and they make this weird grumbling noise if you're in front of them but not looking at them."

Bucky laughed and dropped his arms around Sam's waist. "Yeah? You should hear the noises boyfriends with wings make when you're not paying attention to them. Lots of humming. Lots of pointed humming. Why do you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam hummed. He got his arm over Bucky's shoulder and carded his fingers in his hair to pull him down into a kiss. "I'm glad we're agreed that the cat is staying."

"You're bathing it on your own," Bucky said against his mouth.

"A metal hand would be really handy for that, Barnes."

"That's too bad. Wear gloves."

And then, just as Bucky was dipping Sam back and really getting into the kissing, there was an intentional weight on his thigh, heavy and bruising, little pricks of pain stinging through his jeans, and a fuzzy head shoving its way between his mouth and Sam's.

"Oh, he's absolutely not staying inside," Bucky grumbled.

Sam just laughed and cuddled the cat up against his chest as he sat back up. Figaro stared at Bucky, even as he tucked himself closer to Sam.

It was so on.

[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.

[imaginecolby]

pierced babe || c.b.

summary: your first time hooking up with colby turns out to be better than you could have imagined. especially after he finds out you have two piercings he’s never seen before.

requested by anonymous. a/n: slightly smutty, only due to the subject matter, however, nothing too explicit. moderate depictions of a sex scene, but nothing else.

you’d been hanging out at colby’s place, catching up on missed time since he and sam had been busy with filming and planning trips for the last few weeks.

you and colby had been flirty friends for a long time, and were close to getting together. closer than ever at this point, but for one reason or another, there was hesitation from both of you.

tonight was different though. you and him had been attached at the hip all night, never wanting to leave each other's side. drinks were had, words were exchanged, and you knew that you two would end up together tonight.

as the night was winding down, you and him were in the pool, sitting on the steps and watching the sunset. your head was resting on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped around your shoulders.

"do you want to go upstairs?” he asked softly, face just inches from yours. you nodded and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. you got out of the pool and dried off before going back inside. he took you up to his room, hands hungrily reaching for you once he closed and locked the door. he led you to his bed and you both flopped down, him hovering over you.

"are we finally gonna do this?" you asked, bracing against his shoulders. he smiled down at you, raising a brow.

"if you want to." he said softly. you nodded and pulled him down to your faces, your lips pressing hard against his.

colby's hands were soft against your skin, them rubbing up and down your legs and stomach. they found their way to your swimsuit top, untying the knots around your back and neck. you lifted it off and threw it to the floor before looking at him again. you expected to meet his gaze, but his eyes were locked on your breasts. he had a dumbfounded look on his face, which made you nervous.

"what? what's wrong?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"no-no-nothing. i just, uh, didn't know your nipples were pierced." he said nervously.

"well, it's not something that i just blurt out to people." you laughed. you felt his fingers circling your nipples, twisting and playing with the barbells. "you're playing with them like you've never seen them before."

"not in person." he said softly, his attention still locked on your nipples. you both laid there quietly for a minute before as colby’s attention stayed locked on your boobs.

“are we gonna do this or what?” you asked, pulling his chin to look at you.

"right. yeah, sorry." he laughed awkwardly before his lips met yours again.

throughout the moments that followed, colby was very attentive to your breasts. you weren't normally into nipple play during sex, but seeing how much colby enjoyed it, you were definitely coming around to it.

you'd switched positions and were now on top, grinding against colby's hips as he had his hands attached to your breasts. he was twisting the barbells between his finger tips, sending a flick of pleasure through your body with each movement. you'd never felt this before, but the nipple play definitley brought you to your orgasm quicker and more intensely than ever before.

you braced against the head board as you came, loud moans escaping both yours and colby's lips as he came with you. his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against his chest as you rode out your highs.

"holy shit." you said softly, catching your breath. he held you tight as his lips pressed lazy kisses to your shoulders, slowly tracking up your neck before meeting your lips again.

you climbed off his lap and laid down next to him as his arms snaked around your waist.

"now, remind me why we waited so long to do that?" he asked.

"i don't know. but who knew that all i had to do to get you going was to tell you my nipples were pierced." you teased. just then, his fingers found your nipples again.

"i don't know what got into me. i didn't know that was something that i would be so into." he said, kissing you. "but don't think that was the only reason this happened tonight. you and i have both been wanting this, and these just added to everything i've already loved about you."

"love, huh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"i definitely think it's love at this point. forgive me if im misspeaking for you, but i feel like whatever feelings we had for each other as just a crush have grown into so much more. we were just too stubborn to admit it."

"no, i feel the same. but we're here now, and that's all that matters." you said. colby nodded in agreement, pressing another kiss to your lips. while you laid there, colby's fingers kept mindlessly playing with your nipples.

"if you keep doing that im gonna have to take you for round two." you said, swatting his hands away.

"i would not be opposed to that." he teased, pulling you closer into his chest. you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. you kissed him again before rolling over. your back was flush to his chest and his arms were tight around your waist. you felt his face fit into the nape of your neck, lips pressing softly to your skin. you fingers intertwined through his, holding them tight as you both began to fall asleep.

[hms-tardimpala]

Ficbinding: A Complete Kingdom by Komodobits

The fic: SPN, Castiel/Dean Winchester, 85k

This fic had me staying up until 2am to read, it swept me up and flattened me. It's so well-written, so faithful to the characters, so well constructed that all you can do is strap in and enjoy the ride and hope you're not sobbing by the end (a vain hope). It's such a good story, period, that I think it can be enjoyed by non-SPN people. Mind the tags. Summary:

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

The bind: I'm so proud of this one, guys. I tried new things, pretty much everything worked, and I learned new skills!

Let's start with the colors. The story is sea-themed and stormy, so I chose black, dark blue and silver for the cover and light grey and light blue for the headbands and bookmark. I meant to use white for the headbands, but discovered I don't have white ones. It's the first time I do an overlap of fabrics and it turned out awesome. The silver stripe is a simple gift wrapper ribbon.

