#table cloth usa

[damon25]

Cotton 2 Ply Ringspun Satin Band Damask Linens: Where Classic Design Meets Modern Durability

Elevate your dining experience with Cotton 2-Ply Ringspun Satin Band Damask Linens — the mainstay of sophistication and performance. As high-quality linens made of 2-ply cotton, these offer added strength and a soft touch. Made of ringspun fabric for an ultra-smooth feel, the satin band damask design is perfect for adding a touch of traditional elegance to any table. Ideal for formal events, banquets, and fine dining, these linens elevate any meal with their luxurious look and feel. Made of natural cotton, they are soft, absorbent, breathable, and durable. These premium table linens are made with a durable 2-ply weave, perfect for home or professional use.

Machine washable and charming wash after wash, these linens couldn’t be easier to care for. Whether the purpose is a wedding, holiday dinner, or a high-end gathering, the satin band damask pattern possesses timeless beauty and unbeatable practicality. If you believe that quality and style go hand in hand, Cotton 2-Ply Ringspun Satin Band Damask Linens are the perfect solution for all your memorable dining.

[3liza]

here's what I've learned to never pay full price for, because people are giving these items away for free or almost free on Craigslist, Nextdoor, Facebook, at Goodwill, and on eBay (which has a local pickup section) in every sufficiently populated location in the USA.

cost of acquiring these items ranges from "carrying it home from the sidewalk" to "getting a friend with a car to help you pick it up" which is the same amount of effort as going to IKEA for worse quality that costs more, with the notable exception of it being a pain in the ass to coordinate with craigslist sellers, and you often have to wait and watch for what you want to actually show up. it took me about a year to find an acceptable gamer chair left out on the sidewalk, for example. but they cost $100+ new, so I chose to wait.

a lot of this stuff is the kind of thing you don't necessarily intend to keep, just to use in transitional housing or until you can afford a better one.

1. printers of any kind. basic office inkjets are free. ink is easily refillable or has generic ink cartridges way cheaper than brand name for any inkjet up to about 2015, not sure how difficult the newer smart printers are to hack but there's no reason to own a newer one because printing technology has not improved since about 2005. you want a color laser for making zines and wheatpastes? it's on Craigslist RN and someone's mom is desperate to get rid of it

2. bedframes

3. desks

4. tables

5. chairs

6. bookshelves, nice oak bookshelves that don't bend like al dente spaghetti when you put books on them, are rotting on sidewalks rn because they didn't fit in someone's house. go get them

7. scanners. I find a working scanner by a dumpster at least once a quarter, and I don't pick them up because I already have one that I picked up from a dumpster years ago

8. hot tubs. everyone thinks they want a hot tub and that the maintenance and upkeep will be worth it, and they are wrong. Craigslist.

9. sofas, with the caveat that if you are in a bedbug region like New York State you need to be very confident in your bedbug screening skills

10. quality leather shoes. these last forever and are expensive new. eBay is best for these

11. plates, glassware, silverware. all of these are able to be sterilized to whatever standard you feel comfortable with but if you eat in restaurants you've already put a fork in your mouth that hundreds of people have drooled on so try not to fool yourself

12. televisions and computer monitors

13. houseplants. similar to the bedbug warning above, you need to screen these for pests like fungus gnats and mealybugs

14. dressers, wardrobes, china hutches, cabinets, chests of drawers, etc

15. mirrors

16. clothes hangers

17. moving boxes

18. mattresses to a certain extent. I don't like secondhand used mattresses but unstained, unused mattresses are surprisingly common, especially since the foam mail order mattress boom started and people keep getting told by the mattress companies to just get rid of/keep any mattresses they want to return for flaws or wrong sizes or whatever. bedbug warning on this obviously

19. sheets and towels. you gotta launder them obviously

20. basic clothing, especially for kids. normie type clothing is so numerous people often just throw them away because they can't get anyone to take them

21. kitchenware like cooking utensils and pots n pans. don't use chipped or scratched Teflon/nonstick if you can help it. everyone needs one basic steel chef knife, which can be sharpened and maintained indefinitely. people throw these away CONSTANTLY

22. household consumables like laundry soap and dish soap. people often accidentally buy the wrong brand, scent, or develop allergies and want to get rid of extra

23. pet supplies like collars, leashes, dog crates, litter boxes, litter itself, dog beds, toys, carriers, etc

24. medical equipment of all kinds. people who take care of all kinds of patients end up with tons of leftover, sealed, miscellaneous stuff when that person recovers or dies, and they often give it away. adult diapers, hospital beds, IV stands, crutches, walkers, wheelchairs, fracture boots and splints, knee braces, canes, catheter packs, ice packs, heat packs, sterile paper sheeting, gauze, slings, over-the-door stretching and rehab pulleys, mattress protectors, etc

25. washers and dryers, both the basic household cube type and the small twin tub or rock tumbler type. people upgrade these when the old ones are still working, just squeaky or a little weird or sometimes just old

26. vacuum cleaners. secondhand ones are sort of icky but you can get rid of the ickiness by wiping them down with a rag and isopropyl alcohol inside and out. use an exacto or utility knife to slice off the hair and string wrapped around the roller. buy a new filter on Amazon. people throw away vacuums that work perfectly all the time because they don't actually know how to clean them out or do maintenance. bedbug and pet hair warning obviously

27. microwaves

28. refrigerators

30. lamps

31. any kind of exercise equipment including stationary bikes, ellipticals and weights/weight benches

32. any kind of piano. there's a grand on my local Craigslist for free rn

33. scrap wood and lumber

34. pallets

35. wood shipping crates

36. newborn, toddler and baby equipment like breast milk pumps and storage, bottles, bottle racks, diapers, etc. anything a little guy will grow out of fast will end up being given away

37. air conditioners, humidifiers and dehumidifiers. these will be most numerous during their respective off seasons

list updated 2/13/24 based on recent Craigslist trawling

38. jars, both canning type jars and clean food jars like from pickled or jelly bought at the store

39. rugs. most of my rugs are sidewalk finds. rugs will almost always be dirty. a decent consumer grade rug cleaner costs under $100, it's cheaper to just buy one if you have the space to store it. flushing the scavenged rug with soap, hot water, vinegar, alcohol, etc will clean almost anything but huge bedbug and allergen warning on this item

[nofingjustaninchident]

just a little drunk - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace and frank zhang x drunk!reader, best friends to lovers

warnings: mortal!au, alcohol consumption, dirty jokes, weed consumption, probably cursing.

a/n: i just discovered that i have a massive problem with writing. i literally took half an hour (at least) to write EACH one of those. terrible. just terrible. but i swear im trying to write more, it’s just cause i don’t have much creativity to write 😭

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… party in the USA - miley cyrus

Percy Jackson

He was at the party. Of course he was at the party. Everyone says a party without Percy Jackson is not a party. But he was the DD of the night, so he was completely sober - which was a hard task for the party king.

That, until he saw you. On top of a table. Striping down- wait. Striping down?! Jesus Christ, he left you alone for five minutes- oh, you’re taking your shirt off.

Of course there’s a bunch of assholes standing there, telling you to keep going and screaming obscenities at you. But Percy didn’t have the time to be mad right now, he was too focused on you.

If he got there one second late, he and everyone else in that room would see the black lacy bra you was wearing, but thank goodness he got there before you did it.

“Alright, that’s enough for today, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He said, hugging you from behind and taking a very giggly you off the table. All the boys in the room started ‘booh’ing him, and he just flipped him the finger.

“Perce! I was having funnn!!” You complained, your words sloppy and smudgy as he basically dragged you back to his SUV. He just rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly.

“Y/n/n, you were about to strip in front of a lot of people. I’m sure you’d kill me tomorrow if i let that happen.” He said as he pushed you onto the car and pulled the seat down so you could lay against it.

“Hmm.. Yeah, i’d probably do that.” She said, the smile never leaving her face as she started mumbling random words.

He closed the door and walked towards the driver’s seat. He knew he couldn’t drive you back to his house now, since he had to wait for his friends, so he just turned the air conditioning on and pulled a blanket over you shoulders.

“Sleep for a little. I’ll take you to my home, hm? I’ll take care of you.” He said, taking the loose strands of hair off your face. You were just so pretty it was unbearable.

“Fine.. Thanks, Percy.” She said and drifted off to slumber.

After a few minutes of watching you sleep, he remembered that you’d hate to sleep with make up on, so he looked into the glove compartment and- aha! Of course you had left a few of your wet wipes there.

He started softly running the cloth against your face, cleaning it. When he was finally over, he kissed your nose slightly and smiled to himself, waiting for his friends so he could drive you home aswell.

Jason Grace

He was sleeping, as any normal person would at 2 am. But he was a light sleeper, and he woke up suddenly with his phone raining in his nightstand. He groaned and searched for both his glasses and the phone so he could see who was calling him so late in the night.

When he looked at the phone screen, he frowned in confusion. Why was Kayla calling him, out of nowhere? She usually didn’t call him, unless-

“Kayla?” He said as he picked up the phone, sitting in his bed and rubbing his eyes so he could try and forget the sleepiness that was threatening to win him over.

“Hey, Jason.. uh… i’m sorry for waking you up but, uh… i’m in a party with y/n-“ Y/n and parties? Never ever a good combination. “-And she doesn’t accept to go home unless it’s with you. She’s… drunk. Maybe high, too. Can you pick her up?”

