#suicide ganking

[tagnoob]

A Look into October 2024 Destruction in EVE Online – Move Ops, Crimson Harvest, and the Alliance Tournament Edition

It is time once again to look into the EVE Online Monthly Economic Report. As I suggested last month, part of this will be seeing what the Goonswarm Federation move from Delve to Tenerifis has on destruction.  However, I will save the other economic impacts for another post since I don’t want to get bogged down or run too long on that in this post. EVE Online nerds harder Here are the usual…

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[bambi-kinos]

Thanks for the tag @getbackmountain!

Favorite Movie:  The Maltese Falcon. I've been getting back into watching classic films and started with this one. It's a perfect movie, I can hardly bear it.

Favorite TV Show: Frasier, NBC Hannibal, Netflix Daredevil (though only season 1, I'm still in shock that season 2 went to production. I still haven't watched season 3, I'm not getting ganked again.) Psycho-Pass season 1 because that's the one Gen Urobutcher worked on. The Office (US version) and Parks & Recreation because those are the last good sitcoms to come out of the US. (I sort of like Friends but I was too young to imprint on it the way a lot of people did when it came out. I still need to sit and do a proper watch of it, I've never seen the whole thing.)

Favorite Musical Artists: Masayoshi Soken, Borislav Slavov. Two Door Cinema Club is a band that puts out banger after banger, love their albums. And of course Wings.

Favorite Color: Red!

Favorite Season: Winter. It's finally quiet, dark, and full of rain. Nine months out of the year in this god forsaken city it is 110F and there are nightly news stories of babies and dogs dying in hot cars because they were abandoned by their narcissistic parents and owners. Winter is a fucking break from the misery and I'm not trapped in suicidal ideation during winter. (I get summer SAD.)

Favorite Book: Finder by Emma Bull. I re-read it frequently, it is something.

Do you have any Funko Pops?: I do but they're mostly all gifts from co workers who don't know better. I plan to throw them away once I move to a new flat. Red Letter Media put out a video once calling them "future land fill" and I think about that a lot.

Do you play any instruments?: I sing mostly but I do play guitar and piano.

Do you have any pets?: Not yet. I don't have money for a pet. I'm going to start volunteering at a rabbit shelter and see if I take to them, I'd like to adopt a rabbit.

Do you read or write Fanfiction?: I don't do much of either these days but nominally I do write and read them. I've begun realizing that I need to practice both of these things every day or else they won't stick.

What song(s) have you had on repeat repeatedly? :

Tagging @erinarigby and @shinygoku!

[milimeters-morales]

imagine if you called the suicide prevention hotline and your ex, who you’re in an messy on-and-off again relationship with, picked up. this is the reality for Miles G. and Ganke

[lost-technology]

Someone on a politics-blog I go to has been expressing genuine suicidal ideation over the upcoming inauguration of Donald Trump and everyone else on the board has been trying to talk them out of it. They seem to hope that something will stop him at the last minute, but they say that if he's put in the Presidency on Jan. 20, they're checking out, because they just can't take the world anymore. Today, on a thread where they were talking about this... I started sharing Rem. Like, I ganked one of the pages from Trigun Maximum 7, where she's telling Vash "Don't say you'll die! Let's walk together!" and I linked Trimax 7, Chapter 2 on Trigun Manga Overhaul and gave them a little context (trying to explain what was going on for people unfamiliar with Trigun in the simplest terms possible). It's a section of the manga I often re-read. It speaks to me on a deep level - as in, it helps with my own struggles. I've shared with this person my personal stories of dealing with being in dark places and getting up again. I've shared with them my desire to fight, and to just...exist to be a PEST to MAGA. I'm urging "The Orange Cat Turd is NOT worth it." And... I'm sharing Rem?

[silent-raven13]

My Mariana Gisselle Morales 1022, she's the female (sexbent) variant of Miles G. Morales.

I mention her in my Adventures of Punkflower fanfics from time to time.

Her story: Her best friend, Ganke happens to be transmale and committed suicide because of hateful bullying. Not to mention harassment from gang/thugs that work for Kingpin or some villain goons. (Technically her uncle Ben's death was Ganke)

She got bite right after her best friend's funeral at the age of 14 and became Spider-woman. She's wears the colors from the trans flag as homage to her best friend.

Only got to the Spider Society after Miles prove Miguel wrong. She mostly likes to world hop from time to time. She met so many Miles and Marianas variants.

Her Spider-woman name is Chiquita Araña, mostly called her "Chiquis". Since she's always fighting big strong villains and her size is technically small compare to them. That she mocks them, "Ohhh, big strong man can't even fight this Chiquis!"