Typesetting:

The title font is so cool, with a droplet effect. For the part titles I chose a kind of blurry, hazy font because this story is about perception of reality and the loss of it. The chapter titles of the first part are solid, then they're altered in the following parts, to symbolize a slipping grasp on reality as time goes on.

I put headers and bottom-of-page numbers this time, which forced me to figure new things out in LibreOffice and do some maths 💪

The image of a lighthouse also changes in the three parts of the story. If you've read this fic, you know why.

Little wave as a divider.

Making the book:

I hadn't made a big book (printed at the A5 format) in a while and it felt amazing going back to that. It stretched my maths muscles. It's relaxing to do a book and not have to fight for every millimeter, like with small books. It's a more forgiving format.

Trimming went amazingly this time, I'm finding my footing slowly.

I had to sandpaper the edges to color them silver. I don't mind working with sandpaper, but it's quite brutal on the book, and wouldn't do it every time.

The edge painting was made with a silver marker, so I knew it wouldn't be perfect, but it looks good enough and doesn't peel away.

My corners are improving! They look almost perfectly square.

In reaction to the last bind I made, I augmented the overhang (still don't know if that's the word) between the edge of the covers and the edge of the textblock. From 3mm to 5mm. I'm very happy with this, it looks much better!

It's rare that I'm disappointed in a fabric, so I'll highlight here that I don't like this endpaper. It's pretty, but it's a sort of glossy magazine paper that didn't react to glue so well.

Overall, I love this book and this story deeply. I think it may be my best work technically so far.

Fonts: Rained (title), Moonrising (author name), Louis George Cafe (text), Brightness, Brightness Book and Brightness inverted (chapter titles), Snorter (part titles). Materials: 2mm grey board, 80g/m² ivory Clairfontaine A4 paper, synthetic ribbon and headbands (found on amazon), black and blue cloth and endpaper from Schmedt, silver non-textile ribbon (bought in craft store).

Feel free to ask me more about materialsand fonts (or whatever), it won’t bother me at all to tell you what I used, but I’m too lazy rn to write it in this post that’s long enough already.

[ofthecaravel]

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)

Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka (kinda?)

Summary: Ghost hunter extraordinaire Danny Wagner takes on Kiszka Manor with a Ouija board and a dream. Luckily, the ghosts like him. One of them likes him a lot.

Tags: Ghosts, mentions of murder/death/disease/suicide, arguments, majority silly goofy I promise!!!!

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: My submission for the GVF Writers Halloween Event organized by the wonderful @hearts-hunger! Such a fun idea and I'm excited to participate.

Prompt #2: Real Haunted House

--

“Hey guys! Welcome back to my channel! Today, I’m at the famous haunted Kiszka Manor to investigate its history and see if we can get in touch with the spirits that haunt these grounds!”

Danny took a confident step back as he grinned wildly at the camera, his hand moving from a wave to a theatrical gesture to accompany his continuing speech. 

“This building has been abandoned ever since the mysterious string of deaths that plagued its halls finally came to an end in 1899 with the death of its last living inhabitant, Samuel Kiszka, the youngest member of the family that had lived in the house since it was built. The house was sold to new owners a few years later, but they lasted no more than two months before fleeing, claiming that the rampant paranormal activity was making it impossible to live there. Since then, countless paranormal investigators have braved a night within these walls, but nobody has ever made it to sunrise without experiencing something that they couldn’t explain.”

Danny reached off camera to grab the sleeping bag that he’d leaned up against the kitchen wall prior to shooting, giving it a little shake as he smirked.

“Tonight, I will be joining that brave league,” Danny explained. “And I’m going to catch it all on camera for your viewing entertainment. Stay tuned to see if I survive a night at Kiszka Manor.”

He ended the recording and let out a relieved breath, flipping the viewfinder in and setting the camera down on the table he’d laid his other equipment on. He startled when his movement jostled the sleeping bag and sent it unfurling down his torso. It swung down onto the dusty wooden floors, quickly gathering a cobwebbed dust bunny as he tried to shake it off. Danny grimaced and lifted it up, giving it another genuine shake.

“Aw, gross,” he said to himself, now much more quiet and meek that the camera was off. “Ew.”

-

In the parlor facing the kitchen doorway, the three spirits that did in fact haunt the house were watching Danny with an amused calculation. When they spoke, they spoke in synchrony.

“Dibs.”

-

After rolling his sleeping bag up with an annoyed huff, Danny ignored the chill running down his spine and the uncomfortable jerk of a nerve in his ear. A surely false sense of being watched started to overtake him the longer he stood in the empty mansion. And a mansion it certainly was, with three expansive stories just waiting for Danny and his camera to go exploring in…alone…at night…

Sometimes Danny wondered what his nights would be like if those silly ghost hunting videos he’d made in his college dorm hadn’t gone so viral and asserted him as a cornerstone of the Youtube ghost community. Maybe he’d be unwinding from a 9-5, lazy on the couch and warm from a home cooked dinner. Maybe there’d be someone there with him, laying their head on his chest and making light conversation.

But here he was. Standing with his hands on his hips in a pathetic attempt to gather any semblance of authority and trying not to shake in his shabby Nike sneakers as he noticed the retreating creep of daylight out of the corner of his eye. In a very old, probably asbestos filled house that was also probably full of ghosts that already hated his nosy guts. 

Great.

-

Luckily for Danny, there was something untrue about his assumption. The ghosts did not already hate him. Actually, they were quite taken with him.

“Is it just me, or do these guys keep getting cuter and cuter?” Josh cooed, coasting through the kitchen to assess Danny from every angle. “They must be putting something in the water these days.”

“Cradle robber,” Jake laughed, following his twin through the doorway.

“Back off, I called dibs first,” Sam complained, trailing behind them in his unsteady float. “He’s already talked about me. I have claim!”

“Oh yeah? Then what’s this?” Josh teased, shimmying up next to the light switch and pressing his translucent fingers into the wall. He gave them a wiggle with a challenging smile as the overhead light started to flicker, causing Danny’s head to jerk in surprise and his eyes to widen as Josh made the bulb flit a few more times before slowly burning it out. Danny strode to the light switch and gave it a few desperate flicks, never taking his eyes off of the light.