Oh boy, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do that. “I’m on my way. Just… send me the address and i be there as soon as possible.”

“Fine- shut up, y/n! Stay here, no-“ And then the call was over.

My god, he thought, what’s she gotten herself into this time?

Kayla sent him the adress and he got into his car - a Lambo, gift from his absent father trying to make up for it - and got in the place the party was happening in less than ten minutes.

The first thing he noticed was the loud noise in the party. The second was you, laid down and making a snow angel in the grass. Funny sight.

“Y/n/n? My god, what in hell are you-“ He got cut off with you getting up and jumping on his arms, hugging him.

“Jase! I didn’t think you’d come!” You said, smiling brightly at your best friend. “Come on, let’s go to the party!”

You tried pulling his hand towards the house, but you weren’t already the strongest while sober, and drunk… e didn’t even flinch.

“No, honey, im taking you back to your house. You got enough drinking for today.” He said, pulling you by the waist towards him and placing you inside the car as you tried your hardest to get back to the party.

“As, come on! Buzzkill!” You whined, crossing your arms and pouting at him.

“Come on, i’ll buy you a slushee. What’d you think?” He asked. You immediately smiled. Drunk you was a very easily distracted person.

“Fine. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” He said, squeezing her shoulder softly as he drove towards the gas station.

“Whatever you say. Buzzkill.”

Leo Valdez

He was home watching a dumb tv show. He didn’t really bother with sleeping, since he knew his best friend was going to a party. And you plus party equals to a very drunk mess.

So when he finally got a call, he already knew it was you. It happens that he was right.

“Yes, cariño?” He asked, a smile plastered on his lips as soon as he heard your drunk giggles.

“Can you pick me up, fireboy?” You asked, your voice groggy and smudgy. But he knew it would probably be like that, so he was already expecting it.

“Course i can. Send me the address and i’m on my way.”

“Fine. Bye Valdeeezzzz..” You said before hanging up the phone with giggles and smiles.

He got where you were and you were being supported by one of your friends, who seemed pretty annoyed with the drunk version of you, all smiley and clingy to anyone around.

“Oh, thank god you’re here. I can’t stand her anymore.” Your friend said before basically dragging you towards the boy. “She’s all yours now.”

You were all smiles as you held Leo’s neck and pulled him close to you. “Leooooo! I missd’ ya!”

“Hey, cariño. You’re kinda drunk, aren’t you?” He asked before supporting your weight and taking you towards his car.

“What? Me? Nooo…” You said, giggling. You clearly smelled like pure alcohol.

“Sure you aren’t. Get in there, i’m taking you home.” He said, opening the passanger’s seat for you and placing you inside.

He put on your seat belt and kissed you forehead before walking towards the driver’s seat.

When he got inside the car, you were almost completely dozed off in sleep, trying your hardest to stay awake. He chuckled and turned the air conditioning on so you could rest more comfortably.

“Sleep, y/n/n. I’ll call you when we get home.” He said, the smile never leaving his lips.

Franz Zhang

He’s dead worried that you haven’t gotten home yet. Of course he didn’t knew where you were, cause you didn’t tell him.

Come on, you knew that, if you did tell him, he’d try to stop you.

So why bother?

You were having fun. A really, really good time. That was until your best friend came by with a weird cocktail, which was nothing more than a mix of different types of alcohol and syrup. Really fun.

And that’s when you got drunk and wobbly and you just had to call Frank. Common drunk mistake, isn’t it?

He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n? My god, are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. He was so worried about you, cause you weren’t home and you didn’t pick up the phone and just called him out of the blue.

“Frankie!” You said and he could hear the smile in your voice. His concern only grew once he realized you were drunk.

“Y/n, where are you? I’m going to pick you up.” He said, already getting up with the car and house keys in his hand.

“I’m at Louis’ house! We’re having a birthday party!” You said, giggling and smiling brightly at absolutely nothing.

“Fine, i’ll… i’ll be there in ten. Just… don’t do anything stupid, and wait for me, outside the house. Don’t drink anything else and please, for the heavens sake, don’t do drugs.” He pleaded.

“I’m not- Frankie! I’m not on drugs. Please.” You said in a fake annoyed tone and giggled again. He rolled his eyes and sighed, driving towards where you were.

When he got there, he immediately saw you on the backyard, playing probably Pokémon Go and yelling when you finally found a pokémon. He smiled at the sight, and then remembered why he was there.

He walked towards you. When you finally saw him, you smiled widely and jumped in his direction, trying to hug his neck. Which wasn’t easy, as he was a little taller than you.

“Hey.” He said as he leaned down so you could hug him properly.

“Heyyy!!! I missed you!” You said, voice muffled by his shoulder. “Can you take me home? Please? I’m tired.” You said smiling cheekily.

“No.” He said, simply. “I’m taking you to my house today, kay? There’s some of your stuff there, and i can borrow you a shirt so you can sleep. But i’m not leaving you alone in this state.”

“Yay! Sleepover!” You cheered excitedly.

He couldn’t deny that the drunk version of you was very cute.

a/n pt2: did you see what i did there? i cut almost all of them in the middle. two reasons: one, for this not be too big and second i have inspiration to write more. lmk if u want a part 2 of those!!

[toasttt11]

wrapping paper fiascos

summary: finding out your boyfriend can’t wrap presents as well as he has been pretending he can.

luke hughes x reader

hhh masterlist

She put the keys into the lock of their front door and walked into their apartment, she slipped her shoes off by the door and hung up her coat and scarf on the hooks and tossed her keys on the entrance way table.

She smiled softly seeing Luke sitting on the couch and he had his headphones on so she knew he didn’t hear her come home, she decided to head to their bedroom first and get changed out of her clothes.

She slipped on a pair of Luke’s huge pair of grey Devils sweatpants and one of his USA hoodies and a pair of his socks because they are the warmest and most comfortable.

She walked out do their room and down the hallway leaning on the wall looking at the living room and realizing what Luke was doing, he was wrapping presents for the holidays.

She let out a small fond quiet laugh seeing the presents not looking the absolute best but they looked adorable which was a little confusing because Luke always has really nice wrapping since she has known him for the last few years.

When she first saw his presents she was genuinely very surprised at how well he wrapped all of the presents, it wasn’t something she expected him to be good at.

She walked over leaning over the couch and leaning her chin on Luke’s shoulder making him flinch and turn around shocked and let out a sigh of relief seeing his girlfriend.

Luke took the headphones off tossing them on the table as she walked around the couch to him, Luke smiled at her fondly patting his thigh making her sit down on his thigh and one of his arms wrapping around her waist and the other tucking hair behind her, “Hi Baby.” Luke lovingly mumbled with a soft smile.

“Hi pretty boy.” She softly smiled tracing the bridge of his nose softly with her finger making him scrunch his nose at her and she leaned closer pressing a kiss to his nose.

“What are you doing?” She asked softly as she pulled away smiling at Luke’s pout.

She looked back at the table seeing a pair of Nike air force ones that are customized with a few Devils and Umich logos and a few other painted things that is all things that Jack loves, “Oo are these the shoes for J?” She asked curiously knowing Luke had been working with a small business to make a pair of shoes for Jack.

She furrowed her brows not getting an answer from Luke and turned her head seeing Luke having a shy look on his face, “What is it?” She softly asked him.

Luke pursed his lips shaking his head slightly making his curls move, “You weren’t supposed to see me doing this.” Luke sheepishly told her.

“What? Wrap presents?” She titled her head not understanding why Luke is being a little shy.

“Yeah.” Luke fiddled with her waist band, “I can’t wrap presents. You can probably tell.” Luke scoffed gesturing to the one present he finally wrapped and it doesn’t look good.

“But what about the last few years?” She softly questioned brushing back some of Luke’s curls.

Luke made a sheepish smile, “I took them to a store and got them wrapped.”

She made a realization face and nodded, “Okay so why couldn’t you use this year?” She honestly was not that surprised hearing he paid someone to wrap presents.

Luke blinked as she didn’t even mind he didn’t wrap the presents, “I couldn’t get time the last few weeks to go and now it’s really busy and a few of the stores near are closed and it was too much.” Luke sheepishly rambled, He tried to go to the store today but the line was out the door and was hours long.

She softly nodded listening to all of Luke’s words, “Okay do you now how to wrap at all?” She asked gently not being mean or teasing him but genuinely wanting to know what he knew what to do.

“Mom tried to teach me but i didn’t get it.” Luke explained with his cheeks burning.

“Well come on my love i’ll teach you.” She softly told him as she got up and sat on the floor patting the spot next to him.

Luke lips quirked up in a fond smile and slide off the couch sitting down next to her, she draped a fluffy blanket over both of their laps and grabbed a box from Luke’s pile of presents knowing it will be the easiest for him to learn.

She grabbed the wrapping paper and opening it across the coffee table and set it they box down, “Okay first of all you want to make sure you have enough paper for the gift before you cut, you can always have to much but you don’t want to little.” She softly explained to Luke.

Luke slowly nodded watching as she made sure there was enough paper before cutting it.

“Okay so i tape it here first on the bottom so it makes it easier to do the sides.” She slowly taped the wrapping paper letting Luke see everything.

“Okay?” She checked making sure not to go too fast and confuse Luke.

Luke nodded still understanding what she is saying.

“Next you want to do the sides, so fold it here and you can tape it now so it’s easy and then fold this side the same way and tape it and than flip the last piece over and tape it.” She explained as simple as possible as she slowly wrapped the one side.

