#supernartural

[silverlacesgame]

Hello

This is just a small announcement to let you know that the demo is now available to play in the browser as well as as a download.

A hidden ñ delayed us in this, apologies.

https://hunt-dress.itch.io/silver-laces-eng

_______________________________________________________________

Hola

Esto es solo un pequeño anuncio para informar que la demo ya está disponible para jugar en el explorador además de como descarga.

Una ñ escondidiza nos retraso en esto, disculpas.

https://hunt-dress.itch.io/silverlacesesp

[stusbunker]

Just Another Daydream

For Better or Worst: Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Sam x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC

Other Characters: Naomi, Bandit (dog OC)

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 2450

Summary: Someone comes to tea.

Series Masterlist

The days chugged along with little change and less news. Summer burned bright around them, cookouts, car washes, and farmers’ markets bursting with new wares every weekend. Trudy, designer stroller in tow, passed by each morning while Emery lounged thoughtfully with Bandit in the hammock on the front porch. Jason each night with the dogs’ leashes locked on his belt as Sam pulled into the driveway, blocking the meager traffic as Mox inevitably goaded Bandit through the window. The stretching days were heavy on their thoughts, which were kept mostly to themselves.

The break between semesters held little diversion for Emery, especially as Sam continued a work-week routine. Days that had been spent with video game marathons, reading lakeside, or being lost in a museum during her past life held little validation now. The once upon a time when her daily schedule was dictated by Georgie’s smile was unimaginable now. Usually the biggest perk of teaching; weeks of freedom, now only reverberated the quiet like a vacated room, emptied of purpose.

She forced herself to ignore it.

Sam had no idea what they were going to do. They waited on news from Cas, while Sam spent half of his working hours digging through the university’s limited source material. Though the digitally shared archive network was compelling, his searches remained fruitless for their current circumstances. Which wasn’t surprising, theirs was a perfect storm of unprecedented desperation. The weight of it all (the deals, Emery’s son’s soul and Dean’s mental state) was forging him into someone he didn’t quite recognize. Functionally and consciously closed off from those he loved, Sam Winchester was relearning what loneliness meant.

An aching Sam told himself he was justified in sticking his heels into.

Though he and Emery hadn’t stopped sharing a room, Sam generally slept in the den. Emery kept to her side of their bed when he came through for his clothing each morning. The space left open a reminder of the man he could have been for her. The man he almost was. The lie he had lived and had to overcome. It hadn’t gotten any easier being in their manner of partnership with their truths exposed; mix-matched baggage that only seemed to clutter the proverbial waiting room more. 

Western real estate was of little consequence to angels in general, but Naomi prided herself on the procurement of the fully updated bungalow that had been home to Sam Winchester and Emery Simmons for the past seven months. She was oddly relieved by the level of care they had taken to maintain it as she climbed the front steps one Wednesday afternoon, just before three. The dog, naturally, announced her arrival before she could knock.

Naomi straightened her shoulders and tried to calm her vessel. She wasn’t used to delivering messages to those on Earth, not that this was a grand proclamation. But overseeing the frail structure of Heaven had slowly eroded her previous righteous confidence. She still had a job to do; Naomi needed to be certain her ducks were in a row. 

The woman’s face fell the moment she opened the door, eyes aghast and chest rising with a deep inhale. Naomi wasn’t sure if fear was the appropriate response to her arrival, but humans had always been overly dramatic. 

“Good afternoon, Emery. I hope I’m not interrupting,” Naomi gave her her best mild interest.

Emery swallowed and shook her head. “Not at all, come in.”

“Thank you,” Naomi replied, bowing her head slightly as she stepped through the doorway.

“I made some sun tea, if you’d like?” Emery continued to breathe deeply, and she tripped over  the syllables.

“That sounds lovely, thank you.” Naomi smiled, trying to keep up the human pleasantries, before easing into business at hand. She followed Emery to the back of the house where a large glass pitcher waited on the kitchen island. The dog groaned from beside the refrigerator at her presence, Naomi eyed him thoughtfully. Canines were incredibly intuitive creatures, but generally left for the humans to manage. She had never understood their appeal.

“So, are you just passing through? Or is there something I should be worried about nearby?” Emery attempted humor, “Got some smiting happening? Oooo, or maybe a miracle? Is that your department?”

Naomi bit her tongue and plastered on a reassuring smile. Emery froze on the spot.

“What’s wrong?”

Naomi shook her head, keeping her expression soft, pleasant even. “I stopped by to check on things here.”

They sat at the island, a stool between them for companionable distance. Emery clutched her glass and forced a smile on her face. “Good, I mean, I’m a bit bored in the summer, but things have been--- good. Why do you ask?”

Naomi hesitated, but not long enough to draw out any alarm, just enough to gather her thoughts. “There have been some--- developments--- and I wanted to ensure that things here are stable and unencumbered.”

Emery tried to hold back her excitement. “What kind of developments?”

Naomi looked at Emery like she would her students, asking questions they should know the answer to already or those she couldn’t give them. “Sources have located your son and we are monitoring him through a network, but it appears he has been taken in by a pack.”

Emery froze, skin prickling in the dry afternoon air. Months with nothing and this news should be a blessing, but it just sits lopsided on the desktop of her mind. Sam’s distrust of Heaven fights against her relief at Georgie's safety and then the reality that her son has been adopted by another family. A family who is not her, afterlife or no, that burns through her, jealousy certainly, but also the deep unfaltering need to protect her own. That’s her job.

“A pack.”

Naomi really tried to be delicate, but she didn’t have the humanity to be. “Purgatory is a land of viciousness. The fact that he was taken in by some of his own kind gives him the best chance at survival.”

Survival. Emery could still lose Georgie. She could fail him further. “Oh. That’s--- okay, thank you. That makes more sense.”

“It’s hard for you--- without your powers,” Naomi tells her more than asks.

Bandit shifts on the floor, tags brushing against the laminate. Emery scoffs.

“I know you want to see what I’m telling you, but you need to trust me. It’s safer this way.”

‘You’re safer this way’ Emery couldn’t help but think. Brushing away the internal snark, she softened her face and nodded at Naomi. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help.”

Bandit stood and stretched, disrupting the intensity of the conversation as he strolled out of the kitchen and down into the den. Naomi sipped her tea, nose scrunching under the chemical combination that made up the drink. Emery looked away, taking her own drink to blatantly taste it for herself. Perfect.

