#like I guess it’s fair but. come on man

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington, who has a very “in name only” relationship with his parents, the people who claim they love him lots but have simply given him cash for his last six birthdays without bothering to send a card. 

Steven Harrington, who lost his connection to the only adults in his life who actually parented him when he had his final fight with Tommy and Carol-- not that they ever really did that much. Having an adult put a bandaid on his knee and complimenting him for being tough was plenty enough. 

Steve Harrington, who drove Dustin and co. to the Byers house that one Christmas and was told by Hopper not to come in; that Joyce was still mad at him about the ‘demodog in the fridge’ and figured his exclusion was fair--it wasn’t like Hopper actually liked him. Joyce certainly had no reason to. It wasn’t like he was doing anything for Christmas anyways. 

Steve Harrington, who is fairly certain Robin’s parents have clocked her as queer but who still treats him in that careful way many parents do when he’s hanging around their daughter. There’s a barrier there, in the way of firm handshakes and “get her back safe”’s that keep things formal. (It’s never bothered him before, and he swears it doesn’t bother him now.) 

Steve Harrington, whose relationships with adults are defined by words like “networking”, “proper connections”, “favors”, and “finances”, who has at best been treated like a miniature version of his father and at worst as a spoilt moron, who encounters Wayne Munson and has no idea what to do with the man. 

Wayne Munson, who asks him actual questions about his life. Who asks him to watch the game with him. Who calls him “boy” and “son” in ways that sound affectionate and not frustrated. Wayne, who shoos him away from the dishes and compliments his cooking, who has invited Steve over when Eddie isn’t even home.

Steve Harrington, who keeps apologizing to Eddie because “I’m not trying to steal your Uncle man, I promise.” and doesn’t believe Eddie when the latter just laughs at him.

(“You can’t steal Wayne, Steve.” Eddie says with a snicker, when he finally figures out what Steve is apologizing for.  The guy apologizes a lot for things that make no sense, it’s a bad habit Eddie’s working on him with. “Though I do believe he has been trying to steal you.” 

“Oh.” This does not relieve Steve. In fact, this seems to make him more nervous looking, which Eddie does not want. 

“I uh. I don’t want to come between you guys so I guess we can just hang at my house…?” The voice he trails off with is downright painful for Eddie to hear, and he’s already slashing his hand in the air in a wild ‘No’ before Steve can even finish speaking.

“Dude you’re fine. I’m glad you guys are getting along! Wayne needs someone to talk sportsball with and clearly so do you because you keep trying to talk about it to anyone who will listen.”

“I guess if you’re alright with it…”) 

Steve Harrington, who allows himself to be adopted by the Munsons much in the way a feral cat lets itself become domesticated, and who starts looking at Wayne like the man hung the moon. 

Wayne Munson, who is referred to by Steve as “Dad” exactly once, and feels so fucking happy about it he misses the panic attack Eddie has to talk Steve through. 

He also misses that that is the moment when Steve accidentally confesses his feelings to Eddie in the Munson’s (new) cramped bathroom, on grounds that “I can’t date you and also call Wayne dad like that, that’s weird! Isn’t that weird!? It feels weird!” 

(“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, trying not to smile and failing entirely. “I get what you’re saying, but I think in your panic you missed something kinda key, there.”) 

Steve Harrington, who gets himself an entire family in the end (and gets to both call Wayne “dad” and Eddie as his boyfriend, without issue, because “we’re not related babe, you can call your inlaw whatever you want.” 

“Now who's skipping steps? When did we get married?”

“The very second it’s legal, that’s when.”) 

--and has never been happier in his life.

[starrylanex]

bf!dean having to see reader take one for the team and flirt/make themselves bait for a pervy witness during a mission. I'm just wanting to see how hard it would be for him to restrain himself from stepping in or him having to step in if things get out of hand 🤍

Thank you Pookie 😘

COST OF THE JOB, D. WINCHESTER

wordcount: 1,2k; warnings: a creepy guy, readers uncomfortable but dean comes in and saves the day.

an: hi angels, this has been in my drafts for way too long now so I think its fair it finally sees the daylight lol, so sorry to the person that requested this, but here it is now✨

———

The second Sam briefed all of you on the plan, you knew it was going to be a problem.

Not because the mission itself was complicated, just a simple case of a missing person, tied to a local creep with enough ties to the supernatural world to be suspicious. No, the problem was the role you were being asked to play.

"Carl Jennings," Sam had explained, tossing a file onto the motel room table. "Owns a bar downtown, last person to see our vic before she disappeared. Cops questioned him, but he claimed she left alone. No leads since."

You flipped the file open, scanning the contents. The guy's face was plastered across one of the pages, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a face that made your gut twist. Not because he looked particularly intimidating, but because you recognized the type.

Sleazy. Overconfident. The kind of man who thought women were owed to him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So, what? We knock on his door, ask real nice?"

Sam shook his head. "He's not gonna talk to us. But," he turned to you, "he's got a type."

You groaned, already seeing where this was going.

"Great." You dragged a hand down your face. "Let me guess, I'm the bait."

Sam hesitated before nodding. "He likes younger women, especially ones who act... interested. If we send you in, maybe you can get him talking."

Silence.

Dean hadn't said anything yet.