“That’s a cheap trick,” Sam accused, his lip curling as Josh removed himself from the wall and straightened his lapels. “He deserves some distinguished communication.”

“He’s not going to be any fun at all,” Jake sighed, already seemingly bored by Danny’s anxious stature. “It’s only fun when they’re skeptics. Let’s just toss some crystals from the chandelier and slam a door and get him out as soon as we can.”

“Oh, come on, it’s been ages since our last little ghost hunter,” Josh lamented, flopping over sideways into the air and landing as if he’d fallen onto a bed. “It’s nice to have some company.”

“We might actually be able to talk to him, too,” Sam noted excitedly, directing his older brother’s attention to the all too familiar board sticking out of one of Danny’s tote bags. “Now that I call dibs on.”

“What, so you can ask him if he like-likes anyone?” Jake teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam and letting out a laugh when Sam made an incredulous sound and floated into the next room. If Sam had still been in his body, they all knew his cheeks would have been flushed.

-

“Okay, guys, it’s been about an hour since I arrived, and I’m getting ready here to hopefully talk to some spirits.”

Danny had set himself up in one of the bedrooms on the second level, the one at the very end of the hall with a grand window that let in enough light for Danny to be able to see the Ouija board he’d placed on the carpet in front of him. 

“I still don’t understand how there’s people in the cameras,” Josh observed, pointing a finger at the viewfinder that Danny was reflected in. “I only see him. Is it like a telephone?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Jake shrugged. He and Josh had settled on the four poster bed on the opposite wall, chatting amongst themselves while Danny lit a few candles and their younger brother giddily took post on the opposite side of the Ouija board. Sam was generally a pretty mopey ghost considering his circumstances, but there was something about this particular person that really piqued his interest. It was odd, especially to his brothers, but it was also too exciting to ignore.

For his brothers, it was odd for a different reason. It was concerning. 

“Alright,” Danny started, clearing his throat and trying to avoid stalling any more. “Let’s do this.”

He set the camera down on the end of the bed right in front of where the ghostly twins sat cross legged, and they mimed holding it steady and pressing the buttons with a collective giggle. Sam scowled at them and gestured for them to get away from it, knowing that their interaction with the technology could provide Danny with some interesting warped footage that would take away from his prospective Ouija interview. 

“I’ve set up camp here in the south wing of the house in the room that used to belong to Samuel, who I very briefly touched on earlier,” Danny explained to the camera, settling into the animated lecturing tone he adopted for his videos. “On the opposite end of the hallway are the rooms that belonged to his older brothers, Joshua and Jacob, who died a year before him.”

On the bed, Josh and Jake raised their hands like roll call, and Sam rolled his eyes at them.

“From what I’ve been able to find, it seems that Joshua contracted cholera in the spring of 1897 and suffered with it for a year before finally passing away in 1898, with his twin brother Jacob passing away just a few days later from an unrelated cardiac event that left their youngest brother alone in the estate.”

“Thank you again for that one, you guys,” Sam commented dryly. “That wasn’t super lonely or anything.”

“I still think it was very dramatic of you to die from heartbreak,” Josh snorted, nudging Jake.

“Who says it was heartbreak?” Jake teased right back. “I was simply so overcome with the joy of finally being free of you that I croaked.”

“I would like to try and run the spirit box in their rooms later on in the night, but I wanted to start in here,” Danny went on, setting the planchette on the board. “I couldn’t really find much about how Samuel died, except for that his autopsy reported some broken bones and internal injury. If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll tell me.”

“He jumped out a window!” Jake yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. 

“Shut up!” Sam snapped. They both exchanged faces before Sam turned to give his full attention back to Danny, who was very hesitantly placing his first and middle fingers on the planchette. He waited for Danny to trace three circles before adding his own fingers to the wood, wishing for a moment that he was still able to feel anything at all so he could feel the warmth of Danny’s skin. Now that was something Sam missed: warmth.

“Is there anyone here who would like to talk to me?” Danny asked gingerly. Whenever he asked, he always hoped deep down that nobody would answer.

Unfortunately for him, Sam was eager to talk, and he concentrated all of his energy on very laboriously sliding the planchette over to his answer.

YES

Danny stared at the board for a second, trying to zero in on the twitch of muscles in his fingers and finally deducing that his subconscious must have moved the planchette. Danny had had plenty of paranormal experiences with shadow figures and moving doors, but he’d never been lucky with the Ouija board before.

“O-kay, that’s great,” Danny squeaked out. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. Can you tell me your name?”

S A M

It took a lot of effort to move the planchette and Sam figured his nickname would be enough. He wanted to preserve his energy so they could talk for as long as he wanted to.

“Ooh, keeping it casual, I see,” Josh sang. “You’re best friends already.”

“Sam,” Danny repeated, his heart racing so fast he worried it would freeze up. “Are you the same Sam who lived here? Samuel?”

YES

“Wow,” Danny blurted, flustered from this revelation. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Danny. You, uh, your house is very nice.”

“Danny?” Jake echoed in a thin, nasally mockery. “Good grief, what’s with names these days? What’s so bad about Daniel?”

Sam glowered at him before steeling himself to reply again.

T H A N K Y O U

“You’re welcome,” Danny answered, still dumbfounded. 

He was talking to a real ghost. This was proof, if not for the camera but for himself. He knew his comments section would be filled with accusations, but Danny knew somewhere deep in his gut that it was not him rigging the game.

This was real.

“How old are you?” Danny asked, realizing with a panic that he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he’d hoped. He was really grasping for straws with his questions.

2 4

“Hey, so am I!” Danny laughed. Sam grinned and shivered at the sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard a laugh that wasn’t his own or his brothers, or one that wasn’t at the expense of their house from so-called ghost hunters far less courteous than Danny. Usually when Sam was around, people were screaming. But here was a laugh. It was a nice change of pace.

“Is it just you in the house?” Danny asked.

NO 

“Can I ask who else is here with you?” 

J J

“JJ?” Danny repeated with a confused frown. “Who’s JJ? OH, do you mean your brothers? Joshua and Jacob?”