FunFact: Middle name is from a famous Puerto Rican singer. Rio is a big fan. Also Chiquis from Jenny Rivera's daughter.

[shokuto]

Idea: Ganke lies about an injury he got falling off his bed and says he got it jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge. His classmates call bullshit and move on. Unfortunately for him, an unidentified suicide jumper is reported to have leapt off the day before and everyone thinks it was him. It all comes to a head when he’s dared to do it again

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Divorced Hunter Dad

Divorced Hunter Dad https://ift.tt/qVEwlo4 by ReelNaturalFreak You know what sucks? Digging up graves alone in your forties! Dean really needs to find himself a hunting buddy to help pick up the load. And if this new partner is a guy who dresses funny and dances to divorced dad rock? Dean will take it! Or During a hunt, Dean runs into a strange hunter, Cas, who is happy to gank monsters with Dean. Just as long as Dean doesn't mind his teenage daughter joining every other weekend. Words: 4775, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Claire Novak, Ishim (Supernatural), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Case Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Background Character Death, mentions of suicided, Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Past Castiel/Ishim - Freeform, No Smut, just a hint of it, Divorced Castiel (Supernatural), Dean and Castiel getting together, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Apocalypse? What Apocalypse?, Dean Winchester never asked Sam Winchester to help find their dad via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/QGzvgPN June 01, 2024 at 09:49PM

[figjelly]

@shadylex tumblr pvp PKing: only in the agreement of mutual suicide. One person wants to destroy another's blog but can only do so at the cost of their blogs (and side blogs) Ganking: the mutual of my mutual is my enemy

PvE: tumblr already has this feature

D-D-D-DUEL: all duels are public and must be settled via gifs only

[tagnoob]

A Look into September 2024 Destruction in EVE Online – Is the Summer Slump Over?

Well, Betteridge’s law of headlines fits in here, otherwise I would have just said the slump was over I suppose.  Then again, we’ll still have to see what the data says.  But yes, it is time for another post about destruction as the September Monthly Economic Report landed last week. EVE Online nerds harder Here are the usual places to look if you want more details or different coverage of New…

[hahahahahangst]

Stranger things have happened (Be The Young 37)

TW: [suicidal thoughts, self h*rm, violence, s*xual assault]

Other tags: [sister fic, canon-level violence, dean is an asshole, angst]

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will occasionally break canon✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N:  Dean and Emily can’t catch a break

MASTERLIST

Stranger things have happened

Goddamn this dusty room This hazy afternoon I'm breathing in this silence Like never before This feelin' that I get This one last cigarette As I lay awake And wait for you to come through the door

Emily snuck out the door, quickly followed by Sam. “I so don’t like this.” She whispered.

“I know, but-” Sam said.

“Yeah, yeah… It’s our best shot at ganking Lilith. I get it. I just wish we wouldn’t have to do it behind Dean’s back.” “What do you think he would say?” Sam hurried towards Ruby, who was waiting for them parked a block away. “That we should not use our powers because it’s dangerous and because Cas told him we shouldn’t.”  “Yeah, but-”  “Look, you’re getting really good.” He interrupted. “We can do this. We’re going to be ready when we finally get her.” Emily exhaled and sat in the back of the car, surrendered. 

That’s how her last ‘practice round’ with Ruby started. She had been sneaking out at night, making sure Dean never noticed, to learn and exercise demons with her mind, just like Sam did. She was finding it quite easy, even if Sam seemed to struggle. Sometimes. 

Some other times, he would do it so easily he almost seemed on performance enhancing drugs. For Emily, however, it was as easy as moving every other object: she just had to visualize the smoke coming out of the body and it went flying out of the vessel.

Later that day, while trying to help Castiel, they ran into several demons. After trying to fight them off, she decided to exorcize them, knowing full well Dean was not going to be happy about it. On the contrary, he was going to be mad and he was going to let her know. Probably in the form of a punch.  She took a deep breath and made the demons fall on the ground one by one. Except one. Sam was fighting with that one. When she gazed towards him, she saw Sam stand up from the body, face covered in blood that he seemed to have been drinking. 

Dean didn’t put up a fight. Emily braced herself for it, knowing that using their powers was one thing, but Sam was drinking demon blood. That would have probably overridden every other thing they might have hidden from him. So, she sat in the Impala and waited for a fight that never came.  Instead, Dean drove towards Bobby’s lot. “He says there’s a big demon problem in Sioux Falls, we need to go give him a hand.”