You glanced at him, expecting at least a grunt of disapproval, but he was just staring at the file. Too quiet. Too still.

Oh, yeah. He hated this.

"Dean?" you said, his name sounding more like a question.

His jaw clenched. "Do we really need to do it this way?"

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"No, seriously," Dean cut in, his voice sharp. "There's gotta be another way. We can corner him after hours, rough him up a little—"

You snorted. "Yeah, because nothing says 'please tell us everything you know' like breaking someone's nose."

Dean shot you a look, but you ignored it, closing the file and pushing it away. "Look, I get it. This isn't exactly my dream gig, either, but if this is the best way to get him to talk, then I'll do it."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning forward to brace his forearms against his knees. He ran a hand over his mouth, visibly trying to reel himself in. "I don't like it."

"I know." You placed a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. "I don't either, but I can handle myself."

Dean's eyes flicked to yours, something passing through them. Something tight and reluctant, something that said I know you can handle it. I just don't want you to have to. But he didn't argue.

And that's how you ended up here. with Dean Winchester sitting few tables away from you pissed.

And honestly? You couldn't blame him. 

Because if the roles were reversed, if it were him sitting at the bar, laughing a little too sweetly at some pervy woman's joke, letting her place a hand on his arm, leaning in just enough to give the illusion of interest, you'd probably be throwing chairs. 

But the job was the job, and you knew what had to be done. 

It didn't make it easier. 

You could feel Dean's eyes on you from across the bar, burning into the side of your face, hot and searing. You didn't need to look to know that his jaw was clenched so tight he was probably grinding his teeth, that his fingers were wrapped too tight around his beer bottle, that he was seconds from saying screw the mission and stomping over here just to deck this guy for breathing in your direction. 

And honestly? You wouldn't have minded. 

Because this guy, Carl? Craig? Who cared, was exactly the type you hated dealing with. The kind of man who thought confidence and sleaze were the same thing, who assumed that a polite laugh was an invitation, that the way you leaned in closer was because you wanted to, not because you were trying to get him talking. 

You had the routine down to an art. Light touches. Tilt of the head. Biting your lip just enough. A perfectly timed giggle. And it was working, he was spilling information between flirty comments and drawn-out stories about himself. 

Then he placed a hand on your thigh. 

Every muscle in your body tensed. 

You swallowed the disgust curling in your throat, forcing a breathy laugh as if that wasn't your cue to get the hell out of here. As if your skin wasn't crawling under his touch. 

It's fine. You've done worse. It's just a hand. 

And then he leaned in. 

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice dropping into something meant to be seductive but landed more on the side of stomach-churning.

"You're even prettier up close," he murmured. "Bet you taste just as sweet." 

Oh, hell no.

Before you could react, before you could push him off, before you could figure out whether breaking his nose would blow the mission, he was gone. One second he was next to you, and the next, Dean was in his place, standing between you like an immovable wall, broad and solid and yours.

Oh, shit. 

You barely registered the sound of the guy stumbling back, his confused "Who the hell are you?" barely processing because your brain was still catching up with the fact that Dean had moved.

Because Dean Winchester never let personal feelings get in the way of a mission. Not when it mattered. 

But this? This was you. 

His restraint had been stretched too thin, too fast. 

And now? Now that elastic band had snapped.

"Her boyfriend." Dean's voice was rough, clipped, the kind of dangerous that had made grown men twice his size back down without a second thought. 

The guy scoffed, glancing at you like he expected you to deny it. When you didn't, he rolled his eyes. "Jesus, relax, man. She was into it." 

Your stomach churned. You were so close to just decking this guy yourself, mission be damned, but Dean's grip on the bar was white-knuckle tight, and you knew if you so much as exhaled wrong, he'd finish what he started. 

You placed a hand on his back, fingers curling into his shirt, not to stop him, but to ground him. To tell him I'm okay. I've got this.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, tension radiating through his body. "Yeah, well, work's over," he gritted out. "So why don't you take your slimy hands and crawl back into whatever hole you came from, huh?" 

The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, muttering something under his breath as he walked off, and only then did you feel Dean's body loosen under your touch. The moment the guy was out the door, Dean turned to you, scanning your face like he expected to find something broken. Like he was waiting for an excuse to go after the guy and finish the job.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, hands finding your waist, pulling you in like he needed to feel you close.

You sighed, letting yourself relax into him, just for a second. "I had it under control, De." 

Dean huffed, eyes flicking to where the guy had disappeared. "Yeah, well, my self-control only goes so far." 

Your lips twitched. "I noticed." 

Dean ran a hand down his face, exhaling deeply. "Next time, I'm taking the pervy witness." 

You grinned, tilting your head. "Sure when you grow a pair of boobs."

Dean smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple, warm and steady and safe.

"Might as well."

[rayyanishere1]

"Studying? Yeah, Totally."

A Short FiddleStan Oneshot

(Part of the Loser Ford AU, but isn't relevant to the lore whatsoever lmao)

One night, Ford announced that he'd be at the library for a couple of hours.

"Knock yourself out, Sixer."

Once he left, Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other.

"Wanna..?"

"You don't even have to ask."

Stan led Fiddleford to the couch with only one motive in mind.

Forcing him to watch trashy television! They spent good money on that TV, and by God, they were gonna use it.