“Come on, Sam, give him a little more to work with,” Jake scolded.

“My arms hurt,” Sam whined. “It’s not my fault your names have so many letters. He figured it out, anyways!”

YES

“Oh, well, hello to them, too,” Danny greeted nervously, looking around the room for where they may be lurking. “They don’t want to talk?”

NO 

“Any reason why?” 

E F F O R T

“It’s a lot of effort? To move it?”

YES

“Oh, so you can spell that but not Jacob? That’s too much work?”

“I’m sorry,” Danny apologized. “We can stop.”

When the planchette moved again, it was fast and aggressive.

NO NO NO

“Don’t scare him too bad,” Josh murmured, taking note of Danny’s tense body language and Sam’s frantic eyes. “Easy.”

“Okay, we’ll keep going,” Danny said, cringing at the slight shake in his voice. “Uh…sorry, I really wasn’t expecting a reply. I’m kind of blanking. You must get the Ouija board treatment all the time.”

NO 

“No? Really? I feel like that’s what everybody brings to haunted houses.”

Danny cringed again, breaking out in a cold sweat when he thought about what he’d said. Did Sam know he was dead? Was it a touchy subject? 2 years of ghost investigation and Danny was only now considering the ghost’s perspective. 

Sam watched Danny stick his tongue in his cheek and visibly ponder potential questions. He felt very grateful that Danny couldn’t see how intensely he was staring. Sam made detailed notes of the spray of freckles across his nose and the Botticelli furrow of his brows, the way his hair grew long and gathered at his shoulders in a way that Sam envied and never would’ve been allowed to do in his time. If he listened closely, he could hear his heart beating, panicked and bloody and alive. 

“What is death like?” Danny found himself asking, the words rushing out in a whisper. He couldn’t help himself. It was all he could think about in this place, with its silent halls and chatty spirits.

Sam smiled.

L I G H T 

“Light?”

C A L M

“Sam,” Josh warned. “Watch yourself.”

H A P P Y 

Danny felt a wave of relief pass over him at the affirmation. He’d long since forgotten that the camera was on and felt no sense of self consciousness at his little shiver of excitement.

“That sounds nice,” Danny smiled. “I think people worry that it’s all hellfire and empty spaces and whatnot, so that’s good to hear. I’m sorry you died so young. At least you avoided The Great Depression and stuff.”

“The who?” Sam said out loud to himself, earning a laugh from his brothers.

“Well,” Danny sighed. “I’m probably going to end this now. Is there anything else you want to tell me before I put the board away?”

Sam’s heart sank. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye. According to Danny, he’d be moving to the twins’ rooms next, and knowing them, they’d keep his spirit box chattering all night with their incessant scares. It wasn’t fair. Everybody always came to the house for Josh and Jake and their heart wrenching, freaky-deaky twin deaths and their boyish paranormal antics. 

When was the last time somebody had come here looking for him?

“Tell him he needs a haircut,” Jake suggested. “Tell him you’re Satan.”

“They always go running with that one,” Josh agreed. “What’s the other one? ZOZO? No clue where that comes from but it sure freaked out those guys from Seattle.” 

Sam ignored them. The only thing he could hear was Danny.

S T A Y

Danny chuckled nervously.

“Stay? Am I really such a great interviewer?”

S T A Y

Jake and Josh exchanged glances. 

“Okay, Sam, time to hang up,” Jake demanded, leaning forward off the side of the bed and pulling on Sam’s shoulder. “We are not doing this again.”

“He’s different,” Sam insisted, shrugging Jake off and moving his fingers on the planchette so that they spliced with Danny’s. The temperature change was subtle, but it was enough that Danny felt his fingers go cold. He eased up on the pressure he’d been applying out of fear that he’d begun to cut off his circulation.

“You said that about the last two,” Josh reminded harshly, joining Jake’s effort to try and pull Sam away from the board. “Back off. We’ll spook him on the spirit box and he’ll be out by the sunrise.”

W A N T 

Every alarm bell inside Danny’s gut was blaring full volume and he knew he needed to end the session and get going. He couldn’t help but keep glancing up at the empty space in front of him, trying to remember anything about Sam’s appearance from the online archives he’d used for research the night prior. It was only when he looked back down at the board did he catch a glimpse of something in his peripheral; a smudge of brown hair, pale skin…or was it the candlelight playing tricks on him?

“It’s been nice talking to you, Sam,” Danny blurted hurriedly, struggling to speak with such strong paranoia twisting in his stomach. “Goodbye, now!”

With an unheard frustrated shriek on Sam’s behalf, Danny circled the planchette three times again and pulled his hand back like it’d been resting on a hot stovetop. He let out a rattling breath of relief and turned back towards the camera, acknowledging it with a jolt and flashing the screen a relieved smile before scooping it off the bed. 

“You heard it here first, folks,” Danny announced with a breathless chuckle, pushing his curly bangs off his forehead. “Your man Dan is in hot demand on the grounds of Kiszka Manor.”

-

“You’ve got to control yourself, Sam, for heaven’s sake,” Josh reprimanded. 

Danny had left the room a few minutes ago, abandoning them with haste in favor of setting up motion detectors and a spirit box in Jake’s room at the other end of the hall. But the twins were in no hurry to go play with any of Danny’s toys yet. 

“Now you know why we don’t like you to interact,” Jake added, his words landing like a slap on Sam’s stormy face. “You get too involved.”

“Why are you two the only ones who ever get to have fun?” Sam yelled, getting to his feet and facing the wall away from them with his arms crossed haughtily. “Why am I in trouble? I’m an adult! I’m 149 years old! Leave me the hell alone!”

“If we could get away from you, we would,” Josh spat. “Trust me. But we can’t. And you’re not allowed to ‘have fun’ because your idea of fun is KILLI-”

“I’VE NEVER KILLED ANYBODY!” Sam howled, his hands coming up like claws next to his face. He still refused to look at either of his brothers.

“Then would you care to find another explanation for our forlorn ghostly companions in our attic? I’m sure they’d love to hear it from you!”