Emily smelled something was wrong. She knew it the second Dean said he “was not mad, just tired”. And she was right.  I was right. That’s what she thought as Bobby locked her in the panic room with Sam. “I hope you’re happy!” She turned to Sam. “You and all your fucking secrets.” “Hey, you were in it too!” Answered Sam, upset. “I was not! I told you from the start, I didn’t think it was a good idea hiding it from Dean, but no, you and Ruby had your shit to do!”  “It’s not my fault-” “NOT YOUR FAULT?! Sam, goddamit you are drinking demon blood. Not me, not Ruby. You’re drinking it! Whose fault is that?!”  “I-” “And also, you hid this from me! Of course you did! Because you knew full well that if I were to know shit like that, I would have ran to tell Dean.”  “Yeah, and you know what?” Sam walked towards her. “I’m glad I didn’t say anything. The blood makes me stronger, Emily. Now I can take on Lilith.” “It makes you-” She repeated, in disbelief. “It makes you stronger, uh? Let’s see.” Unable to use her powers, Emily punched her brother. “THIS DOESN’T FEEL STRONG TO ME!” A quick flashback of her punching Dean right after Sam had died went through her mind. So she punched him again. “You’re weak, Sam! You let Ruby talk you into becoming a fucking junkie!” “GO ON! PUNCH ME IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER!” Sam screamed. “But once I’m out of here, I will get Lilith and I will kill her. Not you. Me. Because I’m going to be the stronger one.” Emily punched him again. Then, she pushed him away.  “Come on, take a swing.” She encouraged. “You’ve been waiting for years to do so, haven’t you?” Sam didn’t let her ask twice and punched her. Massaging her cheekbone, Emily went to sit next to a bookshelf. Sam sat on another on the opposite side. They didn’t speak for the rest of the day. 

The following morning, Emily woke up still in the panic room, still cold and still angry. Sam, however, had a completely different mood. He was sitting on his bed, shivering and looking around, scared and confused. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She asked, bitter. Sam didn’t seem to hear her. He started trying to open the door, his hands shaking visibly. “Sam, come on- What are you doing?” He turned towards her, scared. “Are you, like, on a withdrawal or something?” She raised one eyebrow. Sam didn’t move or answer, visibly terrified. Then, he slowly started walking back towards his bed and laid down, shaking. Emily looked at him.  “Don’t touch me!” Said Sam, lying on his bed. “I said-” “Hey! Sam, calm down, there’s nobody here!” Emily jumped off her bed and walked towards Sam’s. The second she got close enough, Sam tried to hit her. “Sam, it’s me!” She stopped his arm and pushed it back down on the bed. He kept staring in front of him, struggling and wincing in pain. Soon, the struggle turned into screaming. Emily slowly backed away. She tried calling for Dean or Bobby. She knew that kind of screams, she had heard them for several decades. It was the sound of someone being tortured.

After about an hour of struggling and screaming for his life, Sam went quiet. He started breathing deeply.  “Sam, are you okay?” Asked Emily, standing up from the corner she had been sitting, unable to stop the pain he was feeling. He still didn’t answer. Although, he sat up and looked at himself. Then, he looked at Emily.  “I’m losing my mind.” He said, visibly concerned.  “I guess heavy drugs do that, yeah.” Said Emily, ironic.  “What do you want?” He asked.  “Me? Nothing. I was just trying to see if you were okay.” “I tried, I did.”  Emily looked at Sam. “What are you talking about?!”  “It didn’t pan out that way.” “I never- Oh. You’re hallucinating aren’t you?”  Sam grew more nervous. “Look- they killed Jessica.”  “Great.” Whispered Emily, sitting back down. “I know.. I’m sorry. I am.”  “Please, make it stop.” Emily whispered, covering her ears.  “But life doesn’t turn out the way you thought when you were 14 years old.”  “Stop, please-”  ”...we were never going to be normal, we were never going to get away.” “MAKE IT FUCKING STOP!” She screamed, punching the wall. “DEAN, DAMN IT, JUST COME DOWN HERE AND MAKE IT STOP!” She leaned on the wall. She knew Dean was not coming.  “Grow up.” Said Sam, his bottom lip shivering.  Sam stopped talking again. He sat in front of his bed and started rocking left and right. After a while, he started reaching for the water bottles they had in a corner. Emily threw him one.  “Thank you.” He muttered, exhausted.  “You’re-” Sam’s eyes shot back up at her immediately, once again scared and upset. ”...welcome.” Exhaled Emily. He was hallucinating again. This time, God only knew who she was looking like. 