"Ladies and Gents, welcome back to 'Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong!' The show where you don't win prizes, but you don't get punished, either. I'm your host, Zain Squalus—"

Ah, yes, gameshows. The peak of entertainment.

"Is this really what you wanna watch?"

"It's either this, weird chick dramas, or the news."

Welp, can't argue with that.

Fiddleford tried many times to make a move; pretending to yawn to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder, not very subtly inching his hand towards Stan's thigh. Hell, he tried to go in for a kiss at least 3 times!

Without fail, something would make Stan dodge his advances. Oh, he suddenly has to shift a little in the opposite direction to grab something, oh, something shocking happened and he needed his whole body to react to it.

Seems fate was planning on cockblocking Fiddleford today. Not cool, man. Not cool.

During a commercial break, Stan left to get some snacks. That gave Fiddleford some time to think.

It was obvious that subtlety was getting him absolutely nowhere. He just had to be a little more direct, right? Yeah, that's definitely it.

Stan returned with a bowl of chips and sat back down. Now was time for Fiddleford's master plan.

He used every tactic he knew all at once. Wrapping an arm around Stan's shoulder, leaning in closer. Maybe he should also try getting Stan's mind off of this weird gameshow he was so invested in...

"You know, Stanley, we're home alone."

"I would hope so, yeah."

"And we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, we are! We're watching Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong, the totally original gameshow based in Oregon."

"I just thought that, with Stanford gone, we'd be doing something else."

"...I don't follow."

That's Stan Pines for you, folks. The dumbest genius on Earth.

"Stanley..."

Fiddleford didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, he decided that his plan of being direct was the right way to go.

"Stanley Pines."

"That's my name. Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to be if you don't kiss me right now."

"Haha, what?"

∆∆∆

The TV buzzed on in the background as they practically devoured each other's faces.

"Fidds, if you were this—hah—pent up, you could've just told me.."

"I tried to! For an entire hour!"

"Wait, really?"

"Lord, yes! I suppose something was keeping you from noticing."

"Uh huh.."

Deeming the couch to be too uncomfortable, Fiddleford took it upon himself to bring them somewhere more suitable for their.. Activity.

He picked Stan up like he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom.

Many kisses later, the two were shirtless and all over each other. It was like they were trying to fit multiple days worth of making out into one session. To be fair, though, it wasn't often that they had alone time like this.

Stan pulled away for a moment, much to Fiddleford's dismay.

"Ford's been out later than usual. He could come back any minute..."

Just as he said that, they heard the front door open.

Oh, God.

They rushed to put something on, not bothering to check what they had grabbed. If Ford saw them like this, in their shared space, Lord knows they'd never hear the end of it.

"Wait, are you wearing my—"

Too late to change now!

A few lazy knocks came from the door before Ford went in. He didn't even look at them, he just dropped his bag on the floor and flopped face first onto his bed.

Stan sighed in relief. It was a good thing that Ford was so tir—

"Wait."

The couple tensed up, expecting to get berated for their "inappropriate behaviour." Instead, Ford just took his glasses off and put them on his side table before promptly passing back out.

That was close...

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Monster Movie | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ? )

Warnings: all of 'em. put 'em all here. mentions of disordered eating, descriptions of severe anxiety, dean is lowkey being the worst, burns, injuries, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3587

A/N: I'm gonna keep it very real with y'all. Please heed the warnings about anxiety and disordered eating. If I am honest, I kinda got triggered writing it as I pulled the experience of my character from my own experience in a previous relationship. Obviously, the circumstances were very different, but I used to get tonnnssss of anxiety specifically while eating that ended in me becoming malnourished because the person I was dating was so horrible to me. Dean isn't like that, though, and I guess I kind of used this chapter and this part of the character's arc to heal that pain still within me, even after years.

Please know I understand if you have to skip out on this chapter for the reasons above. The beginning of season 4 is going to be very rocky as Dean and (Y/N) continue to learn to trust each other again, but I hope to see you in the coming weeks as the storm begins to calm. Much love to you, as always.

-m

“Dean,” you breathed out, eyes filling with tears. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sat in the chair across from the bed that he’d undoubtedly put you in.

“Dean, I’m so sorry—” 

That seemed to send a ping of anger through him, but he suppressed it. “We can talk about that later. Are you okay?” 

“I think so,” you said. You pushed yourself up with a wince and noticed the gauze around your left forearm and right calf. “You did this?” 

He nodded. 

You smiled lopsidedly, cheeks heating. “Thank you.” You tried to joke lightheartedly. “You’re finally getting a hang of the right way to dress a burn.”

“Eh, I had a good teacher,” he shrugged. 

You’d missed this so much; the comfort in the mundane moments with him. 

Both of you seemed a little too scared to say anything, and you stared at your scraped up hands instead of at him. 

“I’m still pissed at you,” he stated.

You nodded. “I figured.”

Another moment of tense silence passed between you.

“Once you’re healed, I still want you gone,” Dean said. His blunt tone felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

Even still, you nodded. “That’s fair.”

Dean nodded sharply and got to his feet. When he’d nearly left the room, he turned around again. “Why aren’t you fighting me on this?”

You threw your hands up in defeat. “What do you want me to say, Dean?”

