#And also I think we're missing entire realities out there just waiting to be discovered

[destinyandcoins]

have we talked yet about the possibility that UFOs and every suspected bit of extraterrestrial evidence could actually be originating from the advanced civilizations living in the trenches of the ocean just as bemused and wondering as we are about the world beyond them and reaching out in exploration? because given the fuckoff incomprehensible expanse of ocean floor we've yet to actually study or even really guess at what specifically is down there, I think there's a real possibility there's a complex society of, idk, particularly clever sea slugs and other amalgamations of physical matter like hydrogen and thulium and other shit we've never considered as a viable fundamental building block of life. and the fucking whales are the only living creature with the kind of planet spanning range and intelligence to know there's two complex evolutions of sentient life existing on opposite spheres of reality from each other who would really benefit from learning about the other, but we're both too fucking stupid to understand how whales communicate

#Idk man the ocean fucks me up sometimes #And also I think we're missing entire realities out there just waiting to be discovered #Because we've got such a specific and artificially tunneled view of what we see as reality or as supporting of life #And like. Ghosts and aliens and shit are that seeping into our world. But we don't even have the tools to start understanding #Like we're looking for alien life but we're looking according to OUR understanding of how life works and how life could occur #But that's just based on our own little planet our own little corner of the known universe #And man. There is a whole fuckoff lot of everything else out there in the infinity of the universe and the existence of anything #And we are just not equipped to ever know or understand much of any of it. But god that doesn't stop us trying #Trying to understand and find some way to prove we're not alone or unique in the universe #We have this thing called life and we want to share it with someone something somewhere somewhen #''There's gotta be someone else out there in the universe because I want to experience it with them'' #Hm. Many thoughts #But also the Mariana trench is eating the pacific plate at a rate of 3 inches per year??? #That's what we're talking about when we say shifting tectonic plates and why islands are moving micro amounts year by year? #The Mariana (and many other) trench(es) are EATING OUR PLANET?? why. Why are we not talking about that more explicitly #I feel like that's a better use of our time than squabbling about what social media we should use now instead of twitter #(None. You should replace Twitter in your life with 2-5 hours per week #of contemplation of how our PLANET IS EATING ITSELF. AND BELCHING UP THE REFUSE IN THE FORM OF VOLCANOS AND MUD VENTS) #Breaking news: my new hobby is geology. Fucking WILD stuff going on over there #Geology tag

[pastmepettythings]

storytime!!

it was probably 3 years ago at this point, definitely before the pandemic hit cause i was still in highschool. i was at the grocery store with my mom. we were in line to check out and she always has trouble picking a line, she porbably gets into two or three different ones before actually waiting and putting our groceries on the belt.

anyway, we're switching around lines and i notice this man staring at me. not in a weird way, well not entirely weird, but just looking at me. but not at my face, and not at my body either. he was looking at my hair.

now at this point my hair was far to long to be flattering and, probably wasn't brushed. i stopped brushing my hair when i realized it was getting wavy. present day i avoid it cause its so curly that it would get so frizzy if i tried.

back to the guy. he walks up to my mom and i and looks at my mom and goes; "is that her natural hair?" and we were like... yes... it is. and he went on and on abouthow beautiful it was and how red hair is so rare nowadays. he also told me to never dye it or change it becuase it wouldn't ever look the same afterwards. which is something my mom always says too. i though the dude was crazy cause my hair wasn't red! sure it had red highlights, but it was definitely brown.

so here we are three years later. and my hair is even redder than it used to be. i can't even call myself a brunette anymore because my hair is straight up auburn. and getting redder everyday. its also the curliest it's ever been and keeps getting curlier.

so yeah, i think as i get older i look more and more like my mom. which is great cause i think my mom is beautiful. i do miss the specialness of being the only one that looked like dad tho, but i'll always have his eyes so i guess it's okay.

i love my hair. it's not even hard to manage and i believe sincerely that it's on of the most unique things about me. like auburn is such a rare hair color and my curls are gorgeous and shiny and bouncy. even when i dont take care of it my waves aare perfect and beachy. i'm so happy with it. it's exactly what i want.

unrelated to the hair story, my skin is also beautiful too. i've got gorgeous, clear, clean skin. i take great care of my skin and it shows in how glowy and clean it looks. it's so smooth and perfect it's actually insane. my freckles are becoming visible all year long not just in the summer. i love my freckles.