“Mom?”  “Definitely not.” Sighed Emily, leaning on the wall.  “Let’s hear it. Go ahead.. You’re disappointed.” “That’s accurate.” She decided to get along with the conversation, even if it made no sense. ”...You never thought I’d turn out this way.” “Also accurate.” Repeated Emily.  “I’m a piss-pure excuse for a son.”  “Now, that’s something dad would say.” “You’re heart is broken. Am I close?” “Ah, Sammy, if only you could hear me- you’d know, you are not.” ”...but, Dean-” He uttered.  “Don’t tell me about it. I know.” She scoffed. “For revenge?” Asked Sam a minute later. Emily didn’t answer. “What's in me, Mom, it's- What if it's stronger than me? Look at me. What if Emily's right?” “Oh trust me, I am.”  “Even if it kills me.” “Even if it kills you.” She repeated. “Please, Sam, stop- Listen to me!” She waved her hand in front of him. He didn’t react. “Fucking hell, SAM!” She shook his whole body. He turned towards her, startled. Emily let go of him, startled as well. On his neck, where his veins were showing up from the stress, the blood started changing color, becoming black. Emily pointed at it. Soon, Sam fell on the ground, twitching. Emily ran to the door. 

“DEAN! JUST COME DOWN HERE- DEAN!” The small window on the door opened. “What the hell, I’ve been calling you for hours!” “Yeah, and I have been ignoring you for hours!” He said, angry.  “Dean, this is not-” An invisible force threw her against the iron wall, making her wince. After a good minute of struggling, the door finally opened. Bobby and Dean took Sam and restrained him to his bed, where he kept struggling against the chains.  “Dean, what’s going on? Why did you leave me here?!” Asked Emily, massaging her back, sore after being thrown on the wall.  “Because- wait, why are you okay?” He asked, surprised.  “Why shouldn’t I be okay?” Emily realized. “Oh my god, you think I drank the blood?”  “You didn’t?”  “Of course I didn’t! I didn’t know anything about it!”  Dean and Bobby exchanged a doubtful look. “Then how did you-” “Azazel gave me a full bottle when I was born, remember? My powers are stronger than Sam’s.” Dean didn’t say anything. “Wait, is that- IS THAT WHY YOU THREW ME IN HERE?”  “Well, we-” “YOU BETTER COME UP WITH AN EXPLANATION NOW, BECAUSE I’VE BEEN THROUGH HELL DOWN HERE!” When Dean didn’t give her an explanation for ten straight seconds, she punched him. He took a couple of steps back. “And don’t you even try coming back at me. You deserve it.”

[lyinar]

The French Revolution led to decades of bloodshed from counter-revolutions, counter-counter-revolutions, civil wars, counter-counter-counter-revolutions, and other countries going "Hey, they're really fucked up, let's conquer th--OH SHIT NAPOLEON!!!!"

The fact that people like Donald Trump and Ron DeSantis and Clarence Thomas and Mitch McConnell are still alive tells me that none of the people who allegedly want a revolution are willing to pay the price that would be asked of them to start it. Which is their own lives.

Either put your money where your mouth is, or actually do the harder, slower work of trying to fix shit WITHOUT millions of people dying in the process. If you're not willing to suicide-gank a corrupt asshole, then fucking vote at every single level for whoever will move things closer to the end result you want, and keep doing it every election.

listen i am not american. i understand that even democrats fucking suck and its a genuinely shitty situation to be in. im so sorry. but hey, hey look at me. why are you guys bullying people for saying "you should still vote blue?" Like im curious about the alternatives youve got. voting red? firebombing walmart? tumblr user catboyssepticbutthole, i know you will not be firebombing walmart.

[donnasweett]

Literally like every time the writers try to get rid of Cas Dean is like "okay but what if I refuse to play your macho action hero and mope and throw tantrums until you bring him back. What then."

the longest they were ever able to stretch this arc out was 16 episodes. not even a full season. 16 episodes of dean being suicidally depressed out of his mind while sam runs around ganking some of the coolest monsters of the week we will never see again until OD'ng on jingle jangle in a back alley and getting sent to crazy town. the shortest record time dean was ever able to Temper-Tantrum-At-God his way into getting cas back was not even a full 2 minutes, during the gadreel arc, objectively and collectively agreed to be the lowest shared point for casgirls. even win we lose. we never stop winning. they never stop enduring

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Divorced Hunter Dad

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z5Mm703 by ReelNaturalFreak You know what sucks? Digging up graves alone in your forties! Dean really needs to find himself a hunting buddy to help pick up the load. And if this new partner is a guy who dresses funny and dances to divorced dad rock? Dean will take it! Or During a hunt, Dean runs into a strange hunter, Cas, who is happy to gank monsters with Dean. Just as long as Dean doesn't mind his teenage daughter joining every other weekend. Words: 4775, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Claire Novak, Ishim (Supernatural), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Case Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Background Character Death, mentions of suicided, Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Past Castiel/Ishim - Freeform, No Smut, just a hint of it, Divorced Castiel (Supernatural), Dean and Castiel getting together, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Apocalypse? What Apocalypse?, Dean Winchester never asked Sam Winchester to help find their dad read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z5Mm703

[sketching-fox]

My 2nd piece for SPN Media Big Bang - @spn-mediabigbang 

Stay tuned to see more arts  and the full fic posting in late April - early May!