“Emery, how’s Sam?”

Emery chokes on her swallow. Naomi’s stare only deepens.

Sam stepped out of the side exit and nearly collided with a pair of students vaping in the seclusion between buildings and the well trimmed bushes. The mid afternoon sun nearly blinding, Sam cleared his throat and turned in the opposite direction, keeping his thoughts and annoyance to himself. There weren’t that many summer courses, why were they even hanging around this late in the day? He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and upped his pace, taking the long way around to the parking lot. His arms full of books and notes, his satchel heavy at his side, he approached the car. Sam didn’t stop himself from glancing in the backseat with lingering hope of news from Cas.

Hot from the workday, Sam aired out the vehicle as he put his things in the backseat. He chose to work from home for the rest of the week, unable to gain any more information on the spell or the concept of true marriage that Cas had mentioned at the library. What he wouldn’t give to have his real books to comb through. Or, the Men of Letters’ books at least. Sam huffed at himself because he knew Dean would have teased him for that notion. It made the hole inside his chest throb with remembrance, with purpose.

He rubbed his hand down his bearded face and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Bandit wasn’t in the yard to greet him. Sam brushed off the prickle of paranoia and reminded himself that he was home earlier than usual. Overburdened, Sam walked in the backdoor, but it wasn’t until he heard voices speaking in hushed tones that he realized his instincts were right. Sam carefully unloaded his research materials onto the dryer and listened. Silently, Bandit found him, forlorn the dog accepted his pets and gave a lackluster wag of his tail. With a deep breath and a wrench from the toolbox left in the mudroom, Sam walked into the kitchen.

What he saw confused him: Emery smirking at Naomi, a plate of cookies between them and a tension so thick he could have hit with his impromptu weapon. 

“Speak of the Devil,” Emery teased, eyes wide, but smile still intact.

“I’d rather not,” Naomi muttered, tossing back the last of her tea.

Sam’s face and reasoning went through a journey, landing on confused, yet comical indignation. Was he supposed to know that jab was literal? Does Naomi know he knows who he is? The topic of Lucifer is never Sam’s favorite. But, now, he had a guest in his house. Good thing he used to lie professionally. Sam begrudgingly set the futile wrench on the counter behind the speaker dock, out of view.

“Hey! I didn’t realize you were coming over.” Sam looked to his wife as he walked around the island, planting himself in her bubble and playing nice. “What brings you?”

Naomi, clearly surprised by Sam’s warm welcome, chewed on her words.

Sam continued, arm draping over Emery’s shoulders. “I know I’m home early, but Emery didn’t mention you were in town. I’m not intruding on work talk, am I?”

The moment lengthened as Sam tried to pull up more of the false memories he had been fed. Emery and Naomi looked at each other with mutual suspicion. 

Emery laughed, patting Sam’s forearm, unable to clear the awkwardness. “You! We were, um, actually talking about you. Were your ears burning?”

Sam raised his eyebrows, taking time to tuck Emery tighter to his side. “All good things I hope?”

Emery spoke to Sam in the little alcove created by their proximity, both very aware of each other in an immediate and physical sense. “Now why would we be saying good things? That’s much too boring.”

Sam understood. “Uh-huh, well I should have known,” the tease in the inflection for their guest only. He held Emery’s eyes, squeezing her arm to reassure her the only way he could.

“You seem to be adjusting well,” Naomi interrupted their pretense of flirting. Meanwhile, Bandit slumped off to the den, feeling his people were safe enough to be left alone.

“What? Oh-- the house? Yeah, wasn’t too hard, helps to have somebody to help fill the space with,” Sam replied casually. “Bandit is an awesome roommate.”

Emery elbowed Sam. 

“What?! He is.”

Emery shook her head and muttered threats at her husband.

“I was just stopping by to check on things. Make sure you are both on track,” Naomi continued, eyes boring into the side of Sam’s face.

He turned towards the Angel, dawning confusion apparent on his features. “Is there something we should be doing?”

Naomi glanced at Emery in wistful solidarity. Sam was internally vibrating with the need to act, outside he was nearly playful. If Emery hadn’t lived with him as long as she had, she wouldn’t have been able to notice it, but his smirk was more hostile than she liked.

“You should be showering, stinky!” Emery teased. “We’re just catching up. Go on, seriously, I’ll be here when you’re presentable for dinner, young man.”

Naomi watched the humans with mild amusement, they seemed so oblivious to everything, and yet she knew what they each were capable of. She couldn’t leave without ensuring the bond was secure. She waited, watching them verbally dance around the topic at hand and through the need for personal hygiene around guests. Emery won and Sam, in mock defeat, left them to continue.

“I never thought I’d see the day when a Winchester was housebroken,” Naomi said with a hint of admiration in her tone. “Nonetheless, I want to make it clear to you, if anything happens on your end, the whole thing will fall apart. And not just your deals, with George and Dean, but Heaven itself. Keep him on his leash, or we all lose.”

Emery exhaled and looked to the stairs, where she knew Sam was still listening in, despite the shower running in their bathroom. “I don’t know what you did, Naomi. But Sam’s been… different. It’s like he was never a hunter at all. If there is a kink in the wire, it isn’t from Sam--- or me.”

Naomi bit her tongue, literally injuring her vessel as the news of Sam’s mangled memories sunk in. She knew something was off, but she didn’t know who to blame for it now. It seemed convenient, too convenient. She smiled, terrifyingly rapt, “I see. Let’s keep it that way, shall me?”

Emery agreed. The pretense of tea and cookies long over, Naomi stood. With what little niceties Emery had left, she followed the Angel back out the front door. Bandit had silently returned to their heels.

“I’ll be in touch, but if anything comes up or if Sam starts acting like himself again, call me?” Naomi produced a business card from her inside breast pocket. 

Emery took it without breaking eye contact. “I will. And I hope you will honor your promises as well.”

Naomi’s bright eyes clouded in anger. “I stand by my word. Make sure you do the same.”

Emery watched her march down the steps and back onto the sidewalk. It was oddly gratifying to watch a wingless Angel resort to human modes of transportation. Slowly she backed into the house and closed the door before bolting up the stairs to talk to Sam. She rounded the corner into their bedroom and was stopped with two large hands encasing her shoulders.

Sam looked down at her with a stern silence. Scared, Emery glanced up at him, almost in shame. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sam carefully shook his head. He tapped his watch. And she knew he was right. She nodded in agreement, yet still terrified.