i love my little routines, they make me feel so good. getting into bed after my skincare and hair care is the best part of my day. and when i wake up in the morning i get to see my inner self refelcted through my physical person.

i'm so excited to live the rest of my life in my body, it's always taken such good care of me. im in perfect health nearly always. i have clear healthy skin, my dream skin, shiny healthy hair, my dream hair, my dream body, my dream everything. i am currently everything i've ever wanted to be and what everyone else wants to be as well. i've got the looks that make other girls insecure (even though they dont need to be; i wish peace and blssings and LOTS of self-love to all the girls that havent discovered their power yet).

i love being me. im everything. im the best. i am the prize, the ultimate prize. nobody compares to me. no one ever could. i am the only option. everyone whose ever met me fell in love with me, everyone i know is in love with me, everyone i've yet to meet will fall in love with me. it's the way of the world, i get whatever i want becasue i deserve it. i deserve everything i want and more and no one gets to tell me otherwise. this my reality. i control things. i make the rule. everyone conforms to what i want. i am the ultimate power.

i am the best. no one can deny it. i am paramount.

okay story/rant over. love you///(aka me)

[ookamikasumi-writer]

Just say NO to Author Intrusion

The Fourth Wall is the Audience. -- Every time the writer addresses their story's audience --their Readers-- they are violating the fourth dimension, or wall, of that story's Reality.

These violations are known as: Author Intrusions.

Author Intrusions show up as little comments that express the author's personal feelings on what's happening in their story, or heavily hint at things to come during the story.

Author Intrusions are a Bad Idea.

----------- DISCLAIMER: This is how I was taught to write for publication purposes by my professional editors. If you don't want to do it this way -- Don't. (Less competition for me.)

WHY Author Intrusions are a Bad Idea.

Author Intrusions jar the Reader out of the mental movie they've generated while reading because the Author keeps rudely shoving them out of the story to remind them that They know something the Reader doesn't.Compare it to watching a movie you haven't seen before with a friend that won't shut up about how cool the next scene is.

See this shit? This is Author Intrusion.

Identifying Author Intrusions:

The most common form of Author Intrusion is when the writer plants overly-obvious hints of things to come addressed directly to the Reader.

Examples:

In hindsight, he would be thankful for his overreaction.

Unfortunately, his choices had truly never been his own.

If only they'd realized how wrong they were.

These are normally found at the end of a chapter, or book, but I've also seen them posted smack in the middle of a scene in progress.They had no idea what consequences their choice would bring.

I have been told that these particular intrusions are meant to be a form of Foreshadowing.

This shit is NOT Foreshadowing.

True Foreshadowing symbolically hints at things to come. It Does Not point-blank TELL the Reader that something is coming.

More on actual Foreshadowing: TV Tropes: Foreshadowing

I have also been told that this form of Author Intrusion is supposed to create suspense and entice the Reader to read the next installment.

This shit does NOT create Suspense either.

The truth is, this sort of cheap-assed teaser-spoiler Does Not add suspense because it entirely Removes the surprise factor of what is coming.

Suspense is about Anticipation. It's about waiting for 'the other shoe to fall'. When an author point-blank announces that there's another shoe, all that lovely anticipation is halved because the Reader now knows for a fact that this shoe WILL fall -- that something IS going to happen.

THINK: How can anyone be surprised if they're already expecting a surprise?

If you want to create Suspense, don't TELL the Reader outright that something is going to happen. Instead, SHOW IT by planting Clues; the butcher knife was missing from the kitchen drawer, and give Hints through ominous Sounds, creeping Shadows, character Body Language, and stilted Dialogue that something is going to happen.

Authors: Keep Your Opinions to Yourself!

The next most common form of Author Intrusion happens when the writer just can't keep their personal comments about certain characters, or what's happening in their story to themselves.

This is particularly virulent in fan-fics written by new writers who get over-excited about what they're writing.

Cut that shit out!

Literally, cut all that shit Out of your work.

Us readers do not want anyone interrupting our stories with their opinions, feelings, or comments about the story we're reading. That includes comments from the Author. Save that crap for the Author Notes.

However...

"Lines like those (in my fan fiction anyway) are actually meant as red flags; a sort of, "Hey, pay attention, I'm doing something over here!" This is because, in the...years I've been writing fan fiction, I've noticed that the majority of 'new readers' (i.e. those new to fan fiction,) will not pay attention [to what they're reading] and will inundate me with questions that are easily answered if they did. With lines like those thrown in, the questions are fewer and I don't have to waste time explaining things that don't need explanations." -- Annoyed FF Writer

While all that might sound like a good excuse -- it really Isn't.