“Okay you want to try this side?” She softly encouraged pushing the present closer to her making Luke let out a breath and softly nod.

Luke slowly started folding one side just like she said and took the piece of tape she had for him and started doing the other corner.

She watched with a fond smile as Luke focused intently on the present and his tongue was sticking out slightly as she focused.

Luke taped the last piece and made a surprised noise when he realized he did and it did not look half bad.

“It looks great Luke!” She proudly smiled at how well Luke did, “See you can wrap great.” She ran a gentle hand across his curls making him eagerly lean into her touch.

“All because of you.” Luke softly responded back catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“We’re a team.” She playfully reminded him, “We better get started on the rest.”

Luke smiled lovingly shaking his and leaned to he rucking her face and pressing his lips to her lips softly making her hum and press her self to him closer.

“I love you.” Luke mumbled against her lips, He shouldn’t even be surprised with how easily she took what he told her and how easily she taught him something he has been trying to learn for years.

“I love you.” She mumbled back pressing one more kiss to his kiss before they pulled back from each other and faced back to the coffee table starting to wrap the next present together.

“I’m just impressed you managed to hideit for so long.” She teasingly told him as she watched him finish wrapping another present.

Luke whipped his head to her playfully glaring as she giggled at him, Luke let out a small chuckle pressing a kiss to her cheek.

It was the perfect way to spend the night together, wrapping presents together by the warm fire with the christmas tree lights shining through out the living room.

Wrapping presents together felt like their future was starting for when in a few years they are wrapping their kids presents.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 5 - It's Not Enough

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, angst, light smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh, kind of sick Dean? You'll see.

Summary/Warnings: You confront Dean, and the betterlust starts to become a problem. Usual Warnings, little extra angst.

Author's Note: Welcome to feelings town, USA, population 3 (Dean, Her, and us)

Chapter title from Untouched by The Veronicas

Word Count: 6.5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

You haven’t seen Sam in three days. He’d walked out of the garage and seemingly vanished, not present at dinner, or in the library, or the Dean Cave. You’d poked your head into his room the next morning, frowned around the empty space, and felt your heart almost stop when you’d realized his bag was gone. His bag, and gun, and phone, and—as you’d learned after shifting through his dressers—enough clothing for at least a week. Later, after you’d told Dean, you’d noticed that he’d taken one of your spare, stolen cars with him.

“I mean,” you’d run your hand over the roof of a disgustingly expensive Jaguar—stolen because you had been certain the owner wouldn’t miss it—and sighed. “At least I was right.”

When you’d turned to look at Dean—practically hovering over your body—he’d just been staring at you. You’d raised your brows and nudged his shoulder with yours, and he’d blinked like you’d just shaken him out of a dream.

“Right, uh,” He’d rubbed where you’d touched him, looking between you and the car. “Right about what?”

“The cars. I’d said they’d be useful, so me and Sam could drive without taking the impala.”

He’d chuckled. “Sure, Sweetheart.”

“I was right-“

“Hey,” Dean had raised his hands in surrender. “I said sure-“

“No, you said sure.” You drop your voice to mimic his tone, holding his innocent expression with a glare, and he shrugs.

“I’m not really seein’ the difference-“

You’d rolled your eyes and turned back to the car. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

He’d taken a step closer—suddenly pressed right against your back—and his voice had been low and gravely and wholly unhelpful in your ear. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t hear your own voice, Dean.” You’d mumbled, keeping all your attention on the glint of light off the paint. “I can. That’s your sure when you’re, um…”

You’d trialed off, and his hand had somehow moved to your chin, turning you to face him. “When I’m what.”

“Making fun of me?” You’d said it breathless, like a question, and Dean’s nostrils had flared.

“Well then.” He’d muttered, and you could’ve sworn he’d looked down at your lips. “Lemme make it clear, Sweetheart. I wasn’t makin’ fun, you were right. Real helpful.”

He’d lingered there for a second—long enough to make the air electric, long enough for you to wonder if this was just a really weird dream—then jerked back, leaving you a little hollow and sunken and bitter.

But he hadn’t left.

He wouldn’t leave.

You haven’t seen Sam since the garage. Dean didn’t seem worried—which was incredibly worrying within itself—and you know Sam’s a least alive, because he texted you twice a day.

Not dead. Back soon.  

Tell me if Dean does anything weird.

You might have looked for him. Called him and made him tell you what the fuck possessed him just up and leave you here, tell you where the hell he was, demand to know why he wasn’t helping you deal with this. Deal with Dean, who was doing everything weird. Not chasing after or calling Sam, not trying to find another case, not leaving the bunker for anything.

Not leaving you for anything.

Because it’s been three days, and you haven’t stopped seeing Dean.

He’s with you all the time. Behind you, across from you, at your side, always touching you just a little. A hand on your shoulder or back, fingers brushing your skin or poking your arm, a foot pressed against yours under the table. Following you around like he’s a bodyguard and you’re in grave danger, sitting wherever you sit and eating whenever you eat. Standing outside of the bathroom when you go and refusing to acknowledge your questioning looks, walking you to bed every night—but refusing to ever actually look at or enter your room—and waiting for you in the kitchen every morning.

He’s always waiting for you in the kitchen. Already up and shuffling around, and you’re not quite sure he’s actually sleeping, because when you see him his skin is a little sallowed, and his eyes are heavy with bags, and he leans on the counter like his knees feel weak. Dean looks sick, every single morning, and every morning you wonder if you’d imagined it. Because his eyes meet yours and suddenly he’s full of color. Flashing you a smile and saying teasing words, no longer the hollow, deadened man you’d just seen. When you walk in he looks like an animal or husk, and then seconds later he looks like Dean.

And you’re so confused.

Sam’s gone, doing Sam things. Dean’s not avoiding you anymore, but there’s clearly something up with him, and nobody will give you a straight answer for what the fuck is going on. You’d even texted Rowena to see if she could look at the spell again, and never gotten a response back. Not even a fuck off, Dearie, I know how to do my job.

It must be the spell. It’s the only logical explanation. Rowena fucked up the spell—and she knows it, which is why she won’t respond to you—and now Dean’s trapped on you for some reason. Maybe he’s feeding the Mark with things you want—him—because Rowena had used your hair, and she wasn’t supposed to do that. It must be why Sam’s gone, to track down Rowena and get her to fix this.

And you should be ill with concern. You should be consumed by doubt about why no one trusts you with this, and drowning in worry for Dean, for what this means for him.

But you’re selfish. Dean is talking to you and smiling at you and touching you, and you’re so confused as to why, but you never want it to end. You never want Dean look anywhere else again, or guide anyone else through another door, or smirk and wink at a face that isn’t yours.

Towards the end of the third day, you don’t think you’re going to be strong enough to find out what’s going on. It’ll crumble this perfect illusion of Dean really, at least in some way, wanting you. Destroy this world where he’s lounging at you side in the Dean cave, he’s pulled your legs over his, and he’s rubbing the skin of your calf like that’s just something he does. Like it’s not something you’ve dreamed of, something that’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life when Sam fixes this and it’s gone forever.

You have to ask him what’s going on now, before you get lost in a drunken haze of this perfect moment and forget your sworn duty. Help Dean. Sitting with Dean isn’t helping him. Feeding your own desire isn’t helping Dean. Indulging a fucked-up spell isn’t helping Dean.

So you push up slightly, bracing yourself on flat palms, and clear your throat.

Dean looks over to you with a drawn brow. “What’s up, Sweetheart?”

He can’t keep calling you Sweetheart like that. The same way he’s always said it, but deeper. Richer. Like there’s something you’ve never noticed in the word that’s suddenly bigger.

“I, um,” you swallow as he scans over your face, and force the words out of your mouth like vomit. “I need to know. I can’t keep, um, I don’t want to just sit here. I need you to tell me. Tell me the truth, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong-“

“Don’t lie!” You almost yelp, and he might have flinched. “I know you’re trying to like, protect me from it or something, but don’t. I’m fine, I’m a big girl, I can handle it, I can help, you just need to tell me how.” You lean forward, your voice becoming almost a plea. “Please, Dean, tell me how-“

“You can’t.” He snaps, and it’s firm but not loud. Tired but not angry. It’s worse. “Don’t bother.”

“Dean-“

“I said-“

“I know what you said!” You shake your head, growing a little frantic. “You said I ‘can’t’, which means there is something, and you won’t tell me! Dean, please tell me-“

“No.” He grunts, something heated in his eyes as they bore straight into you. “Drop it.”

“I can’t.” You try and pull your legs away, and his hold on you tightens. “Just, at least tell me why you won’t tell me!”

The room fall into a long, heavy, weighted silence as Dean just stares at you. He’s squeezing on your calf, and his jaw keeps clenching like he’s fighting the words in his mouth.

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to cover his. “Please.”

His eyes shoot to your hands, his grip like iron, and he looks almost feral. Like he’s afraid of your touch, or caught in a trap, or something’s about to snap in his body.

But you try to pull back, guilt eating at the edges of your every nerve, and he holds you there. You can hear his breathes, see the tension in his body, and when he speaks it sounds painful. Growled and strained and pushed through teeth.

“I’m handling it.” He mutters, still staring at your hands. “Got a hold on it. You,” he lets out a long, slow exhale, and his hold on you loosens slightly. “Just, it’s not dangerous. Nothin’ for you to do.”

“But why won’t you tell me-“

“Cause.” His jaw twitches. “I can’t. That’s it.”

