#no kne has the energy to fucking listen

[autobahnmp3]

today was crazyyyyy at work

[fireandiceland]

Because my braincells decided to stay in London, have a thought.

Either the hetalia characters put on a rendition of Heather's the musical (pls watch it if you havent)

J.d is either Arthur or Ivan bc murderous intent, depression and very over the top, and the fact that he kills a bunch of people.

Veronica is either fuckin finland or Hungary bc idk I feel like it works.

The Heather's are the BFT bc france is a fucking diva and he would pull of heather Chandler like he was born for the role.

Or the plain thought of younger nations, HK, Iceland, Lithuania etc acting like actual grandpas in front of people their physical age.

Ok HK would be mostly fine, a he uses lots of old phrases which is a bit odd but no one questions it.

But when Iceland is trying to be cool he ways brings up things from a hundred to 30 years ago, ie he has said that disco was his favourite genre to seem cool, and everyone just looked at him bc my dude actually said disco.

And Latvia is a lost cause at this point, when he goes out drinking, (perfectly legally america) the bartender always keeps a close watch kn him bc a 16 year old draining a bottle of vodka should be bad, but he never seems worse for wear and has only ever been slightly tipsy when he and Ivan had a competition, used up far too much alcohol to be normal, outdrank Russia and managed to walk out in a straight line.

Plus he gets really nostalgic when locking at certain things, he could be looking around Riga and start waffling to himself about a historical monument and someone nearby is listening and going, "what the fuck is up with this kid" his house has old grandpa like wallpaper and he still has kne of those Soviet era box TVs and his language is clear and understandable, but like in the way somones grandparents would speak.

Djfkdsndf you sent this while I was on vacation and I forgot about it until now oops

I heaven't seen Heathers! Actually I only even know it's a musical because some of the songs were on a playlist I liked on spotify. I think it's not very popular in german speaking countries?? I've meant to watch it tho! I just need to finally sit my ass down and look for a link and.. do it. You have permission to steal my kneecaps if I still haven't watched it by new years. I promise I'll get back to this part of the ask when I've watched it.

Moving on! YES TO 'YOUNG' COUNTRIES ACTING LIKE OLD PEOPLE!! I love that. Iceland's clothes when he first appeared.. look at this. grandpa style <3 and liet too (but I couldn't find good picture)

You know who Latvia reminds me of? Five from the umbrella academy. 60yo man trapped in the body of a 13yo boy. And lmao I love the idea of latvia just out-drinking Ivan like it's nothing XD also him getting asked for an ID has the same energy as Maria from shinmai mao no testament looking younger than the other's who go to school but she acts like their babysitter and deadpan got herself a driving license.

[hannahcoursey]

Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 3

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,896

Request: The reader who lives in a small town called Welling's in Nebraska, her best friend dies and Sam and Dean go to interview her as FBI agents and she doesn’t believe they’re FBI so she follows them one day and gets caught by the Djinn they’re hunting.

A/N: This story is around season 5 when Dean is dealing with the concept of angels being total assholes. So, he’s a little defensive around Castiel still at this point.

PART ONE. PART TWO.

----

You head bobbed lightly against something soft. Cold air whipped around you, slipping over your exposed skin and leaving chills in its wake. Your head felt like it weighed a million pounds. Something was warm up against you, despite the low temperature of the evening. Willing your eyes to open as much as you could muster, you saw the moon’s glow shining down, casting over a stubble covered chin of the man that was carrying you. You caught the fragrance of - was it gunpowder? Maybe with a mix of the lingering scent of body wash and sweat. 

Holding your eyes open was a chore within itself, but the curiosity in you was fighting to keep you conscious. Your hands were folded in your lap, your wrists were red and irritated as if there had been rope around them. His calloused hands were wrapped under your knees and gripped solidly onto your thigh, holding you up against him. You could feel his arm underneath your back as he walked you throughout the night. You could hear another set of footprints coming from behind him. The tall FBI man walked past you in the other man’s arms, as the bobbing came to a halt. You heard him clear his throat and open and then slam closed what sounded like a trunk lid. You kept your eyes shut, forcing yourself to stay awake to gather as much information as you could. 

“Think she saw anything?” You heard the taller man with the shaggier hair mumble. The man who held you in his arms managed a slight shrug.

“I don’t know,” He said, his deep voice rumbling in the chest your head laid on, “I knew it was her following us, but I didn’t think she was so hot on our tails that she’d follow us in there.” 

“Yeah, well,” The taller man took a breath, “She wants her friend back.” He finished. The men said nothing more as they opened up the car doors and settled you in the back. The shorter man slid in the backset and gently picked your head up to rest on his lap, while the tall man got in the driver seat and fired up the car.

“Sammy, you good to drive?” The man in the backseat with you asked. Sammy. 