When the author inserts comments about a character or situation happening right there in the middle of the story just to make it easier for lazy-assed readers to figure out what's going on, those comments are nothing more than Spoilers for the rest of us.

Spoiling the Story for Lazy-Assed Readers -- is a BAD IDEA.

While some readers love to be babied like that, the rest of us readers don't. The rest of us are paying close attention and we love ferreting out the author's little hints exposed by the plot's progression and character reveals. We are reading specifically to discover what the heck is going on.

Spoilers strip all the suspense and discovery --the most enjoyable parts of the story-- right out.

I don't know about you, but once all the surprises are gone from a story, I have no reason to keep reading that story.

Fixing Spoilers

If the Reader doesn't get what happened and the information to set them straight IS NOT actually present in the story, then yeah, the Writer messed up.

To fix this, they should REWRITE and REPOST the Relevant Chapter ASAP! NOT answer their reader's query with any comment beyond, "Oh crap! Let me fix that real quick!"

If the Reader doesn't get what happened and the information to set them straight IS actually present in the story, meaning; the Reader simply missed it the first time around, then the Reader messed up -- not the Writer.

When this happens, the Writer should answer their query by politely telling that reader to Read the Chapter Again a little more carefully. NOT by giving them Spoilers!

Seriously, professional authors don't cater to that crap, neither should fan-fic writers.

The only thing catering to lazy-assed readers does is encourage those readers to bug other writers for spoilers -- and us other writers don't appreciate it.

As for Breaking the Fourth wall...

Or is he?

Deadpool: Not actually Breaking the Fourth Wall. He is Narrating his own story.

Yes, Deadpool does address his audience throughout his comic books and movies. In his comics he even comments on the textboxes around him.

Deadpool also freely admits that he's not exactly Sane.

However, addressing his readers, or watchers, or even his text boxes doesn't change the fact that Deadpool is The Point of View Character in both his comics and his movies. He's the one telling the tale. He's expected to comment on everything and everyone around him because that's what POV Characters do.

Deadpool just happens to be narrating his story out loud to the voices, and text boxes, in his own head. That there happens to actually be an audience of readers and movie watchers is entirely incidental.

Now if Stan Lee; the main author of Marvel Comics, popped into Deadpool's story, that would be Author Intrusion--

Oh, wait... He did.

A...tasteful example of Author Intrusion. AKA: The Cameo.

Narration is Not Author Intrusion

The Narrator is The Point of View Character observing --and commenting on-- their part of the tale. If done Right, what is narrated is colored by that POV Character's thoughts, opinions, and comments about what is happening around them.

Breaking the 4th Wall? Nope, just 1st Person POV.

Narration is not Author Intrusion because the author isn't telling the story, the POV Character is.

Deadpool, in both the comics and in his movies, uses First Person Point of View Narration. First Person POV can look like the character is Breaking the Fourth Wall, but they really aren't because Narration is supposed to address the audience. Think in terms of diary entries, or in Deadpool's case, a massive Selfie Video.

The only time Narration should ever be colored by the author's opinions is in a Self-Insert story where the author is the POV character--

-- or in a Fairy Tale.

Fairy Tales were originally told Orally. They were spoken and acted out by a storyteller directly to their audience. The storyteller's opinions of what was happening were part of the act, rather like the Master of Ceremony for a play. When these tales were eventually written down by collectors, such as the Brothers Grimm, they wrote them in the oral style --author intrusions included-- simply because that's how they were told to the collectors.

Later writers, like Hans Christian Anderson, wanted their tales to be labelled Fairy Tales, so they used this oral style specifically so their stories would blend in with the much older collected Grimm's stories.

However, if the story is not a Fairy Tale--

Don't Interrupt Your Readers!

Written stories are viewed in the imagination like a movie. So when the author pops in a comment to make their personal opinions known, it throws the reader out of the movie they're watching in their imaginations because someone is talking to them.

"But the whole story is the author's opinion!"

That's right, a writers has their whole story to express their personal opinions, so there is absolutely No Need for the author to interrupt their readers with additional comments on anything at all during the story.