“Can’t?” You mumble. “Or won’t?”

He shakes his head, drawing another circle on your skin. “Both.”

He’s not going to move on this. Dean won’t meet your eyes, but he also won’t stop touching you, and he’s one of the most stubborn assholes you’ve ever met. If he’s not going to tell you, you probably couldn’t waterboard it out of him.

But you were right. Something is wrong, and Dean won’t tell you what. He’s almost certainly told Sam, but he hasn’t told you. Because you’re not Sam. You’re not someone he loves, or someone he implicitly trusts. He doesn’t want you, doesn’t need you, doesn’t think you could help. And it’s igniting something that stings behind your eyes, sets something heavy and choked inside your throat.

You can’t look at him. If you look at Dean, fully look at him, he’ll look handsome and sad and angry, and you’ll give in. You’ll stay here, where you’re not really wanted, and eat your own worry and fear and love until you know how to pretend that this is fine. That you don’t feel so small and useless, that Dean didn’t just take a bite out of your heart and leave you a little emptier than before, without even knowing.

He doesn’t want you to help him. He may even think you can, but it doesn’t matter, because he isn’t going to let you.

And you can’t stay here or you’ll start crying, and he’ll think you’re weak and emotional. Or worse, he’ll try to comfort you. He’ll ask why you look like he’s kicked you in the gut, and you’ll have to lie to him.

You don’t want to lie to Dean. Not right now. He’s lying to you, but you can’t lie to him. You’ve never even been able to stomach lying to Dean. It’s always make you feel itchy and sick, and right now you already feel so terrible that lying to Dean might make you vomit.

“Okay.” You whisper, tugging your legs away, and this time he lets you. “I got it.”

He says your name as you stand up, and he sounds like he’s in pain, and you can’t look at him to check. “Where are you going?”

“Bed.” You turn away, and every step to the door is mechanical and forced. “I’m tired.”

Dean’s silent behind you. He doesn’t call after you, or chase you down the hall, or even say goodnight. He just lets you go.

You don’t think he knows he had you in the first place. You don’t think he knows that, if he grabbed your arms and asked you to stay, you would’ve. If he apologized, you’d forgive him before he was even done speaking. He’s done worse than this. You fought over less, and forgiven him for more.

But he doesn’t seem to be seeking your forgiveness. And you still have enough pride to not demand it of him. To not stomp back into the room and either scream at him like a scorned lover, or crawl on your knees and beg him to tell you. Either way you’d make a total, desperate, pleading fool of yourself, and right now your dignity—or your fake mask of dignity—is all you have left.

So you’ll hide until this passes. Until Sam gets back, and Dean gets better, and you can all pretend nothing ever happened in the first place. You’ll spiral into thoughts of what could be wrong, and busy yourself with things that don’t quiet the voice in your head. The one that keeps hissing why would he have ever trusted you, you’re not that important, and you’ll force yourself think about anything but Dean. You’ll get ready for bed and not worry about if Dean will even sleep tonight. You’ll shower and try to deny yourself of the usual fantasy’s where Dean’s under the water with you, and he’s grinning at you as you fall to your knees for him in the steam.

Then he would carry you to bed, keeping you wrapped in a towel after he’d insisted on drying you off. He’d set you down on the mattress—which suddenly feels far too big and far too lonely—and crawl over your body, with a smug, annoying grin that’s far too innocent for the predatory look of hunger in his eyes. He’d kiss you all over your face until you’re giggling, and then press his palm against your core and you’d make a loud, needy gasp as he moved to nip and kiss at your breasts-

There’s a knock at your door, and you have to a long unsteady breath to clear your head. You’d somehow ended up with your back flat on the bed, your own hand between your thighs as you’d lost yourself in the empty dream of Dean wanting you, just like you’d sworn not to. You can’t speak right now, not until you’ve stopped grinding against your own fingers, stopped arching off the bed, stopped thinking about Dean’s pretty, full mouth wandering over your skin, moving lower, sucking on your clit and tongue fucking you until you screamed his name-

There’s another knock, and this time you hear your name. Grumbled through the door as Dean’s shadow shifts around outside your room, cruelly not leaving until you answer.

“What, Dean.” Your voice is flatter than you’d meant it to be, but you are tired, and if you use emotion you’ll cry or scream. And you really don’t want to do either right now.

“Are you, uh, you gonna open the door?”

He sounds uncertain, and you sigh as you push off the mattress and. You could say no. You don’t want to say no.

“What.” You yank open the door with a glare, and your mouth almost falls open as you take him in. He looks horrible. In an hour his skin has turned gray, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips are in a thin, tight line.

Any anger you’d felt vanishes in one, sharp breath.

“Jesus, Dean, are you-“

“Look, I know I don’t have the right to, but I gotta just ask-“

“Dean-“

“Can I sleep in here?” He scratches the back of his neck, his words barely a mumble as he stares at the floor. “Please.”

You blink at him in surprise. You’ve slept in the same room—even the same bed—as Dean countless times. In cheap motels when you couldn’t afford two rooms, on stiff mattresses when the only other choice was an oddly stained couch. But never at the bunker, where you all get your own rooms, and comfortable beds, and personal space. Dean’s never even been in your room. He’s knocked on your door to grab you for dinner or a last-minute hunt, staring stubbornly at the floor like he is now, remaining a solid step from the threshold like even a toe in your room would kill him.

He’s at the mantle of the door now. Still refusing to meet your eyes, still tense, but also braced like he’s waiting for permission. And you know, if you slammed the door in his face, he’d shuffle away

And you’re a selfish, lovesick dumbass, so instead of kicking him out with his tail between his legs, you look over him wearily and ask, “Why?”

“I, uh,” he glances up at you, and makes a face as if you’d shot him, his voice dropping to a low mumble. “Wanna. If you’re still pissed, I get it, but I just-“ He takes a step back, looking more and more sick by the second. “You know what, forget it. Stupid idea-“ 

You catch his arm, and he freezes, staring at you with something like fear in his eyes.

“I didn’t say no.” You say, because you’re a helpless dumbass, and maybe this is how he needs you. Dean isn’t good at asking for things, or apologizing, or saying please, and the fact that he’d even done one of those things tells you he means it. You can kick his ass for being such a weird dick later, when this is fixed. Right now he looks like he’s on death’s door, and if this is all he can offer you, you’ll take it.

And that’s pathetic and desperate and probably not that healthy.

And you don’t care. Dean lets you guide him into your room, over to your bed, and he won’t stop staring at you, so you don’t care. You’re not speaking, but you don’t feel like you need to. He’s listening to you in the silence of your movements, laying down when you push slightly at his chest, pulling his sheets up when you hand them to him, and waiting for you as you flip off the lights and round the mattress to your side. When you rest your hand over his, he laces your fingers together and doesn’t go further.

You don’t know how long you lay there, staring at the ceiling and holding Dean’s hand. He coughs after what might have been a minute or a year, moving his thigh to press to yours under the covers, and you don’t think before you give into his silent request. Rolling on your side so you’re facing him, where you find him already staring at you. He looks better. There’s more color on his face, less taut strain on his shoulder, and when he speaks his voice is still low, but less hoarse.

“I can’t tell you what’s goin’ on,” he mutters your name, squeezing your hand. “But you gotta trust me. It’s for your own good.”

You sigh, and give him a sad, soft smile. “It’s not.”

He says your name again, almost as a warning, and you shake your head, holding his gaze.

“Don’t argue, Dean. You know it’s not. But I’m tired of fighting.” You scoot a little closer, and—in the bravest move of your life—drop your head against his chest. “So I forgive you.”

You can’t hear his breathing. He’s stiff against you, and for a second you think you’d fucked up. Made him uncomfortable, made whatever the fuck is happening come to an abrupt end. And you don’t understand this at all, but you know you don’t want it to stop. Ever.

So when Dean, wraps his arm over your body, keeping you against him in the dark, relief explodes through you like a bomb. It’s a brief, hazy moment where it’s just you and Dean in the dark, and he’s touching you like you’re more than a body, more than a friend, more than important. Touching you like you’re an anchor. A cure.

It—combined with Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, and his hand cradling your head—lulls you to an easy sleep, and sparks dreams where Dean touches you like this for a long, long time.

And you’ve really, truly forgiven him.

But you’re not sure how you’re going to live once this goes away.

——————

Dean didn’t know where he was. It was his room, and every motel in America, and his car. Blurred and melded together, so familiar and simple and Dean’s.

Everything in here was Dean’s. The leather bench he was sitting on, the clothing tossed on the floor around him, his mattress across the room. Her.

She was here. She was naked on the bed, waiting on her knees for Dean with a smile, and so damn hot something inside him was going to explode.

And Dean didn’t know what the hell was going on.

The room kept changing. A pair of boots he’d lost years ago on a hunt were near the door, and then gone. Gone with the door. The wallpaper kept shifting between solid colors and floral patterns and stripes, and then he was in Baby, but still in his room, and the ceiling was a roof. There was wind in his face but no windows, and wheel in his hands for only a second before it was gone. He was on the impala’s bench, then in a wooden chair, then on the bed. Next to Her.

She kept changing too. Her skin was clean one moment, then covered in dirt the next. Her hair was longer, then shorter, then tangled and natty before being well-groomed and framed around Her face. She was naked, but in a strange way where Dean couldn’t actually see her body. The space between Her legs was smooth like a doll, and her boobs were just as amazing as always, but blurred at the nipple. Odd patches of Her body seemed to be covered in static, and Her hands moved in a strange, impossible way, and everything felt off.