“I mean, yeah, but I think she’s alright to leave back there.” Sam answered. The other man hesitated.

“You saw the file on her, Sam. She has no one.” He said, his voice low. Your heart dropped so hard, you worried for a slight second that he may have felt the shift in your chest. “I think the last thing she needs is to be back here, confused and alone, with two strange guys wielding machetes and blood stains.” He finished. Neither of them spoke another word as the car roared into gear and left the mill. 

Your mind was begging you to succumb to the sleep that ached for you to give into it. You needed to stay awake, to listen, to gather as much information as you could. But your eyes were heavy and the thought of sleep was growing to be too warm and welcoming to ignore. As the thought passed your incoherent mind, a calloused hand made it way through your hair, brushing it lightly behind your ear. And before you could muster enough energy to fight it, you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

----

You cracked open an eye. Your head pounded as if you’d woken up after a weeks’ long bender. This time, you were in your room again. You sat up quick, the comforter moving off of your chest and landing in your lap. The sudden movement sent a body ache down the length of your back, your muscles sore as if they’d taken a beating. Did you take a beating? You turned and threw the bedding off of you, your feet landing on the floor. Your legs ached and your head felt as if you’d been put through the spin cycle one too many times. You fought the urge to collapse to the ground and leaned on the side of your bed to gather yourself. Footsteps gained momentum down the hallway and you looked up from squinted eyes, your free hand to your head. The fake feds turned the corner, the shorter one walking towards you before stopping in his tracks. You backed up a step.

“Who the fuck,” You tried to sound more threatening than you felt, “Are you guys?” You tried not to wobble on your legs that were beginning to feel increasingly weak underneath you. Sam threw his arms up in defense.

“Listen, Y/N,” He started, but you cut him off.

“And don’t tell me you guys are the feds, alright?” You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut for a second, “I don’t play stupid, I sniffed you out the second you walked in the door with your cheap suits.” You mocked, noticing the shorter one had taken offense.

“Okay, no,” Sam said and cleared his throat, his arms slowly making it back down to his sides, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean,” His head nodded in direction to Dean, who gave you a small grin as a hello, “We’re here for the same reason you are, alright? We’re looking for people that have gone missing around the same time as your friend.” The brothers stood next to each other and in the dim light that streamed through your bedroom window, you could see that they were weathered but attractive men. 

“Have you gotten anything?" You questioned, hardly any more at ease that these men were still in your apartment. 

“Uh, not really, no,” Sam said, throwing a look to Dean as he cleared his throat. The air in the room stiffened and the awkwardness was evident in the glare between the brothers.

“I’m sorry, let me ask that again without the bullshit,” You said, your voice wavering slightly. You cringed internally and begged that the weakness in your tone wasn’t obvious to the brothers. After a few moments of hesitation, Dean wiped a hand down his face.

“Okay, you want the no bullshit answer? The answer is that there is a gypsy wagon full of Djinns rolling through your town that is kidnapping people, draining the life outta them and then leaving em’ for dead.” He said, his voice stern and full of an authoritative tone, knowing full well you wouldn’t know what he was getting at. You stood there and stared at the men. 

“Djinn?” You asked, your brows crinkling, ”Djinn.” You took a breath and wiped at your eyes.

“Look, they did a number on you, you should get some rest-” Sam started, but the way your head shot up stopped him in his tracks.

“On me? They got to me?” Your eyes were the size of melons, meanwhile Dean looked as though you were wasting his time. You looked down and noticed the red trail of burns around your wrists and a few inconsistent spots on your arms that indicated fresh bruises. The way your head was swimming began to make sense. “Okay,” You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself as calm as possible, “And how did I get here?” 

“We killed them-” Dean started, his voice as plain and bored as his face.

“Jesus, Dean-'' Sam said exasperated, “Y-Yes, we killed them.” He said, his hands falling at his sides. Dean shot his brother a confused look before turning back to you. “They were going to kill you, Y/N.” Sam said, his tone serious. You connected the dots as you listened to the men talk.

“So, that’s who that woman was; The one that you killed? With the tattoos?” You inferred. Dean nodded.

“Yeah. their tattoos grow when they start to enchant you and their eyes have this-”

“Glow.” You finished his sentence for him. The men stood there, awkwardly. 

“Well, yeah - They glow,” Dean said and shrugged, “You’re handling this pretty okay.” He said, his expression giving away the concern behind his eyes.

“‘You think I’m taking this okay? I mean, I feel like I’m a second away from hitting the floor, but I’m glad you think I am.” You laughed nervously and sat on the edge of the bed. Sam walked out of the room and Dean made his way over to you. He looked down at you as if he was inspecting you. You patted the spot on the bed beside you and to your surprise, he followed. 