He approached the bed you were in once more. “Something. Anything. Be mad. Yell at me. Call me an asshole. Dammit, tell me what happened. Explain it all away. Just something!” 

You used the side of your thumb to apply pressure to the bridge of your nose. “Well, you pretty definitively told me to leave and not to come back at Bobby’s.”

“I gave you a choice!”

“A choice you couldn’t even begin to understand the difficulty of!” you shouted back. 

“Okay, so tell me!” he yelled. “Help me understand! Because you’re not making sense to me, (Y/N)!”

You huffed, going quiet for a moment. “I can’t,” you finally breathed out, hiding your face from him. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course, you can’t,” he muttered angrily. He started back for the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him hesitate while he grabbed the door handle. When the door shut behind him, you felt your heart sink.

****

Being in the backseat of the Impala again was an amazing feeling. You were tired of going it alone. However, the tense atmosphere was something you could do without.

“The radio around here sucks,” Dean grumbled. He turned it off, briefly stealing a glance at his skulking brother. “Come on, man. Jobs don't get much sweeter than this, you know? Dead vic with a gnawed-on neck, body drained of blood, and a witness who swears up and down that it was a vampire.” He was making it clear he was going the route of ignoring you and only addressing you with a sharp comment when absolutely necessary.

“No, I- I agree,” Sam said half-heartedly. “It’s a hell of a case.” “A little more gusto, please.”

“It's just... the world is coming to an end. Things are a little complicated, you know?”

“C’mon, man, it's like the good old days, an honest-to-goodness monster hunt. It's about time we got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.”

****

“Oktoberfest 2008” was painted on a sign Dean drove past, and you watched people celebrating in tacky Lederhosen and barmaid costumes. 

“You stay,” Dean told you gruffly when he parked the car. 

You crossed your arms and stared out the window. 

“We still got to see the new Raiders movie,” Dean pointed at his brother as he got out of the car. 

“Saw it,” Sam replied monotonously. 

“Without me?” 

Their voices became distant as they shut the doors and walked away. 

You felt sick to your stomach. Everything you wanted to say to Dean— the things that had happened since he went to Hell, Uriel, Castiel, the things you’d done— they were all on the tip of your tongue. But then, he’d glare at you. Your heart would sink, and you’d retreat right back into yourself.

Marissa Wright was a young girl who’d been visiting the town for Oktoberfest. Strangely, she had two dark marks on her neck like a cartoonish vampire bite. At least, that was what you gathered from the pictures you’d snagged a peek at over Sam’s shoulder on the ride from the morgue to the bar Dean and Sam had left you outside of.

Frankly, Marissa Wright wasn’t interesting to you. At the moment, you were too concerned with your angel business. Uriel’s words about killing Sam loomed over you, and you felt like you couldn’t leave the Winchesters even once you were healed because of what Uriel was making you do.

Somehow, you needed to regain Dean’s trust. The idea of trying to manipulate him made you sick, but maybe it was what you needed to do to protect him. Even if he never understood why you did the things you did, at least he’d still be alive to wonder.

****

That night, you were unable to sleep. That, unfortunately, was not unusual. Yet again, you were alone in a motel room wishing to be next to Dean. 

The mirror had become your worst enemy. Shirts you’d stolen from Steven when he was a teenager hung even more loosely off you than they did before Dean died. Your arms lacked the muscle tone they once had, and you felt weaker and sicker with each passing day.

An anxiety was beginning to form within you that you’d become unhealthily dependent on Dean. You never wanted that for yourself; men had always been an accessory to you before Dean. You were complete on your own. Now, you weren’t sure what was wrong with you.

Was it that you missed Dean that much? Was it the angels? Was it the things you’d done? You supposed it was a combination of all of the above. 

****

The next morning, you opened the door to your room to see Sam. Your heart sank a bit that it wasn’t Dean, and it seemed like that much was evident based on your facial expression.

“Good to see you, too,” Sam chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Good morning, by the way.”

The brunet nodded, still seeming not to feel sure where he stood between you and his brother at the moment. “We’re leaving in five. Headed to the morgue, I think.”

“Another attack?” you asked.

Sam nodded. “Doesn’t sound anything like the last one, though.”

“Fun stuff,” you replied, pulling your boots on. “You think he’s gonna put me in the timeout chair again?”

The younger brother looked at the ground bashfully, and you sighed. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” 

****

Sure enough, Dean made you stay in the car again. It seemed he was deriving some strange satisfaction from keeping you separated from the case. Or maybe his joy came from the fact that it very visibly pissed you off.

When the boys returned to the car, you didn’t ask any questions about the case. Frankly, you weren’t interested. However, Sam was adamant about getting your input. 

“Wolf Man?” you scoffed. “Are you sure?”

“What, do you think we’re idiots?” Dean snapped.

You took a deep breath and nearly bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet. “It’s not that, Dean,” you said lowly. “It’s that it’s just sort of implausible to have found a wolf hair next to a body with its heart still intact and Dracula-accurate fang marks in that girl’s neck.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Dean snapped.

“Dean! Cut it out, man,” Sam warned. 

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam, but he didn’t press the issue. 

The ride remained silent until the three of you arrived at the bar Dean had left you outside the day before. 

Sam opened the door for you, encouraging you to get out despite the very obvious glares from his brother. 