But Her face was as gorgeous as it always was. And she was looking at Dean like she always did. With bright eyes and smile that Dean knew could fall so quickly, with something harsher behind her features that Dean had learned not to unleash, and something odd he could never figure out.

She said something Dean couldn’t hear, and his mouth moved like a puppet, saying something back he didn’t understand. She seemed to like it, though, because She laughed and crawled onto Dean’s lap.

She was on his lap. She was under him. She was on her knees.

She was on her knees, and She was touching Dean. Palming him through his jeans, watching him with wide, soft eyes and a smile, taking his cock into Her mouth and moving like she’d done it before. Like She was every great blowjob he’d ever had, but still just her. Those were Her lips wrapped around Dean like he was a popsicle, and his hand was in Her hair, guiding her up and down as she moaned and whined and started to grind onto the air.

Her fingers playing with his balls. Her tits between his cock, before it was suddenly Her mouth again, then her hand, then just her tongue. Licking over the head of him before her teeth grazed the base.

It was Her voice, however muffled and faraway, that whimpered his name around his cock. Her eyes that fluttered when he hit the back of Her throat.

Her mouth Dean came in, and her nails that dug into his thighs as he face-fucked Her through his orgasm. He was high and spinning and dying and so alive, he didn’t know where he was, but he knew he’d never come down. She was so good, she’d touched him, and everything was fucking awesome, and Dean’s whole body felt limp and wired as Her hand pumped him through the last of his release.

And it was Her thumb that swiped a dribble of cum off Her chin. Her lips that closed around that same thumb and sucked Dean off her skin.

He had to touch Her. Dean needed to touch Her, to hold her and make her come apart like that. To knead on Her skin and kiss between her breasts, to shove his fingers deep inside Her at make her unravel, to see if she’d feel even better when it was Her pussy wrapped around his cock instead of her mouth-

Dean’s eyes snapped open, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. He could barely move or think or speak. His eyes were open but filled with black spots and everything was in a painful blur. His blood was burning and heavy in his body, but his skin felt like white-hot ice, and he could taste the salt of sweat falling from his brow.

He could smell it, smell how he was drenched in that same sweat over his body, could feel how the linen sheets tangled over his body felt made him feel like he was being crushed under a mountain. Dean could taste how something foul like bile was up his throat and over his tongue and filling his nose like blood. It clouded over something sweet fruity and familiar, something that he needed to fucking devour before all his muscled seized up and his heart pounded out of his chest.

The better smell came from something he was clinging to like a goddamn teddy bear. It was firmer and warmer than the sheet, but didn’t hurt or ache to touch. It didn’t need to be tangled against Dean’s body, because it fit against him easily, molded into his hold and shifting in shallow movements, and smelling so good. Sugary and a little sour, slightly artificial but natural in Dean’s nose, and he couldn’t place it over the fog eating at his brain, but he needed it-

He inhaled deeply, a little of his vision cleared, and felt a weight drop into his lungs when he realized what he was smelling.

Cherries. Her hair was a little in his face, and it was Her body in Dean’s arms, and he was fucked. The betterlust had an iron grip on his whole body, so he could only see if he was looking at Her, only breath when he buried his face in her hair—like a fucking creep—and only move if it was to touch Her. She was knocked the hell out, and Dean wouldn’t be able to leave the bed until she woke up and he could trail after her wherever she went.

Then he remembered their fight, remembered that She might not want him near her, and it was like a stab right into his gut. Ripping through is organs and tearing a low groan from his chest, because he was a fucking idiot and now she probably hated him. He was only in here because She’d pitied him, and Dean didn’t want her pity. He just wanted Her.

He couldn’t have Her. Especially not now, when she was probably sick of him and his bullshit. When She’d left him, and he’d deserved it. He’d make the same choice again—if Dean told Her how she could help him, She’d do it out of obligation and he’d lose her forever—but that didn’t make him any less of a dick. If he was a better, stronger man none of this would be a problem. He’d be able to sit next to Her and not only think about how gorgeous she’d look under him or straddling him or with his cock in her mouth-

Another flash of pain cracked over his bones, and he couldn’t move but he had to. All the betterlust wanted was Her, and Dean couldn’t have Her, but it didn’t seem capable of getting the memo. Dean could either have Her, or die.

So he was done. He’d never be able to live with himself if he made Her do that. His own love for Her was just stronger than the betterlust, and it was telling him that She deserved better than him. That Dean couldn’t offer Her anything good, and if Dean hurt Her he might as well do the betterlust’s job for it. At least this way She’d mourn him instead of remembering him as a monster. It was the last thing Dean had managed to keep from Her, how truly horrible he was, had been, was doomed to be. How the only lines he’d never crossed were the unforgivable, unjustifiable ones.

And he wouldn’t cross them now. Even as he felt another tear carve over his brain, Dean would make sure he was put down like the feral dog he was.

Over the ringing in his ears, Dean could hear his phone. The sound was muffled in his pants, and the only thing that allowed him to grab it was the knowledge that, if he didn’t, the buzzing would wake Her up.

He managed to roll over to answer the call, not bothering to look at the ID and forcing words through his teeth.

“Who is this.” 

“It’s Sam? Your brother?” Sam sounded concerned through the static of the speaker. That didn’t matter. Lately, Sam always sounded concerned.

“What.”

“That’s it? Just what? No questions about where I’ve been-“

“Sam, I’m not in the fucking mood for this-“

“Why?” Sam was suddenly urgent, his voice sounding a little further away. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Dean grunted, glancing over his shoulder to where She was still asleep. “Don’t feel great, but I’ve had worse. It’s fine, Sammy, go back to your secret mission.”

He was lying. Dean had been through a lot of shit, but he’d never died slowly like this, with the cure only a foot away and unable to be taken. And Sam must have heard it in his voice or something, because the little shit pushed on.

“Dean, do you feel sick?”

“Just the flu or somethin’, it’ll be fine-“

“What about your, uh,” There was a pause, something shuffling around on Sam’s end before he spoke again. “Your stomach? Have you thrown up?”

He had. Last night after She left, he’d heaved over the toilet until he was spitting up bile.

“I’ve got the flu, dude, I’m gonna throw up-“

“How does your head feel-“

“Like shit, but I’m fine-“

“Do you have a fever?”

Dean rolled his eyes, and it was getting harder and harder to speak, let alone answer dumb questions. “How the hell would I know, I’m not a thermometer-“

Sam said Her name, and he might as well have shot Dean in the heart. “You can ask her-“

“No.” Dean snapped, lowering his voice to a hiss. “We’re not involving her in this, Sam, that’s it-“

“Because you love her. And you can’t stay away from her right now.”

Dean almost cracked his jaw. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re getting at-“

“Did you guys get in a fight?”

“Watch it-“

“Dean.” Sam sounded exhausted, his long sigh buzzing in the speaker. “Please. Just answer the question, and you can beat me up when I get back.”

If he was stronger, Dean would’ve told Sam to shove it and hung up. But he wasn’t positive he’d make it until Sam got back, let alone be in any condition to kick his ass. And he couldn’t stand the thought of one of his last conversations with his brother being all lies and anger. Dean was getting really sick of lies and anger.

“We got into it last night,” he muttered. “She must’ve figured out somethin’ was up. She asked to help, and I told her no.”

“Why did you-“

“Because I’m not that much of a fucking asshole.” Dean rolled onto his back, running his hand over his face. “I’m not gonna, I don’t know, coerce her into fucking me-“

“But that would help.”

Dean thought it would. It probably would. There weren’t a lot of ways out of this, but that seemed to be one of them. And it was only slightly less impossible than the other one.

Not that it mattered. Dean wouldn’t, couldn’t, have either of them.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean muttered. “I’m not doin’ that, Sam.”

“Okay. Is that enough?”

Dean frowned. “Enough for wh-“

“More than enough, Samuel.” Rowena cut Dean off through the phone. “You could’ve stopped the poor boy when he almost started whining after you said her name.”

“Sam.” Dean growled, his grip on the phone white knuckled. “Why the hell am I talking to Rowena.”

“Well, Dearie, your dear brother is quite worried about you and the little spell we did, and I wanted to check and make sure you were, as Samuel put it, being a fucking dumbass-“

“Rowena, just,” Sam sighed again, and his voice became a little clearer. Dean must have been taken off speakerphone. “Look, Dean, I know you. If what Rowena told me is right, you probably feel like death right now, and-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted. “Even if I do feel like I’m bein’ ripped open and stuffed with fucking spikes, I’m not gonna-“

“I know. I’m not going to tell you to. You just gotta hang on until we get back, and we’ll fix this.”

Dean swallowed, turning his head to watch Her as he spoke. “Fix it how.”

Sam sighed. “Reverse it.”

“No, Sam, I’m not goin’ back to before-“

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either, man, but we’ve got two options. Rowena undoes this, or you tell her.”

“I’m not telling her-“

“Then Rowena’s undoing this.” Sam’s voice became almost stern, still lined with exhaustion, and Dean felt even more like a piece of shit. “That’s all we’ve got, Dean. We’re heading out now, don’t die until we get back. Okay?”

“Fine.” Dean held back a wet, painful cough because that probably wouldn’t help anyone. “See you.”