This fic is FALLOUT:SUPERNATURAL

by MaggieMaybe160 (https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160)

and Insominia (https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia) .

A dystopian story based on the game Fallout: Las Vegas.

And a little piece of the fic for you:

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

“Don’t say yes to Michael.”

“I got that, Cas.” Dean finds he’s smiling in spite of himself and shakes his head. “If I say yes to Michael, don’t they still need to get Sam to say yes to Lucifer? Wear us both?” 

“That is the general idea, yes.” Dean likes that he can feel Cas looking at him. He can feel his eyes tracing his profile. No matter how much he wants to turn his face so he can look into his eyes, he sits still just to keep the feeling.

“Then we gank ‘em both instead,” Dean says with finality. 

 “You want to kill two archangels?” Cas asks with alarm. 

 Dean finally turns to look at him and grins. “Yeah. You with me?” 

“Yes.” 

Now might be the moment. They’re alone and have just decided to take down to archangels together in some weird probable suicide pact and the sun in his eyes makes them more impossibly blue. Sam is going to be okay, or at least he hopes. Dean can breathe and he can feel the warmth from where Cas’ arm rests against his spreading through him. Now would absolutely be the perfect moment to kiss him. He could lean in, gently cup his jaw with his hand, let their lips brush before fully kissing him. Maybe he’ll kiss back. 

And why not? He’s more than just gorgeous. He’s strong and smart and has helped Dean on more than one occasion. Hell, he’d just helped figure out that Sam was a Legion spy, jailbreak the kid, and drag his ass all the way here even though none of this was part of his plan. He’d ditched his plan a long ass time ago. If he thinks he only dropped his orders the other night when he told Dean the truth, he’s been lying to himself since he met up with Dean in Novac. 

 Dean’s eyes flicker between Cas’ eyes and his lips as he leans a little closer.

[electronswrites]

I Wonder

What the average grave shift differential is in Gotham City. I mean there's no way people are agreeing to work the night shift in Gotham City for the paltry extra 80 cents an hour we make at my job. Don't get me wrong, that extra 40 bucks a week is hella worth it for me, but I don't live in Gotham City.

I'm just imagining the Wayne Industries board of directors meeting with Union representatives to work out the new contract and it's like: "Yeah, we want double pay for grave shift." and at first the board literally thinks the union is fucking with them, but it's like: "No, they won't work the grave shift for any less than that. It's not worth your life!"

Like obviously the severity of the issue is going to vary from industry to industry, but I really do think that security guards are not going to agree to work grave shift in Gotham City unless they're suicidal or making bank. That shit is scary even in normal("normal") cities, okay? A pizza delivery guy almost gave me a heart attack one time; everything is creepy at 4:00 a.m. Even if you work in a warehouse or third shift custodial or something like that, you're in an almost entirely empty building at 2:00 in the morning in Gotham City. You spend all night praying Killer Croc doesn't show up and gank your ass.

Don't get me started on the emotional toll of having to see the Batman and Boy Wonder jumping around from building to building every damn night. Imagine you get hired at Wayne Industries, and you're going to be in an entry position, fucking sweet, you get to sit down for 8 hours; life is good. Then your boss tells you that if a giant man dressed all in black with bat ears sticking from his head shows up in the building, just ignore that shit; don't even radio it in. Oh, and if a little kid dressed like a traffic light shows up: same rules apply. Fucking excuse me?? Then on your third day you're getting trained to work the barrier gates, and a giant purple truck with a replica of the Joker's head on top of it pulls up. Your trainer hits the e-stop and then runs for the hills, and you're sitting there like: What the fuck is going on?!

You're 6 months into the job and you're doing your hourly firewatch at the D2 trailer or whatever and then a freaking middle schooler in green underoos goes running past you, but you can't call that in to the Comm Center, because your manager already told you three times not to call in cape shit anymore. So you just say a quick prayer for this poor little child soldier and hope that the old adage about God loving drunks, idiots and small children is true, because this kid is definitely batting two out of three and so is the Batman probably if he thinks that shit's fucking acceptable.

Yeah, so grave shift in Gotham is probably wild.