If a writer absolutely positively must comment on what's happening in their story, an Author Note is where that shit belongs --or their personal blog, or whatever social media floats their boat-- nowhere else.

Author Intrusions: -- If you're Not writing a Fairy Tale -- Don't Do It.

Unless you're Stan Lee. (He can intrude wherever he likes.)

#writing fiction #writing tips #writing tricks

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 11

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,800

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cab company says one of their drivers picked up a random fare in front of Target two hours ago and took them to Carson City!" Sam shouted to Dean and Cas as he jogged back anxiously from inside the gas station. "I got the address."

"We sure it's George?" Dean asked, screwing the gas cap back on and shutting the flap

"Well, she said she was from there," He answered matter of factly. "If she ran, home is the most likely place she'd go, right?" Dean gave him a skeptical look and Sam shrugged as they both climbed back into the Impala, "And it's our only lead, so let's go!"

Knowing Sam was right about their very short list of options, the engine roared to life and Dean began driving in the direction of Carson City. 30 minutes later, Dean pulled up along the front of a tall, sprawling beige building.

"We think this is where she went? A community college?" Dean asked, looking skeptically at Sam. He didn't respond, looking at the building curiously. It was definitely strange but Sam felt confident. Or at least, he tried to because if he didn't he would spiral into panic.

Dean had graciously allowed George an extra 30 minutes in Target-because you know how women are about clothes-while stewing hangrily, before he'd gotten impatient and stormed into the shopping center with the other two men in tow. They'd swept the store and the parking lot twice with no sign of her, then started to get worried. After questioning nearly everyone in Target, they'd driven around Reno for an hour looking for any sign of her with no luck-and no food. Finally Dean suggested contacting cab companies in the area to inquire about recent fares and Sam thought it was genius. This had to be right.

"This is the address the cab company gave me," Sam explained, looking around at the-clearly closed-buildings. Dean kept slowly driving past the main building and turned left into the school, looking for signs of life.

As they came back to the main building at the end of their circle and hadn't found any, he finally asked, "OK, so now what?"

Sam thought about it for a minute, trying to logically figure out their next move. Maybe the buildings were open when she'd gotten here earlier? But what was she looking for here and where did she go next? He scoured his memory of their conversations trying to identify any clues.

Just as Sam was about to give up, Castiel pointed to something on their right side, "What about over there?"

Off in the distance, behind the football field and next to the student parking garage was a more modern, silver building with all it's lights still on. The brothers exchanged a look before Dean drove over.

"A library?" He asked as they pulled up.

"A library! That's it!" Sam exclaimed excitedly. Dean parked the car and Sam quickly reached into the glove box and grabbed out three fake IDs that looked closest to security badges.

The three of them got out, Sam passing out the badges, and as they walked up to the entrance Dean asked, "What? How is this 'it?' Why would she go to a library?"

"For the internet?"

"The internet?" Dean was confused. "You think she ran away from us to look at porn?" They reached the glass doors and Castiel opened the left side for them to pile in.

Sam rolled his eyes and said quietly once they were inside, "How many times do I have to tell you there's more to the internet than porn?" Not waiting for an answer, Sam walked over to the large, round information desk conveniently located in the middle of the entryway.

Sat behind the counter was a woman who looked older than your typical college student, but younger than him; he guessed 30ish. She wore a white ripped up band shirt under a black button down and lots of gold jewelry on her wrists and fingers. She had multiple facial piercings-nearly everywhere you could have them-and her hair was styled in short, red wine-colored dreads that fell to her chin. When she looked up at him, he noticed her strikingly beautiful skin was a random pattern of rich terra-cotta brown and stark pale pink. Sam realized she must have vitiligo.

"Hi, I'm Officer Grohl from campus security," he flashed the badge too quickly for her to actually see and continued confidently, "Officer's Cobain and Novoselic," he pointed at Cas and Dean, coming up behind him. "What's your name?"

"Stacey." She removed her earbuds and stood up nervously.

"Nice to meet you Stacey. Can you tell me how long you've been working tonight?"

"Started my shift about three hours ago," she responded curiously.

"Great, then maybe you can help. We're looking for a woman; caucasian, tall, long blonde hair, blue eyes, friendly, rambles a lot. Sound familiar?" They could instantly tell she knew something. Her well practiced, customer service friendly expression was replaced with shock and guilt as soon as Sam finished his description.

Clearing her throat, Stacey responded, "Uh… why? Is she in trouble?"