The time had come.

Tell me what you think!

It’s been so long, I’m not tagging anyone.

[the-elevan-shitshow]

Karwan has quite a few clients already, so he's decided to take the big step and open his own law practice at home. He offers legal advice to supernartural sims suffering from discrimination...and the best part is he doesn't have to wear pants most times.

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

The Emberwood Rainforest lies deep within the heart of the Amazon Rainforest, spanning across the border of Brazil and Peru. It is a secluded and mystical region, known for its lush vegetation, vibrant wildlife, and the presence of ancient trees that seem to glow with a warm, ember-like radiance.

In this hidden part of the Amazon, the Emberwood Rainforest is a place of enchantment and wonder, where magical occurrences are said to take place. It is here that Virgil, the green vine snake, embarked on his extraordinary journey of transformation, encountered Sage Tamarind, and discovered the secret of the banana trees.

The Emberwood Rainforest is a sanctuary of natural beauty, with tall, majestic trees that stretch high into the sky, forming a dense canopy that filters sunlight and creates an otherworldly ambiance. The rainforest floor is alive with a rich tapestry of plants, colorful flowers, and meandering streams that add to the area's allure. Within the Emberwood Rainforest, there exists a hidden clearing, guarded by the ancient trees, where the mystical metamorphosis of Virgil took place. It is in this sacred space that the magical ritual unfolds, and the aura of the rainforest intensifies, giving rise to the extraordinary events of the story.

The presence of the banana trees in the Emberwood Rainforest remains a mystery, captivating the imagination of those who dare to venture into this enchanted realm. The banana trees stand like golden sentinels, their clusters of fruit shining like beacons of magic within the lush greenery. The Emberwood Rainforest is a place where the natural world coexists harmoniously with supernartural forces, a realm where the extraordinary becomes ordinary, and where the tale of Virgil, the green vine snake that slowly turned into a banana, finds its timeless and captivating home.

Virgil was known amongst the creatures of the jungle for his striking emerald hue and his graceful movements. He had always been fascinated by the banana trees that grew abundantly nearby. Their golden fruit, tantalizing and sweet, had captured his curiosity and longing. Every day, he would slither closer to the banana trees, mesmerized by their aroma and enchanted by the thought of tasting their luscious bounty.

One afternoon, as the sun bathed the jungle in warm light, Virgil encountered a peculiar sight. In a hidden clearing, surrounded by the banana trees he so admired, a strange phenomenon was unfolding. A magical aura seemed to envelop the area, and within it, Virgil noticed an enchanting old hermit, known as Sage Tamarind, performing a mystical ritual. Intrigued, Virgil inched closer, hidden among the vibrant foliage. Sage Tamarind chanted ancient incantations, his wrinkled hands guiding a glowing orb that shimmered with otherworldly light. The aura surrounding the banana trees intensified, and a soft breeze carried its magical essence through the jungle.

Unbeknownst to Virgil, he had been spotted by Sage Tamarind, who recognized the longing in the snake's eyes. Sensing the pureness of Virgil's heart and his genuine admiration for the bananas, Sage Tamarind decided to bestow a gift upon the humble serpent.

As the ritual neared its climax, the swirling energies of the jungle coalesced around Virgil. He felt a tingling sensation coursing through his body, starting at the tip of his tail. The jungle seemed to hold its breath as Virgil underwent the transfiguration that would forever alter his existence.

Virgil's scales slowly began to change. The vibrant green hue that defined him now took on a golden sheen, mirroring the color of ripe bananas. His body elongated and curved, mimicking the elegant shape of the fruit he had always admired. He was transforming into a serpent that looked like a banana or a banana that looked like a snake.

At first, Virgil was startled by the change, unsure of what it meant. But as he slithered among the banana trees, he realized the gift he had received. He could now blend in perfectly with the bananas, his bright golden color camouflaging him from predators.

However, as days turned into weeks, Virgil discovered something strange happening. His skin was becoming softer, and he felt a strange warmth inside, like the sun had taken residence within him. Little green speckles began to appear on his golden surface, and he noticed a faint banana aroma emanating from his body.

Virgil knew that the transformation was not complete, but he embraced it with wonder and excitement. He had become a living bridge between the world of the snakes and the world of the bananas.

As time passed, the vines of the jungle whispered tales of the extraordinary serpent that looked like a banana, and animals from far and wide would come to behold this marvel. Virgil became a symbol of unity and diversity in the rainforest, reminding everyone that even the most unexpected changes can bring beauty and harmony to the world.

As Virgil completed his transformation into a serpent that looked like a banana, he indeed became a unique and mesmerizing presence in the jungle. His golden sheen and the faint banana aroma that surrounded him acted as a natural aphrodisiac to the female snakes of various species.

News of the extraordinary serpent quickly spread through the jungle, and female snakes from far and wide became intrigued by the tales of this enchanting creature. They were drawn to Virgil's charm and allure, curious to see the wonder for themselves.

One by one, female snakes of different varieties ventured into the heart of the rainforest to find Virgil. They came from all corners of the jungle, representing a colorful array of shapes, sizes, and colors. Virgil, ever the gentleman, welcomed each one with grace and kindness, forming bonds that transcended the barriers of their species.

As they mated, the magic of the jungle seemed to intensify. The enchanting glow that surrounded Virgil and the banana trees during the ritual of his transformation enveloped the mating pairs, creating an aura of unity and harmony. The jungle itself appeared to celebrate their unions, and the vibrant symphony of sounds from the animals echoed the joyous occasion.

The female snakes felt a special connection with Virgil, not just because of his radiant appearance but also because of his gentle and caring nature. He treated each of them with respect and admiration, making them feel cherished and appreciated. The bonds formed between Virgil and the female snakes went beyond mere physical attraction; they shared a deep emotional connection that was rare and profound.

With each passing day, more female snakes arrived, eager to experience the magic of mating with the banana-like serpent. The Emberwood was witness to a grand celebration of life, as new relationships blossomed and love spread through the rainforest.