Once inside the bar, you sat on the same side of the booth as Sam. Dean grumpily chomped on his burger, and Sam ate his meal silently. You didn’t even order anything; your stomach was too upset and tied in knots to properly digest anything. As soon as you tried, you knew you’d be in the bathroom puking your guts up. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat something?” Sam asked you.

You shook your head. 

“C’mon, not even a bite of mine?” he tried again.

You shook your head once more, feeling too shaky to say anything.

Dean looked up from his burger momentarily to address you. “C’mon, (Y/N), you gotta eat something.” His tone was still guarded, but it was nowhere near as harsh as it had been in the car.

“I’m fine,” you mustered out. 

You could feel Dean’s eyes on you, but you just stared down at the table in front of you and took a sip of your water.

The pretty blonde waitress, Jamie, bounded up to the table with two more beers for Sam and Dean. 

“Looks like you guys are staying a while. I heard about Rick Deacon,” she said, referencing the most recent victim. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, this case just got weird enough for our department.”

“Well, beers are on me,” she replied with a smile. Then, she turned to Dean confidently. “And, just so you know, I get off at midnight tonight.”

“Oh, it's not another, uh, girls' night out?” Dean smirked up at her.

Your stomach fell to your shoes, and rage bubbled in your chest. However, you knew your anger was misplaced. He wasn’t yours anymore, and you needed to accept that.

Jamie returned his playful smile. “Doesn't have to be.”

“Okay, then. I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay, then.” And, with that, she left.

Sam noticed your discomfort, but he couldn’t offer you anything more than an empathetic look.

Without even noticing you, Dean said, “Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool.”

**** Another murder, except this time, committed by a mummy. However, you and the brothers determined the “mummy” was using special effects from a prop house in Philadelphia to enhance his monstrous performance. You were either dealing with a Silence-of-the-Lamb-level psychopath, or… you weren’t really sure. Truth be told, you weren’t devoting even a half of your attention to this case. That seemed to put Dean off, slightly, and it made him even more sure you should be kept in the car. Secretly, you thought it was because he was worried about your wounds, but you also knew there was a really strong chance he just did not want to see you.

When Dean realized he’d be late for his date with Jamie, your heart sank. Still, Dean ran off and left you and Sam behind to investigate.

“(Y/N),” Sam said, turning to you. “You have got to eat something. You look like hell.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sam,” you responded absently. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.”

You continued to poke around the sarcophagus. “No,” you snapped. You realized how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I just— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You could feel Sam scanning your face, but he just nodded slowly.

“I really am sorry, Sam,” you said sincerely.

His tone was soft and understanding. “I know you are.” 

As much as you didn’t really trust him as a result of the whole “Ruby” ordeal, Sam had a way of making you feel seen. He really was an incredible friend to you, and you hated what you felt your relationship was turning into. 

Not even ten minutes later, Sam got a call from Dean. With a panicked expression on his face, Sam gave you a look that meant the two of you needed to leave at that moment. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Is Dean okay?” Your heart pounded in your throat.

“Dracula attacked,” Sam replied as he tried to hail a cab. 

“What?!” 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all I know right now.”

As soon as you made it to the bar, you burst through the doors. When you saw Dean sitting at a table with Jamie, your heart sank in the midst of your relief.

“Hey,” Sam called out, trailing behind you. “You guys all right?” Dean sighed. “Yeah, I think so. And I think I know what's going on.” He put a folded towel down on the table.

“Yeah?” his brother replied.

“Part of it, at least.”

You hesitantly reached out to the towel, trying to keep your distance from Jamie and Dean. He eyed you curiously while you opened the towel. An ear was inside. You lightly touched it; immediately recoiling as you realized what it was. 

“Shifter,” you stated, keeping your eyes anywhere but on Dean’s.

“Oh, man,” Sam huffed.

Dean nodded. “Just like St. Louis and just like Milwaukee. Of course this one's all holding buckets of crazy. Oh, and, uh—” he took a medallion out of his pocket and tossed it to Sam. “This, I uh, pulled it off during the fight. Look at the label on the ribbon.”

Sam scoffed when he read it. “It's a costume rental.”

“All three monsters— the Dracula, Wolf Man, and the mummy— all the same critter; which means we need to catch this freak before he Creature From the Black Lagoons somebody.”

Jamie’s voice broke in. “So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and The X-Files are real?”

You didn’t miss how Jamie failed to include you in the analogy.

“No, The X-Files is a TV show. This is real,” Dean replied.

“Oh.” The blonde looked down at the table in front of her.

“Okay, so, the stagecraft, the costuming—” Sam pointed out, “it's like he's trying to re-enact his favorite monster movie moments, right down to the bloody murders.”

Jamie furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait a second. Who the hell is Mina?”

“Mina?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah. That's what he called Jamie,” Dean nodded. “And he called me Mr. Harker.”

You bit the inside of your lip. “Characters from the original Drac movies and novels. Harker’s Mina’s fiancé. Dracula’s obsessed with Mina. Seems he fixated on you, darlin’,” you nodded at Jamie, pushing down your jealousy.

You knew it was twisted to be jealous of a girl getting stalked, but it was just solidifying in your mind that Dean wasn’t yours anymore. And it was all your fault.

“Wow. Lucky me,” Jamie groaned.