“JUST GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

“That boy should count himself pretty lucky he remembered to close the portal,” Jake sneered at Sam’s back. “We’re going to go give him a scare or two and then we’re going to leave him alone. And I recommend you do too. Do you hear me?”

Sam fell deathly silent, the weight of his fury draining any last remnants of warmth that the candle had left behind and plunging the thermostat as low as he felt.

“Christ,” was the last thing Sam heard muttered before he felt them leave the room, making sure to let the door slam behind them and conjure up a muffled scream of fright from Danny down the hall. 

Once Sam was certain they were gone, he relaxed his incorporeal body out of his act of tense rage and turned to look over his shoulder at the door. He was wearing the lazy smile that he’d been unable to wipe off his face and had to hide from his family. That was a curse of his that he carried into his afterlife; he just couldn’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Except that Sam didn’t have a heart anymore. It had died with him, of course, but he was pretty sure it had given its last beat on the day that he was left the only surviving member of his family. With a house too big, a backyard overpopulated with graves, and a town that offered only thoughts and prayers in his time of need, Sam lost his ability to feel. It had been so blank inside his chest that Sam figured the only explanation was that his heart had simply shriveled up and withered away. He’d gone looking for it in death but found himself somehow twice as lonely even with a reunion as sweet as the one he’d had with his siblings. 

But now he’d found it again, that rhythmic pulse that he heard from the ribcage of a polite ghost hunter that had been delivered to his door by what seemed like the hand of God. He was sure of it, actually. Danny was here because he was meant to be Sam’s, meant to drive away all that endless, bleak loneliness and bring back his capacity to love.

Why else would have Danny done the closing circles on the Ouija board in the same direction as he had the first time? Every paranormal professional knew you ended things by moving the planchette in a counterclockwise direction. And Danny really seemed like he knew his stuff. 

Sam smiled wider. Danny must’ve left the portal open on purpose. Just for him. 

Down the hall, Sam could hear another dampened scream from Danny, no doubt from the twins tossing a ghostly buzzword in between radio waves. On the bed, Sam noticed for the first time that Danny had thrown his sleeping bag across its expanse, already unzipped and ready to receive him. 

Them. 

It may have been unbeknownst to everyone except for Sam, but the night had just begun.

--

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Sam Heughan’s Sassenach whisky brand loses the final legal fight in a trademark dispute in the European Union 🇪🇺

Sam Heughan launched his whisky brand "The Sassenach" in 2020, nickname his character uses for his on-screen love interest in the time travel drama "Outlander". Since 2021, Heughan has been embroiled in a legal battle with "Sasse" a German distillery over the name of his whisky brand, arguing that the Sassenach whisky would confuse customers who might think he is linked to them.

The European Union Intellectual Property Office (EUIPO), which resolves trademark disputes, ruled in favour of the German company and issued a decision upholding the opposition saying The Sassenach could not use the name as a whisky brand. After losing the initial decision at the Fifth Board of Appeals in 2021, Heughan's legal team appealed in 2022 to overturn the decision.

His legal team said there was no risk of confusion as Outlander was popular in Germany. Lawyers for the Sasse distillery, however, said: "The television series may be as popular as the other side claims, which we deny, nonetheless it is not sufficient to assume that the average consumer knows the meaning of that term. Both parties in litigation were given time to present evidence and arguments in their defence and after the Examination period, the Opposition Division’s decision was taken this year 2023.

Great Glen Company or its representative never commented on the EU decisions until last October, in New York when Sam Heughan was asked about Sassenach whisky situation in the European Union in a chat with Mark Gillespie at the Whisky Cast podcast and Heughan's response was very limited, deflecting the question talking about the name in dispute but not the EUIPO's decision, regarding Sassenach whisky that was supposedly aware of the official communication from the European Union Intellectual Property Office - Opposition Division- sent to Great Glen Company in July 2023, which considered that the disputed trademark 'The Sassenach' must be rejected for all the contested goods.

It's a bit curious that after the EUIPO decision, Sam Heughan appeared on a surprise visit to New Orleans, which included podcasts, and events with @sgwinespirits on Tales of the cocktail with an unscheduled tasting of his drinks at the Ritz-Carlton in Nola. Later on, he began his Sassenach sales tour around the United States last summer. If these people had known what had happened with his Sassenach brand in the EU would be different?

In addition, Great Glen Company (GGC) applied to register a new trademark with the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) and the EU, following the EUIPO decision, following its earlier idea to build on all the Outlander ideas, the new trademark is called "LALLYBROCH SPIRITS" (Lallybroch means "lazy tower" in Gaelic). It will not use Midhope/Lallybroch as a distillery. This new trademark has nothing to do with or relate to the grounds of Midhope Castle, the site of a new whisky distillery with a different brand and ownership. Its new application is already registered in the United States.

It's pending resolution in the EU, Canada and the United Kingdom where Heughan requested its registration.

WIPO

EUIPO

THE SASSENACH UNIQUE SPIRITS

The Great Glen Company, Sam Heughan’s firm, applied to register the brand name Scotch whisky THE SASSENACH UNIQUE SPIRITS as a future trademark to sell the whisky across Europe, but Theo Sasse e.K brand distillery in Schöppingen-Germany, objected claiming the name was too close to its trademarked name, which it uses to sell whiskies and brandies spirits.

On 20th July 2023 the Opposition Division takes the following:

DECISION

1. Opposition is upheld for all the contested goods.

2. International registration is entirely refused protection in respect of the European Union.

REASONS

On 24th November 2021 the opponent Theo Sasse e.K filed an opposition against all the goods (Class 33) of international registration designating the European Union. The opposition is based on, inter alia, German trademark registration ‘Sasse’ (word mark). Also, the opponent invoked Article 8(1)(b) EUTMR and Article 8(4) EUTMR.

LIKELIHOOD OF CONFUSION — ARTICLE 8(1)(b) EUTMR

A likelihood of confusion exists if there is a risk that the public might believe that the goods or services in question, under the assumption that they bear the marks in question, come from the same undertaking or, as the case may be, from economically linked undertakings.