"Well, we don't know," Dean began, feigning concern. "She's a student that's been reported missing by her boyfriend. Have you seen her?"

"Sorry, did you say boyfriend?!" Stacey's attitude shifted quickly, placing an indignant hand on her hip. It was clear that she was annoyed by that information, though it wasn't clear why.

Dean glanced at Sam curiously before confirming, "Yea, I did. Why?"

Stacey didn't answer right away, clenching her jaw and huffing. Finally she rolled her eyes and smirked in anger, "She came in about two hours ago with some sob story about losing her ID. Said she had a paper due the next morning; seemed stressed about it."

"So, you let her in?" Sam guessed and Stacey nodded guiltily. "When was this?"

"She got here about midnight, just after my shift started."

"Can you tell us what she was doing while she was here?"

"Erm… Mostly, she was on the computer. I assume working on her paper?"

"Really? Can you show us where?" Sam inquired.

"Sure," Stacey said with some frustration, leading the group to a computer station about 50 feet away. "Right here."

"Do you know what she was using the computer for?" Sam asked, wiggling the mouse and getting a login screen.

"I didn't ask and she didn't say."

"Is there any way to find out?"

"Not without a warrant," She sighed with a bit of attitude. Obviously she felt they had overstayed their welcome. The three of them shared a surprised look, unsure how to respond.

Sam turned on his sad puppy dog charm and cleared his throat, "Listen, Stacey, her boyfriend is really concerned. When she left, she left with nothing; no ID, no money, no keys, no phone. She's out there by herself in the middle of the night with nothing and could be in danger. We just want to get her home safe."

Stacey hesitated for a moment, then rolled her eyes in frustration, "Look, I don't know what she was doing while she was here but before she left I gave her directions to the closest Brown Cub Diner, over on Carson street. I assume that's where she was headed next? Left about 30 minutes ago."

Dean looked like he was going to blow a gasket at that information but Sam was elated, "Great! Thank you for your help."

The three of them turned to leave and she followed them back to the front desk.

Sam and Castiel shared an eye roll as Dean held the door open and muttered furiously, "After all this, she's going to the diner for my pancakes?!"

Sam paused in the doorway and turned back to when Stacey called, "Officer Grohl!" Dean looked back as well and Stacey lobbed, "I don't need any more confused straight girl drama. If you find her, tell her to lose my number!"

"Wha?" Dean was very confused.

Sam was too but they didn't have time for it, so he called back, "Sure thing!" before grabbing his brother and pulling him out the door, "C'mon."

They made it to the diner but were unfortunately no closer to finding her. According to the waitress inside, a woman matching her description came in almost an hour prior, bought nearly two bags worth of to-go food, and left. The best they had was a direction. Dean pulled the car back onto the main street through town in said direction while Sam searched carefully out the window for any sign of her. He was very worried. If anything happened to her… he didn't want to think about it.

"Well this is great. Just great, Sammy." Dean was furious, and Sam seemed like the easiest one to take it out on, considering he hadn't let Dean get any food at the diner. Maybe Dean was also a little worried that they wouldn't find George but that was no one's business but his. "What do we do now that we've lost your confused-straight-girl friend, huh? Cas can't sense her because she's not human apparently, so how are we going to find her?"

Sam's neck snapped back and he glared at Cas, "You told him about that?"

"I didn't say she wasn't human. I said maybe not entirely human," Castiel said softly. The more time he spent with her the more he liked her and, though he was still suspicious of her, the suspicion made him feel guilty. But he'd already spilled the beans earlier to Dean when Sam was inside the gas station.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Uh-about what? George being… 'fuzzy'?" Sam mocked defensively. "What's there to say? We don't know if that means anything. Even Cas isn't sure what to think. She's from an alternate dimension for Christ's sake, it stands to reason she'd be a little fuzzy!"

Dean and Cas were quiet in response to Sam's outburst. They could tell he was a bit on edge.

Even so, Dean muttered, "Listen, I get it. It's not a lot to go on, and if you ask me, the only thing she's a real threat to is your abstinence." Sam clenched his jaw and glared, nostrils flaring as Dean smirked proudly. "But, that's something we should both get the opportunity to decide together. I get that the two of you have history," Sam turned his head and looked out the window guiltily, "and you've got all the feelings now, but she didn't step into the Sam Winchester show. We're brothers and we're in this together. When you start hiding things from me, shit blows up and the next thing you know you've jump-started another apocalypse, alright? Both our lives get affected by this stuff; you just gotta keep me in the loop."