“But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before or been around you,” Sam added.

Dean turned to the blonde. “Jamie, has anybody strange come to town, somebody that has taken a specific notice of you?”

“I don't know, Dean. It's Oktoberfest. I'm a bartender. There's lots of people. I... wait a second. There is Ed.”

“ ‘Ed Brewer’ Ed?” Sam asked. You assumed it was someone they’d met earlier on the hunt; possibly while you were confined to the car.

“Yeah. He moved here about a month ago. Lucy swears he has a crush on me. He comes in almost every night. But, you know, I don't think he's the type of guy—”

“Where does Ed live?” Dean asked, cutting her off.

“I don't know. But he works at the old movie theater. I think he's the projectionist there.”

Sam looked to you and jerked his head toward the door. You turned on your heel, hearing Sam ask Dean to take care of “Mina” before he followed behind you. Anger bubbled in your chest, but you were trying to keep your feelings from seeping out.

****

You cocked your gun against the back of the head of Mr. Ed Brewer. 

“Whoa!” Brewer asked, holding his hands up in surrender. “W-Wait just one second, okay?” He tried to turn around to face you.

“Don’t move,” you commanded, voice eerily cold.

“W-What do you want?”

“You know what you did, Ed,” you replied.

“What?”

“I know what you are.”

“I'm not anything. I just like to play the Casio,” the man pleaded.

Sam nodded at Ed’s skull. “Had time to grow the ear back, huh?”

“What?!” He tried to turn around again.

“I said don’t fucking move,” you sneered.

Brewer froze again.

Sam tugged on Ed’s ear, but it wouldn’t budge. “It's supposed to come off.”

“No, it’s not!” he replied.

“You’re right,” you stated evenly. “I’m gonna walk away now. You don’t move until exactly two minutes after you hear the last of my footsteps, okay?”

“Okay, okay—”

You cut Ed off by pistol whipping him on the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, and you quickly rushed out of the room.

You caught Sam giving you strange looks, but you completely ignored them. “What did we miss, Sam?”

“Uh—”

“Sam! What did we miss?”

“Give me a second, (Y/N)!”

"We may not have ‘a second’!”

“The fuck are you in such a rush for?” he asked. 

“We don’t have time to talk about this, Sam,” you replied, voice becoming even again. “We gotta find this fucker, so I can—” you cut yourself off, nearly biting your tongue to avoid bringing up the angels and your “mission.” First and foremost, you were supposed to be keeping them safe. If you weren’t with Dean, you had no assurance that you were doing your job. 

“So you can what, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.

“I can’t tell you,” you answered sharply.

Thankfully, Sam just huffed and shook his head. 

****

When you got back to the bar, you strutted through the front doors that were surprisingly unlocked. As soon as you entered the bar, you felt uneasy. 

“Dean?” you called hesitantly. 

Sam just chuckled and took out his phone. “Dean, hey listen. Uh, Ed is not our guy. Um, I'm guessing you're at home with Jamie, so just give me a call, okay?”

While he left his voicemail, you walked over to the table Dean and Jamie had been sitting at. You stopped short at a broken bottle on the floor, and a napkin had a lipstick color on it you hadn’t seen Jamie wearing.

“Sam,” you said, feeling slightly choked.

He walked over to you and looked down at the napkin. “Lucy,” he murmured.

“Wait, Jamie’s friend?” you asked.

Sam nodded. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you sighed heavily. 

****

Sam tracked Dean’s cell phone as you sped to the house the signal pinged at. As soon as the car was parked, you were sprinting up the stairs to the door of the house. Sam picked the lock, and you burst in, sneaking around with your gun drawn. 

You nodded for Sam to check upstairs while you went to check downstairs. Quietly, you slinked down the stairs with cat-like grace. Silently, you were hoping you’d be finding Jamie instead of Dean to avoid the awkward rescue scenario. 

Alas, your prayers were not answered. You entered the dark basement and saw a large, medieval looking torture device in the center of the room. Dean grunted while he tried to make it out of his chains, muttering the odd, “Dammit!” 

You lowered your gun as you rounded the device. “Dean?” You came to a stop in front of him, feeling everything in you wanting to run right out of the room.

“Get me outta here, would ya?” His tone was harsh.

You nodded obediently, wanting to avoid fighting with him as much as possible. It upset you that Dean could make the Lederhosen Dracula had dressed him in work. 

“Where’s Sam?” he asked.

You nodded at the stairs. 

“Silent treatment?” Dean scoffed. “Mature.”

“Stop, Dean, please,” you begged quietly. You hated that your voice came out as more of a whine than anything. Then, you rushed out of the room in an attempt to avoid any further conflict. 

When you heard a loud crash upstairs, you ran up the steps to the second floor. Dean followed close behind and burst into the room the scuffling sounds seemed to be coming from. 

Immediately, Dracula tackled Dean. “And you, Harker, now you die.” Dean choked out, “How 'bout now you shut the fuck up?”

With Dean trying to shield himself on the floor, you waited for Dracula to raise his sternum up enough for you to fire. Just as the monster was about to finish Dean off, you shot him once in the chest.

“Silver?” the monster said, seeming mystified. He looked up at you menacingly holding your gun. “It was beauty that killed the beast. No, Mina, do not weep.” He dramatically collapsed into a chair. “Perhaps this is how the movie should end.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, immediately turning on your heels to walk out of the room.