The opposition is based on more than one earlier trade mark. The Opposition Division finds it appropriate to first examine the opposition in relation to the opponent’s German trade mark registration.

a) The goods

The goods on which the opposition is based are, inter alia, the following:

Class 33: Alcoholic beverages, excluding beers. Alcoholic beverages, except beer are identically contained in both lists of goods (including synonyms).

b) Relevant public — degree of attention

The average consumer of the category of products concerned is deemed to be reasonably well informed and reasonably observant and circumspect. It should also be borne in mind that the average consumer’s degree of attention is likely to vary according to the category of goods or services in question. In the present case, the goods found to be identical are directed at the public at large.

c) The signs

The relevant territory is Germany.

Contested sign The global appreciation of the visual, aural or conceptual similarity of the marks in question must be based on the overall impression given by the marks, bearing in mind, in particular, their distinctive and dominant components. The earlier mark is the word mark ‘Sasse’. The protection of a word mark concerns the word as such and not the specific graphic or stylistic elements accompanying that mark.

The verbal element ‘SASSENACH’ of the contested mark has, contrary to the allegations of the holder, no meaning for the relevant public and is, therefore, distinctive. Likewise, the unicorn device of the contested sign has no particular meaning in relation to the goods and is distinctive.

THE SASSENACH’ in the contested sign are the dominant elements as they are the most eye-catching.

Visually, the signs coincide in ‘SASSE’, which represents the entire earlier mark. The signs differ in the representation of a unicorn and the additional letters ‘-NACH’ (after SASSE) and the non-distinctive elements ‘The’ as well as ‘UNIQUE SPIRITS’ in the contested mark. Thus, the single word element of the earlier mark is fully contained in the most distinctive verbal element of the contested mark. That fact alone is a clear indication of a visual similarity. Therefore, the signs are similar to a below-average degree.

Aurally, the signs coincide in the syllables ‘Sas-se’, which is the sole and distinctive element of the earlier mark and the beginning of the most important verbal element of the contested sign, ‘Sas-se-nach’. The signs differ in the last letters of this word (one syllable), ‘nach’, and in the first verbal element of the contested sign, ‘The’. The fact remains that the earlier mark is entirely included at the beginning of the most important verbal element of the contested sign.

Conceptually, the signs will always be dissimilar as the contested mark will be understood with at least one meaning, namely the unicorn in the contested mark. As the signs have been found similar in at least one aspect of the comparison, the examination of likelihood of confusion will proceed.

d) Distinctiveness of the earlier mark The distinctiveness of the earlier mark is one of the factors to be taken into account in the global assessment of likelihood of confusion. In the present case, the earlier trade mark as a whole has no meaning for any of the goods in question from the perspective of the public in the relevant territory. Therefore, the distinctiveness of the earlier mark must be seen as normal.

e) Global assessment, other arguments and conclusion The goods at issue are identical. They target the general public, who possesses an average degree of attention. The earlier mark has a normal degree of distinctiveness. The signs are visually similar to a below average degree and aurally similar to an average degree since the sole and distinctive element of the earlier mark, ‘Sasse’, is entirely reproduced at the beginning of the contested sign’s only fully distinctive verbal element, ‘Sassenach’. Evaluating the likelihood of confusion implies some interdependence between the relevant factors and, in particular, a similarity between the marks and between the goods or services.

Considering all the above, especially taking into account that the earlier mark is entirely reproduced in the contested sign and used for goods that are identical, the Opposition Division finds that there is a likelihood of confusion on the part of the public. Therefore, the opposition is well founded on the basis of the opponent’s German trade mark registration It follows that the contested trade mark must be rejected for all the contested goods. As the earlier right German trade mark registration leads to the success of the opposition and to the rejection of the contested trade mark The Sassenach for all the goods against which the opposition was directed.

The trademark status was "totally refused", meaning that THE SASSENACH UNIQUE SPIRITS trademark cannot be registered in the EU. If SH's trade mark application is refused, he can file an appeal. He must file his notice of appeal within 2 months from the date of the refusal decision (August-September) and the grounds of appeal must be filed within 4 months from the same date of notification (October-November). But, He did not appeal and last November the EUIPO confirmed by letter the provisional refusal of his trademark and refused its protection in the European Union. The final decision was published on 14 December 2023.

Conclusion

The EUIPO’s decision of the Board of Appeals, regarding its whisky has a “displacement” because Sassenach whisky cannot be registered as a trademark in the EU, the Sassenach trademark was refused. SH must be aware the significance of the total refusal decision regarding its whisky brand. If he was planning to recover from a legal dispute by putting his gin on an impromptu Sassenach tour around US last summer, proving that his recent EU legal battle was a mere bump in the road, he should have thought twice. He lost a legal battle to register his Sassenach whisky brand as a European Community trademark ® in 27 states. It is a big difference. It seems that if Heughan wants to continue selling its whisky, it will have to change the name.

LALLYBROCH SPIRITS registration:

United Kingdom

Canada

USA

[quirk-nova]

Can I have a moodboard for Headless Headmistress Bloodgood from Monster High?

Here’s some help: https://monsterhigh.fandom.com/wiki/Headless_Headmistress_Bloodgood_(G1)

“I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.”

Headless Headmistress Bloodgood (Monster High G1) aesthetic board for @sam-rexian

[yuis-secrets]

-————————Keeping Secrets———————

pt.1. | pt.2. | pt.3 | pt.4

(To be honest, I'm just getting lazy. I had Grammarly to edit for me but I don't quite trust it to make it sound good, oh and big big question should I extend my writing thing even though I've just started I want to make it beforehand 🙌 anyway bye bye)

We had to wake up a 5 am, the sky was still dark the stars were shining bright watching us exit the house into the car. On our way to the airport Mason and Olivia slept to past time while the other three looked out the windows or quietly chatted, Y/n was also asleep holding her husband's hand. His thumb rubbing the back of her hand occasionally glancing in the review mirror to check on his little ones, guilt and nervousness filled his chest making him feel heavy. He did not want to keep secrets from his family he told them everything especially his wife, all his problems or troubles told to Y/n. It was easier to tell her everything because of her workout also because he has been around her for year’s, built a strong relationship and we told everything to each other even if it hurt to speak about it. What hurts right now is thinking about that letter, his head was pounding the only thing in his head was the letter.