As time passed, the offspring of the female snakes that had mated with Virgil began to display a most extraordinary transformation. They inherited his unique evolutionary trait, and as they grew, they started to resemble bananas of various colors. The once-green vine snake offspring now had skins that ranged from shades of yellow to deep shades of brown, and even hints of red and orange. Each generation brought forth new colors and patterns, turning the young snakes into living reflections of the bananas that surrounded them. Word of the offspring's remarkable appearance spread like wildfire, and animals from far and wide came to witness the enchanting sight of the banana-colored snakes slithering gracefully through the rainforest. It seemed as if the very essence of the banana trees had infused itself into the snake's DNA, creating a mesmerizing connection between the creatures and their surroundings.

As the banana-colored snakes grew, they retained the gentle and caring nature of their progenitor, Virgil. Just like him, they treated each other and the animals of the jungle with kindness and respect. Their vibrant colors and endearing personalities captivated the hearts of all who encountered them, further strengthening the bond between the snakes and the rest of the rainforest inhabitants.

As generations passed, Emberwood transformed into a living kaleidoscope of colors. The banana-colored snakes thrived amidst the lush foliage, their different hues reflecting the rich biodiversity of the rainforest. They embraced their uniqueness and formed a tight-knit community, supporting and protecting one another as their ancestors had done before them.

The banana-colored snakes became symbols of unity and acceptance in the rainforest. Their transformation taught the creatures of the jungle the value of embracing diversity and celebrating the beauty that lay within each being. They had become a living testament to the power of love and the remarkable ways in which life could adapt and evolve.

In time, these banana-colored snakes even developed a special bond with the banana trees. They discovered that they could communicate with the trees, forming a harmonious connection that benefited both the snakes and the trees. The snakes helped pollinate the banana flowers, while the trees provided shelter and nourishment for the snakes and their offspring.

The cycle of life continued. The Emberwood flourished with the enchanting presence of the banana-colored snakes and the abundant banana trees. The rainforest became a sanctuary of acceptance and unity, where creatures of all kinds lived together in harmony, celebrating the beauty of their individuality and the magic of their collective existence.

The radiant colors of the banana-colored snakes continued to grace the jungle when another pivotal  moment arrived. A tribesman named Bailla, from a quiet, indigenous village, ventured deep into the rainforest in search of fruits to gather. Unaware of the magical transformation that had occurred among the snake population, he stumbled upon Virgil, the ancient serpent that looked like a banana.

Bailla's eyes widened with excitement at the sight of the peculiar snake before him. He had never encountered such a magnificent banana in all his life. Believing Virgil to be an oversized, strangely colored banana, he reached out and began to peel him from the tail.

Virgil, taken aback by the sudden touch, let out a pained hiss. Realizing his mistake, Bailla halted his actions, surprised to hear the snake's response. It was then that he noticed the serpent's eyes staring at him with intelligence and understanding.

Bailla got the message. He put a bit skin in his mouth.

As Bailla tasted the yellow skin that he had peeled off Virgil, another astonishing change began to unfold. The magic that had infused itself into the banana skin seemed to permeate Bailla's being. His body glowed with a golden radiance, and a surge of newfound strength surged through his veins. He felt an exhilarating rush of energy, as if he had been rejuvenated and revitalized.

As the golden light enveloped him, Bailla's appearance began to change. His tired, weathered features smoothed out, and his hair darkened to a rich, lustrous hue. Wrinkles faded from his skin, and his muscles grew taut and powerful. Bailla's body seemed to shed years, and he stood tall with the vitality of youth. In his mind, Ballia began to have the daydream that became the recurring dream that he would have every night from then on. He could communicate with the banana snakes and imagined himself becoming one at night, under the stars.

Virgil watched in astonishment as Bailla's transformation unfolded. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon before and realized that the magic of the rainforest was far more potent than anyone had imagined.

Bailla, now filled with newfound energy and vigor, turned to Virgil with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, wise serpent," he said with a strong voice. "Your presence and the magic of this jungle have granted me strength and youth that I had thought were lost to time. I shall forever be indebted to you."

Virgil nodded, understanding the significance of the moment. "The magic of this jungle is ancient and powerful," he replied. "It has the ability to bestow gifts beyond our comprehension. You have been blessed with the rejuvenating essence of the banana skin, and it has brought you strength and vitality. Share this gift with your tribe but keep it sacred."

From that day on, Bailla's life took on a new trajectory. Filled with youthful vigor and strength, he became a respected figure within his tribe. He shared the tale of his encounter with the serpent that looked like a banana and the extraordinary transformation he had experienced. His story inspired awe and wonder among his people, and they regarded him as a living testament to the mystical powers that resided within the heart of the rainforest.

Bailla's newfound energy and vitality also had a positive impact on the jungle itself. With his strength, he became an even more dedicated guardian, protecting the rainforest and its creatures from harm. His renewed passion for the wilderness inspired others to see the jungle in a new light, appreciating its beauty and cherishing its delicate balance. The banana snakes remained a tribal secret. 

As for Virgil, he continued to glide through the Emberwood, a living bridge between the world of the snakes and the world of the bananas and the world of the villagers. He remained a symbol of unity and acceptance in the rainforest, embodying the profound connections that existed between all living beings.

The tale of the serpent that looked like a banana and the tribesman named Bailla stayed within the boundaries of the village. It became a testament to hope and wonder, illustrating the magical possibilities that awaited those who approached the world with an open heart and a curious spirit. the rainforest's enchanting dance of life continued, weaving its tapestry of beauty, magic, and transcendence.

And then, one glorious midnight, Bailla disappeared from the village.

Bailla found himself standing once again at the edge of the sacred clearing in the heart of the Emberwood Rainforest. However, this time, as he approached the ancient banana trees, an inexplicable, irresistible force pulled him closer. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his limbs, and before he knew it, his body began to undergo a peculiar transformation.

His skin turned a vibrant shade of yellow, and he felt a peculiar softness enveloping his entire being. Bailla's arms and legs fused together, and he felt himself elongating and curving, mirroring the elegant shape of a banana. His dream was coming true.

As the transformation completed, Bailla looked down at his new form in amazement. He was now a ripe, golden banana, surrounded by the other banana trees in the clearing. He tried to speak, but instead, he emitted a soft, sweet fragrance that filled the air.

Despite being in the form of a banana, Bailla's consciousness remained intact, and he could still think and feel. He realized that he had become one with the very essence of the rainforest, embodying the spirit of the banana trees. Bailla experienced life from a whole new perspective. As a banana, he was more attuned to the subtle rhythms of the jungle. He felt the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze, and the soft touch of raindrops on his skin. He understood the interconnectedness of all living beings in the rainforest, from the creatures that roamed its floor to the birds that soared above.