“Listen, kid-” He began, but you scoffed.

“Kid? I’m not a kid, I’m a news reporter - Do you realize I’ve snuck onto crime scenes before the cops had even gotten there? A-And I’ve seen things, a lot of bad things - So don’t act like I don’t know what I’m doing.” You defended yourself, “Don’t sugarcoat this. I can handle it, alright?” You took a breath and wondered how true that statement was. What if they told you Lizzie was dead? What could you handle? What would be the final straw? The thoughts of just where that line could be raced around your head, but a calloused hand on yours took your mind off of it. You looked up at him.

“I’m not saying you’re a kid. I’m saying it’s alright if you feel like the world just came crashing down on your shoulders,” He said, his hand leaving where it rested lightly on yours, “You don’t have to be the hero here.” The room grew silent and with every fiber in your body, you looked down and forced the tears from where they threatened behind your eyes. You nodded. Before you could muster up the words to answer, Sam walked back into the room with a glass of water and you graciously took it.

“So, it looks like last night we found their nest. The only downside of that is that we left it a bloodbath.” Dean stood up and crossed the room, thinking out loud.

“So they’re on the move,” You said, “They know they’ve been made so they won’t stake out there any longer than they have to.” You looked down at your glass, the water inside of it unsteady as your hands shook slightly. You put it on the end table next to you. Both boys stared at you a moment before moving on.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and cocking his head to one side, “The next question is where are they running to?” He finished.

And just like that, within a snap of fingers, you were in.

----

Before you knew it, you were sitting in a motel room. The walls were littered with impressions of fake tropical palms and the sheets that poked out from under the thin, scratchy comforter had stains splayed across them. You fought back the chills that climbed up your back and left the hairs on your arms on edge at the thought of what might have caused those stains. The brothers stood in front of you, wordlessly sifting through luggage and duffel bags full of weapons you’d never seen. Every so often, one of them would shoot you a look, as if they were half expecting you to be running for your life or passed out from the effort it took for you to wrap your head around this whole situation they’d just explained to you. If you were being honest, you were a little surprised you hadn’t done either of the two. Hell, you’d seen things in your time. The thought of what happened on that snowy day, the same day you went to in your dream, made your heart speed up in your chest. Color climbed up to your cheeks, and you could’ve sworn your fast heartbeat was audible from across the room. You forced your mind to another topic, focusing on the worn particle board dresser in front of you. Your mind wandered to those things, those Djinn. Naturally, questions were lined up on your tongue, ready to come spilling out whenever you let the floodgates open, but you decided to keep them to yourself for now. You picked at your nails, the only thing that lulled the shake in your hands to settle, even if only for a moment. When you looked up, Dean was eyeing you from the corner of the room. When your eyes met, you both shot your stare in another direction. The silence in the room was doing nothing to ease your mind. 

“So,” You cleared your throat and both brothers looked over at you, almost as if they too were thankful for the momentary break in silence, “What do these Djinn do? I-I mean I know you said that they drag you under and suck the life out of you but - What’s their point?” You rubbed your hands nervously against the length of your thighs, the thin layer of sweat that coated your palms now soaking into your denim. Dean walked over to you, a pearl accented gun in hand, and sat on the other bed adjacent to you.

“You’re food to them,” He shrugged, “They put you in this dream state where you get to see what your perfect dream life would be like so that you never fight it,” He looked down at the gun and pulled out a rag from his back pocket and began to mindlessly rub at the pearl accents that ran along the handle.

“Your perfect life? That’s what you’re supposed to see?” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you thought back to what you’d envisioned. There was nothing good about it. Dean matched your expression.

“Well, yeah,” His hand stopped moving along the gun, his attention fully now on you.

“Why?” Sam asked as he stepped closer from across the room, intrigued by the turn the conversation had taken. You swallowed hard and took a breath.

“I didn’t see that,” You ran a hand through your hair, “I didn’t see anything good when I went under - or whatever you call it.” You said as the temperature of the room began to feel warmer with the territory they began to get into. The brothers looked at each other and your heart beat faster in your chest. “What?” You asked. Being the only one left in the dark was starting to become an annoyance. Sam cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. 

“I mean, I don’t know,” He said hesitantly, Dean looking at you as his brother spoke, “That’s never happened before.” He finished. The both of them looked at you, as if thinking that maybe if they glared a little longer, the answer would appear across your forehead. You rubbed your hands together anxiously.

“Okay, I guess that maybe that can happen to people, maybe you just didn’t know that.” You tried desperately to sound grounded. Dean shook his head and mindlessly chewed his lip.

“No, I don’t think so. They got their inky hands on me one time and,” He shook his head, “Let’s just say, with the things I’ve seen, they probably had to get creative to find anything good enough to make me wanna stay.” He stated the dark undertone of his statement obvious in his eyes. You decided it was best not to poke him about it any further.