‘Dear Jacob,

It’s been a while now hasn’t it, took a long time to find you, Jacob. You’re a hard man to find, congrats on your newborn. You need to come back to Forks there is a situation that needs your attention at once, I have already booked your tickets. Your flight leaves in 2 days be ready ill pick you up, see you soon.

Sam’

The letter was short and simple. When he first read the letter, heart raced and thoughts over thoughts crowed his mind. How did he know. How did he get his address. How long has he known. Should they. It is dangerous. They still crossed Jacob's mind but it’s fine, just a week and nothing more. He is going to do anything to stop the truth coming from anyone even if it takes him hurting them. The sun slowly rises when they made it to the airport, Y/n stretching her arms over her head with a big yawn. Jacob got out to help the kids with their stuff from the boot, she looked back seeing Olivia waking up slowly as-well. Y/n opened her car door closing it behind her then moving to her daughter unbuckling her from her car seat then picking her up in her arms, Olivia yawned snuggling into her mother gripping her shirt. Jacob placed his hand on her back urging her to walk, Mason, Ashely, Damien, and Sarah pulled their suitcases behind them following behind us. Mason holding hands with Sarah, Ashley holding Y/n’s shirt and Damien beside Jacob. Despite it being early there were a lot of people there all waiting or getting off the planes, we all decided to eat at a Café that was close to the checking-in before boarding. After we ordered Jacobs's leg was bouncing, Y/n placed her hand on his leg calming him down she grabbed his hand holding it with a tight squeeze of recurrence. Jacob knew he could trust y/n, he knew everything about y/n…wait- did he.

After boarding, the trip was long about 2 hours at least but it was barbell. Jacob sat in the row in-front of Y/n with Damien and Olivia, Y/n was with Ashley, Sarah, and Mason. The flight was boring, but they pushed through with silly games and stories then watching Beauty and the Beast. When arriving at Forks Washington after getting our bags Y/n stretched even though her back was stiff after that flight, moving to the front of the airport Y/n leaned on Jacob's shoulder as they waited to watch the kids joke around. “No, you can't get me” Damien poked his tongue out to Ashely and chased him around us laughing soon Mason joined in chasing both. Y/n giggled watching them play mason heard the giggle went after her Y/n notice and ran behind her husband using him as a shield I ran around him and ran off to wider space as I had all the kids chase me. Jacob chuckled amused at this but him smile soon faltered when he saw a familiar tall, tanned man with a small smile on his lips, Jacob smiled back at him moving towards him stretching his hand out to the male. They shook hands “Looked like you haven’t aged a bit” he said “I couldn’t say the same to you” Jacob replied smirking mischievously, Y/n was toppled by the kids landing on a couch near by. Y/n hugged them laugh their heads off before looking at Jacob, seeing he was talking to a strange guy. I stood up the kids ran off to their dad but slowed down when they saw him talking to someone they barely knew, they hid behind Jacob clinging to his shirt peaking behind him to look at the strange man. Y/n approached calling over Sarah who was carrying Olivia to her side when moving closer to Jacob. “I knew you were busy these years” he chuckled looking down at the kids behind Jacob his gaze shifting to Y/n with a smile. “You must be the mother, I’m Sam nice to meet you-” “Y/n, it’s nice to finally meet one of Jacobs's old friends” Y/n smiled back at him placing a hand on Masons head. “This is Mason, Ashely, Damien, Sarah, and Olivia” Y/n introduced them all, “they’re shy around big bad wolves” Jacob joked eating a chuckle from Sam. “Welcome to Forks, let me take your bags.” He picked up most of them which shocked Y/n, he looked in great shape, but they must be extremely heavy. Jacob grabbed the rest and followed Sam to his car…this is good Y/n gets to know more about Jacob and the kids get to meet their family… no one hiding anything, right?

[silurisanguine]

For the Warm and Cozy OC AsksWarm and Cozy OC Asks:

Do they have a favourite hot drink? Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Hot cider? If so, how do they take it

What makes your OC feel safe and secure?

What does a lazy morning consist of?

Thank you for these asks! Answering for all 4 Zofie, Kiara, Seren and Aeryn.

Favourite hot drink? Zofie: She's British so tea, preferably earl grey or darjeeling. They take it with a little milk and one sugar. But she will drink coffee as long as it's a latte or flavoured with syrups. Kiara: Long as it's sweet she doesn't care. The Queen of Beggars makes a sweet tea she really likes, and if she can get her hands on hot chocolate then she's there, but coffee makes her gag as it's so bitter. Seren: She loves all TranquiliTeas, especially Sunray and Dynastic Aeryn: Doesn't care. Long as it's hot. (That's a lie....she does quite like an angaran hot fruit drink that she always orders when on Aya.) Safe and Secure? Zofie: being surrounded by familiar things, even when she's in an unfamiliar place. It's why she brings half her collection of antique weapons with her and designs where ever she's moved to, down to the last detail. She also always feels safe in any Coterie base she is in. Kiara: A feeling as trust. She instantly felt she could trust Garrett, so stayed with him in the Clocktower, even though she'd only just met him. She always felt safe and secure at her shrine in Caulkenny, feeling that no one knew of it's location and could get to it without knowing the hidden coastal path that you needed to be an excellent climber to get near. She trusted her own skills then. Seren: Her ship now. It's the one place that's hers, whether it's the Guardian or a ship she takes over to become her own. She used to be safe in the Lodge, but the Hunter tore that away from her. Aeryn: With Reyes or on board The Tempest. Even with all the danger surrounding Reyes, she feels safe with him, knowing he'd never betray her. The Collective have her back now she knows too, should anything happen regarding the Benefactor. The Tempest is one place she feels safe, that even when she's on the Nexus she sleeps on the ship. After the Kett invaded the Hyperion, there is always that worry they could again, least on the ship they could escape. Lazy morning? Zofie: It's rare she is awake in the morning, considering she is quite nocturnal in her goings on. But on free days it consists on a hot tea and pastry brought back to bed and checking up on everything going on that isn't pertinent to her mission at the time. Kiara: She sleeps during the day, so a lazy sunset awakening would be checking over her gear, maybe improving something, or finding a corner with a blanket wrapped round her and reading a book. Seren: Time of day is meaningless to her now, so mornings are what ever they are. She doesn't need to sleep much at all anymore. She used to like padding in her dressing gown and slippers to the lounge around of the Lodge, if Barrett had been making breakfast and enjoying that with a hot cup of tea, then heading to either her room or Sam's to read the day's slates whilst leaning against him, knowing Cora never woke up before noon. If on her ship, much the same, though she'd be the one making breakfast, usually an alien honey on toast or synth bacon with potatoes. Now she takes what she gets and appreciates any moment of calm. Aeryn: Coffee, some protein snack or what ever Drack had cooked up and checking the days mail. She doesn't really have lazy mornings in Heleus, unless she's staying with Reyes and it's enforced. Then, well..staying in bed seems to be the order of the day until her stomach grumbles then Reyes will make brunch.