As a banana, Bailla also discovered a newfound appreciation for the cycle of life. He understood that just like the bananas that grew, ripened, and fell from the trees to nourish the animals and plants below, life itself was a constant process of growth, transformation, and renewal.

Bailla realized that his journey had come full circle. He had sought the magic of the rainforest, encountered the wise serpent Virgil, and witnessed the enchantment of the banana-colored snakes. Now, he had become one with the very symbol of the magic he had sought—the banana tree itself. And in the quiet moments of aromatic reflection, he would often think back to that unforgettable dream, where he had experienced the world as a tribesman—a dream that had forever changed his perception of existence and had revealed through curiosity and hunger the boundless wonders that lay hidden within the heart of the "undiscovered" realm of the rainforest.

And then, one glorious midnight, Bailla disappeared from the village.

Bailla found himself standing once again at the edge of the sacred clearing in the heart of the Emberwood Rainforest. However, this time, as he approached the ancient banana trees, an inexplicable, irresistible force pulled him closer. He felt a strange tingling sensation in his limbs, and before he knew it, his body began to undergo a peculiar transformation.

His skin turned a vibrant shade of yellow, and he felt a peculiar softness enveloping his entire being. Bailla's arms and legs fused together, and he felt himself elongating and curving, mirroring the elegant shape of a banana. His dream was coming true.

As the transformation completed, Bailla looked down at his new form in amazement. He was now a ripe, golden banana, surrounded by the other banana trees in the clearing. He tried to speak, but instead, he emitted a soft, sweet fragrance that filled the air.

Despite being in the form of a banana, Bailla's consciousness remained intact, and he could still think and feel. He realized that he had become one with the very essence of the rainforest, embodying the spirit of the banana trees. Bailla experienced life from a whole new perspective. As a banana, he was more attuned to the subtle rhythms of the jungle. He felt the gentle sway of the trees in the breeze, and the soft touch of raindrops on his skin. He understood the interconnectedness of all living beings in the rainforest, from the creatures that roamed its floor to the birds that soared above.

As a banana, Bailla also discovered a newfound appreciation for the cycle of life. He understood that just like the bananas that grew, ripened, and fell from the trees to nourish the animals and plants below, life itself was a constant process of growth, transformation, and renewal.

Bailla realized that his journey had come full circle. He had sought the magic of the rainforest, encountered the wise serpent Virgil, and witnessed the enchantment of the banana-colored snakes. Now, he had become one with the very symbol of the magic he had sought—the banana tree itself. And in the quiet moments of aromatic reflection, he would often think back to that unforgettable dream, where he had experienced the world as a tribesman—a dream that had forever changed his perception of existence and had revealed through curiosity and hunger the boundless wonders that lay hidden within the heart of the "undiscovered" realm of the rainforest.

[countdowntonov5]

August 28th, 2021

69 (nice.) days till November 5th.

[scaryorganmusic]

supernatural but sam’s attitude towards his powers is like jennifer’s from jennifer’s body

@bananapepper420​ thanks for the brain worms

[ravennazane]

Ryan, on the brink of a Jack Torrance breakdown.

[alwaysmoodboards]

Supernatural: Balthazar x Benny Lafitte having a relaxing summer vacation

Summer Holiday Series (Because don’t we all deserve a chance for one this year ^_~)

[atrociousdotcom]

i wish i was a milf magnet in the way that sam winchester is

[bleachblondecastiel]

If the turntable still starts

You can teach me how to waltz

And I'll teach ya how to feel really, really bad

[thedungeonmother]

So I’ve never seen Supernatural... (Spoilers, I think.)

I don’t watch Supernatural and it IS on my list of stuff to watch but I’m really bad at watching tv shows and am fighting to finish Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure right now.

However, I’ve finally gotten around to watching Sarah Z’s video on the Supernatural finale and I got a pretty good idea.

Again, I know nothing about Supernatural only what Sarah Z has recapped. But, for a rewrite of the finale (or final... three?? episodes) I propose;

Dean telling Castiel that he will never return his feelings during Castiel’s confession.

If I understand the show correctly (Which I probably don’t, tbh) Castiel only goes to turbohell if his soul is at it’s happiest. In a moment of panic as Dean sees Castiel at his happiest he rejects him. Taking that happiness away and keeping him around. For the next episode there’s some nonsense about a loophole in the turbohell contract and the last episode where Dean dies, it’s only him and Castiel in the barn where they met. 

Dean gets to reveal the loophole, confesses his own feelings they have a nice little moment and like.. I guess go to turbohell together. I feel like that would be a nice resolution for the characters. Both of them agreeing to die and spend eternity in the nothing together. Seems sweet. 

[scottsumrners]

okay i know that canonically we know what it looks like when angels and humans fuck, bc dean and anna fucked, but i think it would be so cool if it was something similar to the sex scene with the djinn in american gods...cas comes inside dean and he sees the creation of the universe

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

There was This Girl

Title: There was This Girl

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4030

Square Filled: Pie

Summary: No matter how much time had passed and how much time had hindered their memory, it was pie that seemed always bring Dean and Y/N back together. Like the saying goes, “some things never change.”

Warnings: Fluff, Explicit Language, Under-aged Drinking, and Mentions of Relationships and Break-ups.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Gif Not Mine

Sonny’s Preschool, 1983

It was Dean’s third day of preschool, and although he’s made a bunch of friends, there were times in the day when he would find himself randomly missing his family. He missed his dad’s voice, the warmth of his mother’s embrace, and playing with his new baby brother, Sammy.

Today, it happened during lunch. He had a nibble of his sandwich, demolished his small pack of Oreos, took a sip of his juice, but that was it. With his stomach swirling with the feelings of missing his dad, mom, and baby brother, he didn’t have an appetite.

Dean’s eyes began to water when suddenly a small voice caught his attention. “Hi,” his classmate, Y/N, beamed, occupying the empty seat beside him. Dean always described her as… bouncy. She opened her Princess lunch box which revealed a container inside. “Are you missing your mommy and daddy again?” She asked. Dean met her large sparkling eyes and nodded in affirmation. She smiled in return. “It’s okay, Dean. They’re going to come back and pick you up after school like they always do. I really like your mom, she’s really nice,” Y/N smiled. “She makes really good cookies.”

“I like my mom too,” Dean mumbled.

“What did your mommy make you for lunch today?” Y/N asked.