Sam stayed silent but unclenched slowly in his seat. He knew Dean was right, it was irresponsible, dangerous, and unfair to keep things from each other; he wanted to agree to those terms but he wasn't sure if he could. Would it mean having to tell Dean about the dream? No, right? For his own sanity, he'd decided that the woman in the dream couldn't be George, so they weren't related… but his feelings were obviously the reason for Sam's recent missteps, so how was he supposed to explain himself without mentioning it? He was very conflicted.

As he continued scanning the area Sam felt a pull in the pit of his stomach and he leaned forward in his seat. Spotting a sign for the Motel 6, he sat forward like his whole body was being wrenched toward it.

He pointed, "Dean, there."

"What about it?" Castiel asked curiously, as they both looked toward the motel.

"She's-" Sam began confidently and then stopped. How could he say this without seeming crazy? "Maybe she's there?" He tried to sound casual while stopped at the red light just before the motel, "It's possible right?" Dean and Cas shared a look and then Dean stared at him suspiciously. He explained quickly, "Where else is she gonna go with all that food? We can at least just go ask," Sam offered, defensively.

"Fine." Dean grumbled in exhaustion and pulled into the parking lot once the light turned green.

After having gone inside to ask the clerk if they'd seen a woman matching George's description, Dean was walking back to the car and seemed relieved, but still pissed. "Jerry Garcia behind the desk says little miss runaway checked in about 30 minutes ago. Room 24." Dean pointed to a room on the second floor of the motel as he got close enough to Sam and Cas to relay the information.

"Are they sure it's her?" Sam asked anxiously. He wasn't sure if he was happy or freaked out. He definitely wanted to find her, of course, but this strange feeling of knowing where she was was very unnerving.

"Based on my description, which included the phrase 'confusingly endearing blabbermouth,' he seemed pretty sure," Dean shrugged. "Which begs the question-"

"How did you know she'd be here?" Cas asked while he and Dean gave him matching accusatory stares, waiting patiently for his explanation.

"I don't know-I mean, I didn't! I didn't know. I just…" Sam searched for something plausible but came up empty, "lucky guess?" Dean gave him a 'wtf' look, obviously wanting more of an explanation for how Sam was able to find the world's smallest needle in the world's largest haystack. Sam became exasperated; he wasn't able to fully explain it to himself, let alone to anyone else. "I don't know! I guess I just figured with her cab and pie expenses, she's probably low on cash. This is the cheapest motel in the area, so it just stands to reason that she'd have come here, alright?!"

"OK, man, don't blow a gasket. We found her, let's just go get her, so we can get the hell out of here." Dean had lost all patience at this point. They'd wasted the last three hours driving left, right, and center of Nevada to track her down, not knowing whether they'd find her alive or not. All he wanted to do now was to strangle-er, wrangle her back into the car and go get Jack. He'd had enough of Nevada and her shenanigans, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't also want some of that food she'd ordered!

The three of them headed toward room 24. They approached the door and were just about to knock when it opened lazily. George was standing on the other side, seemingly unscathed. She didn't seem at all surprised to see the three men outside her room; as if she'd opened the door in response to their arrival. Her eyes were bloodshot like she'd been crying and she was "dressed" in only one towel wrapped around her body and one twisted atop her head.

"Come on in," she sniffled flatly, turning away from them. In her towel dress, Sam couldn't help but notice that the bright ink he'd seen glimpses of on her calf not only stretched down onto her foot but also up her thigh, disappearing under the towel; it looked like the same colors he'd seen on her waist earlier as well. He still couldn't make out what it was supposed to be but his curiosity definitely piqued.

After they'd exchanged a few confused looks, it took the stunned men a good 15 seconds to snap out of it. With a shrug Dean stomped into the room, Sam following closely behind, and Castiel shutting the door behind them. She walked over to a chair across the small room and flopped down dejectedly.

Once inside, they stood in awkward silence, not a clue how to respond to the sight in front of them. Dean especially had been ready to rip her a new one for the stunt she'd pulled. He hesitated now, seeing her so sad and pathetic; the fact that she didn't have any clothes on made it challenging, too. But this anger had been building for three hours and even a sad, naked woman wasn't going to be saved from his hangry wrath.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Dean began ranting at her and pacing around the tiny room. "Do you know how dangerous it was to run like that? We've been driving around for hours, worried out of our minds that you'd been hurt or worse, with no way to find you-and I never got my damn pie!" He gave her his best angry dad face, pausing for her to provide an explanation.