[shutterbug-12]

TAG GAME: EIGHT SHOWS TO GET TO KNOW ME

Tagged by @santabarbara-skies​​, aaayyyy! I hardly get tagged so yaaaaaay! 

Also this is kind of hard, but I’ll try (and like Em, I’m adding explanations, sort-of-kind-of, but not fancy formatting because I’m lazy). 

The West Wing. Still my all-time favorite. Is it idealistic? Sure. Is it preachy sometimes? Yeah. But does it make my bleeding liberal heart glow and hopeful? You bet. Do I want to hug a pillow whenever someone says, “A guy falls in a hole...” or “What’s next?” or “Babies come with hats.” or “He loves teams, I love him so much” or almost-anything-CJ-or-Sam-says? Almost always. So, yeah, it’ll always top my list. 

Psych. Burton Guster, my beloved. I started this show for two reasons: Dule Hill was in it and I just finished the West Wing and needed to keep that connection going; and it a Sherlock Holmes adaptation-sort-of, and I am basically on board for almost anything that is loosely modeled on Holmes. But I stayed for, oh, god, all of it. The two idiots at the center of it all, for Shawn and Juliet, for Lassie, for the bond between Lassie and Juliet, for everything. It is just an absolute delight, come on, son, jerk chicken, Pluto, suck it, meeeeeee, incarcerated in a blueberry, TT Showbiz, MC ClapYoHandz, I would rather fill-in-the-blank, pineapples, Banana as in Bananarama, you know that’s right. 

Friends. Another one that’s definitely dated and contains plenty of sexist, fatphobic, homophobic, and other problematic content. But I have a huge soft spot for this show and would still be one of my desert island shows, if not my #1 desert island show, because it makes me laugh every. single. time. It’s not my favorite show, but it’s the one that makes me feel the most, I don’t know...home? Like I’m going back to this place that isn’t perfect, but somewhere I grew up and so it means a lot to me. And a lot of it really is still funny and adorable and heartwarming, you know?

Ripper Street. Another one that has Sherlock Holmes vibes, but also includes my favorite handsome man, Matthew Macfadyen. Plus, period drama goodness, with an excellent cast overall, great acting, good writing, and a great ending that’s bittersweet but fitting and satisfying. The character arcs are just fabulous. There are lots of hats and vests. And dry dark humor. And moments that will break your heart to pieces. But others that will give you life. Probably one of the most underrated shows on this whole list, if not the most underrated. Plus the fandom is (still) lovely. Seriously one of the nicest, best fandoms I’ve ever been a part of.

House MD. The one that started it all for me, and by “it all” I mean my leap into internet fandom communities. So it’s quite special to me. I was one of the only House/Stacy fans on the planet, I think, but that’s how it goes. And more importantly: the friends I made because of this show! The fics I wrote! (Eden in particular, still one of my favorites I’ve ever written for any fandom.) The fics I read! Plus the show itself is my cup of tea, being yet another Sherlock Holmes-esque (Holmes--Homes--House) story on this list. Hugh Laurie just kills it every damn time (although, much like Macfadyen, I just...can’t get used to and actually really hate his American voice/accent, just no, please stop, please just speak in your normal voice, please). The only downside is that it doesn’t have a ton of rewatch value for me, but maybe one day I’ll get back to it again. 

Black Sails. Another awesome period drama that was/is criminally underrated and under-watched. This. Show. Y’all. If you haven’t seen it, just see it. It’s got everything. The characters, so deliciously flawed but sympathetic and layered! Jack my favorite sassy ratboi captain. Flint, everyone’s favorite murder husband. Tits! Fruit! Oh, the production value is gorgeous, the ladies are badass, and it’s just a romp. Watch it. 

The Marvelous Mrs Maisel. Heeeey, another period piece, dramedy this time, though. And one of the more female-centric shows on my list. It’s hilarious, plain and simple. Jewish culture is everywhere in it, which I adore and appreciate. Tony Shalhoub as Abe Weissman and Alex Borstein as Susie Myerson are nothing short of brilliant in it. I love Lenny, but only because I love historical shows that weave in real people (I’m not a Lenny/Midge fan, sorry; I was rooting for Benjamin, even though I didn’t think it would pan out). I can’t wait to see how the series ends. I’ve loved every minute of it. 

The Mindy Project. My guilty pleasure show, and I shouldn’t feel that guilty about it. A show about a successful doctor who struggles to find love and herself in the big city? Yes, please. It’s sweet. It’s absolutely hilarious. Mindy Kaling is so relatable sometimes it hurts (in a good way). I wish I had her entire wardrobe, it’s amazing. Even the supporting cast is adorable and endearing and you just want to hug all of them and tell them they’re doing great, sweeties. It’s a super-sweet pick-me-up show, just a joy. 

And I tag...whoever. Here are a couple: @houseocats​ @olivelune​ @scienceoftheidiot​ @deelaundry​ @hondagirll​