“My dad made me my lunch. I got a ham and cheese sammich, Oreos, and juice.”

“Ooh! I love Oreos!” She chirped. “My mommy said because I was a good girl the whole week, I get to have two pieces of cherry pie. Do you wanna have one? It’s really yummy.” Y/N pulled out the container in her lunch box, settling it in front of her. She peeled off the lid and recklessly dropping it back into her tin lunch box, creating a loud crashing sound. The teacher looked up at her with a slight frown, catching his glimpse on her.

“Y/N, please place your things nicely and quietly in your lunch box. That was really loud and it scared some of our friends,” Mr. Gibbons told her.

“Sorry, Mr. Gibbons,” she apologized with a shy voice. When her teacher smiled, Y/N returned the gesture before resuming the task at hand. Without her knowing, Mr. Gibbons continued to watch Y/N’s interaction with Dean, taking mental anecdotes that he will be recording down later so that he could share the precious exchange with both children’s parents.

Y/N pulled out one of the many crumpled napkins from inside her lunch box, pushing Dean’s sandwich out of the way before placing the napkin on the table in front of him, smoothing it out with her tiny hands. She then, as gently as she could, scooped up one of the slices of pie onto Dean’s napkin. “There!” she chirped happily.

“Thank you. Pie is my favorite food!” Dean beamed, looking at his slice of pie with excitement, before focusing back on her.

“Me too!” She gushed, smiling over at him as she pulled out a crumpled napkin, smoothing it out in front of her, and taking the pie from inside her container and placing it on her napkin. She pulled out one fork, and handed it over to you Dean, then searched her lunch box for another one, but frowned when there wasn’t any.

“Y/N, would you like another fork?” Mr. Gibbons asked, his voice kind as usual.

“Yes please!” She replied, eyes sparking again.

Dean was too young at the time to understand his emotions, but there was something in the way that she looked that made him wish he could always be close to her. That they could be best friends forever.

They were best friends all through preschool.

--

Lawrence Elementary School, 1989

Dean got into an argument with his best friend Castiel (Cass for short) and was currently not on speaking terms, which is why he was sitting alone, eating his packed lunch. He was sitting on a different table, not his usual spot, so when the group that usually sat there approached, they greeted him kindly.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N called out, sitting beside him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean flashed her a small smile, a hint of embarrassment displaying across his features.

“Where’s Cass?” She asked, her friends taking their seat on either sides of the two of them.

“We got into a fight and now we’re not really friends anymore,” he frowned.

“Hey, that’s okay. You can hang out with us if you want,” she smiled, patting his shoulders, making Dean smile. He scanned over her group of friends. He recognized them. There was Meg, Bela, and Donna.

“You betcha!” Donna gave him a thumbs up, before chomping on her powdered doughnut.

“Didn’t your mom say to eat that last?” Meg chided.

“Whatever—” Donna grumbled, setting her doughnut down on the table for later.

“Hey, for doing really good in school, my mom packed me two pieces of pecan pie! You want one?” Y/N asked, wanting nothing more than for Dean to feel better. She understood how he sad he must feel not being with his best friend.

Dean’s eyes widened, definitely wanting a piece. He was not going to pass up pie! He loved pie. She pulled out a napkin from her X-men Lunch box, placing it neatly in front of him before using a fork to scoop up the pie slowly and carefully, setting it on his napkin, leaving the fork with it.

“I’ve got a fork,” Dean grinned, handing her back the fork.

“Oh, okay,” she smiled, taking it from him. He watched her do the same for herself, the sight of her action almost feeling like déjà vu, but he shrugged and enjoyed his new company. For a bunch of girls, he thought they were pretty cool.

--

Lawrence High School, 1996

It was now Senior Year and as usual, Dean was sitting under the bleachers during his free period with a pack of beer sitting beside him, a couple of the bottles empty.

“Always the bad boy, aren’t you, Winchester?” His thoughts were caught off when he heard a familiar voice. He looked up and rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you a bit young to be drinking alcohol?” Y/N reprimanded.

“Not in Mexico,” he grinned, raising his half empty bottle in the air. This time she rolled her eyes at him.

“Where did you even get the booze?” Y/N asked.

“That’s none of your business. What are you even doing here anyways? Shouldn’t a goody two-shoe like yourself be in the library studying?”

She cleared her throat. “I am not a goody two-shoes.”

“Yeah? Is that why you’re here under the bleachers?” Dean quirked an eyebrow, his eyes boring into her. As he did, he couldn’t help but really look at her. They had been classmates for years, but he’s never really taken the time to pay attention.

She was cute.

“It’s my free period,” she stated simply.

“I know. And you’re usually in the library. I see you in there with what’s his face all the time, noses buried in a book.”

“His name is Michael, if you forgot.”

“Whatever.”

“Besides, we broke up. That’s why I’m not in the library,” she sighed, taking a seat beside Dean, and snatching the bottle from his hands, tanking the rest of it’s contents in one go. Dean looked at her with a shocked expression. He was definitely not expecting that. “It’s been a while since I had a beer,” she confessed, leaning her head against one of the bleacher beams.

“You drink?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, but I stopped when Michael and me started dating. He wasn’t into that stuff. Now that I think about it, he was extremely controlling. I don’t even know why I was with him,” she sighed.

“The money?” He teased.

“Tch. Who do you think I am? I don’t care about the money.”

“I was kidding,” Dean admitted.

“You know what I think it was? I think I was so drawn into him because he was the only guy who actually put in an effort to be with me. I turned him down twice before we got together, you know that? And now… he’s dumped me for Miss Teacher’s pet,” she spat, referring to her old friend.

“Weren’t you and Bela best friends in elementary school?” Dean asked, opening a new bottle of beer and handing it to her.

“Yeah, we were. But then middle school happened, and she got her boobs. After that, the rest was history. She became a brown nosing bitch,” she hissed. “Megs chilling with the gothic chicks, and Donna… well, she’s Donna,” Y/N’s frown quickly changed into a smile. “I wish she had free period right now. She’s know exactly how to cheer me up.”

“Hey, I got booze! I’m helping aren’t I?” Dean joked, lightly shoving her with his elbow.

His action made her laugh, and Dean couldn’t help but smile wide. “Yeah, thanks,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Hey…” Y/N started, rummaging through her bag. “I bought two slices of pie this morning. One was supposed to be for Michael, but since the douche ditch my ass, you want it?” She offered, handing him an individually packed slice of apple pie. “It’s from Breadbury’s,” she added.