He hung up the phone before Sam could, and stared at the ceiling until his gaze blurred once more and everything faded into a haze. Moving in and out of darkness, the only sign of any rest being how he’d suddenly be on his stomach, or side, or under the sheets. Feeling worse and worse and worse until it was all just horrible, stabbing, blinding pain.

Then he was holding Her again. And when the world came back into focus Her pretty eyes were on his, her face barely an inch away, and something loosened over Dean’s throat.

“Dean?” She whispered, and she sounded so sad, it made Dean’s heart twist. “You’re hot.”

His tongue was loosen by the betterlust, and his judgment was washed in a craving for Her, and he was high on cherries and shea butter and something awesome he’d never smelled before—but he’d also never been this close to Her before—so Dean wasn’t able to stop his own stupid mouth from grinning at Her like a lovesick, drunken idiot.

“You’re hot.”

She flushed, and Dean was barely conscious enough to register why Her lips were slack and her eyes were wide. “What?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, his hand drifting up Her back without a thought. “What’d you say?”

“I said you’re hot, Dean.” Her hand moved to rest over Dean’s brow, and he might have moaned. “Jesus, you’re burning.”

“Huh.” Dean moved his own hand to cover Her’s, keeping it against his skin and never breaking her gaze. “Damn.”

“Dean-“

“You smell good,” he blurted, because there didn’t seem to be anything left to stop him. He felt faint and hollow and buried, and the betterlust wouldn’t let up until Dean really touched Her, so all his willpower had to go into not fucking touching her. “And I like, uh, your mouth. ’S nice.”

“You,” She shook her head, her brows knitting as she scans over Dean’s face. “What?”

“I like your mouth. And your voice. You got a nice voice,” Dean slurred out Her name, and he wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore. “Sounds good. Like whiskey.”

“My voice sounds like whiskey-“

“Uh huh,” he nodded, strange little lights starting to cloud his vision. “And a pie.”

“I’m gonna go call Sam-“

“No!” He was still lucid enough to keep Her hand against his forehead, to keep Her here. At his side, before he went. “Stay.”

“Dean, you look terrible-"

“You look pretty.” Dean couldn’t see Her, but She sounded worried. She was always really pretty when she was worried. “Don’t go.”

She sighed, somewhere near his cheek. “I have to. If you won’t tell me how to help you, I need to get someone who can-“

“You can help.”

There was silent for a long moment, and then a sharp, “What do you mean I can help.”

“Could make it better.” Dean let himself roll a little further into Her touch, because it kept him conscious just a little longer. “You make everything better.”

“Dean, I need you to tell me what to do, now-“

“Nah.“

“Dean Winchester,” Her other hand was on his cheek now, slapping him lightly. “I swear to fucking God if you don’t-“

Her voice faded into a sweet, calm song in the background, and Dean didn’t feel well. She sounded pissed. She was pretty when she was pissed too. She was always pretty, and Dean really didn’t feel good.

There was one more thing he had to say. Something that always lived on the back of his tongue, and was finally fighting its way to his teeth. Something he had to tell Her, had to do, or there was no chance he wouldn’t end up in something worse than hell when he was done.

He murmured Her name, and everything stopped. It was just Her hands on his cheek and brow, Dean’s own ragged breath, and silence as he dragged everything he had left to the surface to look at Her. Really look at Her.

She looked beautiful, but she also seemed ill. And worried. Maybe after this She’d never have to be worried again.

This was probably a dick move, if Dean’s really headed where he thinks he is. But the betterlust demands he say it, and maybe this small offering of something will keep him alive a few hours longer. To see Sam.

“Love you,” Dean told Her. Whispered to Her. Breathed at Her. She might not have heard it, so he said it again, starting with Her name. “I love you.”

If She responded, Dean didn’t hear it. The pound of his blood in his ears became overwhelming, and he could only taste rot, and something pulled him up into warmth and cherries and whiskey as his vision went white.

He hoped She’d heard it.

He hoped She remembered how Dean loved her, and not how he’d been such a fucking dick.

Dean really hoped, when this was done, She’d smile again knowing he’d loved her, and never have to worry again.

End Note: I'd apologize for this one, but I'm not sorry. Trust it'll pay off BIG TIME next chapter.

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[wonchaconne]

Soundproof room

Jungwon x fem reader

18+ Minors DNI!

Jungwon brought his gf with him to usa~

Right after the sound check, you started talking to the members about their concert later. Jungwon sat on the couch, not taking his eyes off you and not listening to a word you're saying either. Outofnowhere, in the middle of the discussion, Jungwon stood up, "I need to talk to you privately," he said loud enough so that the members could hear. Not really having a choice as Jungwon gently grab your hand and direct you to a small private room.

"What did you have to talk about that you just can't talk about it with the members?" You starred at him a bit annoyed.

"Fuck" he said under his breath ad he grabbed your hand dragging it down from his body down to the his pants. You felt his obvious hard arauosal through the material of his pants. You quickly understood. He leaned in to give you a kiss. You both started making out, and your kisses slowly trailed down to his neck. He slowly grinds his hips to you, you felt his hard cock underneath the clothes.

"Wait! jungwon, should we really do this right now? The members are just outside.... What if they hear us?" You stopped him, he groaned in frustration.

"They won't, this room is soundproof. Besides, we won't take long, right?" he said as he continued slowly kissing down your collar bones. You moaned softly to his ears.

"Don't leave a mark," you warned jungwown. He started sucking gently enough to not leave a mark but hard enough to hear you moan.

Your hands made their way to his buldge again. You started to palm him through his pants. He let out a small moan as he had been waiting for this moment all morning. You watched his eyes flutter, and his head tips back, exposing his throat.

You lean forward tempted to leave a small mark on his pretty skin before you stopped yourself when you remember he have to perform after this. A little bruise won't be a big deal. You thought. Jungwon's hips jerked up to your hands as a whiney moan leaves his lips. You manuever him to where he's between your legs, back to your chest.

You move your hand back to his pants only this time you slipped your hands inside. He moaned loudly because of the sudden skin on skin contact. "Let me take care of you" you said as you slowly start so stroke his hard cock. "Won, you're always so good for me," you began to whisper in his ears while you jerked him off.

The exposed part of his stomach clenching in every stroke of your hand. You can tell he's close to his orgasm. You make your first a bit tighter, focusing more on the head of his length, jungowm groans loudly.

You heard jungwon's breath hitch in his throat, his moans and whines becoming progressively higher, his mouth gaped open. One last stroke of your hand, and he cums, on your fist and his stomach, some reaching his red checkered shirt. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, whispering praises in his ears.

"That was so good," he whispered in your ear. "Shit, I got some on my shirt," he said, looking at his shirt.

"At least you're not performing with this one, you'll wear one of the merch anyway," you smiled.

You slowly started to unbutton his shirt before you heard a knock. It was time for jungwon to sit for his make-up and change clothes to perform.

Before you open the door, Jungwon looked in the mirror, seeing the big mark on his neck you gave him. "What is this?!" He pointed it out to you.

"What? I couldn't help it, shit I didn't realise it's that noticeable... stay here" you told Jungwon. You quietly get out of the private room looking around to see if anyone saw you.

"You know that room isn't sound proof right" you jumped at the sudden voice, sunghoon standing there with his arm crossed.

"What?! Sunghoon, you heard us?"

"Not only me, anyone who walked past here would've heard you two," he laughed.

You faked laugh a bit embarrassed, you remembered Jungwon saying the room is soundproof... you make your way to the makeup table, grabbing colour correctors and foundation.

--------

You sat there watching jungwon doing his send-off. He's so cute, especially him speaking English.

Once he's done, he came straight to you, wearing a cute charizard headband a fan gave him and some bracelets. You give him the biggest hug "I missed you!" You said.

"I missed you too. Let's go to the hotel, I'll make you feel good, like you did to me this morning," he whispered in your ears. You hugged him tighter.

-----a/n-------

This one's a bit short~

[slothkittfunsies]

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

[answersfromzestual]

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[sosa2imagines]

Imagine modern Steve Rogers and Tommy Shelby au.

You and Steve went out clubbing, to enjoy the night together. It was all fun, till Sharon was in the same club too. She spots you both and starts to flirt with Steve.

Steve leaves you alone, to dance with Sharon. Their dance is anything but a dance. The touches and whispering makes you jealous. Later on, Steve has the audacity to bring Sharon to your table. He looks at you for a moment, he realizes his mistake but quickly covers it. He then becomes busy with Sharon.

Having had enough you confront him and Steve becomes rude and says "I can enjoy with anyone. I'm not confined to stick by your side all night." While Sharon has a smug expression.

You are all alone in the club, despite coming with Steve. His actions and words has hurt you deeply. Just as he was about to pull Sharon closer, a tall handsome man grabs your arm and pulls you towards the dancefloor.

Though you were hurt and upset, something about the guy with his irish accent and the clothing and the confidence dripping from his handsome face, attracts you to him. he introduces himself as "Thomas Shelby". Each spin, each dip, brings you closer and closer.

Steve clenches his jaw, seeing you with Tommy. He thinks Tommy is some random dude, until the bartender tells him about him being a famous gangster from Birmingham. How he owns many clubs in England and USA, including the one they are in. Steve's jaw drops to the floor, while Sharon is seething in jealousy.

Tommy honestly tells you "He wants you." You look at him with wide eyes, his honesty and straightforwardness makes you say yes to him.

Tommy takes you with him. Steve and Sharon try to follow you both, but Arthur and John stop them.