****

The next day, you slumped down in the back seat of the Impala while Dean and Jamie made out just outside the passenger’s side window. 

Faintly, you heard Jamie say, “Well, thank you, G-Man. You have been a great service to your country.” “Oh, yes, I'm very, very patriotic,” he responded flirtatiously.

You scoffed, pulling your gun out of the bag on the seat next to you to clean it. 

When the two brothers finally bid Jamie goodbye and got down into the car, Dean turned his eyes to you in the rearview mirror. “Jamie said to thank you.” He stared at you in the rearview mirror waiting for you to respond.

You never answered, and Dean just shook his head and started driving.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[ficsinhistory]

Gun and Stones

So, I was thinking about Stone these days and some small thoughts came to mind, especially thanks to @shitposting-for-the-soul

Many people think that Stone will become the big villain of Sonic 4 and while I want this man to go through the very valid crash out that he needs to have… I don't believe that this will translate into villainy.

Not against Earth and the team of heroes at least.

Stone is evil. But he also has standards. Are they only relevant to him? Yes, but he does. We've already seen that he's not xenophobic, not caring about Shadow's world domination because he considered him an ally and treated him as such, regardless of the hedgehog being an alien. He took control of a café in Green Hills through shady means, but only because he followed Ivo's manifesto and it didn't even cross his mind to dominate the world without the Doctor.

And that's the thing, Stone wanted to dominate the world with Robotnik. To be his right hand man.

And with Eggman presumed dead, I don't believe any plan to enslave humanity would even cross his mind.

You ask me: Stone has already started a posthumous plan for Ivo once, why not start over?

And I answer: Because of the way Ivo died.

Robotnik sacrificed himself to save the Earth, since he couldn't save it. Not only that, he made that very clear in his final message. And I doubt Stone would want to attack humanity after the most important person in his life sacrificed everything to keep it.

Taking over the Earth would not only be empty without Ivo, it would tarnish the Doctor's ultimate sacrifice. And Stone would never act against Eggman's wishes.

But Stone is also grieving, and that pain and sadness needs to go somewhere.

And I believe it will be directed in two ways, although both end up on the same target: GUN.

The first is that Stone's anger and sadness is directed at GUN from the beginning.

He was once part of this organization and Stone knows how insidious it is. It was because of them that Gerald went crazy and built the Eclipse Cannon. It was because of them that Ivo was discarded without further ado. All this chaos happened because of them.

And Stone wouldn't let that go unpunished.

Maybe he plans to act against GUN alone or when Sonic and the others inevitably face them - especially since Rockwell will probably be the new leader - they need Stone's help, who will be more than happy to help.

Add to that the possibility that Stone will become Shadow's new guardian and this man's anger will triple.

The second is more complicated: Stone will try to get revenge on Sonic and company… because he thinks they were responsible for Ivo's death.

Yes, yes, we know that Tails and Knuckles saved Eggman from his despicable grandfather… but not Stone. Sonic already tried to kill Ivo once and was disappointed when he realized he hadn't succeeded. He has no reason to think that this wasn't what happened again.

Stone would blame them…and that's where GUN would come in.

With Rockwell in charge, the Wachowskis are already on thin ice. With Metal Sonic and Amy Rose showing up? Nah, they're going to be on a witch hunt for all the aliens. And they took advantage of Stone's grief by claiming that it was Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles who killed Robotnik in an attempt to bring him over to their side. Is that a blatant lie? Absolutely, but it's not like GUN plays fair and has any morals anyway lol.

Of course, this would only work if Shadow isn't under his care.

But assuming he isn't, that's quite likely. As is the truth coming out.

My best guess is that Amy would bring Stone to his senses with a speech like she did with Shadow in SA2, perhaps using her temporal powers to show him what really happened (Amy and Stone would get along well in general in my opinion since both characters have caring and unconditional love as a big part of who they are).

We also have the possibility of the team or even Shadow himself telling what really happened.

And Stone would be livid with GUN using him. Again. And tainting Ivo's memory and wishes.

Anyway, I can't wait to see Stone back and terrorizing GUN! Thanks for reading!

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

what do you make of aleixandri as a signing? she had a good game against us in october, a not terrible performance in december but from what i��ve seen online about her performances in the wel (which i don’t really watch but know a lot of people who do) since christmas it’s not been good. also for spain this last window i was very uninspired by her. i had heard good things last year but seems she’s taken a fairly hard hit in terms of form recently. would a player like that really be the one signing you want to make this season? personally i would rather bring martina back, paredes minutes will probably decrease next season so there would be room for her, bring up sydney to the first team to cover patri/alexia (and engen and pina can be last man cover for those midfield positions too since they’re not their strongest ones but can play there and have experience in the team) and invest somewhere else

were we watching the same match? to call laia's performance in december against us "not terrible" when she was one of the best players for man city on the night is a take...😵‍💫

sometimes i see asks like this and think you would probably have gotten rid of alexia last year too. it's similar to fan commentary during alexia's renewal saga when she was coming back from injury and people were posting that she was washed because she didn't have a great run of matches and was quiet during the world cup. the idea of discounting a player for a poor stretch of play never sat right with me.