“Okay, whatever,” You let out a nervous laugh, “Just forget I said anything.” You shook your head and forced a small smile. Neither of the boys returned it. 

Before they could interrogate you any more, a man in a trench coat appeared behind Sam. A scream left your lips and you fell back onto the bed, your eyes practically bulging out of your skull. The boys stood up quick at your screech and as quick as they’d gotten up, they’d calmed down once they turned and saw the man. You sat there, your chest heaving, looking from the brothers to the man who inspected you curiously as if he was the one who was interrupted by you. 

“Hey Cas,” Sam said, turning back to face you. Dean glanced over his shoulder and nodded a greeting to the man as he sat back down where he’d previously been across from you. 

“That’s our friend Cas,” Dean looked at you, “He’s uh, he’s-”

“An angel of the Lord.” A deep, scratchy voice finished the sentence for the elder sibling. You looked back and forth between the three men.

“A-An angel? Like an angel?” You asked, your voice coming out in soft, hesitant strangles at the sight before you. He looked normal; Almost too normal.

“Of the Lord; Correct.” The man answered your rhetoric question, his brows knitted in confusion as if his presence was an easy concept to digest.

“Okay, an angel,” You sat up straighter, inching closer to the headboard and further from the dark haired man, “So, you mean that even with all of the crappy things like the Djinn and other monsters, there’s still something good out there?” You tried to desperately make sense of this, of any of it. Dean shook his head.

“Nope, nothing good about em’ they’re all dicks.” He said, shooting a look over his shoulder at the man who claimed to be an angel. The tension in the air was obvious and was only slightly broken when Sam cleared his throat.

“No, Y/N, listen,” He shook his head emphatically and moved closer to you, “There is good out there. It’s not all crap. We just focus on the shit work so that maybe other people don’t have to.” He said, trying to sound reasonable despite the issue at hand. 

“Yeah,” Dean laughed sarcastically. There was no humor in his chuckle and it reminded you of the dark look in his eye he’d had moments before. “Well, I'm glad that at least someone still thinks that.” He ran a hand over his face and you could tell by the way he moved that he was worn. It was your job as a reporter to notice a person's stance, their body language and nonverbal cues. Dean’s were easy. You just had to pay attention to them.

“I’m not here for you,” Castiel walked over towards you as his cold glare focused on Dean, “I came for her.” He finished, his shockingly blue eyes now trained on you.

“Me?” You asked, pointing a finger inwards. The man hardly nodded in response.

“We called you about the Djinn, alright, leave her out of it.” Dean stood up, his demeanor puffed and irritated.

“Dean, just hear him out.” Sam said, his voice solid. You’d been able to pinpoint the dynamic between the brothers in the time you’d spent with them. Sam was the safe one. Sam was logic and fact driven, he’d hardly broken his calm attitude in the time you’d been observing him. But Dean - Dean was a fire, igniting everything in his path when he felt it deserving. You had no idea what had happened between the angel and them, but Dean’s reasoning ran deep. He had the type of calm that was unnerving, unlike Sam. As if he was almost always teetering that border of blowing up the whole building with only himself inside. Even in a tense conversation like the one you currently sat in, only Sam could bring his brother down off that edge. 

“I’d talk fast if I were you.” Dean said, his voice as cool as the delivery in which he’d said it. He sat back down on the bed and looked down at the gun he hadn’t finished cleaning. Castiel took in a long breath as if to shake off the threats before returning to the purpose of his being here.

“You said you didn’t see a dream world when the Djinn poisoned you,” He looked at you intently.

“Poisoned me?” You looked over at Dean who shook his head.

“Jesus, Cas. Baby steps here, maybe? The girl just got the talk an hour ago.” He wiped a hand down his face as Castiel turned back to you.

“Uh, my apologies,” He said, his voice as robotic as his movements, “I have to ask you; What did you see?” He finished, asking the question that you’d been avoiding this entire time. You maintained eye contact with him as you thought about what you should reply. Is it a sin to lie to an angel of the lord? Was he even an angel? 

“Nothing,” You said, praying that the eye contact you held with him would make your white lie appear to be more solid, “Just didn’t see a dream world or anything else for that matter.” You finished.

“Y/N, you do realize I can hear what you’re thinking,” He said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stared intently at you, “And no, keeping eye contact does not make your lie sound any more valid than it already is.” He finished, as if he had just said the most normal thing in this world. Your lips formed a line, trying to maintain some sort of composure.

“Alright then if you’re so high and mighty, you should already know exactly what I saw without asking me.” you replied, your tone tight and smug. Silence filled the room and before you could understand what was going on, he pressed two fingers to your forehead. 

----

Part 4 coming soon!