While Steve didn't get to enjoy the night because Sharon got overly drunk in jealousy ending up puking.

You had the time of your life. Tommy was a beast in bed yet gentle to make sure you feel pleasured and special. He worships you all night long.

[futfemfantasies]

Secret Lover \\ alexia putellas x reader

✨ Just a little something for Barca winning Champions League ✨

It’s not like Alexia wants to hide you, you just travel and stay in different countries for months at a time for your photography job. You spend two months out of the year at home, with the exception of Alexia and your birthdays and Christmas. You land back in Barcelona after 2 months in the USA and you are planning to surprise Alexia. You pull out your phone and call your best friend Mapi to pick you up. Mapi mentions she’s outside so you grab your suitcase and start to walk towards the large double doors. You look around outside and can’t see the blonde anywhere. You feel hands cover your eyes and a small giggle you recognise. You turn around to see your best friend of over 20 years. You wrap your arms around Mapi tightly and you look over her shoulder to see Mapi’s new girlfriend that you haven’t met but talked to several times. You move away from Mapi and wonder over to Ingrid, who welcomes you with open arms. After a few minutes of small talk, Mapi mentions training is almost over so you all get in the car and Mapi drives to your shared apartment with Alexia. 

After the 30 minute drive, Mapi parks the car and both of them help take your luggage and cameras up. You unlock the door which earns a few barks from Nala and let out a content sigh. The small, fluffy dog comes running to you and jumping on your lower legs. You put your backpack down before picking Nala up and giving her a pat. Mapi and Ingrid announce they have to go back for some make up training since they missed the group session. You thank the pair for picking and dropping you off before putting your cameras away and washing your clothes. You have a quick shower and change into comfy shorts and one of Alexia’s oversized tees. 

You go back to the kitchen and open the fridge to see some familiar ingredients. You pull them out, along with your phone and found the photo of Alexia’s mum Eli’s famous paella recipe. You start by cutting up the ingredients before throwing some in the pan. You hear the front door open and your heart beat starts to increase and thump against your chest. You hear Alexia’s bag drop and you look towards her with a gentle smile on your face. She just stands there in disbelief that you’re actually here. Coming out of her senses, Alexia ran over to you and jumps in your awaiting arms. Thankfully your reflexes kick in and you hook your arms under Alexia’s thighs. She leans back and cups your cheeks before resting her forehead against yours. 

“You’re back early” She whispers, millimetres from your lips.

“I’m back and not leaving you again”

You both share the first kiss in months and you don’t want it to end. The burning pan encourages you to put your girlfriend down and to keep cooking. As you find another pan, Alexia peeks at your phone and notices her mothers handwriting. She smiles slightly as you re-chop the onion and shuffles over to you. Alexia wraps her arms around you and due to you being a few inches shorter, her head rests comfortably on your shoulder. You stop cutting and lean back into her and Alexia places soft kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“I missed you mi amor”

“I missed you more Ale. How was training?”

Alexia tells you about her training back with the team as you dish out the comfort food. You both sit at the table and you decide to tell Alexia your news.

“So I have some news mi amor” Alexia places her fork down and puts her hands on yours, silently telling you to continue. 

“I quit my job but I’m starting my new one on Monday. I’m not travelling anymore Ale, I’m staying right here”

Alexia bounced off her chair and hugged you tightly. You pull her down on your lap before peppering her face with soft kisses. She moves away and holds you face in her hands. 

“It’s at Barca” You whisper and Alexia’s eyes go wide. She just realised you’ll be around 24/7 and she could not be happier.

Alexia expressed how you should meet the girls on Monday before training and you agreed. Alexia moved back to her seat and you both finished your lunch before cuddling on the couch, stealing kisses from one another for the rest of the day. 

A few days later, Alexia texted the team to go to training a little earlier as she has an announcement. You move over to the closet to get ready when you let your intrusive thoughts get the best of you. What if I’m not going to make an impression on them? What if they think Alexia is too good for me? You get pulled out of your thoughts by hands on your hips and you look behind you to see Alexia, slightly worried. You explain your fears to her and she tells you that everything will be okay, and that’s all the reassurance you need. 

A little while later, Alexia pulls up to the training ground and you grow more nervous than before. She puts the car in park and turns to you. Alexia puts a hand on your cheek and you turn to her with worried eyes. You both don’t say anything but Alexia embraces you in one of her tight hugs you’ve grown to calm down to. You pull back and give Alexia a nod to signal you are ready to go. You get out of the car and grab your camera bags when Mapi and Ingrid call out to you both. You explain that you’re the new team photographer and social media manager and they both congratulate you. You hold onto Alexia’s hand as you walk in and she squeezes your hand in comfort. 

“Hola Ale, who’s this?” Pina asks. Alexia looks at you and you nod slightly.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N”

“And your new team photographer so be nice” You joke and most of the girls laugh. 

The girls get called to the locker room and there’s no doubt Alexia will tell them in there. Before you go your seperate ways, Alexia gives you a good luck kiss. Meanwhile, you go into the building where you are met with your new boss who shows you around before telling you of the teams plans for the day. After signing a few more things, you take your cameras and laptop to the field to set up for training. You start and you slowly get used to things. The girls had a break after 45 minutes of intense drills so Alexia and a few others decided to seat with you at the meal area. The girls ask to see some photos from today so far and you turn your laptop around to show them and the gasps that escape their mouths. After a few more conversations, the team takes you in and Alexia is relieved that it’s all going well.

“So Ale, how long have you been hiding this one?” Lucy asked.

“A year” Alexia mumbled.

“What was that Ale?” Mapi teases, knowing the answer.

Jonatan calls the girls back out to training and you finish up editing the photo of Alexia when you feel a presence next to you. You look to your left and see the one and only Jennifer Hermoso. Alexia warned you about her and their history. 

“Hola hermosa, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jenni” Jenni holds her hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N, nice to meet you too” You say before returning to the lens. 

You and Jenni have a light conversation before your oh so lovely girlfriend yells for Jenni to come over and start training, since she arrived late due to media. You look up from your camera and lock eyes with Alexia. You give her a wink and she shakes her head before turning away smiling to herself. You take some more photos of everyone before filming some stories for Instagram. 

You pack your cameras and laptop away before you start to walk back to your office. You feel a presence next to you and yet again, Jenni looks at you with that same mischievous smile as before. She offers to take a camera bag for you and you accept the help. You walk into the building to your new office and Jenni gently puts the cameras down. You thank her for the help and she seems to be nervous about something. She eventually asks you out and before you could answer, you saviour shows up at the door. 

“You ready to go princesa? We need to pick some things for dinner” You nod and look at Jenni with sorry eyes. 

“Sorry Jenni, but I’m taken” You says as you walk near Alexia who wraps her arms around your waist. Jenni’s eyes pop out of her head and cheeks slightly flushed. 

“Dios mio Ale, I’m so sorry. I had no idea” Jenni apologised and Alexia accepts her apology. You three walk out and Alexia hold your hand tight. Alexia mentions that she has to get her bag and offered to show you the locker room. After catching up with Alexia’s teammates, you two head home where you can’t be bothered to cook so you order takeout. While you wait, you decide to have a shower in which Alexia decided to join. Not long after, the food arrived and you both cuddle up on the couch. 

“How was your first day?”

“I had a really good day. How was training mi amor?” You ask as you tighten your arms around Alexia.

“It was tough. My knee hurt a little but it’s good. I see you were making friends with Jenni” Alexia says as she turns to lie on top of you. 

“I think I saw a little bit of jealous Ale out there today” You mention as your hands creep up the back Alexia’s shirt. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Alexia dismisses your claim as she rests her head on your chest. 

“Oh really?” You pull up a photo you took and showed Alexia.

“So this isn’t you jealous?” Alexia’s eyebrows furrowed and eyes rolled.

“Okay, shut up” Alexia mumbles before leaving a lazy kiss on your chest.

“It’s okay mi amor, I like jealous Ale. It’s hot”

Safe to say, from that day forward everyone knew you are Alexia’s and she is yours. 

[bordysbae]

hi could you do 38. “have you seen my hoodie?" with Turcotte?

“lovebirds”

alex turcotte x f!reader

visiting alex’s parents was easily one of your favorite things to do. no matter if it was during the winter or during the summer, it was always perfect. whether it be the millions upon millions of alex’s baby photos, his mother teaching you recipes that alex loves, or more importantly, the late night convos out on the back deck. it was habitual at this point. any night spent at his parent’s house is always spent out on the deck talking about anything for hours on end.

“you guys want to go outside after dinner?” his mother asks. you all hum and nod in agreement, and she takes those answers with a smile on her face. she begins clearing the table when alfie, alex’s father, chimes in, “let me and alex do the dishes. you ladies go get the deck ready, grab blankets and get changed into comfy clothes,” he states.

“alright, are you sure? i can always help with dishes, i don’t mind at all!” you exclaim but he just nods his head. you head to alex’s childhood bedroom and begin to change into a pair of his sweats and grab one of his old usa hoodies. you and his mom get the outside deck tidied up and grab blankets for everyone, meanwhile starting the fire pit as well.

“mom, have you seen my usa hoodie? i’ve been looking for like five minu- oh,” alex says as he stands in the doorway between inside and outside. you guiltily smile at him, knowing he was planning on wearing this hoodie. he just smiles and playfully rolls his eyes before going back inside. eventually the boys come back outside and everyone gets settled, you and alex sharing the wicker love seat.

as you stretch your legs across his lap, he whispers in your ear, “you stole my hoodie ma’am,” his light chuckle sending chills down your body. you shoot alex a smile, before retorting his statement for fun.