At the mention of food, she got up and walked to the nightstand by the bed, which had a large brown bag filled to the brim with takeout boxes set on top. She pulled out the two stacks of boxes and set them back down on the nightstand, tossing the bag aside. She grabbed the top box and checked to make sure it was the right one before walking over and handing it to Dean.

"Here you go. A slice of strawberry rhubarb pie and a double stack of sweet cream pancakes." She went back to her chair and sat down again, slumping forward and laying her head face down on the wooden table next to her. "I didn't know what kind of pie you'd like, so I got one slice of each, they're in the other boxes on the nightstand. Help yourself." Came her muffled voice as she spoke into the table.

The three of them looked over at all the takeout boxes and then at each other in shock. Dean nearly shed a happy tear. He hesitated for a moment, worried that it might seem insensitive to start eating, but she did say to help himself. Eventually he grabbed a plastic fork from the discarded bag and plopped down on the bed to dig in, ignoring Sam and Castiel's judgmental looks.

"How did you know we were coming?" Castiel finally asked, gobsmacked.

"Dunno, just did." George shrugged. Castiel gave Sam a concerned look, Dean was too busy eating-if you could call it that, it was more like inhaling-to notice.

"George, can you tell us what happened?" Sam began in a gentle voice. "Why did you leave? Where were you going?"

She lifted her head and looked at him, a devastated, frightened look on her face, "Home." He frowned unconsciously and she winced, "I'm sorry, I don't really know what I was thinking. I just thought I saw--I just--ugh, just being so close to home I realized how insane the last few weeks of my life have been and I panicked!" She shouted defensively. Then she sighed and shrugged, "I simply panicked and ran. Trying to get to the only safe place I could think: home."

She paused for a moment and the three men shared understanding, yet uncomfortable looks. Welling up a bit she croaked, "But it doesn't exist. My home doesn't exist. My family doesn't exist. I don't exist!" At that she burst into tears again and hung her head, the towel atop falling away clumsily. Her long wet hair fell forward and draped down over her knees. The three guys froze, half a pancake hanging out of Dean's mouth, looking at each other like "wtf do we do?"

Sam wanted to comfort her. Truthfully, the second she opened the door he'd wanted to grab her and not let go; 'relieved' didn't even begin to cover it. But this whole situation was so very complicated. He was undeniably drawn to her--unnervingly, so--but felt deeply ashamed of his history and had convinced himself that she was just being polite and friendly as a fan of the show. Therefore, he was trying to be respectful and maintain appropriate distance.

When he caught his brother's eye again, Dean motioned for him to go to her as if to say "you're up dude!" Sam scrunched his nose at him before hesitantly moving to her side and carefully pulling her into an awkward side hug against his knees. To his surprise, she stood up suddenly and hugged him tight. Instinctively, he wrapped both arms around her, too, and closed his eyes briefly, relishing the feeling of her in his arms again. It was strangely familiar and comforting, as though she was made to fit perfectly there.

When his eyes opened again, he ignored the smirking look of approval on Dean's face , and asked her quietly, "What do you mean, you don't exist?"

Pulling herself together after a moment, George pulled back and clumsily tried to wipe her snot from Sam's jacket. Dean made a yuck face, shoveling another bite of half pie half pancake into his mouth. Sam was too busy trying to ignore the sudden cold, empty feeling and the strange ache in his chest from the loss of her to notice the snot.

Way to maintain an appropriate distance, dude.

"According to historical records, my grandparents were killed in a house fire shortly after my Aunt Lorna-who was the oldest of my mother's siblings-was born." She reached over to grab a couple pieces of printed paper which were sitting on the opposite side of the table and handed them to Sam. "Copy of the newspaper article about the fire from 1963," she explained. While he scanned the pages quickly, she grabbed a hand towel from the vanity, wetting it at the sink and then rubbing it over her face as if to wash away the sadness. With a sigh she continued, "Second page, half way down: Franklin and Bernadette Byrne. My grandparents. Dead. 5 years before my mom was born."

"That would mean-" Cas began to state the obvious but was cut off by George.