“Oh, fuck yeah. I love that place!” Dean happily accepted.

“Me too! And I love the name of the place. It always makes me laugh,” Y/N giggled, taking out her own apple pie, handing Dean a fork at the same time.

“Thanks. The Bradbury’s are a funny bunch. Their daughter is a little weird though,” Dean commented.

“Yeah, she is, but she’s adorable. I used to babysit her when she was younger. She played video games the whole time! Literally, easy money!” she laughed.

“Did you ever sneak Michael in?” Dean’s immature and hormonal mind took over.

“Nah. Every time I asked if he wanted to come over, he’d say it was a bad idea, and that he had to study.”

“Wow, all work and no play makes Mikey a dull guy. If it were me, I would have sneaked in all the time. Babysitting is always the best opportunity for some hot make out sessions,” he wiggled his brow, taking a large bit of pie.

Y/N laughed, throwing her head back. “Right? Being with Michael was a missed opportunity on so many hot and steamy make out sessions.”

“If I was your boyfriend, that’s all we’d do,” he winked.

“Is that so?” Y/N giggled.

“Hell yeah,” he grinned.

“You really are a bad boy, Dean Winchester. I like it.”

--

Ten Years Later, Sioux Fall, South Dakota

Today of all days, Singer’s Auto Shop was dead. They had a few cars in that they were trying to fix, but other than that, it was quiet. No oil changes, safety checks… dead.

“Hey Bobby, Benny and I are going on our lunch breaks!” Dean called out to his uncle, who was locked in his office upstairs doing paper work.

“You got thirty minutes!” Bobby shouted.

Dean and his buddy since college, Benny, headed out towards the front of the shop and towards Bobby’s house, which was conveniently next door. They planted themselves on the front porch where they usually sat, and as always, Benny’s girlfriend had prepared him something amazing.

“What’d Pam make ya this time?” Dean asked.

“Looks like chicken fried steak,” he whistled, obviously overjoyed with his home-cooked meal.

“Dang, maybe I should find myself an older woman that can cook too,” Dean laughed, pulling out the turkey and cheese sandwich he made himself the night before.

“Or maybe just get yourself a girlfriend, period,” the Southern man chuckled. “C’mon man. It’s time to move on from Lisa. College was a distant chapter in our lives and now it’s time to move on, cowboy.”

“Yeah. Besides, Lisa couldn’t cook for shit. If the next girl that waltz into my life can make a damn good pie, I’ll consider her,” Dean replied, both men laughing.

While the two men ate their lunch, a red buggy car came rolling in, sounding not very pleasant. “That doesn’t sound good,” Benny muttered with his mouth full.

“You keep eating, I’ll handle this one,” Dean popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth before getting up, wiping his hands on his oil-stained denim.

“Hi, is this Singer’s Auto Shop?” A girl walked out. She looked a little disheveled. Her hair was up in a high bun, strands of her hair falling out, and her rusty red colored tank top was half tucked into her short high waisted shorts.

“Yeah, what can we do for you?” Dean asked, jogging over to her.

“My car started making this weird sound and then she started smoking,” she told him.

Dean looked at the old car, noting that it seemed vaguely familiar, but then again, he was a mechanic. He’s seen and worked on all sorts of cars – domestic and foreign. “Well, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but it’s a hunk of junk. You’re better off buying a new car. It would be much cheaper in the long run.”

“I’m a little low in the bank right now, so could you just add some duct tape so I can be on my way?” She snapped, obviously offended by his remark.

“Sure thing, Sweetheart,” he flashed her a forced smile, before gesturing her over to the passenger seat.

She rolled her eyes and plopped herself into the car while Dean jumped into the driver’s seat. He grunted at that minimal space in the car, reaching downwards for the lever to adjust his seat.

“Struggling over there?” She smirked, her voice hinting her amusement.

“Damn, you’re short,” he responded, making her frown at the statement. Dean grinned in triumph, before driving the car to the garage.

She stood beside Dean as he lifted the hood, eyes going wide and jaw practically dropping to the floor. “What the hell is this?” He mumbled, taking in all the duct tape. “You really wasn’t kidding about the duct tape! Let me guess… you ran out and your only option was the shop? That’s why you’re here?”

“Bingo,” she snapped her fingers.

“You don’t just use duct tape to fix cars!” He snapped, glaring at her.

“Like I said, I’m a little low in the bank. Besides, I just started her back up. I haven’t drove this car since college.”

“What were you driving before you brought this girl back to life?” Dean was curious.

“My ex bought me a car. I left it behind when I left him,” he confessed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen lady, you’re better off buying a new car. This little bug is running its last breath, thanks to your lack of TLC.”

“TLC? Really? It’s a car,” she crossed her arms. “Look, I just need to make it as far away from Kansas as I can, you think you can help a girl out?”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry to tell you, but this is the furthest away you’re going to get.”

“How do you even know that this is as far as I’m going to get? You haven’t even looked at it yet. I’m sure you can’t make any diagnosis without even trying.”

“I don’t even know where to begin! There’s duct tape everywhere! Tell me, how may times had this poor guzzler die out on you while on your expedition to who knows where?” Dean inquired. The woman beside him bit her bottom lip with guilt. “How many?” Dean reiterated.

Y/N sighed. “About six or seven times,” she confessed.

“Six or seven! Sweetheart, you’ve only managed to cross one state and it’s already broken down on you that many times? What’s in Kansas anyway that’s got you running for the hills? Let me guess. Controlling parents, maybe you’re a runaway bride, or maybe you running from trouble?”

She gulped. “We’ve all got our own story, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell a complete stranger about it,” she snapped. “But if you must know, I had a bad break up and I just wanted to start fresh.”

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll see what I can do,” Dean assured.

“Thanks. My name is Y/N, by the way.”

“Dean,” he smiled.

While Dean was tinkering away, she sat atop a table littered with items she assumed were tools and car parts. There were a few things on that table that she recognized, meaning, she’s seen them before but had no knowledge on what the hell they were called. Eventually, she got bored of the silence, needing some conversation to stimulate her mind.

“So…” she began, “you grew up around here? Bobby seems to know you really well. He your dad?”