“yeah well, this was the comfiest one i could find,” you shrug, making alex jokingly scoff.

“you have your own, y’know,” he shrugs, and you just hit his arm. as you two bicker, neither of you notice his parents watching the both of you look at each other with pure love.

“oh alfie, i hope he proposes to her. they’re perfect for each other, they literally have hearts in their eyes! i’ve never seen alex happier,” his mother quietly adores to her husband.

“i think he’s happier with her than he was on the day of his draft,” alfie chuckles quietly, both parents still watching you lovebirds, meanwhile you two so absorbed in each other you guys have no clue.

[damon25]

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[desertdollranch]

What a week it's been. Woke up to horrible political news on Wednesday, and had to take a social media blackout for a few days just to stop being sick to my stomach and reminded of what a nightmare we're all facing here in the USA. Then more than a foot of snow fell, and my electricity kept flickering on and off all night. So I'm trying to focus on the positive things in my life as best as I can and try not to let the stress overwhelm me.

So let's talk dolls.

Last weekend I attended the Albuquerque doll show not as a buyer, but for the first time as a vendor.

My mom came over with a huge carload of things to sell. We had two tables and still didn't have enough room for everything! Most of what we sold came from her and her sister's collections, since both of them are clearing out all their 18 inch doll stuff. They are only interested in Barbie these days and so everything else had to go. I don't share their interest in Barbie and am still thoroughly enjoying my 18 inch dolls, so I did get to have first dibs on their merchandise. I didn't end up picking anything besides a couple of American Girl books.

I actually didn't sell very much, but truly I didn't bring a whole lot of things to sell anyway. Mostly some extra wigs of various sizes, off-brand doll clothing that I priced at $1 per outfit, and a few thrift store dolls (of various brands) I bought and then decided not to keep. Now I have to list my leftovers for sale online, which is overwhelming to think about, considering how hard I worked to get everything ready before the show only to have to put in even MORE time and effort to get anything sold.

Overall, selling at the show was a tremendous amount of labor for not much financial reward, so my mom and I agreed that we're never doing this again. It's so much more fun just attending the show as a buyer. And selling online is by far easier and more profitable.

But I did meet a lot of very nice customers, and that was the best part. That's something that doesn't often happen online! Everyone I sold to was wonderful. Not one person I encountered was rude or unpleasant. The other vendors I talked to were lovely as well. There were a few sellers who make/buy/sell dolls and toys year-round and do it for a living, but a lot were collectors like me who were just selling parts of their collections to make room for new additions.

Speaking of new additions. The only thing I bought at the show was a Gotz doll.

She's an 18 inch Hannah doll from 2008. She was unbelievably inexpensive (they're around $100 or more brand new), so I was pretty surprised to see her and many other Gotz dolls at her vendor's table still for sale after closing time when I swung by. Her vendor was delighted to see Hannah go to a happy home.

I may or may not make a post advertising the stuff I'm selling. I usually do okay by just listing on Mercari and letting buyers come to me. I'll decide once I'm ready whether it's worth the extra effort posting them here too.

[zoesblogsposts]

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[ineffableigh]

Thinking a lot about some memory parallels in season two...

About how everyone in Soho is dressed VERY ANACHRONISTICALLY, but not at all coordinated with each other. Clothes look pristine, brand new, unsullied, unworn. Caricatures of humans from the 40s, 70s, 90s, 2000s. Like an oversimplified idea of what Normal Humans look like.

Like uhhh excuse you white fur coat, leopard print skirt and platform shoes? Weird BRIGHT FUCKING YELLOW shirt, a flowy vest and leather pants? 70s crochet sweater with brown pants, crimped hair and chunky heels?

Rosie the Riveter This lady (Rosie is a different extra!) over here is either wearing big flowy skirts or actual mechanic's overalls like the war posters. She's EVERYWHERE throughout the season:

Rainbow tie dye, big hat, overcoat with pinback buttons? Like the guys in the cemetery?

Lady why are you fully lurking behind a pillar and staring at the Hamm Hams

What's my point? Point is... point is...

Gabriel's memories are the same.

RUSSIA - big hammer and sickle neon sign outside, two guys in back playing chess, one with a big bushy beard and the other a flat cap. Background music sounds like traditional/folk Russian music played on a balalaika, but playback on a ratty old stereo.

USA - Route 66 sign, hubcaps, money wallpaper, budweiser neon sign, bar/pool table/pool cues, American flags fluttering in the wind outside, 50s style radio on the shelf, SAME TWO GUYS IN BACK but now playing cards, and the one on the right has a baseball cap instead. And I don't wanna be like "what modern bar would be playing Buddy Holly on the radio" but... after hearing the background music in the Russian cafe, that is a CHOICE.

Hell, check out Not-Billie-Piper back here and her GIANT 50s up-do:

SAME THING AT THE RESURRECTIONIST, YEAH? ALL THE SONGS ON THE JUKEBOX ARE SCOTTISH OR PERTAINING TO SCOTLAND. "Letter from america" by the PRoclaimers starts playing but it was released in fucking 1987

And of course we know this pub is COVERED in Pressburger references, which we know carry way more meaning than simple fun cameos or whatever. Barring that, this is the Scottishest-Pub-est-looking-pub I've ever fucking seen, and it's SO CLEAN.

A fly IN the movie playing on the screen while we watch Gabriel's memories being returned to him from the fly he receives in this memory? More likely than you think (I can't find the movie name! Not in the X-Ray apparently)...

Anyway all that to say I think the show is trying to tell us SOMETHING is wrong the entire season. There's evidence shit's out of order, everything is WEIRD and high saturation, even people's makeup (Crowley's bloody orange half the time), and it all feels Extremely Set up...

OR poorly remembered.

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Thursday

The smut is still ever present. And has leaked into many a fic. The word leak may have been used in some of them, or not. Nerdie is unsure and quite unwell. Like I’m physically fine but you, the mind is swirling.

Anyway… 👀 The docket for this week: One Tim, One Marcus, Two Dieters and a trickle of Din.

I was tagged by @syd-djarin 😎 Thanks for the reminder and all your fics look awesome! 😘

First up, Tim (he’s got plot to get through thank you!):

Doc and Rockford are seated outside of the diner. The cool air feels excellent on her skin. She feels like she’s burning up. Tim likely understood what his brother meant by her satisfaction or lack thereof and that’s before even mentioning him putting your lab coat on her, complimenting her or touching her stomach. Doc still has to process that. So much has happened. “You wanna talk about why you were out with my brother, the outfit, or me getting you in the car Esme? Which elephant do you want to tackle first?” Rockford would have phrased it differently, but he’s tired from the late night paperwork, being worried about her and now trying to think about how he’s going to react to whatever she has to say. 

Second, Marcus Pike (because he's adorable):

“Hey beautiful! You ready for to go? I’m just going to put away some files and we’ll be ready to go.” Marcus doesn’t miss a beat in giving a swift kiss to Imani’s forehead then heading over to his desk and fiddling with drawers. He’s shuffling papers while stealing glances at the woman seated in his office. “Between the shade of orange, your smiling face and those luscious legs tempting me from across the room, we might be late for our reservation.” The good agent Pike wiggled his eyebrows which had his lady friend holding her stomach in laughter.

Lastly, I wrote some Din (because we don't appreciate Din's early armor enough):

Still holding the knife, she lowered it and nodded, “Yes thanks to you. May I know your name to thank you? I can’t see you very well there, could you step forward?” Taking two steps toward him, she stopped three feet before the shadows from the building obscured him. Heavy boots and what sounded to be metal clinked with his steps. His armor was the answer, he wouldn’t need to really tell her. Silver that reflected the moonlight with a t-visor helmet and a modulated voice. None of his skin was exposed, covered in a mix of brown metal and durable cloth and a black cape at his back. Hints of silver dotted his armor from different pieces and from his weapons. Those are a major tenant of their culture - their beliefs.

The graphic above is for the pending Din fic. 😀

And I have one for a pending Dieter fic ( @angelofsmalldeath-codeine this is 30% your fault - thank you. 😊)

Technically, she’d met one of her best friends at a table read for ‘Graceland’ but it didn’t register who he was until there was an entire season making him more central to the plot on the second show. Aisha appreciated that he was serious about getting the character right, adding in changes to better express what the writer’s room was trying to convey. He didn’t do it so much for the slick escapist show on the USA show but she really saw him shine on the screen as Agent Marcus Pike in ‘The Mentalist.’ One thing that the writer’s room voted to write out for his character was all the eating. “No agent is gonna be eating like that,” they always said. Once Dieter Bravo ate the takeout in the scene while dolling out his lines, the director loved it so they quickly pivoted on that creative choice.

And I can’t leave Dieter and Maya out you know! I haven’t been chipping away at them slowly, there’s a lot to figure out. I’m don’t have much on them unfortunately. 😭

No pressure tags: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @connectioneverywhere @boliv-jenta @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@pedroshotwifey @perotovar @julesonrecord @chaithetics @avastrasposts

@slippinninque @rosecentaur1916 @westside-rot @inept-the-magnificent @tinytinymenace

@jessthebaker @sin-djarin @morallyinept @604to647 @djarins-cyare

@djarinmuse @pedroshotwifey