all players have slumps. it could be physical or it could be psychological. frido is going through one right now but that doesn't mean we sell her. 🙄

but i know that laia is a good player, she's shown it last fall when she was one of the best players for man city in the champions league matches against us and she's shown it in prior matches for the national team. and she's only 24 years old. there's also a lot to be said to be going home to your childhood club, the club of your life. that's extra motivation for any player. i have faith in us to get her back to her prime form. 🙏

and martina IS coming back and sydney is sticking around, so those do not interfere with this signing.

so most spanish players would fit into the barça system. remember that a lot of current barça players did not spend their entire youth at la masia but we brought them in from other teams (mapi, patri, salma, vicky, cata, irene, marta, etc.)

the other area where i think barça should spend some time looking is the japanese team. i watched the she believes cup final between uswnt and japan, and wow, do i love watching the japanese team play! i have always been a fan of yui hasegawa but there is so much young talent on that team too. watching them play, i think they could fit the barça system too.

yes, i think that is a fair criticism. pere doesn't know what he is doing with several team players tbh. it's like he has his go-to players and then beyond that, just doesn't trust the others, including the youngsters.

barça will renew her for sure (they have already presented her an offer per maria tikas). but yes, i guess it depends on what ingrid is thinking for her future and whether she wants more certainty. that's a fair interpretation of what's happening now too.

[fishyartist]

Sometimes u impulsively tweet out that jobiden needs to hide in shame or kill himself if he’s going to chose “endorse+fund active civilian murder at best (in reality it’s supporting self-admitted genocide)” and get suspended instantly. Great fucking website man

[thealogie]

Rivals budget is like:

Taggie’s wig: $29

Cute dogs: $100,000

80s needle drops: 1 million dollars

Making David Tennant look unfuckable: 100 million dollars

No one help me budget, this is a normal budget breakdown for a tv show

[deoidesign]

I need to know if I'm delusional and projecting onto random characters or if Adam and/or Steve are neurodivergent

You can project whatever you want on them, and I don't know that it's "canon" so to speak but I write them with neurodivergent intent in mind just based on my own life experiences!

so I'm projecting on them too, but it's up for debate whether that's coming across in the text.

Adam is autistic and Steve has ADHD. To Me.

[blueskittlesart]

hello! im pretty sure the reason dgs herlock isnt called sholmes is because he wasnt public domain yet so i assume they couldnt get all the necessary rights!

that’s what i assumed too when the localization was announced but like shouldn’t tobias gregson, enoch drebber, selden, etc have theoretically also had that rule applied to them??? why were certain borrowed characters left completely unchanged and others localized Like That. not that i pretend to understand international copyright law or whatever the hell the conan doyle estate is doing at any given time but that seems weird to me lmao

[give-grian-rights]

can someone tell me why im being abnormal about a character i've barely touched the content of. like yay yippie i watched like 20 hours of you. there's fucking 80 years of content get me OUT OF HERE?

[bubbelpop2]

"y'all can't handle freaks" you're right 😞 I'm not a real freak I can't handle the one I met in real life he gives me anxiety even though he's shown kindness and consideration and friendliness

[awayintheend]

dot dot

[medicinemane]

Really really don't get why so many people seem to have this burning hatred for Ukraine where they'll just... bring them up randomly purely to drag them through the mud and it's like... ok... but... do you actually know a single thing about Ukraine or what's been happening there?

Do you for instance remember when a major dam was destroyed by russia causing massive ecological damage?

Like I'm dead serious here, can you tell me a single thing that's happened in Ukraine in the last 2 years? Can you in any way demonstrate any basic understanding of the situation?

Cause if not... why do you think you should have an opinion on it, especially if your opinion is gonna be how awful people getting bombed are?

Just legit bothers me and... even more so bothers me the number of smart and caring people I see doing this. Basically I'm not even trying to be rude here, I'm trying to remind you to pay attention and remember that not everything you read on the internet is true, a tumblr post isn't a source unless they're giving you a reputable source

Cause like me? I can go track you down articles about the Nova Kakhovka dam being destroyed, and I can talk about all the reason why it's pretty clear that russia destroyed it

Can you do the same for me? Can you back up your claim about Ukraine with something concrete?

In many ways I'm not even asking you to support Ukraine, I get we have a limit to how much we can focus on, it's ok if you focus on your cause and I focus on mine and... both of us giving our undivided attention, maybe we both make some small impact on the world

What I'm asking is you don't be an asshole for no reason. You don't need to throw Ukraine under the bus. Don't you think your cause stands up on it's own two feet?

And again I'm not Ukrainian, I don't know as well as someone there, though... I spare you a lot of the stuff that crosses my dash because I don't want to burn people out with horrible stuff, but please understand it's worse than you probably think

So no, not Ukrainian, but I'll tell you why I'm still worth listening to: I've followed this every day since the invasion began. I keep my ear to the ground. I do know a fair bit and again can back what I have to say up

Anyway, my plea is to just not be a dick to people for no reason. The correct number of bombed civilians is zero, that's my stance

[lyricalambrosia]

I love writing normal well adjusted men (aka another snippet of the final chapter of Can You Feel The Sun?, the first two chapters of which you can read here!)

[hero-in-high-tops]

Ultimate spider-man is good when it's not being aggressively early 2000s