“Nah, Bobby’s my uncle. My brother and I used to come here every summer while we were younger. My dad got me into cars, and he taught me everything I know, but it was bobby that taught me how to rebuild a car from all the scraps in the yard.”

“That’s great, then maybe you can fix mine?” She asked with hope.

“Oh, I’m trying. It took us all summer to build that car, and we didn’t even have the car fully assembled. We just had enough so that the car could run. This… this will be a miracle without me taking the entire thing apart.”

“Then let’s just hope a miracle does happen,” she threw him a thumbs up, and Dean shook his head. He knew this was going to be impossible to fix in a short amount of time. He’d need at least a week or two to fix up the mess she’d created.

Silence resumed its position, creating a bit of an awkwardness in the room. She was swinging her legs too and fro from her seat on a table, staring at Dean’s back. She couldn’t resist her eyes slowly following the muscle lines of his back, leading down to his perky ass, where she allowed herself to appreciate for a few seconds longer. Her eyes fell further downwards, admiring his jean clad bow legs. There was no way she could deny that Dean was attractive. And she also couldn’t ignore that there was something about him that was somewhat familiar.

Her mind drifted to her past. Once upon a time she knew a Dean back in Lawrence, but there was no way that this guy was him. The Dean she remembered was tall and skinny, however, the years had blurred his face from her memory. She couldn’t remember what he looked like. All she remembered was his name and the things he’s done.

“Hey, are you listening?” Dean asked. She saw his lips moving but she couldn’t seem to get out of her head. Her eyes landed on his face, realizing that his eyes were now her favorite shade of green. He had rough stubble framing his jaw and it made him look rugged, like he could own her in more ways than one. And then the freckles speckling on his cheeks made him look extremely boyish, which made him all the more handsome. There was no doubt that he was an attractive man. “Y/N, hey. Can you hear me? Where’s your head at?” He asked again, snapping his fingers this time, finally breaking her from the “sexy mechanic” induced trance she was imprisoned in.

“Sorry, what?” She batted her eyes.

“I was asking if you could pass me the rag,” he pointed beside her.

“Oh, sorry. I was… uh, I was just lost in my thoughts,” she gave him an embarrassed smile.

“It’s cool. Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Her cheeks went red. She couldn’t exactly tell him that she was checking him out. “Uh, just stuff,” she said, keeping her answer vague.

Dean watched her, his eyes trying to read passed her, and she could sense it. Her heart started to speed up, fearing that if he stared at her any longer, he’d see right through her. She felt the need to advert the attention elsewhere, otherwise she’d confess that she was checking out his ass and those strong bowlegs of his.

“Hey, could you do for a snack?” She piped. “I just remembered, I bought some peach and apple pie on the way. It’s actually sounding really good right about now,” she beamed.

“Uh…” Dean started, not sure what to make of her sudden change of subject and offer. “Yeah, sure. I could never say no to pie,” he smiled.

Y/N’s smile widened as she hopped off the table, bouncing over to the back of her car. She pulled out a woven picnic basket. “Are your coworker’s still around? We can all have some pie together.”

“Uh, yeah. I think Benny is working on a car outside, and Bobby is still up in the office. Let me get them.” She nodded. “Benny! Bobby! Get down here!” He yelled, his deep piercing voice making her jump. “Sorry,” he grinned meekly.

“What are you shoutin’ ‘about now?!” Bobby came storming down the steps from his office, while Benny walked in, dripping with sweat, the cloth in his hand doing nothing to stop the salty beads running down his skin.

“What’s up?” Benny asked.

“Snack break?” she added, Bobby and Benny looking down at her then to Dean.

Bobby’s attention fell back to Y/N and she noticed the way his features softened. “Yeah, okay. A snack wouldn’t hurt.”

Dean and Benny shared a passing glance, the edges of their lips curled upwards. Bobby has always had a soft spot for puppy dog eyes, the same eyes Y/N was currently impaling him with.

“Great! What we got here?” Benny rubbed his oil-stained hands together.

“Well, for starters, everyone needs to go wash their hands,” she ordered, pointing to each of them.

“You got forks don’t you? Why do we need to wash our hands?” Dean frowned, wanting nothing more than to get his taste buds swimming with pie.

“Hands. Wash’em.” She told them sternly, all three men groaning at her command.

Y/N smiled with triumph, following them to the sinks, washing her own hands. “Goody two-shoes,” she heard Dean mumble under his breath.

“I heard that,” she snarled, his shoulder’s going ridged.

When everyone gathered back around the basket, Y/N pulled out some napkins, setting them on the table. “Sorry guys, I don’t have any plates. I was planning on eating them straight out the tin,” she giggled shyly.

“That’s how Dean eats his pie,” Bobby revealed.

“No, I don’t,” Dean defended causing Benny to laugh.

As she was setting the napkins in front of each them, Dean had a flash of nostalgia. This has happened many times before.

“I’ve got peach and apple, choose your poison,” she chuckled at her own joke, which wasn’t all that funny or clever. Bobby and Benny were quick to choose their preference, but as she asked Dean, he stared at her a little longer than was comfortably acceptable. “Dean?”

“What?” He was lost in his thoughts, memories flashing before his eyes. All this time he thought something was familiar about her and now things were falling into place. “Sorry, uh… I’ll take apple.”

After pie and as the sun went down, Dean called it a day and invited Y/N to stay at his place. There was no way she could have rejected his offer considering she didn’t have the money to rent another motel if she wanted her car fixed. That and she had no place to go. With good faith, she said yes. And if anything were to happen to her, Bobby and Benny knew of their arrangements.

When they reached Dean’s apartment, Y/N complimented his place, saying that it was cozy, and definitely the home of a mechanic. She strolled his one-bedroom apartment, scanning the walls, looking at all the hung photos when one caught her eye. Dean stood behind her with anticipation. If she knew who was in that photo, then he was right about who she was.

“This… this is Sam… Sam Winchester… and that’s… you…” She spun around on her heel with wide eyes staring at him.

“Hi Y/N… it’s been a long time,” Dean smiled.

--

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Say Something Nice Here!

[blacktsubu]

I haven’t refered to Cass’s trench coat from actual scenes very carefully when I drew Cass so I always drew it wrong.

I made a reference sketch of his new trench coat for myself.

[countdowntonov5]

October 3rd, 2021

33 days till November 5th.

[scaryorganmusic]

POV you’re Castiel, angel of the lord, left alone in the bunker with Sam, who took part in some recreational substances and has some questions