"My mother was never born in this stupid reality! And if she was never born, then I was never born and I shouldn't exist-I don't exist! Here! Wherever here is?" She began pacing in the small room as she spoke out loud, "A television show? But that makes no sense because you all are terrible actors. A dream? That was certainly my first theory, considering it's obviously not the first time I've had sex dreams about fictional characters, not even the first one I've had about The Winchesters-or you, Cas; and I promise it was always Misha-" Sam and Dean exchanged "yikes" looks; she was rambling. Suddenly she stopped and took a deep breath before continuing, "But-but something about this experience seems far more real and distinctly un-dream like. But it also doesn't feel like my real life because ever since I've been here I've felt weirdly… comfortable? The pain is gone and I can actually listen to my instincts which feel heightened somehow; I trust them now more than ever! Which feels like it means I'm supposed to be here, like I'm where I'm meant to be." Sam tried not to look too happy about that statement, as she gave a pain expression before saying, "But how can that be if I don't exist?" She paused only briefly and then turned on her heel and started again, "Or, does it make sense that I don't exist here already because if I did, there'd be two of me in one universe and I suppose that could cause some kind of paradox? Maybe-"

"OK, time out!" Dean stood up and put his half finished food down. He turned to look at her for a split-second before turning back around and picking the food up again. He spoke to her between bites, "it's been a long day and we're all too tired to get into paradoxes right now. Why don't we go see if we can get adjoining rooms and try to get some shut eye. Give ourselves a little time to rest, recharge, and then we can talk things through in the morning? How does that sound?" Dean's mood had improved exponentially now that he'd had some food in him and his offer was tempting to everyone. George felt like a spinning top that would never slow down and figured maybe sleep wouldn't be so bad, so she just shrugged concedingly.

"Sam and I will go talk to the front desk about the rooms." Castiel wanted to talk to Sam alone.

"And I'll stay here and supervise the pie while you take a nice hot bath to relax, OK?" Dean took the last bite of the food in his first takeout box and tossed it into the trash before nudging George in the direction of the bathroom. She gave a loud sigh in faux-test but went and started the bath anyway. She'd already showered but he had a point; a hot bath would probably help her relax enough to sleep. Cas and Sam headed out the door while Dean grabbed a second take out box and they heard an excited "Cherry! Score!" as the door shut behind them.

"Sam, I'm concerned," Cas stated as they were walking to the lobby building.

"You don't think they're going to have adjoining rooms available?"

"Not about the hotel, about George," Castiel clarified. "I'm concerned about how she says she's feeling."

"Cas, it's totally natural for humans to feel sad. She was ripped out of her world and plopped into what she thinks is a TV show and then she finds out she doesn't exist? I mean, it'd be overwhelming for anyone. When Dean and I got stuck in her reality, it was-"

"I'm not concerned about her emotional state, Sam," Castiel stopped Sam from walking and made him turn to look at him. "I'm concerned about her saying she feels like she's meant to be here? Like her 'instincts are heightened'?" Castiel questioned, checking to see if Sam had heard that too.

"So, what's wrong with that? Maybe we've just been making her feel so at home that she's having a nice time." Sam felt defensive; he'd been nothing but selfishly happy that she seemed to feel so comfortable here. Hoping beyond hope that maybe he might be part of the reason why. Questioning that was a can of worms he wanted to keep tightly closed.

Cas gave him a look, "It's more than that. You saw all that food in there, how she opened the door as we approached." Castiel shook his head, a suspicious look on his face. "I think this goes beyond good hospitality…" he trailed off though, as he really wasn't sure what this was. Every time he was around her, he felt a niggling sense of dread that he couldn't shake and the more she displayed this strange, coincidental clairvoyance, the more the dread grew. Yet she was an inarguably pleasant human, who had been nothing but kind and friendly to him. If only he could sense her, he'd feel a lot better.

"What? You think it's something bad? Something to be concerned about?" Sam didn't see what all the fuss was about. Sure, she'd had food waiting for them-Dean's always hungry and she maybe felt like she needed a peace offering? And she opened a door five seconds before they knocked-maybe their footsteps were rattling the wall of the rickety old motel, who knows? Sam didn't see the relevance either way.

"I don't know," Cas admitted finally.

"OK, then let's just get some shut-eye for now and like Dean said, we can talk about all of this, including your concerns, in the morning, yea?" Cas conceded begrudgingly since he knew humans tended to function better after having slept.

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